Re: Juggernauts (BigPapaBelial and kingkonrad) IC
Post by BigPapaBelial » Tue Jan 14, 2014 5:24 am

Brussels, Belguim, the Host hotel for the World's Strongest Man Tournament

A 7 foot, 12 inch tall giant sat up in a massive bed, he was watching the televised pre-recorded opening ceremonies of the WSM. He grinned abit, watching the part where a camera man had been standing at the entrance tunnel into the main room the ceremonies had taken place in.

Strong men like Magnus Magnussen had come in, waving, showing off their muscle. Everyone dressed in t-shirts and tight shorts that had shown off their goods. Their musculature like gods almost. More men come out, the competitors numbering 32 this year, including Victor. The strongmen continue to enter. Each man having turned in theme music to be played as they entered. As the walk ins come near to the end, the lights go down.

[Victor's entrance theme: Linky

Slowly music began to play, rough, low, powerful, filling the room with the sound of it. The announcer began, "Ladies and gentleman, you've seen the rest, now, behold the best! Our current and defending champion, Victor Kanatariio!" Spot light boomed on and highlighted Victor who stepped out of the entrance tunnel throwing his arms wide and roaring, looking around the crowd. Then throwing his hands into the air, and letting out a full quality true to life war whoop. He then walked down the aisle. All seven feet plus of his, he posed for the people, shook hands, let out cries of rage and war whoops all the more. Like some kind of avenging primeval god among godlings. Once he got to the central dais he hopped up and traded hand shakes and high fives with his WSM competitors and rivals, they may be here to compete again but they all shared in common their power building and work to get here.

In reality Victor laughed and clapped at his own performance. It was so silly, yet was part of his routine for the games. Pumping up his competitors as much as himself. Almost a persona if you would. Almost no one knew about his work with the PMC, no one knew that he often stomped through deserts and jungles and swamps in a heavily armored suit that was a prototype for a powered armor program. No one knew that he stood over eight feet tall in that suit. At the WSM he was the defending champ Victor, not Brutal, the super heavy juggernaut.

He smiled abit then looked over as his cell buzzed. A text message coming through. He picked up the phone and unlocked it, bringing up the text. He blinked then grinned at the picture and the text.

"I don't think he'll walk again...I'll be on the 9AM flight to Brussels babes, I just got something more to deal with. And I'll get a shower :D #Deadfucker "

The picture of Natalie bare chested and bloody. And atleast to him, utterly sexy. He smiled broadly. Then responded with, "Dear god woman! You cheating on me? What he hell did you do to that man!? #yourhotasfuck"

*****************************

The next morning

Victor was already up at seven in the morning. Stretching and warming up in his room. The prelims started this day, where all the competitors would test their strength and endurance on the events, and the first of the competitors would be weeded out. He was reasonably sure he'd come out on top in the prelims, it wasn't until the finals where he'd have to really worry. He was reasonably sure of a win again this year. But there was always a chance that he could be ousted in one of the events, and have to work in the later events to make up points. But he was fairly sure everything would be fine. He checked the time, the events didn't actually started until noon, and he wanted to meet Natalie at the airport.

******************************

Somewhere in Brussels

An old storage building was where eighty men and women choose to meet. Eighty faithful and strong, martyrs for the cause of liberty from the tyranny of the west and it's capitalistic strangle hold on the world. Their leaders had told them that the time to strike had come, the West sent their muscled stupid men into Europe to attempt to show their superiority, men who showed the capitalistic ways almost above all else. This strike on Brussels and the WSM would herald other strikes in other places.

They were here to finish their planning, and to refine their training. AK-12s and AKM rifles were near by. SKS battle rifles, PKP LMGs and RPG launchers were all about the room. Live rounds were waiting to be used. The abandoned area they met in allowed them to train to their hearts content without anyone realizing they were there. They would attack on the second day of the events. When everyone was busy with the spectacle they would strike a blow for their leaders in the east.

The 737 landed, coming down as it screeched on the tarmac, slowing down as Natalie awoke again, unclipping her seatbelt as they headed towards the terminal building, slowly and surely coasting towards the terminal. She looked out, looking out on the dawn sky, as she yawned loudly, feeling her stomach burble a little. Holding it in was easy, but sometimes, she had to run to the little ladies' room to expell the excess gas. The reason for it was too complex to explain to Victor at the moment- but all that had to be said, that Natalie's flatulence was paranormal, and something which she only vaguely could explain- but found it rather more fitting to hide, for the moment, as one of her womanly wiles. Standing up as the plane came to an abrupt stop, she took care as she just about edged out of her seat, her tall height and size making her seem very awkward among the other passengers. She headed down as she walked out the door, minding her head, as she looked down at her one backpack of luggage, just containing a few essentials. Soon, she found herself at border control, and pulling out her passport from a pocket. Opening it, she saw her own face appear on the dated French passport, part of her dual nationality. She approached the passport booth, sliding it under as she gave a simple utterance.
"All good?" She said simply in French, hoping that she'd get one back in that language- her French being something erotic in it's use. Her Russian and English sounded a little more hard and cold, but French made her sound as if she had a heart of gold. The official, a female, looked down, as her eyebrows raised at the height, and what she saw. It matched- it wasn't a misprint. Everything was valid, as she gave it back, Natalie giving a simple Merci as she moved along, and towards the arrivals lounge.

Walking through, she looked around for Victor, as she pulled out her phone, turning it back on as she slid through to find his number. Putting the phone to ear, she walked on, clearly getting a lot of looks as she towered over most, a clear view from her position. It felt good being tall, but it draw attention to her. And by no means, was she exactly inconspicous here. She heard the line pick up, and gave her best French- a language that she knew that Victor fully understood, just as she felt in that kinda mood.
"Victor? I'm at the airport, just got off the flight- I'll explain the last 24 hours sooner or later. Should I get a bus to your hotel or a taxi? Or you?" Natalie said, walking and talking as she looked out at the vibrant airport, walking out as she adjusted her bra a little, awaiting a response.
"And if you decide to come, I'll give you a treat," Natalie said, switching to English, as the finished the sentence,"and it's nothing to do with my pair this time." She said rather cheekily, aware that Victor and herself hadn't spent time for a while. She scratched her lips, as she kept moving, awaiting his response.