STING: City of Scorpions

[ginogambino]

[I][COLOR=Red]Disclaimer: This is a fictional history based on the game Total Extreme Wrestling and should not be miscontrued as actual wrestling news, information, rumors, or results. Any images, logos, banners, avatars used in this forum are copyrighted by the organization they come from.[/COLOR] [/I] [B]All trademarks and copyrights belonging to WWE, TNA and so on are the properties of their proper owner, this is a nonprofit, ficticious writing.[/B] ------------------------------------------------------------------------ [B][ [I]Info: The following story is a ficticious piece evolving around various entities and persons whom some may or may not be familiar with. The concept of this comes slightly motivated by a previous diary that would be seen at the boards for the first edition of TEW, wherein an author of a diary put together a piece that was well liked and well received called something similar to Battle Royal. Battle Royal is a Magna series about students taken to an island and forced to kill eachother until there is nobody left, the author if the wrestling version had a similar concept except with wrestlers being taken to an island where they all fought until one was left. This is not about Magna, but it is slightly comic book based. This is quite different from most posts and hopefully it will be enjoyed![/I] ][/B] WARNING: Graphic Violence and Language make this story rated: MA for mature! ------------------------------------------------------------------------- CHAPTER 1 [SIZE=2][B]Day: X[/B][/SIZE] [B][SIZE=6][U]M[/U][/SIZE][/B]ultiple legs crawled across the marble surface. The repetitious sounds of rain drops cascading across the same surface audible to the entire city, for the rain fall and accompanying thunder and lightning cloaked and literally drenched the industrial atmosphere. The legs were a collection of many, and this tiny, armored entity that crawled about was a rarity for most any North American major city. It was not often that a Scorpion crawled upon the rooftops of an American church. Nestled atop the roof alongside the scorpion were the statues of gargoyles, their permanent menacing guise glaring across the city skies. Their eyes eternally fixated on whatever they lay upon, for they were stone cold and unmoving, yet seemingly so were the eyes of someone, or something else. For the wet rain drip from the cascading brown hair of another prescence, someone who also sat upon the church top. Though the gaze was resolute, it would occassionly eye the walking scorpion which crawled freely nearby. These eyes were snug amidst what was apparently deep black flesh, but it was a flesh in a pattern, for this black colour that encircled the eye also streaked down towards his cheek, as if black facepainted tear streaks, but it was not paint. His skin seemed almost completely normal save for this face, a bizarre looking face with black flesh streaks below the eyes and mouth. It was a dark mouth too, almost as if black lipstick coated it, but again, this was no lipstick. And the face! It was a white face, white as a ghost! This ghoulish visage however, seemed sad. Sad or transfixed. As if the burning of the past was shouting from his face, for in the back of the mind behind this face the past was very alive, and that is the life that fueled his dead body... It was not too long ago when he was amongst the living. Not too long ago at all..... ----------------------------------------------------------------------- [SIZE=2][B]The past[/B][/SIZE] The war in Iraq was a difficult and treacherous affair for the troops and they seldom were allowed to relinquish in the pleasures of a perhaps previous life, a life some of them would never return to. The government made many attempts to raise the morale of their troops, yet there was nothing that would get the troops quite as excited as professional wrestling. The government would often times introduce the World Wrestling Entertainment brand into the army camps where special events would be held for the soldiers and on a particular date within a particular month, the government had requested the services of the WWE for the soldiers. The owner of the worlds largest professional wrestling company, Vincent K. McMahon often enjoyed sending his workers out there, for at heart, he was a patriot, and loved to help his countries soldiers feel better. So did his workers. Yet at this certain event, McMahon was a bit unhappy. Most times in events like these, McMahon would be the one making requests to entertain the troops, but at this particular show, the government had called the WWE. McMahon didn't mind this so much, in fact, he enjoyed serving his country in this mannor, not to mention, he was profitting well financially. The problem here, was that aside from the WWE, the government had also contracted the NWA company and several private contractors. The initial reaction from McMahon was to deny the governments request for his wrestlers, unless, of course, the Government would send off the other wrestlers they'd hired, yet, McMahon decided to put his business mentality aside for a moment, and do what was best for the troops, and he didn't mind it too much really, this event was only to be seen by the troops and whatever footage he'd offer the fans in the States he'd be sure to edit out any non WWE workers. But McMahon wanted to make sure that his workers looked better than all, so he himself made the trip out to Iraq with his company. After roughly a week of remaining in a prominent Hotel in one of the main Iraq cities, McMahon headed out to the army sight where the event was to take place. Sitting inside a trailor near the event sight, McMahon heard a pounding at his trailor door and screamed aloud, "Come in!" The door flew wide open, smashing against the wall and sending several objects off their tables, shattering to the floor. Alarmed, McMahon stood up, frightened that some sort of terrorist may've been invading the camp grounds or his trailor! He reached for his army issued pistol but before he would do so, he'd seen that all along it was his son in law, Jean Paul Levesque whom he and everybody else referred to as Triple H, or just Hunter. McMahon was alarmed at Triple H's intense arrival and obvious anger. "Hunter, what in the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind?" He shouted, "What's the big idea with you barging in here like that?" He demanded. Hunter approached Vince, his face was bright red with anger. "The big idea, Vince? The big idea! That's exactly what the hell I want to know!" He screamed. Vince McMahon sat back in his seat, he'd previously been sitting by a table reading an American Newspaper when Hunter stormed in. Hunter stood right infront of Vince and the Table, he slammed his fist on top of the table, shaking a cup of coffee Vince had been drinking. "You know that jack ass Army ******* out there! He's telling me that he's got orders to make me take a job! I'm the BIGGEST god damn STAR on this whole damn card! Who the hell does he think he is, Vince! Did you know about this! I'm not losing, no freakin' way!!" Vince heard Triple H scream this, and he too was unaware of this. He was beginning to get furious also. He stood up. "What?! The army has no business telling me how to run a wrestling show! What the hell do they think they're doing? Who the hell do they think they're screwing with?! Let's go, right now. You show me who this is, I swear Hunter, I had no idea about any of this!" Vince stood up and approached Hunter who began storming away, and after leading him past a few trailors and tents McMahon and Triple H stood before a group of top ranking soldiers, the leader of which was an older looking fellow. "This is the jack ass right here, Vince!" Triple H cried. The jackass, or, Army Captains eyebrows raised up at being called a jack ass and disrespected in front of his troops. McMahon quickly butted in, "Sir! I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, let me apologize right now for the behaviors of my employee, I can assure you he will be disciplined accordingly for his actions. Please forgive us, It' just we have a concern." The Captain looked at Vince, "He better be sorry and he better learn some discipline for I kick his ass and send him home in a bodybag! You understand me, kid?" The Captain eyed Triple H, who growled. "Can't you see that I'm busy over here, son, I got things to do, a war to help win, what the hell do you idiots want? Go out there to the event sight and do your wrasslin' thing, okay?" McMahon stepped forward, "Well, excuse me, sir, but apparently there's a bit of a problem, you see, my employee here tells me that you told him that he needs to adjust the format of the script hes been given? I don't understand." The captain looked at Triple H and then at McMahon. "Yeah," he started. "That's right. Well look, I don't like wrasslin' an I could care less. This came from powers above my head. Apparently they read the script and in the main event this guy over here is suppossed to use a sledge hammer and win over a good guy. Well he's a bad guy and my bosses dont want the bad guy winning the match. Infact, they don't want him winnin' at all. See, the troops out there, about 75 percent of 'em are all from Georgia and they all are big fans of this other feller they got out there some guy with the makeup calls himself Sting. Well the bosses caught wind of this and they want your big bad guy to lose to him. You got that?" McMahon grew red in the face, Sting! He thought. He wasn't even a WWE employee, that would be horrible for his company. He couldn't permit this! He chuckled, trying to ease to tension, "Hey, listen Captain, Sting, see, Sting doesn't work for the WWE. He's one of the private contractors you all employed and well, it wouldn't look very good for our company to have someone who doesn't belong to our company beating our top star. You understand? I mean, we can work it out that somebody else wins, that would really make alot more sense." The Captain looked at his colleagues who seemed eager to be rid of McMahon and Hunter, the Captain turned to McMahon and Hunter and shouted. "Now you listen here you suited up piece of trash! I don't have time for this ****! You hear me? I don't care about you, him or your wrestling! I got orders to make that happen and I always follow my orders. I ain't never missed a single mission. This won't be my first. You either do as your told or your gonna be answering to a power greater than yours. You hear me? Now go out there and do what your told or your gonna be in a world of trouble!" The Captain shouted. "This is bull****!" Triple H screamed and stormed off. McMahon tried again to reason with the Captain but the Captain shouted at him. McMahon turned and left, running after Triple H who was muttering that he wouldn't do it. "I ain't doin' it, Vince! I'm leavin' right now!" Triple H shouted. "You can't, Hunter! We can't. If we leave now and turn our backs on the army we're gonna have hell to pay back home. All of our sponors will hear about it, the TV stations. Its bad publicity that the WWE won't work with our own country. You have to do it!" Vince yelled. "No way! Find somebody else!" Triple H protested. "Listen Hunter, if you do this...." Vince began, "If I do this, then what?" Triple H retorted. He stopped and looked at Vince. If he could gain some kind of personal wealth, well, then maybe this was worth it, he thought. Nobody would see it, nobody would believe it, so maybe it was worth it. "If you do this, I'll give you a bonus. When we get back, I'll give you an extra 25 grand. Okay?" Triple H nodded and stroked his chin. "I want something else too, Vince." "Name it, Hunter." Vince responded. "I want you to do whatever it takes, Vince. Whatever it takes to sign this piece of **** Sting to the WWE and get him in the ring with me. I want to beat him in Georgia, one two three. You got that?" Vince paused for a moment and hesitated, "Well, Hunter, I can't guarantee that, I mean, we've tried negotiating with him before." "Go all out, Vince. Go all out, or no deal." Hunter said, "I know if you wanted to make it happen, you could make it happen." Vince nodded, "Fine." Triple H grinned and walked off. -------------------------------------------------------------------- [SIZE=5][B]A[/B][/SIZE]s the Scorpion Death Lock was applied to Triple H in the middle of the ring, several hundred soldiers cheered in unison as Sting defeated Triple H in a special attraction. The crowd was deafening for a number that was no where near what Triple H was used to as he'd been infront of thousands, but it angered him that his own people, American troopers whom he thought should be cheering for him, bad guy or not, would boo him now. He was enraged. After Stings arm was held high in victory, he stormed towards his trailor, where waiting inside around a coffee table where his closest comrades. Sitting around the table, contracted for this event as well, Sean Waltman, Scott Hall, Kevin Nash, Ric Flair and Shawn Michaels. They all laughed at him as he entered his trailor. "Way to go, Hunter. Taking one for the team." Nash said. Hunter was furious. He began punching the wall and smashing various objects as his friends looked on in fear. "Now damn it, you shut the hell up!" He screamed. "This son of a bitch is going to pay...!! Nobody does that to me, NOBODY!" He yelled. "What do you got in mind, man?" Waltman asked. Triple H flung a dumbell across the room, it went right through a window of the trailor, and he approached the shattered window, muttering, "I don't know... but you'll see, he'll pay... Oh, yeah, he'll pay...." ----------------------------------------------------------------- [B][SIZE=5]T[/SIZE][/B]hat night, in Vince McMahons personal trailor, Sting had been sitting infront of Vince McMahon and Triple H. Sting knew why he was there and knew what he was going to say before he stepped into the room. It was night time in the desert and in the morning army issued vehicles would escort all of the wrestlers to the main city where they could get into the airports and go home. For quite awhile before this meeting Sting was praying in his room for a safe flight home. He missed his kids. He wasn't a full time wrestler anymore and he had forgotten how much he hated travelling. He did this for his country and for his church at home whom would be taking in 75% of the money he was paid out here. He was a gentleman and out of respect he agreed to meet with McMahon. As the three men sat now it was nearing Stings time to leave. McMahon had spent quite awhile pitching various business proposals to Sting, and Sting had heard enough. He was ready to go. Triple H had been mostly silent the whole time, starring out a window at the desert in McMahons trailor. "Listen, Sting. We've been sitting here for an hour now and I've offered you everything except the WWE itself. What is it going to take for us to get you to sign a contract?" He demanded and in his voice was exhaustion. He was tired of Stings inability to agree with him so finally he left it all up to Sting. "Okay, Vince. You want to know what it would take? It would take you being good to the fans again. No more exposing women, no more degrading women. No more over the top matches, no more ridiculous storylines. You want me there, you need to accept the responsibilty you have to the children and moral people in your own country. You need to stop exploiting the sins of life to make money, and if you can respect your responsbility and use it for good, then you can have me. Then I'll sign a contract." "Are you serious?" Vince said, his voice had no emotion. He was tired of talking. "I'm offering you women, drugs, money, and everything you could possibly want. Anything a normal man wants, and you are asking me to abandon what made me a multi-millionaire? Are you serious? What kind of a man are you? Take the women! Take the drugs! Take the money! What is wrong with you?" Sting stood up and so did Vince. Triple H turned away from the window. "That's allright. You can keep it. I don't want it. I think we're through here and probably forever. Thanks." Sting turned to leave but Triple H approached the door and got in his way. "I don't think you understand," Triple H started. "You really better sign a contract." "Or what?" Sting responded. "Or else." Triple Hs eyes narrowed at Sting. Sting stepped back and walked to the table where Vince McMahon was standing now too. Triple H moved away from the door and Sting began laughing. McMahon started laughing too and Triple H did also, it was a blatantly phony laugh on Stings part but McMahon thought it was a way to soften the tension, so did Triple H so the fake laughing continued until Sting stopped suddenly and so did the other two. "I don't like you very much." Sting said. "I love you as a brother, but as a person, I don't like you." Sting said to Vince, he then turned to Hunter. "And I don't really like you as a brother, and I hate you as a person." Triple H snarled at Sting. Sting faced McMahon, who spat in his face now. Sting snarled too but wiped the spit from his face. "Thank you. This meeting is over." Sting left the trailor and could be heard conversing with Lex Luger, whod been waiting outside all along. Back in the Trailor Vince McMahon and Triple H stood together. "Hunter," Vince began. "Yeah Vince?" Hunter replied. The two had been standing near a window now, watching Sting and Lex Luger get into an army issued desert jeep, the two were presumably driving off to their own trailors. "Make sure he pays." "Yeah?" "Yeah...." -------------------------------------------------------------- [B][SIZE=5]T[/SIZE][/B]here was a knocking at Stings trailor door around two hours after his meeting with Vince. He'd been in his own trailor drinking coffee and talking with his best friend Lex Luger all along and when he heard the knocking at the door, he thought immediately it was Hunter or Vince again. Sting shook his head at Lex. "Don't even bother, Lex." Sting said. The knocking came again, and Luger looked at the door. "Hey, c'mon guys!" He heard. It was Ric Flairs voice. Luger and Sting looked at eachother. "They probably sent him to make peace." Luger offerred. "Yeah." Sting said. "What do you wanna do, Stinger?" Luger asked as the knocking came again. They heard Ric Flairs pattent "WOOO!" cry and he kept knocking. "C'mon, open up!" He shouted. "Open it." Sting said. Luger approached the door and opened it. Flair pushed it wide open and began "WOOO"ing and dancing around. "Package! Stinger! Wooooo!" Flair cried, "Let's go baby! Over at the main area they got about two dozen Iraqie girls and the party is startin'! Wooooo!" Flair screamed and danced around. "Yeah, that's all right, Ric." Sting said. "Woooo! Oh yeah, you're married, Stinger. But you, Flexy Lexy! C'mon down! It'll be like ol' times, Lex! Like we were in WCW again an the talk of the town, lets go a-dancin'!" Flair shouted. Luger turned to Sting. Sting nodded. "Go on Lex, I'm gonna actually head off to bed in a little bit, but I'll talk to you tomorrow." "You sure, Stinger?" "Yeah, have fun man." " All right, brother." Luger said and looked to Flair who slapped Luger a high five. "Allright, Lexy baby! Let's get a move on! C'mon! Woooo! Just don't tell my wife when we get back!" Flair shouted and the door was shut behind them. Sting heard their jeep speed off and thought to himself for a few minutes. He was looking at a bible on his table and approached it. He sat in his chair and began reading for a few minutes, when suddenly the door to his trailor was slammed open. His eyes shot up and there he could see Sean Waltman. "Hey, man..." He said and Sting shot up in his seat. He could hear screaming from outside his trailor as a fire covered towel was thrown through one of the windows and cought instantly onto a piece of furniture. The fire began mounting up, smoke began to float into the air of the room. Waltman ran over to Sting, but Sting smashed him in the face with a forearm and staggered him back. He could hear screams and yells from outside of his trailor, apparently people were having a fun time lighting his trailor on fire. Scott Hall and Kevin Nash then entered and both men ran at Sting. Sting battered Hall away but Nash clubbed him behind the head as he attacked Hall. Shawn Michaels entered the trailor now too, with him a torch and following close behind was Triple H, holding a Sledgehammer. Nash held up Sting for Hall and Waltman who began pounding away at him with rights and lefts as Shawn Michaels moved around the trailor setting it on fire everywhere. The fire began spreading quicker and quicker. Infact, the assailants were choking on the smoke now. Sting was a bloody mess. He fell to his knees and Shawn Michaels ran over super kicking him in the face and he fell back into the flames. He was on fire now and was dragged out into an open space via the legs. "Hold him down, boys!" Triple H shouted and the men held him down by parts of his body that wasn't burning with flames. "Sting!" Triple H shouted and with the little life he had left, his eyes turned up to Triple H. Triple H held the sledgehammer over his head, high in the air as flames burst behind him. "Where's your god now, Sting? Where's your god now?!" He shouted. And slammed the Sledgehammer down, shattering Stings chest as blood flew out of Stings mouth, his chest cavity smashed. "You know where? Right here! I AM GOD!" Triple H shouted and brought the sledgehammer down on Stings cranium, smashing his skull. The group of attackers had began fleeing the trailor, but they were spotted by Luger. Half way down the ride Luger demanded that Flair bring him back to the trailor as he'd forgotten his weight lifting bag in Stings trailor and Flair constantly refused to take Luger back, but eventually he did and as Luger and Flair pulled up to the burning trailor, Luger could spot Triple H, Shawn Michaels, Kevin Nash, Scott Hall and Sean Waltman all fleeing from the burning trailor. Luger screamed in horror and raced towards the burning trailor, racing through the open door and seeing Stings dead body across the ground he began dragging his dead friend out of the burning trailor and as they fell to the sand outside, the entire group of Triple H and his partners stood, watching Luger cry over the dead body of his friend. "WHY!" he shouted. "Why!!" He cried aloud. Luger ran at the group but Triple H smashed him in the face with the sledgehammer, busting his nose open immediately and Luger fell to the ground. Waltman and Hall held down Luger as Triple H got right in his face. "You listen here, Luger. You listen good. You wanna die?" Triple H said. "No!" He screamed. He was a wreck. He was fueled with sorrow and hatred, and a pain in his busted face. "Then you listen good. We'll let you live. You were in the trailor, you were attacked by terrorists and Iraqie religious extremists. They set the trailor on fire and attacked everybody. Sting was burned to death and his bones were melted away. You wrestled your way out of the trailor but by the time you came back in, Sting was already gone. The terrorists fled, you got that?" Triple H said to him as the fire in the trailor raged beyond them. "Ye-yeah..." Luger said as tears rolled down his face. Tears of sorrow and pain. "Good. If you try to say a damn thing otherwise, you're a dead man. Besides, who is gonna believe you? You're a drug abusing criminal as far as the authorities are concerned." Triple H said and spat in Lugers face. He drove an elbow into Lugers face and watched Hall and Waltman throw Luger to the ground and beat him down. Flair looked on in horror. "You said you were just gonna rough him up!" Flair screamed. "You wanna join him, Ric?" Triple H shot at him. "Well...what? Uh..no!!" Flair responded. "Then shut up!" Triple H screamed. "Load Sting onto the jeep, thanks to Lex over there we gotta go dump his body into the sand somewhere, we cant have it anywhere outside of the trailor here and its too dangerous to go inside, it could blow at any second." Luger was laid out, clutching his face, and by the time the army authorities had gotten to the burning trailor it was too late, Triple H and his men were long gone now in a desert and Luger was abiding by the terms they gave him. The trailor had exploded and Sting was dead... or so they thought. The group of men looked at one another after laying down the final patch work out in the sandy hills of the desert. Sting was dead and burried now in the sand and the men began laughing, bragging about their brutal victory. The group got into a van and sped off. Moments later, over the grave of the dead warrior, a group of Scorpions congregated, a rumbling beneath the surface and a hand burst through the ground, the exposed wrist instantly being struck by the tail of a Scorpion and a scream could be heard for miles across the desert........ END CHAPTER 1 --------------------------------------------------------------------------

[King Kirby]

Pretty awesome!

[BlizzardVeers]

That was a very interesting read, you actually have me waiting for what's coming next. Though, the sledgehammer blow to the face probably would have messed up Luger worse then it did, oh well. =P

[magichj]

Great read. Looking forward to seeing what happens with Sting as a dead man. I'm betting he makes a deal with God to clean up the world or something. Should be fun. Surprised that Micheals was as healish as you wrote him as he is a fellow Christian with Sting... Your world though :). Like I said good read... lookin forward to more.

[ginogambino]

Thanks for the kudos everybody. I appreciate it and stay tuned as the next chapter is on the way. About the sledgehammer to the face, yeah, you're probably right, lol. With the HBK being extremely heelish, at first I thought I wouldn't make him out to be so bad but theres only room for a few faces as you'll see and there is an encounter he needs to be apart of but as a heel, this will develop later on. But thanks for the comments and hope youll all enjoy what else is to come!

[Grimm]

sounds cool. And who cares about how real the sledge hammer is. If Sting was killed and is coming back to life, it's obviously not a reality based diary anyway.