PROMO: Hurricane Watch

[Guest bennerisbetter]

Ghost Machine pushed the stick forward. The helicopter tilted forward and picked up speed.

 

“We’re approaching the city, Mr. Machine,” remarked Lt. Benjamin. His velvety voice caressed the words.

 

Ghost Machine nodded. His muscles strained against the seat belt. He looked out the window and took in the devastation. The hurricane had devastated the city of New Orleans.

 

Benjamin turned to him. “That Katrina sure is a cunt.”

 

Ghost Machine chuckled at the joke and loaded his .357 Magnum.

 

The Lieutenant arched his neck and looked down at the flooded city. “It’s a good thing you’re doing. There are a lot of people who need rescuing.” He spoke with the voice of a man who thought his secret was safe.

 

It wasn’t.

 

Ghost Machine popped open his briefcase and retrieved a manila folder marked BEJAMIN. His fingers opened it and pulled out a photograph.

 

Lt. Benjamin shifted uncomfortably. “Whatcha got there, Mr. Machine?”

 

Ghost slipped the photo into his pocket and adjusted his mask. He patted the revolver.

 

“Oh! Look! Some people on that roof! Get the winch ready – I’ll take ‘er down.”

 

Ghost Machine nodded at the Lieutenant’s instructions and made as if to go to the back of the helicopter. He paused. He put his hand in his pocket and took out the photo of Lt. Benjamin and Mohammed Koran shaking hands. He tapped Benjamin on the shoulder.

 

“What is it?”

 

Ghost showed him the picture.

 

Benjamin panicked. He started to sweat and hyperventilate.

 

“No….Ghost….you don’t understand….it was just….a meeting…before he…”

 

Ghost shook his head – hopeless. He cocked the revolver. Benjamin saw it.

 

“No! Please!” Ghost pointed the gun at his head and squeezed the trigger. The sound filled the small cockpit, and when the bullet hit Benjamin his head came apart. Blood and brain and bone exploded out, cutting his scream short. It splattered on the Big Brawler. The glass of the helicopter shattered and the vehicle lurched. Ghost Machine opened the side door for the rescue winch and pushed the body and the head pieces he could find out the door. They fell in the water. The people on the roof were desperate, but Ghost couldn’t help them now. He had bigger plans.

 

 

 

Ghost Machine brought the helicopter down on the levee. He got out and brushed a piece of brain off his mask. He surveyed the destruction. This area of the city was dry, and thousands of refugees were taking shelter. If this levee were to break, hundreds, maybe thousands more could die. He couldn’t let that happen.

 

“I was waiting for you!” Ghost whirled around. Twenty meters away stood Mohammed Koran, feared SWF grappler and international terrorist. He didn’t react.

 

“Don’t pretend you aren’t afraid! I know you are no robot. I’ve SEEN you tap – you feel pain like any other man!” Koran set down his suitcase and opened it to reveal a scary blinking device.

 

“No, don’t be stupid. It’s not a nuclear device – we couldn’t make that happen. But it’s enough to get rid of me, you and this levee!”

 

Ghost Machine made no move.

 

“Why? Why not! They say America was built on freedom, but I say it was built on inequality and prejudice. Ha – not to worry. I’m no crazy. I’m not stupid enough to kill myself so these sad, pathetic poor devils will die,” he gestured to the city. “I figured you come by helicopter, and that’s just how I’ll make my getaway! What do you say to that!? Still silent?!!”

 

Ghost Machine drew his .357 Magnum and pointed it at Koran. Robots don’t miss.

 

Koran was faster. In one swift moment, he drew a ninja star from his belt and threw it. Being super sharp, it easily cut the revolver in half. Ghost Machine dropped the two useless pieces. Koran reached for his belt, then thought better of it.

 

“I could just kill you – easily – but instead why not have fun. Here’s the deal Ghostie. Me versus you, one on one – for your life and the city of New Orleans! What do you say?”

 

Ghost immediately took his stance and approached. Koran immediately threw some left jabs, but most were dodged by Ghost. Koran continued the assault with vicious forearms and a European uppercut. Ghost stumbled backwards.

 

“HAHAHA! You see, you have no chance of pinning me – robot or not!”

 

Koran clasped his arms around the big man and landed a side suplex. He covered, but only got a two count. Seeing the advantage, Koran went for the Arabian Pride, but Ghost Machine grabbed his arm and flipped the terrorist over his shoulders. He stomped on his face. Ghost grabbed his hair and dragged him to his feet. He turned him upside down and piledrove Koran headfirst onto the levee.

 

ONE!

 

 

TWO!

 

 

THR-NOOOO!

 

 

Koran powered out and hopped to his feet, out of breath.

 

“Fuck this! Allah o akbar!”

 

He falling reverse DDTed Ghost eaded for the copter. Ghost followed, carrying the bomb with him. He met Koran at the door, and punched him.

 

“Ah!”

 

Ghost hit him with the bomb, but luckily it didn’t go off. Koran tried to get in the helicopter, sensing his dreams of bombing could fail.

 

“Take this bomb and die here!” He threw the bomb at Ghost, and they fought more. In the struggle, Mohammed lost track of it. He climbed atop the helicopter, kicked Ghost to the ground, and landed the devastating Flying Tiger elbow off the chopper! He headed into the helicopter and screamed to Ghost.

 

“That bomb goes off in thirty seconds! You’re doomed – and so is the city! It will be the second flood promised by Allah! New Orleans will die! Allah o akbar! God is great!”

 

Mohammed lifted off, leaving Ghost on the ground. He watched the helicopter climb, but the bomb was nowhere in sight. Thirty seconds later, he heard a faint scream.

 

The helicopter exploded in a brilliant fireball as the bomb detonated inside the helicopter. Debris crashed to the ground and plopped into the water.

 

Ghost sighed and flopped onto his back. The city was saved. He’d done it. No more people would die. The combined forces of Islamic extremists and hurricanes are tough – but not as tough as Ghost Machine!

[Toshiaki Koala 0]

Yeah, this isn't tasteless AT ALL. Way to go!

[jwpeer 0]

This is some crazy stuff. Is this a Ghost Machine face turn then? Is he now like Iron Man or something (I'd mark hard for iron man the wrestler )

[Angel_Grace_Blue 0]

Yeah, this isn't tasteless AT ALL. Way to go!

<{POST_SNAPBACK}>

 

Nope. Just retarded. Huzzahs!

 

Also, didn't we institute a strict "No killing other wrestlers" policy a few years ago? Because if not, I'm sure Ash Ketchum would have been murdered over twenty times by now.

[Bruce Blank 0]

This next song goes out to Ghost Machine – who seems to be turning a very important corner in life.

 

Where have all the good men gone

And where are all the gods?

Where’s the street-wise Hercules

To fight the rising odds?

 

Isn’t there a white knight upon a fiery steed?

Late at night I toss and I turn and I dream of what I need

 

I need a hero

I'm holding out for at hero 'till the end of the night

He's gotta be strong

And he's gotta kill the chopper pilot and a terrorist

And he’s gotta sodomize his former manager to a bloody pulp!!

 

I need a hero!!

 

Nice beat, you can dance to it

[Toshiaki Koala 0]

My comment about the non-tastelessness was actually poorly-executed sarcasm. However, after reading the joke competition that is the CE hurricane thread, this promo seems quite tactful.

[Toxxic 0]

Ghost Machine sucks a bag of dicks, but if he put as much effort into his matches as he puts into tasteless promos he might actually be worth something.