Hammerstein v Storms

[UKWF]

Post your RPs for the match below. 2 RP cap, max. 500 words per RP.

[Hunter Storms]

"Just gonna be another average night isn't it...."

The camera shot pans up to Storms, sitting in a chair at his hotel room. In hand, he's holding a glass of whiskey as he takes a sip from it.

"Why, why am I be pitted against a member of that annoying duo, The Jewish Hammers, if I recall. I wanted to be done with them, and I was done, but apparently they want seconds after what happened at Undercard Heroes. Should’ve left it be Hammerstein…..should’ve left it be…."

He pushes himself out of the seat, glass still in hand as he walks over to the window of his room, which is overlooking the Italian city of Florence.

"I don't get why pestering me is supposed to get you anywhere Hammerstein. What is it that you're even searching for while trying to get at me? Vengeance? Pleasure to rid yourself of boredom? I don't fully understand you, or your tag partner for that matter."

His voice becomes gravely solemn as he takes another sip from his glass as he looks over the city.

"I have no purpose these days in fighting people except to beat them when pitted against them for whatever reason by management. I used to have a purpose thanks to the crew I was with, but now it's been shattered to bits. No matter now.... I guess...."

He finishes the contents in his glass, placing it down on the nearby table as he tucks his hands into his suit pockets.



“Today marks my 29th birthday, Hammerstein. I still don’t know how I should celebrate it today though. Being in Italy and all for other business matters, I figure I might walk around town, drink, eat, and then probably just go to bed once I return. Yet, I could hold off on possibly celebrating it….”



A devilish smile creeps onto Storms’ face.



“I could celebrate it by sending you back to the hospital. Those men that attacked you that one night when Blazer was in the bathroom? Who else do you think it was? Just re-watch the tape and look at the weaponry used: lead pipes my boy, lead pipes.”



He sinisterly snickers to himself.



“The lead pipe…..I’ve always deemed it as a worthy tool to break people. Whether it’s an arm, a leg, possibly a few ribs here and there, but it sucks that I don’t get to use it as often as I wish but no matter. I still got my own fists and bare hands to use to twist your limbs off one by one.”



He turns back towards the camera.



“It’s obvious now that I’ve drawn the Battle Lines for you Hammerstein. 4 days from now, we’ll meet again in that squared circle and battle like we have in the past. This time however, I plan to ensure you don’t walk away easy with your little buddy. This time, I’ll make sure you leave in a body bag on Tuesday….”



Fade to black.

[Hammerstein]

The Pacific Gym in Lincoln is closed, but not devoid of activity. The sound of Manhood’s song ‘Ready to Fight’ playing in a continuous loop fill the air, accented by shouts of encouragement from Asylum Strongman trainer Dave Johnson as Hammerstein works out. Hammerstein looks somewhat different now than when he was last seen in the UKWF over a month ago. His arms are somewhat larger, more defined. His stomach, while not in possession of the six pack, is taking shape. The fan favorite who, at his heaviest, tipped the scales at just north of two-hundred and seventy pounds now weighs in at two-hundred forty-eight pounds. Hammerstein strains, muscles trembling, as he pushes his body to its limits, and beyond under the trainer’s watchful eye. Forty five minutes later, with his workout finished and shower taken, Hammerstein steps out into the crisp night air.

Da New Management Enforcers are gone, but dey stank is still around.

I'm talkin ta you, Hunter Storms.

I'm sho you and da rest a da NME tought y'all ran me off fo good when y'all jumped me at Defyin da Odds back in April. Y'all whooped me real bad, but y'all punk asses didn't finish da job.

Big mistake, boys.

Cause now Da Hammer's back, daddy, and I'm lookin fo payback.

And I'ma start wit you, Hunter Storms.

See you and da rest of da NME couldn't get ova da fact dat y'all couldn't beat da Jewish Hammers legit in da ring. So y'all decided ta get street wit it. Dat's good. Dat's real good. Cause when y'all beat me down wit dose pipes, y'all beat sumpin outta me.

My innocence.

See, I ain't no naive wide eyed newcomer no more. I know ya ain't looked far enough past da mirror ta see, but I been busy. I been travelin ta different companies, learnin new styles, pickin up new and inventive ways ta kick yo ass.

But I gotta say....*holds up his clenched right fist*da old ways, dey da best ways.

I'ma come inta da Engine Shed wit all guns blazin, dude. Every hit ya laid on me wit dat pipe, I'ma revisit on yo ass wit dese soup bones.*holds up fists*

Funny ting is, you couldn't finish da job when ya had da chance, Hunter, and yo ass talkin bout me leavin in a body bag? Ok bro, but here's da ting bout dat. To put me in a body bag, yo ass gotta be prepared ta be put in one.

So here’s da question, Hunter. Are ya ready? Do ya got da sack ta go all out and fight?

Lay down da lead pipe and put up yo hands.

Cause da Battle Lines, yeah I done drawed dem....in da shape of da crosshairs....right tween dem beady eyes a yo’s. Cause when we gig em up in Lincoln, I'ma be da hunter, Hunter.