Post by Mr. C on Aug 9, 2009 23:21:04 GMT -5
XIX.
"The God of Midgaard is not to be taken lightly."
Cross and Glaeg, having finally made it home from their long voyage continue on their way up the hill overlooking their home town. As they round the top of it, exhausted and ready to drop, they saw their entire village engulfed in flames, their houses burning and their families and friends being slaughtered. Running about in the snowy apocalypse were literally hundreds of demons, scavenging and pillaging. They were killing men, women and children alike and destroying all in their paths. But heading the assault was a mighty Jotun, smashing all that it could with its mighty tree-trunk-like war-club. This was the picture-perfect example of what Rangarok was supposed to be, a land filled in war and chaos, all with a backdrop of a debilitating storm. But, neither Cross or Glaeg sat back and watched the scene unfold in horror. All of the disgustingly picturesque scenery was lost on them, as they instead instantly ran forward in to the fires of war – in the midst of chaos they would do what they were born to do. They ran fast and they ran hard, down in to the fray, drawing their weapons and yelling out their battle cries. The battle field was full, and it was set for an epic showdown.
Excitedly, Roberts was pacing back and forth in front of his protégé Brett Cross, doing his best to pump him up for the upcoming match. But, it doesn’t take much to prepare a Viking for war. Despite all of the enthusiasm found in Roberts’ voice, despite his exaggerated hand motions, Cross was as always viewing things from his own perspective. As “The Eh” walked back and forth before his friend, Cross was smiling evilly as he thought of the bloodshed to come on the inaugural episode of Monday Night Massacre in The Asylum. A fitting title for the show that was soon to come.
“So once again, Brett Cross is back in the main event where he should be! You know, in such a short time we’ve come a long way from losing to Chance Fusion, in fact we were instantly back in the title hunt! And you know why? That loss was a fluke, it was merely an effect of the changes that were occurring in you, big guy. You didn’t lose to him, you lost to yourself. You were down and out. But you’re back now, correct? Correct. You’re back, and you’re better than ever. And in fact, we aren’t even going to dwell on that past. We’re moving on, on to much better things. Chance Fusion has done nothing since his victory, he’s returned to being a punching bag. But us? We’re set to keep moving upwards. This week we’ll prove why Chance is still a chump, title or not. We’ll toss his scrawny ass out of the ring as quickly as we can, and show why we didn’t need that sorry excuse for a title to hold us down any longer.”
Cross ran in and immediately lopped off the head of one of the demons scrounging about. He dispatched him quickly and fast, not even giving his senses time to appreciate the flicker of the blood spray or the sound of iron cracking spine. Because these bastards were not worth Cross’ time, they were demons unleashed by Loki on the worlds at the onset of Ragnarok. Short, scrawny, rotting corpses, but their eyes were full of hate and bloodlust. They were simply, wayward souls, lost and without direction beyond the simple order to kill. Cross was more than happy to quickly dispose of his earthly body and return the despicable soul back to Hel without as much as a second thought.
“Since then, we’ve established ourselves as a Hardcore Title Contender and a Main Eventer. But not only that, we’re the most impressive member IN this main event. Together, we’re perhaps the two greatest stars in The Asylum end of discussion. How are people like 415, or his brother Marcus Puzzo or even the new guy Liger going to throw us out? Do the Mario Brothers and Liger really think they have a chance? They’re young, scrawny competitors. They’re not even close to being in our league. In fact, I would say they are just pity invitations to this event. To make sure everyone gets a fair shot under Oblivion’s new direction for this federation. Sure, 415 gained our respect for his tenacity last week. And I appreciate all that he’s done, there’s no ill-will toward him, and he’d make a great partner, but this is a different situation. Now it’s every man for himself and none of them would even stand a chance against us. Especially not in this match.”
Three more devils further in to the battle turned at the gurgled but quickly extinguished cry of their comrade and ran towards Brett. Glaeg was already far ahead, diving headlong in to the flames of battle as Cross was being held back by these three new half-pint beasts latched on to him. They clawed and scratched at Cross’ flesh, but it was to no effect – nothing more than annoyances at this point and Hammer had no time for them. Shaking his shoulder, Cross was able to fling one down to the ground and crushed his head beneath his foot with a sickening crunch. Then another that was clinging to Cross’ forearm and biting at his wrist, Brett flung to the side. It flew off with ease and landed in one of the many fires raging in the village and burnt to a crisp quickly. The third Cross pulled off of his back by the scruff of its’ neck and then rammed Brandrwulf through its stomach. The beast coughed up blood on to Brett’s chest and with a grunt Cross finished the job by tearing the blade through the demon’s side and throwing him away. They’re simpletons, just cannon fodder and Cross had no time for them.
“We’re two of the most decorated stars, out there, Brett! You have the longest title reign of any of them, including the mighty “world champions”! We’re also by far the biggest competitor in the match and you could throw many of these chumps out with ease! I know you’re used to facing giants but to them, YOU are the giant, my friend. Not to mention collectively, but especially you, we know how to win in big game situations. Between the two of us, we’ve been in the main events how many times? And won how many? I know I sure can’t count that high. We have the experience, unlike many of our competitors. Chris Sabora being one of them. Oh, the beloved Chris Sabora. The UFC multi-time blah blah blah. If you ask me, he hasn’t done jack shit here in this federation. A sole tag-team title reign, right? And that’s it. It’s pathetic. To think of him as a threat, when he has nothing to show for it would be a waste of our time. All of his judo will get him nowhere, especially not in a match about strength and strategy – both of which we have ample of. And even if we didn’t, you’ve had Sabora’s number plenty of times – including all of those times you were out of your element in the Pure Title race! The trick though, is now… we aren’t out of our element at all. This match lends itself to our style.”
Back on Midgaard, Cross kept slicing forward, taking out demons of all shapes and sizes with ease. Even over the increasing snowy gale, their cut-short cries could be heard as they fell all about him and it felt great. “The God of Midgaard” was back home, back in the fires of war, back in his village. But then, at the end of the path, he stopped and looked up. For there was the mighty Frost Giant. All the way from Jotunheimr came this beast to lay waste to this very Mead Hall, Cross’ Mead Hall. This was Brett’s home, not just the battle but this village and this Jotun bastard was destroying it. But no matter who it was that tried to get in his way, there would be no stopping Cross. Looking back, he saw Glaeg was hard at work dispatching the grunts and living it up in the blood. So Cross returned his gaze to the much bigger prize, he wouldn’t waste any unnecessary time on them when he could go for the big guy.
“And the same goes for Vincent, he’s no different, Cross. You’ve beaten Vincent more times than I’m sure he’d like to count and you’ve done it with ease. If you want to talk about having nothing to show for yourself, just look at him – he’s the poster child for it. He’s been in big-league situations plenty of times but he always fails, he always comes up short. And you know why? Because he’s a loser. A lot of people would argue that he’s changed since those days, that he’s better, that perhaps he was even purposely skipping over that Pure Title stage to get to the big leagues. Hell, there’s even truth in that he beat the Asylum World Champion last week. Well, here’s the thing. The World Champ isn’t Brett Cross. And anything Vincent can do, Cross can do as well. Vincent is just like all of the other chumps in this match, they’re jokes. And, while it’s on my mind, if it’s a numbers game Vincent plans to play, or even Sabora for that matter, it won’t work. They’re going to need those numbers to throw Cross over, but it’s no matter. By far, Cross is the largest competitor in this match, so the little Brotherhood team and the little Rebellion team will need their friends to win. But, even with their friends, as I’ve already said countless times, individually they’re all jokes. We just need to take them out one at a time.”
The mighty Jotun is a beast whose fame comes from its ferocity. They’re slow, they’re simply, but they’re bloodthirsty beasts. With ungodly size and strength, they hail from the frozen mountain wasteland of Jotunheimr and they’re the eternal enemies of the gods. And when they’re at their worst is when they’re in packs, like the one that’s surely marching down Bifrost upon Asgaard as we speak. But one by one, they can be taken advantage of with relative ease. Cross has done it once before, he felled the mighty Jotun that guarded Brandrwulf not too long ago, and now he’d defeat this one, too. The difference between that battle and this, though, is this is now being fought upon Cross’ home turf. Before, he had difficulty because he was young, he was out of his element and he did not have the power of the gods on his side. But now he’s older, wiser, stronger, and in a land all his own fighting in the ways he knows best. Cross ran forward, up the long path to the ruins of the Mead Hall and quickly ran inside the crumbling doorway before being spotted by the giant.
“And besides, man. Who is going to help Vincent anyway? Diabolik? That loon? The man with the shortest hardcore title reign in probably ever? I mean, he lost the damn thing to his own partner Hi Octane! I think I’ve seen everything now, when someone manages to lose a title match to Hi Octane. I mean, the guy is designed to be the jobber for champions. It’s what he was born to do, in fact I think it’s even in his contract. But Diabolik managed to do it! You know, at one time he was a pretty righteous tag-team fighter. Remember him way back when? And then look at him now, losing to his own team mate. Talk about stupidity. These two, don’t even worry about them. They’re jobbers, they’re jokes and they’re simpletons. If they even try to gang up on you, just crack their skulls together. They’ll probably fall for it too, like some lame skit from The Three Stooges. Or, are they banking on the newly chunky Jack Bull to carry the “weight” of the teamwork?”
Once inside, Cross could heard the slurping and crunching as two demons were busy tearing at the body of a fallen Viking. Laying in a pile of blood they were busy picking at the bones of the defeated Warrior, but when they heard Cross enter they quickly turned and ran to feast upon the fresh meat. But, as soon as they came close Cross grabbed them both by the back of their heads and did just as directed – smashed their skulls together. Their blood-stained teeth scattered as their heads drooped in towards each other from their caved in skulls. Cross dropped them both before him and they slumped in to a pile before he stepped over them and continued on through the rubble of the Mead Hall. Once the greatest building in the entire village, the shining glory of their town, it was now reduced to scrap pieces of jagged timber and demolished rock. At least, to most it would appear that way. To Cross, it was a stepping stone as he quickly ran forward and dove from the top of an overturned table to grabbing one of the revealed beams of the roof and quickly climbed up on top of it. His mind was working quickly, impulsively as he battled – just as it should. He looked up and saw the demon standing before him, the entirety of his massive body was well above the Mead Hall, but Cross had no fear.
“Ya know, it’s almost as if Jack Bull started a training regime of twinkies just for this match. He gained all that weight in an impossibly short amount of time, and he may be our first challenge just because of his fat. His dead weight may cause some trouble, but only for the split second longer it takes you to get him out of the ring, because like the rest of the competitors so far he’s a joke. He’s finally deciding to do things for himself as he says, but he has never done a thing for himself yet! He’s held the hardcore title maybe once, and beaten some of the new guys who inevitably leave after two or three losses, and beyond that there’s not much else to say about him. He’s just another pitiful excuse for a wrestler, and a complete joke of a competitor and his reason for being here is to bulk up this main event. But, that’s where the list of jobbers and idiots end, my friend. Contrary to how it seems, they aren’t all easy pickings.”
Despite the courage Cross had, despite his faith in himself, he knew not to take this lightly. The demon would indeed be a challenge, if for no other reason than its sheer size and strength. He had to act fast and strike quick, because if the demon was able to spot him, this would begin to get difficult. So, sure enough, as he now stood on the beams of the uncovered roof, the Jotun soon spotted him. Because the hay-covering over the large timber beams was torn asunder by the beast’s attacks, standing up upon these supports made him fairly obvious to the Jotun. It cried out, a hellish yell that shook the foundation Hammer stood upon, and then reached out for Cross, looking to squish him in his massive fist. But, before the beast could wrap Cross up in its grasp, Brett jumped up on to the beast’s wrist and pulled the axes from his waist, hooking in to the villain’s pale-blue flesh. Latching in, Cross knew he had to prepare for the toughest part of this battle. But there was no looking back now; he had gone from the cannon fodder to the boss battle.
“Because you see, there’s also Alex Falcon, who could very easily be put in the jobber category as well. So he’s like our transition guy. He did hold that Pure Title many, many months ago. And for a while, as I remember. But beyond that, he hasn’t done much and surely hasn’t impressed in his new return. Wasn’t he given a big title shot, and then blew it? Or, was it multiple title opportunities, I don’t even remember. The point is, I can guarantee he’ll blow this match, too. He can climb as far up the ladder as he wants, but it seems like he’s always going to trip on that last rung. It’s too bad, too. He could be good. He might actually even be good. But we’re that much better, and we’re going to throw him out just as easily as we’re going to throw out the others, too.”
Like ice picks, Cross used the axes to climb the frozen demon. With every step he followed the same system, he’d tear one axe out through the demon’s flesh and then snag a new hand-hold further up the beast’s arm, and then repeat with the other hand for as long as it took to scale the beast. Yet, the entire time, the Jotun shook and yelled, not out of pain but out of frustration. Because to him, Cross was nothing more than an annoying mosquito. The beast’s knees were level with the highest point of the Mead Hall before it’s destruction. So for the Frost Giant, Cross was barely bigger than its smallest toe. But Cross continued to climb, one step at a time until finally his feet slipped on the trail of blood the hooks were making and he lost his grip, hanging on to the demon’s arm by just one axe, and with no footholds high up above the rest of the village. As he hung there, by just one axe embedded in the beast’s flesh, it cried and flailed its arm once more, this time sending Cross falling from the great heights downward, through some of the rubble left on the Mead Hall’s roof and then smashing hard on to the ground. The poor bastards he’d slain earlier were the final cushion for his untimely fall and perhaps the reason he was not ended then and there.
“Or should we be afraid of Xplode? The big guy on campus with an even bigger head. The man who’s done it all in The Asylum, and still coming across as nothing more than a pompous ass. I mean, really, challenging a guy who’s in retirement just to prove a point? You’ve done everything, but you’re still that insecure you need to beat up on us old guys? What’s there left to prove, man. Unless of course, you’re afraid of your own shortcomings. And that’s what I think it is, you haven’t had to face someone like Brett Cross in your many climbs to your many accolades. And, if you aren’t making all of these challenges and claims because of your own insecurities, then I give you exhibit B, you’re horrible nicknames. The Strategic Assassin? Really? My ass you’re the Strategic Assassin. You wouldn’t know strategy if it bit you on the nose, and an assassin? Hardly. I’m sure you don’t even know the first thing about it! But my friend Cross? He sure does. And he’ll prove it to you this Monday. And if you’re lucky, he won’t kill you, he’ll just throw you out like the rest of these hacks.”
With a blood-soaked groan, Cross lay still, stunned and with the wind knocked clear out of him from the fall. But the Jotun was still on the hunt as it peered in to the Mead Hall, squinting in to the darkness. Through the ensuing apocalyptic storm, he couldn’t see Cross where he lay, slowly being covered by the snow. So the demon began to rummage through the massive Mead Hall that looked like not much more than a toy chest to him, and as he pushed aside one of the pillars in an attempt to find Cross, a large chandelier clanged down next to Cross. The noise got the giant’s attention but he still could not see where his foe had landed. Yet, Cross could see down at this level, and he noticed the chandelier and instantly an idea came to mind. Brett struggled to get to his feet, pushing up against the bloodied corpses of the skull-crushed demons and slowly managed to stumble his way over to the chandelier. Picking up the cast-iron lantern, he then began to wind up the thick black chain that came with it. Then, still staying out of the sight of the Jotun, he tied that to one of the only sturdy beams in the Hall before stepping back, lifting the chandelier up and aiming at the beast.
“Then, finally, we have the great Asylum World Champion Lincoln Daggerson. Who apparently isn’t so great as he’s coming in to this match with a loss. I’ve had a very long history with this guy and I’ll tell you now, he’s no pushover. But I will also say he’s certainly beatable. I’ve done it, and if I can do it, then so can “The Norse Hammer.” You have the size, the strength, and the knowledge. Yes, I said knowledge. I’ve faced him plenty of times, so I can give you the inside scoop and the best part is, Lincoln won’t have the same strategies for you. He won’t know what to expect, while you can know all of the tricks. The only person you could possibly worry about in this match is not only on a losing streak, but also will be completely unprepared for you. So, really, you have no one at all to worry about in this match. You’re bigger, better, stronger than all of them. You’re far more decorated, experienced and you even have superior strategy and management thanks to moi. If any of them honestly think you’re going to be tossed over that top rope, then they’re sadly mistaken and I’d like to see them try. This is your element, the chaos of war. You’re a warrior, Cross. You’re a fighter, a brawler, Hell, you’re “The God of Midgaard!” You’re going to go out there Monday and show them you’re not to be messed with. You’re the King of this Asylum, and the craziest son of a bitch out there. You’ll show them that you can run with all of the big guys, and that you’re head and shoulders above the rest. But most of all, show them that Pure Title reign was just the beginning, and that you’re ready to move past it and take on the next challenge.”
Calling out to the beast, Cross then wound up and threw the cast-iron lantern with all of his might. The chain looped over the bewildered giant’s head until it was taught and then Cross ran after it. As it dangled off the beast, Cross managed to jump up and yank it down, holding it tight as the demon tried to stand once more. Hammer struggled against the giant’s immense strength, but as he did Brandrwulf glowed at this side and he managed to hold tight against his foe. Despite the size difference, Brett Cross’ might was a match for the beast of legend for he’s “The God of Midgaard,” “The Norse Hammer” Brett Cross and his strength and war-courage are unmatched in all the nine worlds. Then, with a resounding battle cry, one that rivaled the ferocity of the demon Jotun’s moments prior, Cross tugged hard on the chain and as he did, the Jotun fell forward and with a sickening crunch and squish, his throat was pierced by one of the many jagged piers that stood up in the fallen Hall. The beast slid downward, the blood greasing the fall as he toppled forward further on to the support, and as if he had never lost it before, Cross had once again saved Midgaard.
