Chronicles of Adelaide Ainsworth: Like A God
Apr 21, 2020 22:20:59 GMT -5
Jordan, “The RevolutiDaddy” Wesley, and 8 more like this
Post by Addy A on Apr 21, 2020 22:20:59 GMT -5
Adelaide Ainsworth was thirteen years old, cutting school as she did most days, when she saw him. She recognised him walking his dog in an instant. He failed to recognise. Adelaide saw a brick near her feet. She knelt down and picked it. She stood in place, electric energy coursing through her body. As he passed her by, their eyes locked, hers full of rage and his, full of ignorance. He gave her a courteous nod, which only served to further enrage her.
That was when she swung.
Adelaide landed the brick into his face with a force she didn’t know was inside her soul. He dropped to the ground and his dog fled. Adelaide stood over him, face full of fury as he stared at her begging for mercy and that is when history dawned in his eyes.
“Please…” he begged as he raised his hand in self-defence.
Two years ago he raped Adelaide and now he was begging her to stop the way she begged him. And just like him - she didn’t stop. She drove the brick into his already bloodied face. The sound of flesh being torn, the gurgling crying voice, the muffled pleading as Adelaide reigned down another blow seemed to spur the wrath inside of her.
Time stopped before she did.
When the electricity left her body, the flurry of violence subsided and the broken had crumbled from her hand, at her feet, she saw a broken and defeated man. She felt something.
He was alive but a bloodied mess of broken teeth, black eyes and facial cuts. He crawled away, crying sorry to Adelaide. She didn’t hear him. She only felt one thing...
Like a God.
That was when she swung.
Adelaide landed the brick into his face with a force she didn’t know was inside her soul. He dropped to the ground and his dog fled. Adelaide stood over him, face full of fury as he stared at her begging for mercy and that is when history dawned in his eyes.
“Please…” he begged as he raised his hand in self-defence.
Two years ago he raped Adelaide and now he was begging her to stop the way she begged him. And just like him - she didn’t stop. She drove the brick into his already bloodied face. The sound of flesh being torn, the gurgling crying voice, the muffled pleading as Adelaide reigned down another blow seemed to spur the wrath inside of her.
Time stopped before she did.
When the electricity left her body, the flurry of violence subsided and the broken had crumbled from her hand, at her feet, she saw a broken and defeated man. She felt something.
He was alive but a bloodied mess of broken teeth, black eyes and facial cuts. He crawled away, crying sorry to Adelaide. She didn’t hear him. She only felt one thing...
Like a God.
"Kill a man, and you are an assassin. Kill millions of men, and you are a conqueror. Kill everyone, and you are a god."
-Beilby Porteus
The Havoc Rumble always brings out tha fuckin best in’us, don’t it?
There are some hungry bitches on this roster. Emaciated, starving, swollen-gut motherfuckers that are salvatin at the thought of a fuckin Havoc Rumble win. You walk through that fuckin locker room… and you can practically hear tha stomachs groan. You can hear the parasites sloshin around inside’a their colons, desperate fah some fuckin glory… hungry for tha fuckin limelight… dyin for a shot at World Heavyweight Championship gold.
The odor of all this fuckin hunger just wafts up into my nostrils, the stench of an entire roster chasin after a dream that’s meant fah only one. It’s tha sweaty, putrid aroma of desperation. Those vyin fah somethin that they aren’t gonna get.. Y’all… want… what fuckin belongs to ME.
It’s already mine. I just gotta reach out… and fuckin take it. Maybe dangle it in front of ya fuckin noses a little just for spite first, and then stroll off ta Evolution for my date with a smelly dog, a grease covered dirty fuckin dog.
Let the record show that, please. I’m winnin tha 2020 Havoc Rumble. I’ve waited long enough for my shot. Yeh, it’s been too fuckin long since Battlefield. I won’t be satisfied to just throw half’a the roster outta tha ring like little fuckin Quixote last year. Nah me fuckin aspirations are much larger than that. I’m lookin at the big picture. I ain’t lookin at final fuckin four. I ain’t hoping fah top three. An’ I sure as fuckin hell ain’t lookin ta tha bridesmaid. Nah cunts, tha I’m striving… for my next fuckin World Heavyweight Championship shot. Like ya all heard b’fore I’m takin what’s mine.
And ya know what really makes me smile? Every single one of ya’s… every little cunt on this roster… just fuckin knows… that absolutely nothin can stop me. I am tha livin, breathin embodiment of Elisabeth Bathory of Action Wrestlin. After I dispose of every fuckin carcass I lay down in front’a me. I’m winning this fuckin Rumble. If ya make the mistake’a fallin inta my crosshairs in that fuckin ring during the Rumble. I will teach ya how to fuckin fly. I will teach ya how to fuckin fall. But when ya hit tha floor on the outside’a MY fuckin ring, it’s ya own responsibility to pick up ya fuckin teeth and mop the fuckin blood off’a ya flushed, humiliated face. People know I’m Action Wrestlin’s baddest bitch fah a reason, Lissie Hope tolerates fuckin ha brother but she wants me at ha side fah a fuckin reason an I’m always delighted to give me fuckin detractors a little demonstration’a me abilities. I went to “beat ya fucking ass until ya DEAD University” and I got me master’s degree in humblin legends and evisceratin icons. Ask Odin Balfore.
Me resume includes “crushin, dominatin, destroyin, rippin, bitin, maimin, an general experience in fuckin up ya night.” Step in front’a me in this match, an I’ll gladly add ya as a fuckin reference.
But ya know what I LOVE about the Rumble? The shit talk. The verbal fuckin vitriol. Everybody wags that tongue for Rumble… every cunt grows’a set of nuts for tha big event. Sacks be hangin heavy in Action right now… sticks and stones are flyin all over tha fuckin place. Somebody’s gotta snap those sticks an bat those stones away like bothersome fuckin flies. Somebody’s gotta castrate these overburdened sacks an scorch these flappin gums ta remind Action just who tha fuck RUNS this town.
This is my territory, boys an girls. This is my town. When ya speak, it’s because I allow fuckin ya speak. When you blow bluster outta ya wormy fuckin lips, it’s because I haven’t decided to staple them shut yet. (Hi Alex Richards.)
You don’t take’a piss in this place without me permission, an when ya walk into MY ring, ya drop down ta hands an knees, present ya gapin and willin sphincter proudly an you ask me very fuckin politely…”would you like to fuck some respect into me, MA’AM?” Never forget to add that MA’AM on tha end either. Manners will get ya everywhere in life. You have careers in Action because I haven’t decided ta point me finger at ya yet an pull the trigger. My elephant gun is loaded with armor-piercing rounds, an all of me bullets have names.
I call them Addy.
If I get so much as a dirty look from anyone on this roster, then the pack descends, and I pick ya bones clean. I’ll be pickin me teeth with fuckin femurs when this Rumble is over with, an ya can bank on that. Consider what happened to all those that fall before me as a lesson to ya all.
Everyone wants ta spit verbal battery acid... tryin ta provoke a bad bitch who has her tongue split in two. I can call ya a shitbag out of one side of me mouth, and an asswipe outta tha other side all at the exact same fuckin time. So let’s jump to it, boys and girls. Lemme show you what vocabulary venom REALLY tastes like.
Excuse me while I crack me knuckles and adjust me tits.
I’m fixin ta show ya all how tha Trinity World Champion and Action Wrestlin’s Baddest fuckin Bitch cracks egos an shuts down bullshit-encrusted gobs.
I’m tha Queen of this kind of playground, kiddos. You don’t get to play on my slide unless ya pay me fah tha fuckin privilege.
So… let’s play.
J.C Keeton. Ya ignorant fuckin slut. Flippin those bangs, smilin that stupid grin. Ya gotta body of a preteen transsexual an th heart of silverback gorilla, but that heart ain’t gonna save ya. Fuck nothin will, sorry ya just stepped one step too high. It’s time fah ya ta go back where ya belong. With spider balls draped over ya fuckin cute little face.
King of All Wrestlers “The Big Brawny Buffalo Dick Bastard” Corey Black… ya a man with many talents… a man with many fuckin nicknames. Ya country fried steak with a pinch’a possum jizzum on top, an I think that makes ya one formidable sumbitch.
Ya experienced in tha mud hole, Corey. But, ya ain’t experienced in my fuckin mud hole. That there mud hole outside’a an inside’a my ring. It’s filled with used syringes, leeches, particularly gooey condoms, an a seven year old Baby Ruth candy bar. You’ll be taking a dip soon, Corey. Mighty fuckin soon. No floaties allowed in my mud hole, “Beefy Backwoods Buttfucker” Corey. Ya either sink…or swim…or die of syphilis. Up to you, ma’fucker.
An speakin of the devil’s most wanted… The Immortal American, Zombie McMorris. You cave divin, parachute pullin, stingray huntin, piratin, nuclear bomb survivin motherfucker. Ever watch The Price Is Right, ZMac? There’s this fuckin little game called Cliff Hanger. It’s about a miniature mountain climbin enthusiast who climbs his little mountain while the crowd cheers with glee.
I want ya to stroll down my ramp on ya four hundred old legs, Zee. I want ya to get up inta my ring while bellowin out “YO DA LAY HE HOO!” as ya try to climb the mountain towards an beyond the Havoc Rumble and tha very second you reach the base of that mountain… my fuckin mountain. I’m gonna break ya fuckin legs over mey knee, an I’m gonna jam em down ya throat, and I’m gonna javelin throw ya fuckin ass out of the Rumble and out of my general vicinity.
Derrick Vayden. Do I really have to waste fuckin oxygen on ya? The fact that ya still hangin round tag team gold is a fuckin joke, Vayden. Geri has ya dick pickled and jarred, an everyone on this fuckin roster knows it. Keep being her puppy. Keep sniffing after the ass that you’ll never get. The word talent is wasted on a pussy like you. Ya a fuckin member of the Cool Kidz, but when Geri says bark, ya say “in the voice of a pit-bull…or a chow chow, goddess?” But Geri, just cause ya got Derrick on a fuckin leash, don’t mean ya anythin more than a stupid fuckin gutter slut. Cause ya not, ya just a gutter slut with a damn dog.
Ohhhh here we go…this is a good one. Dandy DiVito. Now THIS…is somebody I can work with. Hey, Dandy! Big fan. I’ve heard SO much about some movie ya made…but I haven’t actually seen it. So I googled it because I consider myself a bit of a film aficionado and I wanted to experience the full spectrum of a Dandy performance.
I went with the first…(an only) result that came up. It was an 80s fuckin porno on xhamster. The first shot I see is a big ole’ gaping black asshole…round and very brown, big ole’ chocolate honey of the four hundred to five hundred pound range. An in the background we see a scrawny white dude covered in bad fuckin tatts with a bit of a paunch an a half-limp noodle…poundin and slappin on this big ole’ black circle. Ya never see the guy’s face, but I know that aggressive Dandy DiVito style all too well, so we can all fuckin assume that it was ya scrawny meth head ass.
Ya were rockin’ and rollin’ all over that black circle, Dandy. But fuckin know what? I’m a pretty harsh critic. Gotta say…the actin was atrocious, and the fuckin was painfully sub par. I gave you one outta five skulls on tha ratin system.
Don’t let it get ya down, though, Dee-Dee. I’ll give ya two black circles in the Rumble. One for each eye. Just so you know, superstar… pussy smells like fresh petunias in bloom during a particularly lovely spring day.
I’m feeling generous… so I’ll let you smell me fingers before I chuck you. Make sure to flash those devil horns while the referees rock & roll your half-conscious carcass back up the ramp to the locker room…because I know ya like to leave a lastin fuckin impression.
An Frank Patrick Venable… Seeing your name thrown in the Rumble ranks doesn’t surprise me, Frank. We all know ya gotta problem when it comes to retainin the world title, don’t cha? Now, ya gonna try an rally the fuckin masses again for nother chance?
Word’a advice, Frankie. Ya too late. Ya tryin ta rally people who don’ wanna to be fuckin rallied… people who have no interest in being rallied. They’re afraid ta cross this Bitch, old buddy. Don’t expect Collins or Black ta step up for ya, not many fuckin people these days are willin ta step up to the guillotine an place their head beneath the blade, even for their friend like you. An if ya do manage ta convince ya mismatched sham of a force to lead against me in my fuckin ring… fuckin know this… I will cut the legs out from under it before ya can even say tha name. I’ll fuckin abort it before it can even grow limbs. You’ll be alone, a general without an army. Stand against me if you must at the Rumble, Frankie… an feel the full brunt of me fury as I run through ya on my path towards World Title gold. Maybe ya should just standin on street corners suckin dick right now. It’s ya fuckin end result anyway.
Hmm. Who else is a legitimate threat…a REAL challenger…
Oh yeah. The only other worthwhile bitch in Action.
Lissie Hope. I’ve been saving it up for ya, my fuckin whore. Drawin up all that phlegm, all that saliva… all that fuckin gunk from inside’a me chest… an I’d say now is the perfect time fa ya shower.
How’s it feel, Lissie? For the first time in ya life…you’re actually been’a contender…instead of a flake. An every time ya touch that gold, it’s ripped from ya fuckin grasp. Action’s petulant daughter, her whiniest, shoddiest pretty gal… is actually considered a fuckin favorite in this match. I’m fuckin proud of ya, Sis. You’ve come so far, since ya came inta Action. You’ve got a silver track record…or maybe it’s copper, one of those lesser metals…but since Uprising ya’ve been fuckin GOLDEN!
But you an me know it’s fool’s gold, Lissie my girl. Ya’ve strutting around this place like a poor woman’s Bonnie Blue, jacking her shitty ideas by makin some buttons and slappin up some fuckin posters here and there. Actually, saw one’a ya “sexy” posters in a strip club that I usually frequent.
It was in the bottom’a tha urinal. As a show of support, I pissed on ya face.
Anywho, Lissie… word gets around in Action. Word always gets back to me. You prance around in ya own little fuckin world an ya tell everyone who will listen that the world belongs to you. You know, my sexy sis… I’ve done enough in this world. I’ve always take what I fuckin want from any and all fuckin challengers. Funny thing I noticed though… every fuckin time I come forward.... Ya wanna put any someone in tha fuckin way. Ya couldn’t beat me ta fuckin crown. Ya took on Frank with the briefcase, cause ya fuckin afraid’a me. So, when I fuckin get ya one on fuckin one in tha ring at tha Rumble. I’m gonna fuck toss ya, they way Robbie tosses me.
QDT, we ain’t ever fuckin met but I think all that bingin and purgin for those washboard abs has forced your testicles up into your lower belly, and it’s obvious you don’t have the fuckin nuts to come at me directly. So ya can be barkin when my back is turned, Quixote. I’ll make it a fuckin point to introduce myself to you in the Rumble.
And yeh, you’ve been one of tha fuckin best these last few months…but always remember, kiddo… when ya step into the ring with me, you’re always going to be the second best. All that ya can fuckin aspire towards is another Morgan Freeman cameo where he commentates over your lavish elimination courtesy of The Baddest Bitch.
KOS… ya’ve had some wars, haven’t ya? I’ve wanna say I’ve grown to like ya, Jet. I WANT to see ya get ya fuckin power back. Do me a fuckin favor. Stay out of me way in the Rumble. Keep tya big boy. Crow on a fuckin leash, because if he gets away from ya… if he gets in MY fuckin way…you’ll be fuckin cartin the monster baby off to the pediatric hospital with a diaper full of dung and a multitude of bleeding boo boos, and ya’ll be followin behind with the same amount’a broken fuckin bones and torn fuckin tendons.... If ya fuckin lucky. If ya not, ya’ll be layin fuckin cold on tha same fuckin slab ta supposedly the king of.
Graham Baker. You back breakin, jaw shatterin bastard. You’ve made many a chiropractor rich, you dastardly cunt. I’ve got a strategy this year, though. I’m gonna break your fuckin kneecap… before ya get ta the book’a Psalms. And instead of the crowd hearing that famous catch cry before Psalm Twenty Knee - they’ll be hearin me makin ya fuckin cry.
I could talk some more about Jacqui M, but I’m tired of talkin bout Jacqui M, so let’s please change that subject. I could talk bout fuckinTeijin, but that fuckin dude hasn’t been the same since he was torn him apart in the desert of his family’s legacy.. Word on the street is they cooked is fuckin brains… turned him into little more than an extra on The Walking Dead. He’s broken. Also smart though, since he knows his fuckin place now.
Odin… congrats on gettin ya fire back. I gave it to you, remember? Gotta repo that shit at the Rumble, big man. Ya haven’t kept up on your back payments. Be smart, viking. Ya come at me… and I’ll make ya eat that broken fuckin broom handle. Turn it towards the enemies of this Bad Bitch, though…an I just might make it worthwhile for ya when I claim the World Heavyweight Championship.
Thing about the Havoc Rumble is we always get partnerships of convenience, but partnerships mean nothing in the Rumble. Except maybe when ya the tag team champions and siblings like Cass and Olive. The favourite fuckin pawns of Frances Adler. Shit, they good. Not fuckin enough. But they all got their hangups and we know ya Cass ya gonna fuck ya sister over first fuckin chance ya get. That’s what ya fuckin do. Shit, ya just Dandy without the bad tatts and meth mouth, but that’s comin. And Olive, well.. Ya know, everyones seems to talk bout ya daddy issues. But they got it wrong, I know ya hate father, but I know it’s cause he’d rather fuck Cass in the ass. But that’s another story, come the Rumble ya both eatin mat asses in the air.
Shit, tha only more under tha thumb cunt in this match than you two, is tha so called legend Joey Flash. Tha man that can’t be beat. Fuck, that’s some sorta fairytale ya weave, Joe. And it’s one I ain’t buyin see, we all know ya all bravado on tha outside, but inside ya scared little boy on the inside. Hidin under the bed from the closet monster that don’t exist an who ya afraid of? Ya fuckin missus, yet somehow ya think ya got me covered. I’d stand her eye to eye and slit her throat with a pen-knife. Go home an suck on her tits.
Fuckin pussy.
But with the cowards come the brutes, the big dumb ugly motherfuckers that think that fists are firepower. People like Corey Bull. The Hatebringer. I see ya. Paradin around with blow up dolls’a me an Lissie. Full’a ya blown loads. Really I’m fuckin flattered big man, but it ain’t gonna stop choppin ya that fuck down at the knees like I’m Jack and ya the fuckin beanstalk, cause ya stupid brawns over brains type ain’t getting hands in the way’a me golden goose. Cause we get the odd fuckin anomaly, when ya big a breedin motherfucker like Walter. Man Evolved… still got nothin on me. Have ya big fella? Last year, Walter when ya were fuckin scary… this year not so fuckin much. Put down by Odin - fucked him with a broken broomstick. Kept down by FPV - I’ve already got him suckin dick for meth money on the street corners. Maybe that’s why ya like ‘im? Dunno, don’ care. All I know is I’m tossin ya outta this Rumble tha same way I’m be cuttin ya fuckin foetus from that dumb bitch ya knocked up. And I’m gonna leave discarded like a bloody mess. Put down like a fuckin wild animal… unleashed.
Cause we still the man whose comin in last, our fuckin United States Champion, can’t fuckin ignore ‘im like my name is Ariel Shadows can I?
What do ya think I see when I look at ya, Daddy?
A primadonna. A stoner. A dope-slingin, hubcap stealin, KFC chicken eatin motherfucker? Maybe. Maybe fuckin not… But what I do see fah Havoc. I see another body I gotta wrack up. Ya might be the last one in tha ring at Havoc, Wes. Ya might even be tha last fuckin one out. But I’m gonna be the last one standing. And I’m goin ta Evolution.
Now, some’a ya’s might be a little cut up that I didn’t single ya out fah a barrage of belittling scorn, but don’t little I forgot about ya. The legends that think their fuckin name and historical achievements gives em a fuckin chance. The Bonnie Blue’s. The Kevin Bishop’s. The Teo Blaze’s. The Sam Kidsgrove’s. An the recently returned Damian Kaine’s an’ Jason O’Neal’s. Well, yeh you guys got a fuckin chance, but it’s less than Lloyd Christmas wit Mary Swanson.
Then we got the guys makin waves, takin fuckin names and buildin reputations. The James Nightingale’s, the Carter Shaw’s, the Grayson Ward’sthe Rion Hearts’, Red, White and Bruised,the forgotten fuckin Cool Kid and the remnats’a the MadClan that I fuckin destroyed when I decimated their lead whore Madwoman. Ya they got an even smaller chance than those so-called legends tradin on better fuckin times.
Then a’course there’s the people who’s name I can’t even be bothered ta fuckin remember. Those motherfucker’s that even gotta fuckin chance. Yet there’s still one motherfucker we gotta account for - that one motherfucker that pops ‘is head but once a fuckin year.
Mikey eXtreme.
If ya decide pop ya pus-filled cunt like a fuckin whack-a-mole this year, Mikey. I’m gonna beat it like a pimp beats his fuckin moll. So much so we ain’t ever gonna get another once-a-year cameo.
I am going to win the fuckin Rumble and I am gonna be the World Champion that Action Wrestlin deserves… nah… I am the World Champion they need.
I am the bitch… the Baddest Bitch… to herald a new era in this great company. Like fuckin Atlas of old, I am the only one capable of bearin the weight of Action Wrestlin on me shoulders. (Right, Frank?)
My time has come.
My path is clear.
Every accomplishment every broken body, every ruined career, everythin anyone’s ever done in Action Wrestling up ta this fuckin point has lead to THIS moment, THIS match THIS opportunity to claim that top slot.
I’ll destroy, I’ll survive, I’ll endure, I’ll make my fuckin stand.
I’ll step on every fuckin one’a ya’s broken bodies, hearin ya skulls crushed underfoot ta get the top’a tha mountain.
And when the smoke clears in the Havoc Rumble… when only blood is left on that canvas and every other human body has been cast out and exiled… one bad bitch will stand tall.
The last of the A-Dub, born of cold blood and dark ambition will be fuckin standin on the bodies of tha fallen.
I will be the last.
The 2020 Havoc Rumble
The Baddest Bitch Reigns.
Like a FUCKIN GOD!