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| 12-8-01 Lincolnton, NC Echelon attacks Lady Cassandra Of course everything started off with talking. Why does everyone find it so necessary to talk when a simple beating would suffice? But no, no, instead we will gloat over victories and mourn losses, thump our chests and verbally try to break the backs of our enemies. Bullshit. The ramblings in the ring left me pacing, cuz I was in the mood to hurt someone. It wasn't until the real action started that I felt like paying attention. See, Butterfly was defending her little title belt against the Masked Menace of all people. She damn near wiped the ring with him, which made me smile. I can't stand those lucha-losers; this one really got on my nerves because he actually wanted to win the Women's title. I mean, ok, if that's what greases his weasel it's all good, but it really leaves him open for speculation on his "preferences" if you know what I mean (and I think you do). Moving right along then, I settled back to watch Butterfly systematically try to tear his knee to shreds. Quite entertaining, really, until that little gimp of a wannabe wrestler Lady Cassandra came crutching down to the ring. Apparently Butterfly's pre-match speech (and subsequent short jokes -- hey, I laughed at 'em) must've roused the little Lady's inner witch-with-a-capital-B ... or maybe it was the fact that she was crutching about due to Butterfly's assault two weeks ago ... anyways, something pissed her off. She took one weak swing with a crutch at Butterfly's back and I was on my way. There are just things you don't do. This is an example of one of those things, and Lady Cassandra was about to discover the consequences of her poorly thought-out actions. She soaked up the adoration from the screaming, mindless fans. It actually almost amused me as she literally hopped backwards on one foot with her arms raised as though she'd done something special. It must've felt really special when she turned around and saw me flying through the air directly at her. It must've felt even more special when she got hit with the Fatal Error so hard that I did a complete midair flip just after the point of impact. Another thing you just don't do is underestimate me. Don't ever think I'm not watching everything that's going on or that I'm not already two steps ahead of you. I'd arrived for the show ready to kick some ass, and said ass was being kicked. I could hear Lady Cassandra wheezing and gasping for air as I stomped the hell outta her now-bruised ribs, and when she rolled on her stomach to protect herself I repeatedly introduced her back to my forearm. Butterfly joined the fun and went to work on the glorified valet's busted wheel. Damage is only worthwhile when it's lasting, though, and a beating is so much nicer when it has some finesse, so before she could draw a full breath I locked on a lying bodyscissors. Butterfly took the hint and threw on a leglock, and I swear as the little one lay there screaming I heard something break; doesn't much matter if it was ribs or a knee, I love the sound of bones crunching on a Saturday night. And then our victim's cretin boytoy Michael had to show up and spoil our fun. Regardless, I was the one standing at the entranceway with Chris Caine and Butterfly when all was said and done, while those two shiny happy idiots sprawled crying in the ring. And when the night was over, the drooling Nascar rejects in the crowd kept asking me, "Echelon, why'd you do it? Why would you associate yourself with Caine Enterprises?" Well, actually, what they were saying was barely intelligible, so I've taken the liberty of translating from imbicile to English. Anyways, you'll get the same answer they all got: You'll soon find out. Hey Michael, you'd better watch your back. People don't hit me from behind and just get away with it. One day, when you're least expecting it, I'll be there waiting for you. I certainly hope you're ready to meet your maker, angel-boy. Oh, and Cassandra ... dyin' time's here. |