Capering, twirling his umbrella the visage of Walt Whezl is not the most appealing site to start the day off with, standing in front of the now-classic, err. CLASSIC Wrestling Banner.
The pint-sized would be Pinochet wearing a ghoulish grin. He pauses alarmingly close upon himself. The fecund scent of his breath nearly reaching between mediums, the facepaint-filled pores intrusively visible.
Well. Well. Well…
Whezl continues hard mugging the camera, a ghoulish grin littered with little inverted crosses, and an unhealthy number of pointy paint edges. His contacted enhanced green eyes tilt left and right.
Now that Johnny Saint Nelson has been revealed to be the charlatan we all knew him to be, the great and mighty burden of dealing with Rush Sssssterling.
Whezl’s voice drips with oily venom.
And Vito Valentinooooo.
Whezl sneers hard.
Though you escaped me by the nick, the very slightest nick of time Rush Starling.
It was then, that the gloved and gauntleted hand creaking leather came down heavily on Whezl’s shoulder and using the prosaic force of Newtonian gravity. Whezl was no longer an inch distant concern.
Instead, the flesh made void loomed, shuddering with hawking radiation. None so black leather gorget adorned with nails made for crucifixion, and enough other spikes that a porcupine would feel inadequate and jealous. Lord Colossus offered a single hand.
Even under the unceasing and humming fluorescents, light fixtures and bends towards the man who would be void.
Walter Whezl, scrambling and ungracefully regained his feet and positioning behind Lord Colossus.
Seething non-whispered, but well below the normal thundercrack of Lord Colossus’ massive baritone.
You should be thanked.
Walter Whezl tried to scramble in front of Lord Colossus but found him blocked bodily by a tree-like limb. The other hand remained proffered. Whezl sputtered gibberish. Colossus kept him at bay, a fish in a bear claw while ignoring him.
You showed the flaw in the path of domination. The cobbles you walked were soaked in the blood of the sacrifices that preceded you. The gutters filled with the bile of the unworthy, I trod upon that very path.
The eyes burn like cosmic void fire.
You trod upon that very path. The revelation of weakness is not one to be ignored.
His chest begins to heave more visibly, the pharmageddonal enhanced muscles showing the early stages of rage vascularity. Whezl, still squirming like a fish caught on the line was doing his best to try and interject himself into the situation
But, as with all paths. The cobbles of blood and tribulation did not end in the assurance of dominance. Instead, it ends in…
Now, Lord Colossus’ chest has begun to heave in raw rage, the serpentritional constellation of spikes beginning to vibrate and oscillate, the proffered fist snaps closed, the eyes go wide as heavy breathing reverberates behind the studded overmask. Roaring Waves of Low Oscillations.
FOR RUSH STARLING, THERE WILL BE NO FURTHER ABSOLUTION OF HIS FATHERS FAILURES FURTHER. BEHOLD RUSH STARLING, THE STORMWALL OF THE VOID OVERSWEEPS THE LANDSCAPE OF CLASSIC WRESTLING.
YOU AND VITO VALENTINO BEAR WITNESS TO THE NEW ERA OF CLASSIC WRESTLING. BEFORE THE VOID
ALL LIGHT WILL BEND.
GRAVITY ITSELF KNEELS BEFORE THE THERMONUCLEAR BLACKFIRE WOLVES OF THE INFINITE GRANITE.
VITO VALENTINO’S WILL, WILL DESCANT IN THE ATOMCHASM OF CONFLAGRATIONAL BAPTISM. THERE WILL BE NO WALK OF MYTHIC PATHS, THERE WILL BE NO MORE POSTURING. THE RAPTURE OF THE GRAVITECTONIX COLLAPSE APPROACHES!
RUSH STARLING WILL BECOMES MOTES OF DUST AND LIGHT, SPINNING IN THE ACCRETION DISK ON THE EDGE OF AN EVENT HORIZON HE IS..
It was at the moment that “All Business” Alex Bruder stepped onto the screen, behind and to the right of Lord Colossus, his hands bracketing the large faceplate of the Real World’s Championship.
Walt Whezl finally managed to break free of his capering and get in front of Lord Colossus, who looked at the Real World’s champion with the same intense interest most things falling under his gaze would elicit. Whezl however made his best moves to fawn over Bruder, who helpfully ignored the gnat-like prostrations.
Lord Colossus resumed his gravitational pull on Whezl pulling him back helpfully by the shoulder away from the Real World’s Champion. The clenched fist pulled back in slowly, all of that leather cracking a thunderhead from immense darkened clouds.