Countdown to DeathSport

Abishag is lying in a cell with Buzi standing over him. The elder is holding a large capsule.

“Take this. Quickly. Before the guards return.”

Abishag takes the pill and swallows it dry.

“How did you manage to hide this?” Abishag asks.

“You don’t want to know”, Buzi replies dryly.

“You’re right. I don’t”, Abishag says as he feels like gagging.

The capsule dissolves quickly and the precious liquid makes its way into all of Abishag’s organs and infuses them – binds with them – so that Abishag and the Blob are one.

The Blob’s very essence…in capsule form.

Fast acting.

It isn’t long before the gelatinous master parts the dimensions and Abishag sees many different visions – different realities. They unfold before him – like the wares of a back alley peddler being presented on a very large carpet.
Summeroff told him the master had this ability – to show alternate realities and such. The stuff of science fiction and make believe.

Except it wasn’t as far-fetched as he thought.

It was real.

It was happening right now.

Abishag was a passenger now, riding the brane’s of various alternate universes. It was a bumpy ride but at last the Blob settled on one very relevant reality he wanted Abishag to see.

The aftermath of a boiling pool match. The very type of match Kim had him competing in at Death Sport.
Apparently he had done this before…somewhere.

A voice speaks – ethereal but firm….

“This….is what happens when you lose…most die…some are saved. YOU were saved….at great cost…death itself wrapped its cold arms around…I pried those arms away.”

Abishag was in awe….the Blob itself. Often Summeroff would speak of communing with the master…VERY rare indeed did the Blob speak to his children directly.

“Look now…look upon another scene…another time. Look at what awaits should you fall into the Boiling Pool AGAIN….”

We are shown a view from above – a huge crowd roaring it’s approval as Abishag sees himself…and another - Someone called Eric Dillinger – locked in combat on the edge of a platform of some kind as the boiling pool sits ominously below, waiting for its chance to do what it was created to do. Cook wrestlers to their very deaths! Only a sick and twisted mind could even conceive of such atrocity!

“Behold!” The Blob roars.

“Abishag finally gets to his feet a bit Dazed and completely unaware of Dillinger’s location in the ring. Dillinger leaps of the top rope like a bull frog and nails Abishag with a cross body, but Abishag is able to catch Dillinger in his arms, but the weight and momentum of the 265 pound Dillinger causes Abishag to lose his balance and fall backward against the top rope, up over it causing both men to fall into the boiling water at the same time!”

Dillinger and Abishag flail around in the water screaming like women giving birth in the delivery room of a hospital. ECWC officialsl toss out life preserves to them in attempt to pull them in toward the edge of the pool. By the time Abishag and Dillinger are out of the pool they covered in blisters from head to toe with 2nd degree burns on the majority of the lower half of their bodies.

Abishag cringes at the sight. His body pulled from the boiling pool, pustules exploding and expelling pus and blood all over the floor, his body twitching and convulsing in death throes.

“I survived that?” Abishag questions.

“No…your body died…” The blob answers, “But I brought you back. As I said, I pried the arms of Death away…look now as my grace saved you from certain doom…”

Abishag looks down at the scene before him.

The acolyte Lotus begins to type some commands into a computer console. He puts his arm in a tube. What appear to be goggles emerge from the side of the console. Lotus puts them on. Garm moves over to the tank and begins to push some buttons. The light in the room dims. Other lights come on giving a redish, orange glow. The top of the Blob’s tank begins to depressurize. A robotic arm, controlled by Lotus remotely moves over the opening in the tank and enters the water. The arm has a device on it meant for cutting. It lowers slowly...ever so slowly towards the mass of floating Blob.

“Easy Lotus...” Herman says, clearly nervous.

They must be very carefull. In the previous times they removed tissue from the Blob, they only required small samples. This time, they needed a lot. It was unusual for Summeroff to approve the removal of this much tissue from the Blob for one man. Summeroff watches intently as the acolytes encase Abishag in a bodycast of Blob material.

“I healed you…drained the toxins from your bloodstream and promoted the healing of the flesh. THIS is what awaits you should you fail again…this time though…you will suffer your agonies alone. Should you live – you will live in a cocoon of suffering as you slowly heal over many months or years. You will be left disfigured and gross – a sight to terrify children, a source of ridicule. Your failure will be burned into every pore, every grey hair and every wrinkle.”

With that, the voice of the blob fails and Abishag opens his eyes.

He is back in their cell along with Abaddon and Buzi. It large enough to house two cots – each with mattresses full of years old seminal fluids, dried sweat and various blood and shit stains. There is not much room outside of that. There is a small square opening with bars across it higher up on the wall where only the smallest shades of light penetrate. The air is dank. Black mold grows on parts of the walls.

The holding cell is an unhealthy place – a place fit for those Kim respects. Apparently Kim was a huge fan of the Order. One can only imagine where Kim held those he didn’t like…or what monstrosities he unleashed on them…

Buzi had heard of such a creature Kim kept. Something horrible and twisted with two arms fashioned into claws.

Buzi had listened carefully to the chatter back and forth from the other captives here in the democratic republic and specifically – this cell block. The loud mouthed Mexica – Salinas. She was here. So was that Irish mick O’Brien. He was already well versed in the intricacies of the UOW prisoners. Especially his own opponent. Kronin…

It was what he heard about the other poor souls tossed into this tournament that interested him. Kim’s creature…some Korean Ninja lady…

And Abishag’s opponent. Blake Luthor.

Abishag had taken an interest in him as well.

Emboldened now by the Blob’s vision, he walks over to the bars at the front of the cell and hollers out.

“Luthor! You answer me! I know you’re out there….and I’m waiting for you. It’s a boiling pool match Luthor…a boiling pool…do you know what it feels like to have the skin on your bones cooked…charred…fried…like a chicken….Do you know how it feels as the burning sears you like a steak – as the heat sinks into your flesh and the water boils to the top and erupts from your arms and legs and chest and your entire body? Do you know Luthor!? Oh Blake Luthor…you poor misguided thing…what you must have done to have ended up here – ready to do battle with me…ALL of you…Salinas! Kronin! Dresden! …and Don’t think I’ve forgotten about you Sato!...You will all finally face the Blob’s final judgement….no longer can you be saved by run-in’s….by the bell…by that fool Bob Sigro! There is only the Blob’s justice here in the Democratic Republic…I’ve been in something like this before you see…I’m tempered now, forged through the crucible of mortal combat! Sato!? What is your greatest worry?”

“SHUT UP IN THERE!” a voice booms out…the voice of Blake Luthor.

“Ah. There he is”, Abishag says, as if speaking to a lost child found. “There he is. Luthor…it’s not too late to back out….I hear you are a loaner…a Warhammer Wrestling reject…you have no place here…poor Luthor…when you are in the ring with me and as I hold your squirming body high over the boiling pool so you can listen to the pool bubble and feel the humidity increasing….I want you to remember that you had a choice…yes, you may think you don’t…Kim is going to make you fight no matter what…but you DO have a choice. Your cellmate is Jeremiah Vastrix…awaken him and get him to use his cybernetic eye on you….it’s been known to discharge energy at times…attack him….allow him to execute you…better that then be dropped into the boiling pool….”

“Piss off!” Luther hollers.

“Very well…” Abshag says and turns away and now faces Abaddon and Buzi.

“And what about you Brother?” he says to Buzi, “It’s been a long time since we saw YOU in the ring. Do you think you can handle Kronin?”

“That German has been on the downside of his career for a year now…his best days are far, far in the past. I could beat him with my eyes closed.”

“Maybe so”, Abishag says, “But this is in an electrified steel cage…you lose your balance…even one time…and he could push you into it…even the Blob would be hard pressed to return you to life then…”

Buzi nods in understanding.

Abishag grunts and returns to one of the cots. He sits down and the mattress makes a crunching noise.

“Jesus…” Abaddon says in disgust.

Both Buzi and Abishag glare at Abaddon – eyes bulging.

“DON’T EVER….EVER say that name here again…you have offended the blob my brother saying the name of that false messiah. Pray to him…pray to him now…as will we. We must all have his strength and his guidance…Death Sport is real. The stakes are real…”

Buzi turns to Abishag, “Brother…have you thought what we should do should the day come if we have to face each other in this tournament…”

“Indeed”, Abishag says, “When that day arrives, the Blob will have a decision to make, won’t he?”