At a gymnasium, Marcus Anderson sits at a bench while watching Tarrasque do his work outs. Marcus sets his phone down next to him for a moment, pinching the bridge of his nose in order to try to relieve some of his headache from stress.
Marcus has been pouring over Canadian newspaper websites from the 1980’s that had been scanned into internet archives for the past few days to try to find out where Tarrasque is from. He says that he might be Canadian and knows that Xian Tsar and his Black Guard struck the home of Tarrasque. Marcus knows that Tarrasque’s family had been killed and Tarrasque himself kidnapped. So a home invasion with three dead (mother, father, and sister) and Tarrasque himself missing. An attack like this at a small town would make for front page news certainly and so Marcus has been searching newspaper sites from one side of Canada to the other in an effort to find the story that might contain the real name of Tarrasque. If Canadian he really is.
Marcus looks over to where Tarrasque is lifting weights. He waves at the beast, who smiles back in a goofy sort of way. Tarrasque trusts Marcus and is depending on him to find the truth of who he is, but Marcus has little idea. It’s not possible to go to every small town in Canada to look through every non-internet archived newspaper on microfiche just to find this knowledge. The feat would take years.
Far easier would be to seize one of the members of the Black Guard that was there that night over thirty years ago and get the knowledge from that person. But, how to find the roster of an elite Shocktrooper unit from over thirty years ago? He hasn’t the clearance to go into Warhammer Security Inc’s archives to determine rosters and orders. Marcus knows he hasn’t the black op skills to break into the Warhammer Security Inc server farm to find the knowledge. If he could do that to get the roster, he could just get the orders from that time period and know the name with ease. Assuming such orders exist in record being that it was an order to secure human test subjects for Warhammer’s super soldier program.
Marcus sighs, picking his phone back up, and going to the next site. There has to be some answer to his dilemma.
Tarrasque looks over at Marcus Anderson, seeing him busy typing away at his phone. Searching for Tarrasque’s real name. Tarrasque smiles to himself in pride. Marcus is his friend and is trying to help him rather than focusing totally on Tarrasque’s wrestling career. It’s not something that Tarrasque needs as he knows how to focus on his career and his upcoming matches.
He faces Bloodied Fox and Xiaolong in the ring and in a regular match. Tarrasque is no stranger to triple threat matches and is no stranger to one with the style of Xiaolong, having faced his trainers and father in the ring at one time.
Bloodied Fix is something of an enigma. He has a relationship with another man? Is that even possible? How would their crotches mesh up? Does one go into the other?
Tarrasque shakes his head to rid himself of the image of one penis being shoved inside another one. It was unnatural, but also nothing to change how he will treat Bloodied Fox in the ring. He’ll toss Fox around like a rag doll and clamp the Rise of the Feminine Side upon him to finish the match. He was certain, of course, that it wasn’t going to be as easy as all of that to defeat Bloodied Fox. Not as easy as getting Xiaolong to the sidelines so that Bloodied Fox can be defeated.
Xiaolong is arrogant and prideful. He thinks that he can win the match when it’s so far out of the cards for him to win that it’s really not a possibility. Xiaolong just isn’t in Tarrasque’s league. Then again, neither was Shootfighter, Dragon Belt, Thunder Kid, Psychotic Goth, or any other of the legion that Shootfighter brought to bear in his extended family of lovers, students, and children. Tarrasque thinks back to his days in Hardkore America and smiles as he doesn’t remember a single defeat to Shootfighter and his brood. Not. One. Defeat.
Tarrasque thinks back to one of his confrontations with Shootfighter with a smile. He sets the barbell down and allows himself to meditate to see the confrontation from the Akashic Records. A live replay of the action from over twenty years ago…
Tarrasque and the Shootfighter stand inside the ring which is enclosed in a steel cage. “The Brain” Allen Anderson paces outside of the cage in his Warhammer business suit and leaning rather heavily on a cane with a golden globe for a head. As the bell sounds to signal the start of the match, Tarrasque grins at his opponent, blood dripping from his chin from a piece of raw meat that he had consumed on his way down to the ring. The Shootfighter rushes across the ring to lay into Tarrasque with knife edge chops that have little effect upon Tarrasque other than turning his chest a bright red after a few strikes.
Shootfighter staggers Tarrasque backwards with a drop kick before grabbing him by the arm and sending him into the ropes. On the rebound, Shootfighter takes Tarrasque down to the mat with a drop toe hold. He roars as he delivers an elbow to the side of Tarrasque’s head that bounces the side of the beast’s head off the mat.
Shootfighter begins edging toward the door, motioning for it to be opened when Tarrasque springs up. Shootfighter strikes out with a roundhouse kick to the chest of an oncoming Tarrasque that does little to stop the freight train that he is. Shootfighter’s leg bends as Tarrasque comes at him with a head on collision that leaves only Tarrasque standing.
Tarrasque poses for the crowd while roaring to the heavens as the Shootfighter stands up. Tarrasque reaches for the Shootfighter, but catches a fireball to the face that staggers him backwards as he reaches at his eyes. Shootfighter grabs Tarrasque by the back of the neck and sends him face first into the steel cage!
Shootfighter pullsTarrasque’s head back away from the cage and gets a smile from the beast. So, Shootfighter slams his face into the steel cage again, and again before pulling Tarrasque back in a Russian legsweep.
The Shootfighter stands up and begins again to walk towards the door, motioning for it to be opened up. As the ref finagles the lock on the door, Tarrasque stands up again. Blood drips down his face from a gash on his forehead to the mat, but he grins.
Shootfighter hears the change from the crowd from boos to cheering, turning around just in time to be hit by a massive clothesline from Tarrasque. The beast easily lifts Shootfighter up into a press slam position, runs across the ring, and sends Shootfighter like a harpoon into the steel cage wall! The steel cage is rocked from the impact, nearly turning over onto its side as the other end rises up three feet into the air before slamming back down to the ground in a move that bounces Shootfighter back into the ring.
Tarrasque stands over the fallen Shootfighter and roars in victory. “The Brain” Allen Anderson yells at ringside by the door for Tarrasque to exit the ring to win the match. Tarrasque eventually nods in understanding and begins lumbering toward the steel cage door. Anderson yells at the referee to quickly open the door, but it does cause the ref to move somewhat slower in response.
Shootfighter staggers to his feet, bleeding heavily from his own gash in his forehead. He shakes his head to try to clear the cobwebs and sees the door to the cage slowly being opened. He runs across the ring, grabbing Tarrasque around the waist from behind, and hitting a German suplex! He holds on, rolling into a second German suplex, and then a third! The door to the cage is closed once again and locked as the Shootfighter stands up, wiping blood from his eyes.
This time, Shootfighter waits for Tarrasque to slowly get to his feet, and hits a superkick right to the side of the head that sends the beast back down to the mat! The Shootfighter heads for the steel cage door again, this time the referee getting the door open so he can come through, but no! “The Brain” Allen Anderson hits the ref with his cane and slams the steel cage door into the Shootfighter’s face to send him back into the ring! Anderson locks the steel cage door and hurls the keys into the audience!
The Shootfighter stands back up, pointing to the Brain in anger, and then starts to climb to the steel cage wall. Tarrasque stands up and begins climbing the steel cage wall as well, greeting the Shootfighter at the top with a punch to the side of the head. The two sit perched at the top of the wall, exchanging punches back and forth, and sending sprays of sweat, blood, and spittle into the air.
This looks to continue for some time, neither gladiator giving way until Tarrasque grabs Shootfighter by the shoulders and delivers a series of powerful headbutts to the forehead and nose of the man to shatter the nose. Blood and spittle strings between the two warriors as Tarrasque holds on to a barely conscious Shootfighter. He gives his rival a shove to send him falling into the ring!
Tarrasque looks down at the roaring crowd, down at his opponent, and down at a screaming “Brain” Allen Anderson. He grins and leaps off of the top of the cage to land a splash on the fallen Shootfighter! The crowd go crazy and Anderson practically hops around on one foot as he shakes the cage to try to get Tarrasque to stand back up and exit the cage.
It takes a few minutes, but Tarrasque gets to his feet. HHe walks over to the steel cage door, but the ref just shrugs. “The Brain” Allen Anderson on the other hand, grabs a pair of bolt cutters from underneath the commentary table and cuts the lock. Tarrasque walks out through the open door and hops down to the floor by Anderson’s side to win the match.
Tarrasque opens his eyes to see Marcus Anderson hovering over him.
Anderson: You see anything that would help us find your real name?
Tarrasque grins and shakes his head.
Anderson: You see something that will help you in your upcoming match?
Again, Tarrasque shakes his head no. Before Marcus can speak again, Tarrasque answers him.
Tarrasque: Only good memory. Xiaolong trainer, me, and you father.
Anderson: Really? You’ll have to tell me all about it while we’re traveling.
Tarrasque sits up, he can almost feel the twinge of pain in his forehead from his match with the Shootfighter so many years before. He smiles and shrugs it off.
Tarrasque: Where we go?
Anderson: Atlanta. I need to see an old friend.
Tarrasque: Parsons?
Anderson: Well...yeah.
Tarrasque nods, standing up from the bench and stretching before he starts heading for the locker room to shower and get changed into street clothes.
Tarrasque: Good. Me like Parsons. Him help.