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Bruce Blank

Promo: Dust 2 Dust Challenge accepted

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The shot pans over the crowd at the Fargo Dome as SWF Lockdown returns from another commercial break. The fans are fired up, eagerly looking forward to the main event where El Luchadore takes on Todd Cortez and other exciting matches yet to come. But the excitement quickly turns to boos and hostility as 'Don't Ask Me No Questions' kicks in, hailing the arrival of the one and only Trailerpark Messiah.

 

"What is Bruce Blank doing, King? He doesn't have a match scheduled!" Pete queries, looking towards his announcing partner.

 

"You know damn well he doesn't, Pete. He's not allowed to compete on Lockdown right now. Apparently his style isn't Family Friendly."

 

The Gambling Man's tone of voice indicating just whose side he's on in THAT argument, as Bruce steps through the curtains and into the arena. The crowd takes no time in lifting the roof with their derogatory chants, which brings into question how the show can be entirely Family Friendly if they can diss the superstars.

 

"WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH! WHITEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE TRASH!"

 

Bruce's blood splattered jeans have been replaced with a regular pair of black, clean jeans to go with the family friendly image. Along with this, the barbwire-wrapped Ultra Violent Title has been left in the back too, yet another move to push the show as something the whole family can see, as Bruce swaggers calmly towards the ring.

 

"It's a shame they didn't totally bar him from the building, King."

 

"Bar? That's positively un-American, Pete. Don't make me call Homeland Security on you." King answers. "Now hush up, Bruce is obviously here to speak his mind."

 

The self-proclaimed Ultra Violent Champion steps into the ring and then holds out his right hand, demanding that Funyon hand over the microphone. The ring announcer does so as the crowd continues to let him have it with the resounding 'White Trash' chant, that doesn't seem to phase him one bit.

 

"WHAT UP BISMARK!" is the first thing out of his mouth, causing the crowd to boo him loudly and heartily. "Now if you'll all just put your fingers back up your noses and sit down we can get down to bidness"

 

Bruce looks ready to continue his little speech, but has to stop as the crowd boos him some more for stealing Longdogger Pete's traditional way of pronouncing the word 'business'. After a few more moments Bruce finally puts the microphone back up to his mouth, pacing back and forth across the ring in thought.

 

"Alright now, bidness! You are looking at the man that the SWF fears. A man who's not been allowed to compete on Lockdown – it would seem that I'm not 'suitable' for this show!" Bruce pauses, mockingly making the quotation marks for 'suitable' in the air before continuing. "A man who's devised the Dust 2 Dust challenge... yet hasn't found ANYONE to take up the gauntlet I have thrown down!"

 

The crowd doesn't like that. But Bruce simply laughs out loud and waits for their chanting to die down before continuing his speech, having stopped his pacing to gesture at the crowd as he continues.

 

"Oh, you know it's true! None of these midgets or monkeys can compete with me in the Hardcore environment! Absolutely no-one can bring the pain like I do! I mean, you're looking at the guy that's managed climb on top of the most ultra violent mountain in the SWF - and stay there! Supposed tough guys like Dace Night aren't even CLOSE to doing what I've been able to do in and out of the ring."

 

"Listen to this man, King, can you believe a word he's saying?" Pete shakes his head.

 

"Sure I can!" King smiles. "He might be white trash, but he's actually telling the truth for once!"

 

As the two commentators return their eyes to the ring where Bruce is continuing his diatribe, the crowd has mostly gone quiet, as if focusing all their animosity and hatred into the ring will kill Blank where he stands. Unfortunately for them it's not working, and so they start up a resounding chant of 'White Trash' once more that the Trailerpark Messiah completely ignores as he continues his speech.

 

"Even if there's no place for such a thing on this show, it's still a fact! Supposed greats like the Insane Luchador were never able to hold on to the belt as long as I have. Even the 'Straight Edge Sensation' Toxxic can't hold a candle to what I've been able to achieve in the field of violence and destruction. The fact of the matter is – I AM THE MOST ULTRAVIOLENT COMPETITOR THE SWF HAS EVER SEEN!"

 

The lights go out. For a few moments there is nothing but silence and the confused hum of the crowd, as a single spotlight illuminates the ring and the Ultraviolent One before swinging away to pan across the crowd as if searching for something. And after a long pause, the long and wailing sound of a siren echoes from the speakers, and the crowd holds its breath in suspense as a phrase flashes up on the Smarktron, a phrase not seen in quite some time.

 

[HEIGHT: 7'2]

 

"That's..." Pete begins speaking.

 

[WEIGHT: 360lbs]

 

"Oh... hell." King adds as the words turn a blazing red.

 

[sTATUS: RELEASED!]

 

The opening chorus of Fear Factory's "Resurrection" blazes out across the speakers, bringing the crowd to its feet with a thunderous roar of surprise! As the beats of the song echo around the arena, the fans seem all too excited to see Bruce Blank get what's coming to him. Though the spotlight never leaves the curtain, no one emerges and the song peters out, leaving the crowd feeling disappointed as they sit back in their seats. In the ring, the confused Blank just smiles and shakes his head at the attempted shock tactic and opens his mouth to address the crowd, who rise again with a second roar as the lights come back on, revealing the titan standing directly behind the Trailerpark Messiah!

 

The long white trenchcoat looks like it hasn't missed a day of service. The hair is black, streaked with white, and the eyes are a deep and ominous red. But strangely enough, the Hell Machine lifts his hand and waves to the crowd, grinning that ominous grin as Blank finally turns around and jumps at the huge figure that seems to have materialised from the air. Bringing a microphone up from his coat, the giant Australian's voice is soft and full of menace.

 

"Ultraviolence?" he asks quietly. "You come into this ring, and speak of ultraviolence? You have no idea of ultraviolence, Bruce Blank... no matter what you've done. Ask Spike Jenkins about ultraviolence, when Dace Night drove a weedwhacker into his abdomen. Or Toxxic, after Aecas put him through a table with a Grave Digger. Ask the many bodies that felt the Equaliser's sting about ultraviolence. Next to men like us, you are NOTHING."

 

"Hold on..." Blank grins. "You're that whackjob with the split personality, ain't you? Am I meant to be impressed, big white and loony? I'm just plain better than your friends, and better than YOU!" here he jabs a finger into the chest of the Australian. "Just see how long I've held this belt, and what I've done to keep it! Stop wasting my time, old man... if you want to prove it, you can pry this belt from my cold dead fingers."

 

"..." Janus seems to consider this as Blank turns his back. "Very well... I'll stop wasting your time..."

 

"Strong words from both the champion AND... of all people... Janus!" Pete calls. "Who would have expected THIS sort of appearance!?"

 

"This won't end well, I'd bet my reputation on it." King shakes his head.

 

Blank just nods his head and turns around to address the seven footer once more, only to see the white trenchcoat fall to the floor along with the microphone, and a pair of arms pinning his own limbs against his torso as Janus snatches the Ultra Violent Champion up into the Hell Crush! The crowd roars with approval as Bruce squirms and growls in pain, trying to wriggle his arms free, opening his eyes to stare into the bright red orbs of the monster crushing his ribcage.

 

"Ashes to ashes..." the giant snarls. "Dust to dust..."

 

The Trailerpark Messiah lets out a cry of relief as he's dropped to the mat, where he catches his breath. A thick boot lands on his chest as Janus scoops up the microphone and pins Blank under his foot momentarily, leaning over to stare down at him once more. The crowd holds their breath as the Hell Machine rolls his head from side to side and finally speaks.

 

"You wanted a challenge, Bruce Blank!?" he roars into the Ultra Violent Champion's face. "Consider your proposal accepted! I'm going to tear you apart piece by piece, just like everyone wants to see! And when I'm done, I don't care if you keep the title or not, but you will know your place! You are just a drop in the ocean compared to the gallons of blood I and others have shed! You will know ultraviolence when it meets you at Ashes to Ashes!"

 

Breathing heavily, a snarl etched on his face, the Hell Machine spikes the microphone into the canvas and picks up his coat, wrapping it around his shoulders as the fans cheer themselves ragged for the monster Australian. Once more the sound of Resurrection thunders over the speakers, and the giant drops and rolls out of the ring, stalking down the aisle and completely ignoring the fans cheering his name or reaching out to pat him on the arm or shoulder.

 

"An incredible encounter here on Lockdown!" Pete shills. "The Hell Machine comes back from retirement to tell Bruce Blank that he's NOT as bad as he thinks, and accepts his proposal for Ashes to Ashes!"

 

"Blank's mean, Blank's cruel, Blank's nasty, but he might've met his match in that man." King frowns, knowing Janus' reputation. "At least the buy rates are up now!"

 

"I wouldn't be surprised if Janus was penalised for his sudden attack, King, this IS Family Friendly Lockdown after all..."

 

"Is he even on the roster?" the Gambling Man asks curiously as the camera swings back to the ring.

 

In the middle of the ring, the Trailerpark Messiah has pulled himself back into a sitting position. Pain radiates through his body as he hears the sound of Fear Factory in the air and watches the lumbering Australian monster disappear down the aisle. One could almost see the glint in his eyes as he rolls to the floor himself, breathing heavily as the cameras focus on how he holds his ribs. He doesn't need to speak as we begin to fade to black, as the look of both worry and expectation vie for dominance on his face.

 

Someone would DEFINITELY be filling a grave come Ashes to Ashes. And Bruce wasn't so sure he'd be the victor anymore...

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For those thinking this is a "Spike Vs Flesher" deal where he's just here to put me over - it's not

 

it's going to be a competitive match (I'll even post my match in the losers thread ;) )

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Eh. He's not Dace and this isn't D@amnation in a Box.
Nope he's better looking than Dace :D

 

as for D@mnation in a box - no it's not - but then again it's not a "rubber chicken on a pole" match or a "Loser must wear eyeliner and black nailpolish" match either, very observant *thumbs up*

 

but it will out horrify D@mnation in a box MUA HA HA HA HA :spank: ;)

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