PROMO: Stinky Fingers

[Guest bennerisbetter]

Ghost Machine wondered if he could have ripped General Kafar’s arms off with his bare hands. Zen had his eyes on the road where they belonged, giving Ghost Machine the silence that allowed his mind to wander. He was probably around Chewbacca’s size, although there was no denying that even the strongest human would have trouble defeating a Wookiee. On the other hand, he was pretty sure that juvenile Kashyyykians could dismember Imperial officers.

 

Ghost caught Zen looking at him. Things had been uncomfortable since that weekend on recon. The Captain had tried to explain to the young Chinaman that not all pro wrestlers were homosexuals, but he ignored the advice and Ghost had woken up with another man’s finger inside his BUTT hole. It was not the first time, and it probably wouldn’t be the last, but he hadn’t taken it well and Corporal LoMayne Zen still wore a black eye, a gift the powerful grappler had given him in exchange for the digital penetration. He had of course apologized; it was combat training and instinct that had recolored the cheek of his oriental comrade. Ghost himself chalked it up as a simple mistake and felt quite guilty.

 

Nevertheless, unwanted homosexual advances reminded Ghost Machine of the past he was trying to leave behind. It had been months since he’d worn the purple trunks and stepped into the SWF ring. The lights and the pressures had been lightly pressuring him for too long, and Ghost Machine retired quietly to the Special Forces. The brawler found that the only way to cleanse himself of his sordid past was regular bathing in the blood of terrorists and traitors.

 

“Holy Pao! Ghost!” Feeling foolish, Ghost snapped out of his selfish reflection and assessed the situation. A simple stop for gas on the way to Minneapolis suddenly turned nasty, as a group of threating, leather-clad Caucasians was quickly surrounding the efficient red car. One with a dark red beard and shocking magenta hair motioned for Zen to roll down the window. Ghost shook his head but his inexperienced partner did it anyway.

 

“What do you guys want?” asked the Asian.

“Goddamn chinks!” roared the biker. Before Ghost could make a move, the man raised a revolver, leveled it at Zen’s head, and pulled the trigger.

 

CRACK was the sound, but Ghost couldn’t tell if it was the gun or Zen’s neck snapped as his head whipped back at the impact. He managed a grunt before his skull caved in and showered his partner with blood and brain matter.

 

The crew immediately began battering the vehicle with crowbars and bats, and hands reached through broken windows for the wrestlers. Ghost forced a door open, knocking two assailants into the pump. In a quick motion, he pulled out the hose and let gas pour onto the concrete. A group of three men then charged him. Ghost thrust his left hand into the closest one’s mouth and ripped his cheek off. He staggered back, and Ghost Machine picked up the next man, give him an airplane spin, and delivered him into the third. He then stepped on the man’s testicles, slowly applying pressure.

 

“AAAAHH!!! OHHH MY GOD!!! OH GOD!!! OOHHHH MY GOD STOP!” Ghost let his foot up. The man breathed with relief, then screamed again as Ghost stomped down, squashing the reproductive organs like grapes. Four more ran at him. He dispatched one with a crushing big boot, then twisted a neck to kill a second. The other two looked uncertain, then bolted. Ghost grabbed the nearest man and bit off his nose. He then stuck a thumb into the sinus cavity and popped out an eyeball. Luckily for Ghost Machine, the other biker slipped on the gas puddle. Ghost called on his wrestling training to deliver a crushing double knee drop. He heard the rare sound of every single rib in a man’s body simultaneously splintering, then the satisfying woosh of a double lung collapse.

 

The leader was the only one left. He was worried.

“We…don’t have to fight this fight. I have no argument with you, my American brother. Together we can start ridding this country of chinks, niggers, and spics. What do you say?”

He extended a hand. Ghost took it, then in one quick motion pulled an oversize combat knife and slit the man’s throat.

“GGTTTRRHAPPHHP!!!”

 

The guy collapsed, but Ghost held him up and looked into the terrified eyes of a man who knows he is dying and is terrified. A stink filled the air as the man shit his pants. Ghost reached into the biker’s leather pants, pulled out the mound of feces, and stuffed it in his attacker’s mouth. Tears rolled out of the man’s eyes, and he vomited, pissed, and shit again before drifting off. Ghost then turned his attention to the writhing pile of injured and mutilated men that had murdered his buddy. He stuck the hose in one’s mouth, filling his stomach with gas. Ghost then dropped a match down his throat and listened to the screams of death harmonized with the crack and bubble of roasting flesh. Impatient, Ghost Machine retrieved the revolver and shot the rest of the men to death.

 

………

 

“God DAMMIT Ghost! Did you have to torture them all to death??!” yelled the Captain. “Oh well, it doesn’t matter. Turns out Zen was a double agent. Those men were hired by him to kill you, but they hated chinks so much they couldn’t resist.”

Ghost glared at the Captain. “Sorry, Ghost Machine. I forgot how much you hate racists. Anyway, we have intel on General Kafar. Our sources report that the I-35W Bridge collapse was not an accident. Kafar’s cell planted charges to blow up the bridge, and he’s planning to destroy seven more bridges in the Minnesota area.” He brought up a computer display.

“If you’re wondering why the government is interfering here, unlike Katrina, it’s simple: no niggers. SORRY! I mean it’s just that these white people are productive for the economy, and their deaths would be terrible. This is confidential because we’re trying to keep panic low.

“The bad news is, we don’t know where he is, in fact-” Captain stopped talking. Ghost Machine nodded as if to say continue, but then his CO pitched forward, a single arrow sticking out of his back. There was a note attached.

Hahahaha! You’ll never stop my plan to blow up the bridges! That slitty-eyed chink was all part of my master plan, and you can’t even imagine who else in your organization is with me! HAHAHAHA! Now DIE!

 

Ghost looked up to see Hariib Paloo standing over him. No, he thought. It can’t be.

“I’m sorry Ghost, the money was too good.” He was brandishing a huge silenced pistol. “Kafar will set me up for life if I cooperate. And I have to end your life.” Ghost was too far away, his death was assured. Paloo was an expert marksman and could gun him down if he made a move. “I don’t want to kill you, dammit! This place is wired to blow in five minutes. Kafar will never recover the body. Yours, I mean.” Ghost looked around. No escape.

“We’ve been friends for so long. I just can’t do this. Look, get out, ok? Never show your face again or I promise I’ll kill you! Go back to being a wrestler!”

 

“GO!”

 

Ghost ran out the door and didn’t look back. The only place left to go was the SWF. He wanted a match.

[Ace309 0]

Okay. Pick some enhancement talent and write a match.

[Smartly Pretty 0]

Who's brother are you again?

[Toxxic 0]

Pretzler's.