Reprisal, the Potential

Character: Ken Kaze & George the Trashcan

“Listen George,” the all too familiar voice of Jolt Wrestling’s Resident Moron demanded, “I want you to sit here and wait for me.”

The image of Ken Kaze appeared on the RaveTron for all of the nearly sold out audience of Long Island, New York to witness. The fifteen thousand, eight hundred seventy five faithful were exploding (much to the delight of Geo Vacton) inside of the Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum. This moment was the first time in weeks – more specifically, since the Retort – the crowd, as well as the television viewers at home, were able to observe the Hero of Hardcore free from imprisonment.

However, his attitude was unusual tonight. The repercussions of his informal captivity had left its mark; it had left a wound so deep that the very victim of the vile assaults may forever be both physically and mentally scarred. His demeanor had evolved severely from the weeks of torment he suffered at the hands of the merciless Superbeast, more commonly known to the world of wrestling as Sylo.

He was the same man he was last week and the week before, suffering from defeat as he continued an injured and ragged soul amongst the others. Sylo’s torture had taken its toll on the unfortunate Hardcore Hero. Ken remained entirely bathed by crimson, stained from his own blood that was shed at the hands of his adversary. His hair remained unruly, caked with dirt, perspiration, and blood as well. Even his usual golden yellow mixed with emerald green wrestling tights were taking on a more boring scarlet color, contradicting its customary vibrant appearance. One would think he was intoxicated as he strolled around wide-eyed, the sclerotic coat of his eyes bloodshot. The scent of his body odor could have been labeled as “anti-cologne” the way it drove people off, causing them to place bets inside their minds as to how long it had been since he had showered. His facial expression was that of a distraught serial killer, seeking its next victim, as he remained hidden in the shadows.

Only, Kaze was not hiding in the shadows and was not a distraught serial killer. At least, not yet. He was lounging in a booth of what appeared to be a mini cafeteria inside of the arena. The dining hall was completely vacant, with the exception, of course, of Ken Kaze and George the Trashcan, who was sitting (or was he standing? That is such a questionable matter) atop the table placed in front of the booth.

“No – I’m not treating you like a kid by asking you to stay here. Not asking, but demanding. Yes – I am very well aware that you are eleventy-ten times more intelligent and mature than I am. I have a personal matter to address with that blue haired fagbox Sylo. I know you were involved and I agree with you on the fact that you have every right to be involved. I’m only asking you as my friend to just stay put, George. Let me handle this. That prick-faced motherflucker challenged me to a fight last week. You know as well as I do that I was never one to back down from a challenge. No, not a challenge. A bully. I hate bullies. Fluck them. F[BEEP!]k them. F[BEEP!]k Sylo. F[BEEP!]K YOU, YOU BLUE MEANIE IMPERSONATOR REJECT. I’LL STEAL YOUR VIRGINITY WHEN I FIND YOU!”

The calloused hands of Kaze clinched into a fist at the mere thought of his newfound enemy. Evidently, Polar had been ordered to the back of Ken’s mind as his primary focus altered into the form of Sylo. Kaze jolted voluntarily inside the booth as he attempted to get to his feet, ready to make his departure in order to begin his search for his antagonist. However, fate decided this was not to be as he tripped over his own feet just as he landed on the floor. Face first, he smacked the ground. As he brought himself up to his feet, a tiny puddle of blood had materialized on the floor. A quick glance at his face showed a busted nose, blood running down his mouth.

“F[BEEP!]king A, George. It seems like that c[BEEP!]ksucker has this booth against me, too!”

Out of pure rage, he grasped onto the rim of George before wildly slamming him against the cushioned seat of the booth. Another slam from George and the booth was definitely feeling the aftereffects. Leather and foam began to fly everywhere as Ken continued with the vicious assault, believing the booth to be against him. He finally came to an abrupt halt, showing his relent. He firmly placed George on top of the table once more.

“F[BEEP!]king stupid piece of wannabe Julia Rob[BEEP!]ts, c[BEEP!]k eating, c[BEEP!]t frying, DILDO ass s[BEEP!]t!” Kaze exclaimed with a brutal barrage choice of words, much to the displeasure of Broadcast TV. “I’LL KILL YOUR FATHER! AND RAPE YOUR SISTER WHILE SHE SLEEPS! Mainly because that’s the only way I’d get some poonani looking like this, but that’s beside the point.

“Anyway, I’m off, George. I need to just get away right now. This motherflucker has driven me up a wall. I’ll come back for you, I promise.”

Turning away from George, Ken paced toward the exit of the cafeteria, ready to embark on his journey for his rival. He wanted to make sure Sylo received proper punishment by his hands. Ken wanted to make sure Sylo suffered the same way he had weeks prior. Ken did not only want retribution, he demanded it. The probable intent of revenge was there.

Ah. Reprisal, the potential.