Disclaimer: Ronald Washington is a fictional character and does not reflect my personal political and social beliefs.
Mexico City, Mexico
Three Hours Post Gang Wars
The office Ultimate Wrestling VP Allen Anderson
Allen Anderson sat at his desk staring at a package addressed to him from Valora Salinas. Allen seemed perplexed and anxious about opening the wrapped gift in front of him. Behind Anderson were two massive Tarrasque clones standing next to him with their arms folded. The cloned twins were indistinguishable save for the battle scars on their faces. They were muscular, powerful, and looked like they'd been fed a steady diet of steroids and testosterone supplements since their creation and grow period inside their amniotic life support tubes.
They both had tight, ill-fitting grey t-shirts that exposed their insanely large abdominal muscles with numbers printed on them. Nine hundred thirty-three for the one on the left and seven hundred twenty-five for the one to Allen's right. The one on the left was staring at the package gleefully and seemed excited about what could be inside. The one on the right seemed oblivious to what Allen was going through and had a very goofy-looking smile. Next two each of the musclebound morons were two heavily armed private security guards dressed in black suits and ties. Each had a radio earpiece and were sporting dark tinted ray-band sunglasses. Suddenly the eerie silence was broken by Tarrasuque Nine Hundred Thirty-three.
933: Duuuuuuuuhhh aren't going to open your special gift, boss?
Anderson: You braindead moron! I've been getting death threats from that woman since I took over as Vice President of Operations. She wants revenge for my involvement in the War Hammer North Korean Nuclear attack! For all I know, this could be anthrax or some low-yield bomb!
725 Daaahhhhhh, what attack? Are we being attacked, boss?
Anderson pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a loud, frustrated sigh. The guards in the suits couldn't help but snicker at the stupidity of the clones. What made it even more funny was that the whole thing was like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon. Allen, the scheming supervillain, and the clones his sniveling henchmen.
Andreson: Just shut the fuck up and keep an eye out for anyone other than Rupert walking into this office!
933 Duuuuuuuuhhh... okey dokey boss. Whatever you say.
Allen took on a high-tech-looking device and scanned the package. The scanner flashed a green light indicating that the box was safe to open. As he took the wrapping paper off and opened the box, he stopped and stared at an hourglass with sand sliding through it slowly. At the base of the hourglass was a small note from Valora. The sand in the hourglass showed a few days of sand left.
The letter read, "Dear Allen, the borrowed time you bought yourself by fooling Rupert into giving you a job at Ultimate Wrestling, and your expensive high-end security detail are running out. Before the week is over, you will suffer, you will be punished, and you will die. I haven't forgotten about the 25 million lives you helped Emperor Kim and Michael Vastrix erase from existence. Nothing from our past will save you; I will avenge the dead and those who continue to suffer now thanks to your fucked up actions, pendijo! See you soon, Allen."
Anderson: Honestly, Valora... SOOOOO DRAMATIC! If you were going to kill me, you'd of done it by now! I swear all these hollow vague threats are beginning to bore me!
Suddenly, Anderson's door was kicked violently open without warning, and in stepped the masked wrestler and vigilante known only to others except for Allen Anderson as "The Reagantor." The cowled crusader of conservative justice was furious and wanted a word with Allen. However, his abrupt entrance frightened the clones, and Tarrasque 933 lunged forward over Allen's desk, grabbed the Reaganator by the throat, and slammed him hard against the wall. The impact cracked the wall as the cowled crusader struggled hopelessly to get free.
Anderson seemed amused by the ordeal until it became clear that his masked friend was close to passing out.
Anderson: Nine thirty-three release him now!
933 Duhhhh... but boss, you said not to let anyone in other than Mr. M.
Anderson: God damn nine thirty-three, I said let him go now!
933 Uhhhh okay boss, you dah boss.
Tarrasque nine thirty-three released the Reaganator, and he collapsed to the carpeted floor of Anderson's office. As he slowly got up off the carpet and regained his composure, his raspy voice filled the room like a buzzsaw going through lumber. His mask indented and puffed out as he gasped for air like a man who'd been drowning.
Reaganator: Damn it, Anderson! You goon over here nearly killed me!
Anderson: Oh, look, it's the Reagantor... what do you want?
Reaganator: You promised me a match with Valora! I told you those morons you teamed up with me weren't capable of working together!
Anderson: I gave you a clear path to Valora, the four you failed! Don't come crying to me because you weren't strong enough to fight your way out of the first round, Washington!
Reaganator: Damn it, Anderson! I told you not to use my real name!
Anderson: I'll do what I damn well, please! You work for me, damn it!
Reaganator: The only person I work for is U.S. President Ronald McStrump, and don't you forget it! I hacked my way through fifty-five miles worth of Jungle to exact revenge for Rupert, and this is how you treat me? No wonder everyone on this roster hates your guts!
Anderson: Oh, please, I don't care if it was a hundred miles! You want Valora Salinas?
Reaganator: It's the only damn reason I'm here, Anderson! Do you think I like sitting here in my spare time unclogging Rupert Mudcock's toilet daily? I could be back home in the states helping President McStrump against the communist scourge destroying our nation!
Anderson rolled his eyes and sighed before holding up the note in his hand. He waved in front of the Reaganator erratically before explaining his version of the situation he found himself in.
Anderson: If you want Salinas so bad, all you need to do is stick around me, old man! She's been sending me death threats for the better part of the year ever since I took this damn job.
Reaganator: Death threats? Why does that traitorous bitch want you dead so badly?
Anderson: I worked for the weapons manufacturing giant War Hammer before working here. You are undoubtedly familiar with our work. After looking at your past military record, I'm sure you've fired one of our weapons in the field of battle.
Reaganator: The U.S. military owes you, people, a debt of gratitude if you ask me. Without your weapons, we would've never won the second world war against them, krauts!
Anderson smirked slyly.
Anderson: Yes, I couldn't agree more. A man of war like yourself can appreciate what War Hammer has done for humanity. As you could imagine, a company like War Hammer makes a lot of enemies. Ms. Salinas, before her career as a wrestler, used to be black ops assassin for hire. One I hired for many contracts to remove difficult people from various governments worldwide.
Reaganator: That doesn't explain why she wants you dead, though.
Anderson: Apparently, the woman grew conscious and now blames me for her wet work. She's insane! I'm sure McStrump briefed you on her before he sent you down here.
Reaganator: I don't know much about her past. I know she's a wanted criminal and a Rebel of Society sympathizer.
Anderson: Oh no. She's a lot more than that, my masked friend. She has a serial killer's instinct and, lately, a mad man's emotions. She's not just a danger to America. She's a danger to the world! Without a man like myself guiding her through life, she's like a rogue missile without a target. It's probably why she's been getting involved in all these weird social justice warrior causes.
Reaganator: Alright, Anderson, you can count me in. If you think this death threat is serious, I'll be watching your back from the shadows.
Anderson: Good to hear. Now listen, I got you booked again for the Young Blood Championship!
Reaganator: I don't give a rats ass about you wrestling championship Anderson!
Anderson: I know that you masked dolt! Valora's protege Dresden is also booked in this Battle Royal. If you want to make Salinas angry, make sure to inflict as much violence against her as possible. I'm sure it will motivate her to come and find you. IF he does find you, eliminate her; mission accomplished, you get to go back home to the U.S. of A.
Reaganator: Alright, Anderson. I'll take care of it since you seem only to hire and surround yourself with incompetent bafoons!
Anderson: Hah! Says the man in the comic book superhero outfit!
The Reganator stormed out of the room, satisfied with what Anderson had given him. Dead or Alive Valora Salinas was coming back with him. Time would tell, though, if anything would come of it. All he knew was he couldn't let President McStrump down.