Description: It's a three-way rumble for the Champion Tier belts. Defending Champion Armor King displays the strength of a champion against challengers Zach Glenn and Rust Howard, Jr. (Champion: Rust, Red: Armor King, Blue: Zach Glenn)
South Atlanic Ocean. The Capcom Wrestling Association Main Stadium. 7 PM.
The Championship Match
The CWA Stadiums each put their regular counterparts to shame. Big enough to host basketball matches, they were given the full lights, the full cinema experience. Each one was in pristine condition, no matter how rough, how tough, and how violent their wrestlers could be in the match. The CWA Stadiums were the peak of their quality, the most impressive of their class. But if the CWA Stadiums themselves was the alpha of all wrestling stadiums?
The main stadium of the CWA, located in the heart of the South Atlanic Ocean, was their Omega.
The massive Main Stadium was big enough to host a football game. Generally known as the Ring of Destruction, it was the greatest of the great. An airport and seaport was attached to the massive stadium complex, to port in the rabid fans ready to fill out the 6 month sold out seats. Hovering over the arena in countless skyboxes were the VIP seats, which were decorated in the highest comforts possible. Down in the pits, there was nearly 9 feet of security, camera crews, barbed wire, and fencing to stand between the audience and where the action took place. On each side of the stadium was a massive entryway; one for the challenger, the other for the champion.
This really was the center of the wrestling world.
"What a hell of a match coming up, Jerry, I tell, what a hell of a match!" The balding, mustached man in the the announcer booth rattles off, turning towards his strikingly handsome, lantern jawed counterpart. "That's right Ben, we are looking at the championship match right now! But this is nothing dealing with the CWA, isn't that right Ben" The shorter man nods his head eagerly. "That's right Jerry! What we are looking at isn't your typical CWA championship match, but in fact is part of the Circuit of Champions' 'Phoenix Championship Series!'" The handsome man looks at his notes as he responds. "The Phoenix Championship Series, and what we are looking at right now is the Champion tier match!" Ben arcs an eyebrow. "So it's a Circuit of Champions, with a Championship Series, for a Champion Tier? I don't think these guys are pretty creative if you ask me Jerry. Why the hell are these guys coming in an interrupting a real championship?"
"Cause they are challenging one of our champions, Ben!"
As if on queue, the lights in the arena go low. A deep, thumping beat comes rumbling out, as a great sense of dread and doom fills the whole arena. In the shadows, from the competitor's entryway, the outline of a figure seems to be moving in the dark. An imposing figure, towering strong. And yet, in the darkness, who it was, or wHAT is was, was a mystery. Save, of course, for a single red eye, glowing in the dark. "You aren't serious Jerry?!" Was the response from the announcer booth. "I am serious Ben. They are challenging the current champion of the CWA... who is also the current champion of their goofy Champion circuit!" The looming figure moves through the shadows, as smoke pours around. The drone of the music cntinues to rumble, as the crowd begins to chant. They knew who it was. Everyone knew who it was. As the figure nimbly rolls under the ropes of the center ring, it rises into the center. And all at once, the spotlights come on, fixing on the legendary champion.
Armor King.
The dark-skinned wrestler was donned in a suit of black armor, with leather pants and sinister iron spikes jutting from his shoulders and bracers. These themselves would be intimidating, but the most striking feature of the titanic wrestler was black Jaguar Mask, maw wide, fangs bared. One eye was blank, but the other held a single, glowing red eye. His muscular arms raised up, he balls his fists as the crowd roars. "Armor King!" Jerry calls out. "They are seriously challenging Armor King? There is only one guy who is capable of facing Armor King, and that's..." Ben shakes his head. "Now hold up Jerry. Remember that this isn't a pure wrestling match. This is a king of mixed martial arts tournament thing! This is going to be a free for all, and two opponents are gonna be facing him!" He shuffles his notes, and holds them up.
"The first one is..."
The reasons for the crowd spacing and security measure might become readily apparent for those following the first of the two opponents to make his way to the ring. There isn't much remarkable about the man. He seemed like he could be just about anyone, really. No fancy fighting outfit, no crazy entrance music or pyrotechnic displays. Not overly tall, or overly built for that matter, the only odd thing about the young man would be the wooden claymore strapped to his back.
"Who the hell is this guy, Jerry?" Ben asks incredulously. Jerry is way ahead of things. "Zach Glenn is a former marine with a mediocre fighting record. He was the only guy to challenge Joe Higashi before Higashi vacated the title, and he put up a decent enough fight that the tournament organizers decided to let him have another shot."
Zach climbs into the ring, rolling his shoulders as he regards Armor King carefully. "That's not help him much against the Champ, Jerry," Ben says confidently. "And seriously, what's with the stick?"
ONE DAY IN THE HOME OF THE RUST FAMILY
Howard Rust, Jr. is unwinding with some cheap beer on a couch that should've been replaced two years ago. His youngest child, a kindergartener, is busy playing with wooden blocks he himself fashioned as part of a Christmas gift to her. (A crack is already forming where she's been striking at one.)
"Howard," comes an authorative womanly voice tinged with all the telltale signs of having had a terrible week, "you haven't forgotten we're going to visit my parents for dinner in the next few weeks, right?"
"Nnnnnnope. Not at all!" In stark contrast to the stereotype, it is nigh on impossible to tell if he's being truthful or even faking anything that sounds like enthusiasm. He's an odd one.
"You're going to wear nice clothes for once, right?" They ask him. "You're not going to come visit them wearing rags like you just got done working at an auto shop."
"You bet!" Is that affirmation that he is or he isn't?
"At least get a new belt." So she says.
Left to his own devices, he seems resigned to a fun outing to some clothing store somewhere when, all of a sudden, there is an ad on television.
"Eh? New belts, they say. I am in the market for a good fancy one..."
SOME TIME LATER
"...This challenger, from Red Deer, Canada, standing... five foot ten, weighing in the scales at two hundred and forty-three pounds," Ben murmurs as he reads it, "is this who I think it is?"
"Sure looks it. That guy doesn't seem like he knows when to call it quits," Jerry adds. It kind of says a lot about whatever this person might mean to them.
"Yep." This 'new' competitor says. From where? Nobody really saw him... enter? No! He's just standing there atop one of the turnbuckles with his right leg raised, bent inward to rest a foot up against it while he has his right hand raised in some indecipherable, probably nonsensical gesture that may or may not be indicative of gathering focus... or it's just stupid. It takes a while for the spotlights to find him. (In fact it goes over him at least three times.)
"This'll be a nice new belt to wear to her folks' place!" He seems entirely unconcerned with any implications of this latest big venture out of quasi-retirement... or how he even got here, come to think of it. The excitement of being among fighting superstars again - in one of the single most prestigious outings one could sink their teeth into - seems almost lost to whatever this man's crazy thought process is.
Something something get a nice belt, go throw your lot into a big dangerous super-prestigious fighting event like you're still in your younger adult years, makes perfect sense. His wife will like it. Worth the drive!
(Spoilers: THIS IS NOT WHAT SHE MEANT.)
(Addendum: AT ALL.)
(Disclaimer: PROFESSIONAL IDIOT, DO NOT ATTEMPT.)
(Errata: UNLESS IT'S REALLY FUNNY.)
(P.S.: AND IF YOUR INSURANCE WILL COVER IT.)
"Howard Rust..." Ben trails off dramatically. There's something wrong with these words. It's like... this name shouldn't be attributed to someone looking like they're wearing a worn denim short-sleeved overcoat, matching (old) shorts that give an unflattering view of surprisingly smooth legs, calloused feet in sandals, a toolbelt that has a capacity of 'a lot,' nor... a luxurious head full of black (purple?) hair with carefully-made curls?
"...Juniooorrrrr!"
Oh, okay, that explains it...? (Who is this being explained to, anyway? A good number of people know of this strange, but storied man.)
"If you asked me, Ben," Jerry says, "I'd have believed seeing this guy here ten years ago. Can you imagine what must've made this guy think about coming into the big leagues again, like that, out of the blue?"
It might be for the best no one ever asks, as this second challenger gracefully(?) backflips off the turnbuckle, drawing a pipe in mid-flight in his left hand, and lands in a cro--
No, he lands in a faceplant. One he doesn't seem slowed or perturbed by, kicking back up like nothing ever happened even as he staggers to and fro to regain his footing on the canvas.
Not quite in the league of royalty for shock, but... he doesn't seem all that concerned about the masked luchador or the mysterious psychic former marine.
"No, really." Jerry covers the microphone. "Why him?"
"Two Words, Jerry."
"Legacy Character"
The announcers uncover their mics. "That's right Jerry! We have A Rust against an Armor King against a Zach! What a wild matchup this is! Both Zach and Rust have a history of fighting, yes sir, a real legacy to boot! But this isn't Circus of Champions low-leaguers here, no sir. THis is the one and only Armor King himself! They are gonna have to keep on their toes, Jerry, otherwise they are gonna find themselves under 300 lbs of pure jaguar pain!" Jerry nods his head. "I know one thing, Ben, one thing for sure."
"I sure wouldn't want to be in their shoes right now!"
As both Zach and Rust Jr. find their ways in the ring (one who seems to just appeared), the spotlights cast on each of them, one by one. When Rust's introductions are complete, there was now a spotlight on each one of them. Armor King was facing at Zach first, and then Rust. Crossing his arms, he quickly makes his judgement with a head shake. From above, a microphone lowers from high above, dangling right in front of the Armor King. The brutal wrestler uncrosses his arms, and grabs it. Staring once again at Zach, and then at Rust, he points a finger back at Zach, before he speaks.
"*Jaguar Noises*"
He then points a finger at Rust.
"*Jaguar Noises*"
The crowd roars in delight, as Armor King pushes the mic away, shoving it towards Zach's direction with the sheer presence of a champion wrestler. Every motion came with the pure confidence of a crushing warrior. Holding his hands into fists against, he tilts his jaguar head upwards a bit, casting his red eye downwards at the ex-marine. Watching him. Judging him.
Letting him have his chance.
"Those are some harsh words from Armor King Jerry. But lets see if Zach can dish some of that dirt right back!"
Zach heard the name. Howard Rust. Quite possibly the one person Zach has wanted to meet all of his life, for more than a few reasons. The man who falls into the ring? Is not that person. Zach snatches the microphone out of the air, regarding Armor King with a slight frown that has only a little to do with the Luchador. He doesn't speak Jaguar. His response is simple. Zach pulls the sword free of its strapping, and speaks into the mic.
"Let's do this thing," he says evenly before holding the mic out for Rust.
"I can get behind the 'legacy' thing, sure, but... I'm going to have a hard time watching, Ben," Jerry grimaces.
Then he winces, which is the same as a grimace but is a smaller word, so it's totally different.
"Well, you and Armor King would agree on something, Jerry."
When the microphone is passed to the modern Howard Rust, he paws at it with his right hand. Shaken by Armor King's challenges? No, aside from that little slip at the start, he doesn't seem too... fazed? Intimidated? Cognizant of being here? Well, okay, he's definitely that, but--
Oh my god. The feedback on that microphone.
"Oh, sorry." The feedback subsides after a few soft pats. He clears his throat, almost looking meek for a moment. "I didn't catch what you said. Something about the belt being a bad fit? Actually, uh, don't tell anyone," he's on the microphone in front of a massive studio audience, "had a nice look at it, found out it fits me just right," how the hell did he get a look at it. Letting the microphone dangle a bit, he gets out a measuring tape in his right hand and snaps it out like a whip.
He definitely could use that thing like a bullwhip, hearing the snap on that thing.
"Measured it and everything, perfectly fit with." He nods. "So, uh, I'll be taking that. I mean, you probably don't measure up right perfect with it--"
Is this a jab on Armor King's frightening ability, or did he literally break into the stadium at some point to measure it? We'll never know. The crowd's oohs and aahs at their interpretation of these words drown out the stadium for a few moments.
"Give me a few and we could find that out right quick at," he says as he lets the microphone back in Armor King's direction and... he... still hasn't put away the measuring tape....
COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn enters the arena, to the roar of the crowd!
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Zach Glenn 0/-------/-------|
COMBATSYS: Rust enters the arena, to the roar of the crowd!
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Zach Glenn 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Rust
COMBATSYS: Armor King enters the arena, to the roar of the crowd!
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Zach Glenn 0/-------/-------|-------\-------\0 Rust
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Armor King 0/-------/-------|
"So, Jerry, is that Canadian, or just stupid?"
"I really don't know Ben, I'm gonna lean 'Canadian'"
As Zach responds, Armor King seems to listen to his challenge carefully, arms crossed. And yet, as he hurls out the mic, he drops his arms, turning to face the OTHER opponent. This time, as Rust stumbles over the mic, Armor King turns his head up more. As Rust makes the comment that he 'doesn't measure up,' the wrestler twists his head up, a growling sound coming out. Tensing his fingers, the massive wrestler seemed to be rumbling furiously. The moment the mic heads back his way, he steps forwad, snatching it. And stomping towards Rust, he gives his response swiftly.
"*Enraged Jaguar Noises*"
And he hurls the mic away. The mic swings wide in a loop, as the wrestler continues his thunder towards Rust, back turned to the ex-marine. The crowd begins to wince as they seen the train that's coming. "Jerry, I may have to disagree with you, Rust Junior may have just crossed the line from Canadian into Stupid! Looks like he just managed to really incite Armor King into a rage!" "I think you are right Ben, but he is leaving himself wide open for Zach to come in!" Armor King was lunging in, lunging in towards Howard Rust. Arms open he will attempt to throw his shoulder and arm over his neck to bend him face down. And if he is successful? Slam him straight to the ground, face down.
"It looks like Armor King is gonna try and open up with the DDT!"
Zach winces as Armor King starts his charge. The psion considers things for half a moment, before leaping at the pair of men. Zach twists in midair, brining the wooden weapon up and over in a soaring arc aimed right at the base of Armor King's jaguar mask.
"Glenn's wasting no time getting into the thick of it," Jerry exclaims. "He'd better if he wants a chance to take Armor King out of this fight!"
COMBATSYS: Armor King successfully hits Rust with Quick Throw.
+=+=!= Power Slam! =!=+=+
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Zach Glenn 0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0 Rust
[\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Armor King 0/-------/-------|
Let's not bore people with the prose-filled details. There is one important thing everyone would jump to anyway, even on a critical historical review of this fight should this meeting between three men ever warrant scrutiny now or at any point in humanity's future.
SLAM!!!
"And it just segued right into SLAM!" Ben says as Rust Jr. recoils against the raised ring with the DDT - the earlier descriptor is all the words one needs to talk about what happened to him.
What happened after? Well, that's where we can pick back up and stop fast-forwarding.
A nice close-up would reveal potentially grievous injury from how the man's neck appears to compress upon impact. It's going to be on one of the highlight DVDs for the whole league, watching this man get SLAMMED. There's even a paramedic out on the ringside who seems intent on calling the man out of the match right then and there for his safety.
Dazedly, Rust Jr. doesn't sow much confidence in showing much ability to get back up from that. Staggering is putting it very nicely as he rocks back and forth to pull himself on up.
"Are they going to pull him out, Ben? Look at him, he's not in what we'd call prime physical condition any more. In fact, that looks like it could've broken his neck--"
"Wait, he's tackling Zach, Jerry! Look at him go! He's still got some fight in him."
In reality...
"Whoop, hold on, let me get steady on you for a sec," he says to Zach all politely as he slams his now free right hand somewhere near Zach's back.
Where'd the measuring tape go? That's not important.
COMBATSYS: Armor King barely endures Zach Glenn's Dragon's Tail.
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Zach Glenn 0/-------/------=|=====--\-------\0 Rust
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Armor King 0/-------/-----==|
SLAM'D!!!
The DDT comes roaring with skeleton-staggering force. The entire arena shudders, with fireworks exploding out from outside the arena. That should have been enough to stop a lesser man. But in fact, Rust Jr. did not seem to be a lesser man. As the full compression injury in the neck is unleashed, Armor King quickly releases him. As he stands up, he barely has enough time to follow up on his victim... because Zach was already getting on him. He doesn't recoil, he doesn't back away. He just keeps rises, rising into the assault.
And the blow hits the mask HARD.
Armor King stumbles back from the impact, the blow hitting hard enough to stop him sharply. "Looks like a Dragon's Tail right to the head from Zach, Ben!" Comes the response, as the titanic masked lucha tries to keep his footing. The mask was slightly out of alignment, and with both hands, Armor King straightens it. The red eye seemed to fix squarely on Zach, as Rust Junior comes around from behind. "And is Rust Junior assisting him Jerry?" "No way. You have to remember that this is a free for all Ben. Armor King might be the champ, but the only true winner will be the last man standing!
"Howard Rust Junior has every reason to take whatever openings he can get!"
Jerry continues, pointing at the free for all breaking out. "And it doesn't look like Armor King can take it from Zach! It looks like he is falling forward Ben!" And it did look like it, as Armor King, the life seeming to leave him, begins to fall backwards into the ropes... and then, rebounding off, throw himself forward, hard at Zach as the announcers scream. "A FEINT! A FEINT! He's not falling Jerry, he's unleashing the Corporate Elbow in tandem with Rust Junior!" Armor King flies straight for Zach, Elbow first, attempting to smash down into him HARD as Rust comes in with a strike from behind. All while Armor King cries out.
"*Cunning Jaguar Noises*"
COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn blocks Rust's Random Strike.
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Zach Glenn 0/-------/----===|=====--\-------\0 Rust
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Armor King 0/-------/-----==|
COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn endures Armor King's Aggressive Strike.
~ Cruel hit! ~
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Zach Glenn 1/-------/=======|=====--\-------\0 Rust
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Armor King 0/-------/----===|
Zach swipes his sword arm at Rust, slapping the arm away when Armored King comes roaring in. He's still off-balance, unable to really properly defend against King's elbow strike... so he doesn't. He lets his body handle itself, spinning away as the elbow strikes home.
Zach turns and leaps at Armored King, his body still spinning as he lashes out with a storm of aerial roundhouse kicks aimed at King's chest and head!
"If we didn't know better - a lot better, Ben - I'd say that these two worked together all their lives!" Jerry says.
"Zach looks like he's... whoa! Look at him go, Jerry! The US military's got a way with their kicks. A certain flash to 'em."
Meanwhile, Jr. staggers back upright (more thanks to the turnbuckle Zach redirects him to), putting on the weirdest, most exaggerated face as it taps into his back.
He shakes his head out, showing that he hasn't lost any range of motion in his neck.
Climbing up upon the turnbuckle, he strikes what is probably meant to be a cool pose, pipe-wielding arm raised, the free hand lowered in front of his face with two fingers extended. One foot is tucked behind the knee.
He doesn't seem perfectly balanced.
The crowd mostly laughs.
"I'm not sure what he's up to, Jerry, but-- well, he's about to jump off of that, that's a given..."
Yes, he does! He leaps forward in the air from on high, blotting out some of the lights under his... uh... artful form as he swings a leg outward while just barely clearing Zach in a spinkick that might be going right for the head.
"The Girder Sway!" Jerry says. "Why do I even remember that's what it's called? I haven't had cause to remember what this guy does in some time. Look at him."
It's followed up with a second, forceful straight kick in midair that, for some reason, seems to push him back...?
This motion seems identical down to the very motion, barring any minor adjustments relative to the differences in this man's size and dimensions compared to... that other man. It's a perfect replication of that two-stage kick with the backwards momentum.
Well, he is that guy's son, most likely, so that's kind of a given and not at all a cause for mystery, intrigue, or alarm.
For ordinary people living their single lives, anyway.
He's still making that indescribably weird and goofy look on his face. Whatever that means. (If it means anything.)
COMBATSYS: Armor King barely endures Zach Glenn's Gale Force Kick.
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Zach Glenn 0/-------/-------|=====--\-------\0 Rust
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Armor King 0/-------/-======|
COMBATSYS: Armor King blocks Rust's Girder Sway.
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Zach Glenn 0/-------/-------|======-\-------\0 Rust
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Armor King 0/-------/-======|
"You know Jerry, I remember why I remember Girder Sway."
The bantering in the announcer booth continues, as Armor King, landing on the ground with the full impact of the elbow, rises back up. Staggering to a stand, he finds himself at the end of TWO kicks. AERIAL kicks! Zach's is the fastest, and roaring in straight for a flurry into Armor King. And a slower, steadier one was coming from Rust. Armor King suddenly flexes up, as the crowd roars. Holding his ground, the lucha holds his ground, taking blow after blow into the chest. Any blows to the head are redirected, and the armor begins to crack under the strain. This should be the source of top-tier commentary from the announcers booth.
But...
"What I'm still wondering is whether or not he still has that jump kick Jerry." Ben explains, looking intensely at his partner. "What the hell are you talking about Ben?" His companion just tilts his head. "You know, Jerry, how the old Rust Howard would do the jump, and then throw out that really strong kick? Not the Girder Sway I mean, I mean that really strong jumping kick. That thing was the strongest damn thing I've seen." Jerry shakes his head. "Well Ben, I didn't really follow the old Rust Howard that closely, but it is important to remember that this is Howard Rust Junior. He's a completely different animal than the old Rust Howard. He might not have inherieted his father's signature jump kick, which he would use over and over again to defeat some of the greatest fighters in the world." Ben nods firmly. "You might be right Jerry, but you know, a man can dream."
"And I dream of Jumping Strong Kicks, Jerry!"
There is finally a break in the hammering kicks as Armor King, flinging up his right arm, smashes a spiker bracer against Rust Junior's two-step setup kick. His momentum shifts; in his jaguar heart, he felt that he shouldn't be taking the surprisingly agile fighter lightly. But there was a matter of the ex-marine right in front of him. He was close to Armor King. Too close. And now, there was an opening. Armor King shoves off of his block, to throw himself at Zach. He reaches in, attempting to grab Zach Glenn...
COMBATSYS: Armor King dazes Zach Glenn with Jaguar Screwdriver!
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Zach Glenn 0/-------/--=====|======-\-------\0 Rust
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Armor King 1/------=/=======|
"Snap out of your dreaming Ben, Armor King got Zach in his clutches!"
Armor King seizes Zach, and brings his arm over the ex-marine's neck, tucking him under his shoulder. Holding him in place, he flips him off his feet, holding him upside down. The crowd begins to -scream- as the see what's coming. "Armor King is setting it up Ben! He's setting it up! He's gonna do it! He's gonna do it!" And then, Armor King jumps up into the air a short hop. Lifting his own legs forward, he -smashes- Zach Glenn straight down into the mat, head first, into a staggering piledriver. The crowd goes berserk, as Jerry spazzes out.
"HE DOES IT! THE JAGUAR SCREWDRIVER BEN! THE JAGUAR SCREWDRIVER!"
Ben sighs a moment.
"But it isn't a jumping strong kick, is it?"
Zach is laid out on the mat after the insanely destructive force of the Jaguar Piledriver. The former Marine lays there on the mat for a moment, sword still impossinly cluthed in his hands as he stares at the lights. Everything is still spinning, still blurry. He doesn't even know how badly he is hurt, only that the faint aura of golden energy that he managed to weave around himself probably staved off the worst of the damage.
His thoughts are still scrambled as he scrapes himself off of the canvas to try and find /something/ that he can focus on. No good. Everything is still random blurs and painful pinpoints of light. Zach staggers towards one of these shapes, and throws a wide punch that might actually hit its target.
"Glenn's still seeing stars after that Jaguar Piledriver, Jerry," Ben comments.
COMBATSYS: Rust interrupts Strong Punch from Zach Glenn with Cement Mixer.
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Zach Glenn 1/------=/=======|=======\-------\1 Rust
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Armor King 1/------=/=======|
Junior kicks off of Armor King's namesake armor into a much more serviceable backwards flip onto the canvas. He only staggers a single step this time! That's an improvement, putting a bit of distance between himself and the rest.
He seems more concerned with... something else, as Zach gets piledrivered.
"Now where did that tape go," he starts to mutter, free hand scoping the canvas, oblivious to the sheer ruckus that is going on just out of his peripheral vision...
Zach comes staggering at him with a punch.
"Hold on, I gotta do some of that there me-- gkk!" Evidently, Zach's approach startles him that he draws the pipe in his left hand down low, behind him, and...
...
There should be something perfectly familiar with the way that pipe is swung. It goes low, coming up off up the canvas around the point just before Zach's fist makes contact.
The way it scrapes. It's not the right hand (it is in fact the left) that wields this pipe, but the motion is unmistakable as anything else!
Howard Rust's trademark uppercut motion...!
Though the fist and pipe end up colliding at the exact same time - in Zach's case, completely cancelling out the follow-up movement where Rust Jr. famously takes to the air in a spin with said pipe - the very way the technique moves and strikes at the very beginning should be stirring warm, fuzzy feelings everywhere except wherever that hit him.
Might be still fuzzy there from numbing pain though, probably. Maybe this analogy just doesn't have a place anywhere near here.
Rust Jr., for his part, doesn't come out looking much better as his neck jerks violently to the side under Zach's powerful punch, spinning about-face once and spraying saliva and a bit of blood about the ring, the ropes, and even the floor past it as he staggers up against the ropes with a cut near his cheek - enough to stop him from pursuing any gain he might've gotten from matching against Zach.
"Cement Upper!" Ben says.
"That's Mixer now." Jerry replies.
"I don't know, they both kind of punched each other out, that seemed more like his dad's Upper."
"Mixer. That was the Mixer. Cement Mixer."
"Does he have the Cement Upper?"
"What does it have to do with cement, anyway?"
"Well, it's called mixer because he does that upwards twirl into the air."
"He didn't do it here, so I say it's Upper."
"Am I Ben... or Jerry?"
"...We'll settle that later-- Armor King, our champion, stands to take advantage of either of them while they're both in a bind!"
Armor King rolls away from Zach, after he unleashes the Screwdriver.
Staggering back up, he regains his footing, evening out his momentum as Zach and Rust collide with each other. The wrestler paces side to side, watching the pair tear into each other. "I'm... Jerry! Yeah! Jerry! Jerry, it looks like as Zach and Rust roll into each other, Armor King is picking his next victim! Is he gonna finish off Zach, or is he gonna to soften up Rust Junior now?" Armor King steps forward in a confident stride, as the Cement Upper- Mixer- Upper Mixer is unleashed.
"Looks like Armor King thinks that Zach has had enough, Ben!"
Blood and spit splatter the wrestler's breastplate as he approaches the ropes. With Rust on the ropes, he doesn't show any finesse, any grace. He takes a moment to try and push Rust around, to get him back upright on the ropes, to even him out... before winding back his right, and slams his spiked bracer limb hard right for Rust's shoulder.
"Looks like he is going straight for the Hammer Impact, Ben!"
Zach hits the mat with a thunderous impact as the pipe strikes home. He lays there for a moment, trying to order his thoughts finally as Armor King goes after Rust. Something... familiar about that man, but at the same time different.
Zach shakes the thought off, taking a moment to catch his breath and start to move his own energies about in a different way...
COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn gains composure.
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Zach Glenn 1/-------/=======|=======\-------\1 Rust
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Armor King 1/-------/=======|
COMBATSYS: Armor King successfully hits Rust with Strong Punch.
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++#######:: : :: : ::###########+++
++########## SLAM!! ################++
++############: : :: : :#########+
++##########################++
+#############################+
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######+ +###+ +#####+ +#######
##### #+ +###+ ######
####+ + #####
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+
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Zach Glenn 1/-------/=======|=======\======-\1 Rust
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Armor King 1/------=/=======|
"Oh. Thanks," Rust Jr. says with an odd amount of cheer in his voice given the fact that he is being approached by a big, powerful, man-shaped jaguar of a mighty warrior as he is 'helped' up to his feet. He seems happy to see him.
"Now, about measuring--" He says as he sees the measuring tape by his feet while Armor King rears back, and...
** CENSORED **
"I don't think ropes work that way, Ben," Jerry says, looking from behind a sheet of paper with an empathic cringe.
"I don't think the human body works that way either, Jerry!"
Not once in the history of this storied arena has a man and a set of ropes had their fates so entwined. There is a Hammer Impact, and then there is what just happened right here. The particulars of how a spiky shoulder ram and a (still live, probably) human body ended up producing this scene is not important.
Suspended upside down, at least one of the ropes pulled to breaking point, Howard Rust Jr. is contorted into near-anatomical impossibility with a twitch of his leg and a slack-jawed, star-seeing stare out into the ring.
Triumphantly, in his right hand, he manages to have enough gumption, feeling, and sense of where he is and what he's doing to wave about a measuring tape. What he's saying sounds sort of like...
"Gkvnfmghkhjrgbl!"
"One day, Howard is going to look to his grandkids and say that this was a moment in his life, Jerry."
"Might be a story he's gonna have to tell St. Peter at this rate, Ben."
...Are they really going to let this keep going?
COMBATSYS: Rust takes no action.
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Zach Glenn 1/-------/=======|=======\======-\1 Rust
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Armor King 1/------=/=======|
After a brief censor block, we return to the aftermath of A CRITICAL SLAM.
Howard Rust Junior was technically alive, and technically a full-fledged member of the ring's construction now. Armor King just stands there, inspecting his work, before brushing his hands against each other, dusting them off. Throwing his arms in the air, he looks to the crowd, playing off there... groans, and even a few boos! In response to the heat from the crowd, the lucha throws back his head, and calls back.
"*Victorious Jaguar Noise*"
"Armor King might be the champion, but don't forget Ben that he has always been a heel in the ring." Jerry announces as Armor King works the crowd. "He is the King of Dirty Tactics after all, and that was a perfect example of that." "And it looks like he is done working Rust over, which means... Zach better watch out!" Armor King pivots, turning his back to what was left of Rust, and focusing again on Zach. Striding towards the ex-marine with heavy footsteps, the sheer brutality. He picks up speed, before leaping forward into a cartwheel just short of Zach, hurling out a kick in the cartwheel "Looks like Armor King is going for a Round Out Kick, Jerry..." "Hold it Ben, he's going for the Round Out Body Slam!" Whether or not the first kick lands won't matter, cause once Armor King gets on his feet, he will hurl his body forward into a flying body slam, straight into Zach.
"Armor King is bringing crushing momentum now!"
COMBATSYS: Armor King successfully hits Zach Glenn with Fierce Kick.
~ Cruel hit! ~
[ \\\\\\\\ < > ///////// ]
Zach Glenn 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\======-\1 Rust
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Armor King 1/------=/=======|
Zach staggers to his feet just in time to have Armor Kick drop a kick onto his shoulder, before folding under the larger man's armored bulk. Zach coughs up some blood before clambering to his feet. He coughs for another second, spitting a gobule of red goop to the mat. Glenn regards the other two men tiredly, a slight wobble in his stance as he tightens his grip on his sword. Rust is immobilized, and Armored King looks like he's still good to go. Neither of these things spells anything good for the psion as he runs the numbers through his head.
"Right then," he mutters. "Time to end this."
Golden energy gathers around Zach's body, collecting around the wooden blade. More of the energy spills across the mat, giving the ring an unearthly glow. "Not how I wanted to do this," he admits, "But beggars and choosers."
Zach sweeps the blade upward, missing Armor King completely. A half second later, however, the area within the ring is enveloped in a vertical column of golden sunlight!
COMBATSYS: Rust avoids Zach Glenn's #Drynwyn+#.
[ \\\ < > ///////// ]
Zach Glenn 0/-------/-------|=======\======-\1 Rust
[ \\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\\ <
Armor King 1/------=/=======|
Over where Junior is currently... existing, it's sad to watch this man struggle.
"Did he just... after he went through... oh my god. Ben, are you seeing thi--"
"WHY AREN'T YOU HIDING UNDER YOUR DESK, JERRY?!"
Strike the above. No one is watching Howard Rust, Jr., they're watching Zach completely unload. Even the spectators are afraid where they sit - for all the safeguards this greatest arena of arenas put forth, there are some fighters capable of pulling forth such great destructive power that almost no machination of man could hold them back.
The first steel fence barriers shudder. Let's not even talk about the mechanical stresses the ring is being put through.
Junior stops moving for a moment and cranes his head downward to the flooding energy. Pressing his tongue against his upper lip, he slowly pulls his left leg out of the tangle. His left elbow clenches one of the ropes to hold it steady and tight as he gets his right arm free, stashing the measuring tape...
These details are meaningless, as Zach utters about beggars and choosers. All eyes are upon Zach and his power. The only hint to there being any movement or presence from the tangled man at all is the loud sound of held rope snapping back in place.
The sound, too, is drowned out to the vertical column of light, and everything is chaos. Screaming. Shouting. So little can be seen...
Other than a shadow cast high above, as one bruised, battered Howard Rust Jr. flips, twirls, and otherwise puts on a good acrobatic show.
Rather than be enveloped by the explosive energy, Howard Rust Jr. is instead hurled upward. High, high, high indeed, clear of the blast.
"Where's Howard?!" One of the paramedics yells clearly enough to be picked up by cameras. "Holy shit. Holy shit. He might be--"
"Up there!"
At the very apex of his leap, he kicks one leg forward, one leg curled backwards to the extent it appears very painful to do. His free hand is clenched save for an extended pinky, left hand clenched around the center mass of his length of pipe rather than any makeshift end that would be considered the handle.
"Jerry, look, look up, he's--"
"Dear God."
Life is a cycle. Birth, growth, reproduction, and eventual death. Knowledge is passed from generation to generation, and it is generally understood that every generation that passes stands to grow ever stronger, to move ever forward.
Howard Rust, Sr., a renowned hero who journeyed the globe with a curious mastery of a length of pipe. Howard Rust, Jr. - one of five children - the inheritor of his style... and then some, having put a unique ninjitsu-like spin upon it. Even in his advancing age and (arguably, very poor) adjustment to a humble home life after such an exciting youth, there is no doubting there was - or perhaps is - plenty to show about how he is his father's son.
And yet, with the way he suddenly flips to point his back down, pointing his pipe-holding hand downward in an awkward punching motion as gravity at last takes hold of him...
"To our employers," the announcers find some semblance of composure for the aftermath of Zach's great explosive display of power, "Jerry and I have agreed to enact our clause to refuse to acknowledge and/or call out one specific move."
"Ben and I would not wish this indignity upon anyone, let alone our current champion."
The two announcers give a solemn nod as the subtitles fill in the horrible reality that is now ocurring between a descending man who maybe has a bit too much fun styling their natural, fast-growing hair, the pipe they wield, and the armored jaguar-masked wrestler that stands beneath them in the afterglow of Zach's psychic explosion.
This maneuver, attack of Howard Rust, Jr., famous and probably a bit more respected maybe a decade ago, son of the even more famous and respected Howard Rust...
...Is probably not what anyone would ever charitably call a forward evolution of one of the father's more infamous techniques as he descends upon a crash course to the Armor King himself.
*~* STRONGEST SECRET SHAMEFUL STUPID SLAM *~*
^^^ JUMPING DEEP STRIKE ^^^
COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn successfully hits Armor King with #Drynwyn+#.
+ Epic Hit! +
[ \\\ < > ///////// ]
Zach Glenn 0/-------/-------|=======\======-\1 Rust
[ \\\\\\\ <
Armor King 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|
COMBATSYS: Armor King Toughs Out Rust's Deep Strike!
[ \\\ < > ///////// ]
Zach Glenn 0/-------/-------|=======\=======\1 Rust
[ \\\\ <
Armor King 2/<<<<<<</<<<<<<<|
Coup De Grace.
The blow was staggering, knocking Zach down to the ground with both blows. Pinning him down for a moment, he rolls off, rolling away from Zach. Rising back up, he felt that he had this fight in the bag. Both Rust and Zach had been broken by the sheer offense. And Armor King himself was at a full tank. He was confident, he was cocky. As Zach himself rises, he turns to face him, his red eye gleaming. As the energy builds on the slash, he already crosses his arms, ready to take whatever was coming, bracing himself for another heavy stand. The blade comes... and nothing. Armor King slowly uncrosses, uncertain of what was-
BOOM
The column of energy blasts upwards, consuming the form of Armor King, the whole ring. The audiences gasps, and it takes a moment before... the Armor King stands fast, arms limp, body burning. The remains of the energy cascade off him, as he is just... numbed. He begins to fall to a knee, ready to collapse... "Is this it Jerry?" "Is this the end of our Champion?" But no. NO! Armor King suddenly rises up, flexing his arms. He roars out.
"*Defiant Jaguar Noises*"
He could make a stand against Zach's strongest move, just barely.
But it takes the Jumping Deep Strike to take him down.
The slam comes, driving hard into Armor King's back. Armor King's second wind was enduring, as the blow shatters his legendary armor. His black, naked chest is exposed as the dark armor is sent into pieces on the ring. He was broken. He didn't have much longer. He draws back his fist, body lowered down. Everything was going dark. He roars out again.
"*Anguished Jaguar Noises*"
And he fixes his eye on Zach.
The Champion makes his own last defiant stand as he charges down on Zach, throwing himself at the ex-marine. The projectile's blow slowed him down. The greater Rust had broken his armor. He was naked, and about to fall. The entire audience holds their collective breath as Armor King tightens his fist one last time... before unleashing it, throwing the punch as hard and fast as he can right at Zach, rising with the sheer force of the blow. He would not land softly; he would collapse on the ground, face down. This was his last ditch assault. But Jerry is able to name it for the sake of the audience.
"... It's... DARK DESTROYER!?!"
COMBATSYS: Armor King can no longer fight.
[ \\\ < > ///////// ]
Zach Glenn 0/-------/-------|=======\=======\1 Rust
COMBATSYS: Armor King dazes Zach Glenn with Dark Destroyer!
! VENGEANCE !
[ < > ///////// ]
Zach Glenn 1/---<<<</<<<<<<<|=======\=======\1 Rust
Zach's reached the end of his rope with that massive working of energy. He had thought it would work... but both of his opponents are still standing. Zach /cannot/ move in time to prevent taking the uppercut, catching it cleanly on the chin. The psion recoils, the sword falling from his grip. Zach wobbles, and feels and hears more than sees Armor King finally go down.
Rust, however, is still in the fight.
Zach lurches toward the older man, slowly bringing his right hand over to his left hip. A sword, made of soul power, forms in the grip of both hands. It resembles a claymore, somewhat more ornate appearing, as it shimmers and flickers in the young man's grip.
Zach takes a couple more steps towards Rust, swinging the constructed sword once before falling to the mat unconscious!
COMBATSYS: Zach Glenn can no longer fight.
> ///////// ]
|=======\=======\1 Rust
COMBATSYS: Rust reflects Claw Spiker from Zach Glenn with Bulldozer.
> ///////// ]
|=====--\-------\0 Rust
To even strike dead-on against Armor King is a proposition filled with risk. With the velocity in which one Howard Rust Jr. falls upon them, and just the sheer resilience appropriate to the great wrestler their name can and should impart in importance about their very being...
Comically, even undermining the effect of shattering his armor, Jr. ricochets off of the mighty champion and sees his carried-over momentum bounce himself painfully across the ring while the vengeance of Armor King is enacted upon the ex-marine.
Not one of these three fighters comes out of this final exchange looking rosy, intact, or much of anything. Junior over there? He was already a few bends shy of being a human pretzel. Couple the whiplash from impact against Armor King, and further battering as the rings and rope caught him...
For being bruised and bloodied, broken does not seem to be a b-word to apply to the bastard. Still battle-ready... debatable....
"Right. The belt. We got to do some measuring," he says as he stumbles along towards Zach, who has formed a psionic sword out of his expression of himself. The desire to push forth and win... so, what does this man, this nutjob, stand for?
The pipe is taken in both hands on either end, the right hand clenching so tightly that metal squeals as the sword catches itself against... his forearm?
The psionic power doesn't go through the flesh to strike against the soul, as the aging man crouches into what seems like a mid-air seated position. Something... stops the blade?
Someone that Zach once knew was surprisingly resilient, but this, what is...
MEANWHILE, AMONG SOME SUITS...
"You mean to tell me you put Howard Rust, Jr., in that ratio bracket..."
"We did, sir," says one of the evaluators, "we had a lot of archived footage to go by."
"The way he moves, really something."
"How old is that footage you used?" The superior asks.
The other two exchange nervous glances. "The newest is from--"
The superior slams down some new vital readouts. "Do they match what our tests for twenty fucking sixteen show?"
They only have to go three pages deep to go pale. "This man... he... he shouldn't be--"
"Zach Glenn and Armor King are going to MURDER THIS MAN," the superior sneers, "I don't care how close he came to that national championship, what, ten, fifteen years ago?" Moments later, he's already got them both by their necks. "We are NOT going to suffer a wrongful death suit over this son of a bitch. WHEN. DOES. THIS. MATCH. START?"
One of the now half-dead executives points to a TV with the volume turned all the way down, where, as the other executive - in his near-dying breath - thumbs the volume control to turn it up...
IN THE PRESENT...
Ben and Jerry have nothing to say about what's going on.
Words have trouble describing this to begin with, as Junior vibrates in place in this strange seated position, somehow gliding forward without further muscle movement as he pushes the energy back INTO Zach - and, well, the rest of Rust himself, too - managing in this bizarre form to be a near-impentrenable wall to the elements of man and nature to be scooped up like...
Say, a bulldozer.
Shaking and sliding across the ring, he eventually tilts back to lift Zach and/or any residual energy by his legs and flip him across the ring - possibly even out - as he lies on his back to shake back and forth like an overturned turtle.
BACK AMONG SOME SUITS...
"Is that Armor King on the mat, not moving?"
"Y-Yes, sir." The first inferior coughs, barely catching enough oxygen to stay conscious.
"Is Zach Glen going to get back up from... from that?"
"I... I don't know," says the other, legitimately worried.
This would be one of the days the world of fighting stood still.
Jerry and Ben are speechless.
The entire crowd is speechless. There is dead silence, throughout the audience, at this upset victory. Howard Rust was a world champion right now. Jerry eventually becomes brave enough to speak on the mic. "Well, uh. It looks like Howard Rust Junior is the... is the winner. Isn't that something Ben. Ben?" Ben blinks a moment, looking to his left. "Jerry, it is a real surprise, but it does look like that Howard Rust is the champion. But I have a few questions right now. Like, well, what is this man doing in the announcer booth?"
What man?
That man.
The man seems to be a middle aged Japanese man, garbed in traditional aikido wear, with a red breastplate. His eyes were furrowed, focused directly ahead. His lips under his great mustache were tight. Ben just watches him, as he stands there quietly. "Seriously, Jerry, what is this guy doing here." Jerry covers the mic, and looks Ben in the eyes.
"Two Words, Ben."
"Legacy Characters."
Log created on 13:57:20 01/09/2016 by Zach Glenn, and last modified on 21:35:33 01/09/2016.