Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Chapter 1

A clap of thunder and a flash of light silhouette the broken remains of Denver's Mile High Stadium, rechristened as the Lightning Dome, showing the throng of humans flocking towards the main event of the night. This is the American Championship of Lightning Ball. Fans from all of the federations that make up the shattered United States swill their beer in preparation for death, either their own or of those from the other nations.

One man throws his bottle of Stone Cold brew on the concrete and enters the arena. He opens up his leather jacket, tanned from human hides, and pulls out another. His jacket still bares the insignia of the gang he joined back when the New America was young, a crudely drawn woman's torso, the arms, legs and head torn off, and a giant dick piercing the length of it. As far as he knows, he's the last of the Blood Rapers still alive, most of them died at the Battle of Ball Sack Creek, where all of the strongest gangs in the region faced off for the final time. Hell, he was probably one of the last people alive from that battle, period. Even the victors at Ball Sack Creek were wiped out in the aftermath.

The man takes a swig of his newly produced bottle when a man in a giant suit of battle gear stops him with one hand and points to a sign with the other. NO OUTSIDE FOOD OR DRINK. The man shows his teeth to the security guard, the top row with the word FUCK carved in them, the bottom read YOU. It was the last time the words would be read as the security guard punched his teeth in, forcing him to swallow a few letters. The security man, himself a veteran of the final Battle for Las Vegas, picks up the dropped beer, breaking it across the violator's face and then castrating him with the remains. He picks up one testicle and drops it in the man's mouth.

A man in a black cloak watches this, but no emotion shows on his face. When this night is over, he thinks to himself, these people will know the law and fear it. Not this corrupt law, a government by blood, but true justice. Those who wish to profit on the pain and suffering of the masses will know suffering soon enough. For they have been judged.

Caligula has been judged; Guilty. The sentence is death.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Chapter 2

Caligula sits upon his throne made of the quivering flesh of freshly slaughtered children, his mighty fist gripping a wine glass delicately. The giant of a man, well over eight feet tall and wearing spiked armor, watches as the bodies fill the seats around him. He grins, knowing that he controls their lives and their deaths. He is the Emperor and this is his Empire. He takes a sip from the glass and blood stains his beard. His golden eyes glint in the torchlight.

He had been surprised by how easy it all was. They feared him and he did everything in his power to earn that fear. Those who refused him were punished, their blood filled his cup to overflowing. This night was dedicated to those opponents who still lived. The winning team would be made generals in his army and lead the final assault on Blackland. After that, the Jews would kowtow to him. He smiled, remembering that day in the jungles of the Congo, as he feasted on the flesh of a small-time warlord. That man in the white suit had reminded Caligula of his birthright. His family needed him despite their words to the contrary. He was tempted to turn down the offer, but he was glad that he hadn't. America was so ripe for the picking and no one else had the sack to do it.

Though there was still the matter of the New Empire of the Damned and Empress Gigi. They had been weakened in the aftermath of the Death Race, but they were an established nation with a military that could stand up to that of the United States. That cunt empress had turned down his offers of annexation, but she'd soon pay for that. If it weren't for the drain of his war with Blackland, he would have killed her right there. Of course, her son, the prince, was there and who knows what powers he may have inherited from his father. Regardless, that matter would be brought to a conclusion soon enough.

"Bruce," Caligula calls out, "Bring me another goblet of blood." Junior Bruce, Jr., a chain around his neck, nods his head and Caligula unlocks it, allowing him to move freely. He had stopped trying to run away months ago. Watching Junior walk away, he took a bite out of a severed leg.

The crowd began to settle, meaning that the rapes and murders had reduced in frequency, so he stood up to begin the announcements. This was his favorite part, the family tradition.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Chapter 3

"Ladies and gentlemen," Caligula began, "WELCOME TO THE LIGHTNING DOME!"

The crowd erupts violently, ready for the festivities to begin. They can already taste the blood in the air. Caligula had taken to collecting the spilled blood from events and putting them in the air conditioning units. As the cheers continued, trap doors around the court opened up and zombies shambled out, the chains around their necks defining the boundary between in bounds and out. They had been introduced into Lightning Ball after jumping out of bounds to avoid mutilation or death became too common.

"As always, I am your host, Emperor Caligula Lightning," Caligula grins, his teeth still red from the blood he had drank moments before. "Let us welcome first to the arena, from Boston, the challengers, AMANDA!"

The fans look at each other, confused by the name of the team. Contrary to popular belief, the country named Boston is not named after the city, but was really founded by a group of people who really fucking love the band Boston and conquered the entire state of Massachusetts in their honor. As part of their entrance, a papier-mâché space ship with the Boston logo floats over the court, attached to the rafters with obvious wires. The ship crashes because it weighs too much with the men inside, but they crawl out relatively unharmed.

"And the reigning champions, from the Snooty Republic, THE NEW TRILLIONAIRE'S CLUB!"

The Richonian national anthem plays as a team of giant goons with monocles and top hats walk through the entrance with their noses in the air. The crowd boos them because they are wealthy.

Caligula looks around, savoring the crowd reactions. "LET'S GET READY FOR LIGHTNING BALL!"

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Chapter 4

The fans cheer wildly, celebrating each death on the court with mass displays of masturbation and orgies of unorganized violence. The man in the black cloak watches it all with disgust. A member of the New Trillionaire's Club twists off a Bostonian's head with ease and tosses the body into a wall of zombies. He picks up the ball the dead man dropped and dunks it. The man in black spits.

Suddenly, he hears the sound of falling hooves. He slightly turns his head and sees a dull, green glow. "It's you again. What do you want?"

"I simply came to inform you that you are making a grave mistake."

"I'm killing a monster."

"You are a fool," the man says, "And you call yourself a judge? Although I hear you are no longer in the employ of the President, a step in the right direction."

"You're right, I should have known better, but you don't understand the circumstances," the judge explains, "I had no choice."

"Perhaps that is true, Black Judge, but I know more than you think. Prometheus taught you wrestling and told you his story. And now you are going to waste everything. You have no idea what your actions tonight will do."

"And you know? I used to listen to you and look where I am now. America is a wasteland and nothing I do will make it any worse," the Black Judge faces his inquisitor for the first time. "I won't let you stop me, but you can try."

"I am only here to observe you, Black Judge, but I advise you to pay heed to my words," the steed and his rider turn away, "Caligula is a monster, indeed, but his presence keeps the more insipid and cowardly monsters at bay. They will arrive in full force and rip this country apart once again."

"You had the power to save the country three years ago, don't blame me for what happens because you didn't."

"Farewell, Black Judge. May my predictions fail to come true."

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Chapter 5

"Well, sports fans," Jim Ross says, "this here game has turned into a real slobberknocker, with Big Billy Moneybags of the New Trillionaire's Club absolutely stomping a Oklahoma sized mudhole in the competition."

"I have to agree, J.R." Warrior Warrior chimes in, his face held on with a clear plastic mask. "But what can you expect from a group of men who would name their team Amanda? They're queers, Jim, is what I'm saying. FUCKING FAGGOTS."

"I won't argue with you there, Warrior, the Bostonians were just plain ill-equipped to face von Toity's goons. You have to wonder what they were thinking sending this team out to compete tonight."

"They were too busy swallowing each other's semen, Jim."

Big Billy Moneybags runs down the court, streaking ahead of everyone else, the ball firmly in his grip. When one of his opponents seems to close the gap, Billy jumps to a stop and removes his top hat. The Bostonian looks at Billy in horror as blades extend from the brim and he begins to run in the opposite direction. It's too late, though, as the top hat goes sailing and the blades cut off the helpless victim's arm. The Mexican Peso tosses the Bostonian, rapidly bleeding to death, on top of a pile of bodies under his team's basket. Billy climbs the bodies like stairs, smashing the unfortunate man's face on his last step before nonchalantly dropping the ball through.

"There's another basket for von Toity's team," J.R. says, "With Toity buying off all the best talent in America, it's amazing that the Bostonians are only losing by a hundred points."

"THEY'RE FAGGOTS," Warrior yells, flexing so hard that his suit explodes, revealing the shackles chaining him to the announcer's booth.

Meanwhile, the seconds tick down and the referee blows his whistle. The game is over and all of the Bostonians are dead. Big Billy Moneybags and the Mexican Peso raise each other's arms in victory as the rest of the team lifts them aloft. The fans boo loudly, but the New Trillionaire's Club doesn't care. Their coach, the Million Dollar Dandy, a tall, thin black man with a suit and bow tie, large jeweled rings and platinum teeth, is interviewed by Junior Bruce, Jr., whose dress makes the Dandy look conservative and plain.

"Million Dollar Dandy, the man with the plan, the legendary leader himself, tell us what you expected going into this contest of contentious countenances, the bold Bostonians tried to follow your formula of success, buying the best but ultimately falling short, and how did things go so right for your side?"

"It's all quite simple, really, Brucie baby," the Dandy's teeth gleam, "These chumps from Boston never had a chance because Big Billy is the best in the business of kicking all varieties of ass. It was never in doubt in my mind when I drew up the plans that led us to this glorious conclusion."

"What a boast from the boss of the Trillionaires, though he has the right to have a bit of an ego with his unparalleled run to the top of the game, no one else comes close. The Baron sure knows how to pick 'em," Bruce finishes up as the Million Dollar Dandy walks back to his team to celebrate.

"That damned Dandy, I don't like his attitude, Warrior," J.R. chimes in, shaking his head in disgust.

Warrior sits back down after spending the last several minutes yelling nonsensically about queers and fucking said queers in their queer asses, "Now, Jim, I can't argue with results. Sure, he's no Warrior, but he knows how to lead his men to victory. Also, I admire that he's not a queer. I think I may have said this before, but queering does not make the world work."

"BAH GAWD!" J.R.'s jaw drops and a loud thud fills the arena as a black figure falls from the air. Everyone falls silent, even the jubilant Trillionaires.

"The fuck are you doin' here, muthafucka?" the Dandy says, pointing at the man in black. The Black Judge. "Get this stupid muthafucka out of here."

Four goons run at the Black Judge, who leaps into the air and wraps his arms around two of their heads, delivering a punishing double DDT, knocking them out cold. The Judge open hand chops across one of the remaining goons' chest, then Irish whips him into the last one, sending them both flying into the gnarled hands of the hungry zombies. The dying screams of the goons are the only sounds that fill the arena.

"Those moves," Caligula mumbles to himself, rage burning in the pit of his stomach, "Where did he learn those fucking moves?"

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Chapter 6

Caligula regains his composure and rises to his feet. He clears his throat then speaks in a booming voice, "Who dares to disturb my games?"

"Caligula Lightning, you have been judged," the Black Judge says. He doesn't move.

Emperor Lightning laughs, returning life to the crowd, who join in the jeering. "You must be mistaken," Caligula retorts then smashes the arm of his throne, sending a real, human arm flying. "Don't you realize I am the law in America? You judge me? Heh heh heh! Men, kill the heretic!"

Dozens of men in body armor rush out of the entrances. They pull out bolt cutters, ripping through the chains restraining the zombies, who amble over to the Black Judge. The Judge simply raises his right arm in the air, sending his cape fluttering, as his left hand reaches for his weapon. Once again the fans are silenced, and even Caligula pauses.

"YOU SPEAK OF LAW, BUT KNOW NOT JUSTICE," the Black Judge yells, "YOUR BLOOD WILL PAY YOUR DEBT TO SOCIETY." It was much too big to be called a gavel. Massive, thick, heavy and far too rough. It was like a like a heap of raw wood. He grabbed the handle with both hands and brought them down rapidly, smashing the floor at his feet. The giant mallet sent shockwaves across the ground, exploding the legs of the zombies sent to take his life.

"Who in God's name?" Junior Bruce, Jr., asks.

"Geh heh heh," Caligula laughs, but this time no one else does. "The Black Judge. How amusing. A declaration of war, perhaps?"

"Not war, execution."

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Chapter 7

"Don't just stand there," Bruce orders, oblivious to the excitement on Caligula's face, "Stop that man!" Caligula slaps Bruce down to his knees for speaking, but doesn't stop the hoard of security guards descending onto the court.

The guards, in full armor, surround the Black Judge with their weapons raised high. Despite what they had just seen, they still fear Caligula more. Their leader shouts, "By decree of the Holy Lightning Empire, you are hereby placed under arrest! If you resist your life will be forfeit!"

Without a word in reply, the Black Judge runs, blindingly fast, and hammers the leader into the ground, exploding organs and shattering bones fly. He then climbs on top of his gavel, several feet above the surface of the court and does an aerial double clothesline, knocking two men to the ground and then doing a double elbow drop on their throats.

"He's unarmed, get him!" one man yells before a dropkick smashes his face in. Blood runs out of his mask just before the Judge punches him in the face, sending shards of skull into his brain.

Trying to take advantage, another guard with a spiked fucking bat runs from behind, but is only met with the gavel, severing his body in two, the legs still desperately stepping forward. When the legs finally collapse, a fan yells, "What kind of hammer is that?"

"That's quite a hammer you've got there, little man," Big Billy Moneybags says, pushing the impotent security guards aside. He confidently marches toward the Black Judge. "Let's see how it fares when I put it to the test against these," Billy says, flexing his massive biceps.

"El Capitan has never lost a duel to nadie, El Juez Negro," the Mexican Peso mocks. The Black Judge only grunts.

The Black Judge swings his gavel across his body, but Moneybags leaps out of the way with little effort. He then charges the Judge but rolls out of the way when he sees the shadow of the massive object falling on him.

"Heh, you're pretty fast with that thing, but I've got some moves myself," Moneybags pops his neck then cracks his fingers. Raising his arms quickly, he brings his hands down with great speed, smashing through the hard concrete of the floor, ripping it out and lifting it, with the Black Judge still standing on it, into the air.

"BAAAAAAAAAAAH GAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAWD," Jim Ross screams, going into a seizure, causing the chains holding him in place to shudder uncontrollably.

Big Billy hurls the entire floor toward the roof, smiling smugly as it breaks into rubble, raining down on the fans, smashing through their skulls, sending stray eyeballs flying and bits of brain and bone shooting from their mouths. Even his teammates are ripped to shreds in the stone hail. One disfigured goon mumbles through a shattered maw, "Waaaaaa tuh gaw, Beely," raising his arm stump before falling on a jagged rock that impales him.

"That takes care of that," Billy says and claps the dust off his hands.

"Jefe, look out!"

Moneybags looks up, his monocle and top hat popping off in surprise, as the Black Judge crouches on the ceiling and then pushes off, falling nearly too fast to see. Billy reaches out and grabs the hammer before it can smash his head, stopping it only inches away from killing him. He starts to relax and throw the hammer aside when the Judge swings down from the handle and hurricanranas him hard into the gavel, breaking his nose and teeth.

As his foe falls to the ground, bleeding, the Judge looks at the trembling Peso, who falls to his knees.

"Feh, coward. You'd pick on the weak, but when you see a wrestler you beg for your life," the Judge looks at the Peso with disgust. "I judge you guilty."

Just then, a shadow envelops him.

[Mautty]

Mile high is not a dome. What a bunch of dumb fuckers.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

I knew that, but I liked the name Lightning Dome better. Just pretend they put a roof on it, asshole.

[Mautty]

You could have made it in St.Louis They have a dome.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Denver already looks like the apocalypse hit, so it isn't that much of a stretch.

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Chapter 8

The massive arms of Big Billy Moneybags wrap around the Black Judge and begin crushing the life out of him.

"Ya think you can get the drop on Big Billy?" He spits the words out through broken and missing teeth. "You ain't getting out of here alive!"

The Judge feels his ribs begin to give and then coughs up blood. In the corner of his eye, he notices Caligula sit down and stroke his beard. The Judge's eyes roll back into his head and all he can think of is his failure. There will be no more justice in America. Everything he had fought so hard for will be dashed, destroyed. All because of that motherfucker Caligula. That goddamned shiteating grin.

"NOT LIKE THIS!"

JUMPING BACK ALERT, HE STRAINS HIS MUSCLES IN AN EFFORT TO GET FREE. VEINS IN HIS FOREHEAD SWELL AND THEN BURST. CREAKING OF BONES CAN BE HEARD ALL THROUGHOUT THE ARENA. FINALLY, THE FUCKING BONES GIVE WAY AND BIG BILLY'S ARMS ARE RIPPED FROM THE SOCKETS AND SOAR INTO THE CROWD.

As the blood thirsty masses pick up the arms, some of them desperately trying to consume the flesh, the Black Judge looks into Big Billy's eyes.

"How ... How is it possible?" Moneybags stammers, the rapid loss of blood dimming his capacity for fear.

THE BLACK JUDGE'S FINGERS DIG INTO THE REMAINS OF BILLY'S SHOULDERS AND HE CASUALLY RIPS THE BEHEMOTH IN HALF. HE RUBS THE BLOOD INTO HIS HAIR AND FACE AND THEN TURNS TO THE MEXICAN PESO. HE DASHES AT THE HORRIFIED SPIC AND CLUCHES HIS JAW, THEN KICKS HIM IN THE FACE, LIBERATING THE MANDIBLE FROM ITS OWNER. THE PESO'S TONGUE FLOPS AROUND BUT STOP AFTER THE PESO IS DECAPITATED WITH HIS OWN BOTTOM TEETH.

Warrior's eyes open wide and he stands, "WHEN I BREATHE IN THIS AIR OF COMBAT AND DEATH, SO MANY THOUGHTS RUSH INTO MY MIND. THE MIND OF A WARRIOR AND IT ASKS ME HOW I FEEL ABOUT THE INSANITY AND THE MAYHEM AS I DRINK IN THE BLOOD OF THE FALLEN. I SAY TO MY MIND, LOOK TO THE HEAVENS AND YOU WILL SEE THAT IN THE CHAOS THERE IS ORDER AND IN THE ORDER YOU WILL SEE THE WARRIOR. HE THRIVES IN THE FEROCITY OF HAND TO HAND FISTICUFFS. AND I WILL DEVOUR YOUR SOULS TONIGHT AND THEY WILL SCREAM IN AGONY." WARRIOR WARRIOR RIPS THE CHAINS THAT BIND HIM OUT OF THE FLOOR AND RUNS INTO THE STANDS, SWINGING THE CHAINS AND TEARING BODIES TO PIECES. J.R. CAN ONLY SIT IN A COMA LIKE STATE.

"CALIGULAAAAAAAAAAAA!!"

THE BLACK JUDGE RUNS TOWARD THE TYRANT AND THROWS THE JAW OF THE PESO AT HIM. CALIGULA SWATS IT AWAY AND BIG BOOTS THE JUDGE TO THE GROUND.

Caligula looks down as the Judge rises to his feet, grimacing. "Murder ..."

"FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!"

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Chapter 9

The Black Judge plunges both fists through Caligula's armor and blood fires out of the holes. Caligula grabs the Judge by his neck, but he can feel the fingers moving through his dense muscles and, bit by bit, closer to his lungs.

"You little shithead, no one fucks up my games! I don't care if you have gone murderfuck, I'm going to FUCKING KILL YOU," Caligula says and lifts the Judge off the ground. "Geh heh. You know, when I heard about you, I thought you would be black," and with another geh heh, he throws the Judge back to the arena floor.

When he gets back to his feet, the Judge stares at his blood stained hands and starts digging his fingernails in his scalp. Then his head shoots up in time to punch a flying body, and catch the intestines in his mouth. Although he sits comatose and slackjawed, the voice of Jim Ross echoes throughout the building, yelling BAH GAWD BAH GAWD BAH GAWD BAH GAWD. More bodies fall at the Judge as Caligula hurls the fans from near-by seats like Donkey Kong. Each man, woman and child meets the same fates, bursting like blood filled sacks.

"Excellent," Caligula says to himself, "He's preparing a fine meal for my victory celebration. Geh heh heh heh."

During his laugh, he pauses just long enough, merely a fraction of a second, for the Judge to take the offensive, charging through the audience. Belligerent fans try to stop him because they're dumbasses, but the Judge responds by ripping off one man's torso and then throwing a beer bottle through another man's head.

"You're quite entertaining when you aren't ruining the show," Caligula calls out to the Black Judge, "I'm beginning to grow fond of you."

The Black Judge leaps, rapidly punching Caligula's armor until it completely falls off, revealing the giant's heavily scarred pot belly, which Caligula uses to knock the maniac away. The Judge charges him again, but Caligula grabs his fists and bends them back, forcing the Judge to his knees.

Caligula lowers his face to the Judge and spits out the words, "Give up and I'll let you be my slave. You can kill all of the greatest warriors in my empire, blinding all these foolish pieces of human garbage. Like sheep they follow only the strong. AND YOU'RE NOT AS STRONG AS ME."

AND THEN THE BLACK JUDGE HEADBUTTS CALIGULA, TOSSING HIM BACK INTO HIS THRONE.

"FUCK FUCK FUCK YOU FUCK SHIT FUCK"

"Excellent!"

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Chapter 10

Caligula tears his throne out of the ground and swings it, sending the Judge flying across the auditorium. As the Black Judge rolls from the momentum of the blow, his flailing arms and legs decapitating people right and left. When he finally comes to a halt, his eyes focus in on Caligula instantly. What he sees instead IS A FUCKING CHAINSAW SHOOTING INTO HIS FACE. HE CATCHES THE CHAINSAW BETWEEN HIS TEETH, BUT THE SPINNING CHAIN RIPS THE SIDES OF HIS MOUTH, MAKING BLOOD RUN DOWN HIS FACE, JUST ANOTHER LAYER WETTING THE DRIED BLOOD OF THE LIVES DESTROYED IN THE MELEE. SWINGING HIS HEAD, HE HURLS THE ROTATING BLADE, IMPALING A MAN TWENTY FEET AWAY. THE BLADE SENDS BITS OF FLESH AND BONE SCATTERING IN THE AIR, PASTING THE FACES OF THOSE UNFORTUNATE ENOUGH TO BE STANDING BEHIND HIM. FROM THE BOTTOM OF THE WOUND, A PIECE OF HIS INTESTINES TRIES TO ESCAPE.

Caligula marvels at his marksmanship, lowering his bow and pulling out another chainsaw and then again drawing the bowstring taut. "Shouldn't have waited so long," he thought, "The damned bastard recovered too fast." He wouldn't make the same mistake. He rapidly fires and reloads a new chainsaw into his bow. With the increased speed, his accuracy drops, but the Judge is still only able to narrowly evade the projectiles, soaking in the entrails of those who are unable to do the same.

Closing in, the Judge ducks the chainsaw that Caligula swings at him and UPPERCUTS HIM IN HIS DISTENDED BELLY, THE INDENTATION OF HIS FIST BULGING OUT OF CALIGULA'S BACK. Caligula drops to his knee and the chainsaw falls from his hand, skidding into the face of an innocent bystander. The Black Judge begins strangling the despot, who coughs blood. "YOU'RE GONNA FUCKING DIE AND I'LL DRINK YOUR BLOOD, YOU MOTHERFUCKING FUCKSTICK DICKEATER. SHITFUCK." The Judge continues strangling him, the veins in his hands bursting, cracking through the layers of dried blood on his hands, shooting out more blood, and he ferociously headbutts Caligula over and over. "YEAH, SMASH YOUR FUCKING BODY UP. BLEED, DICKFUCKER, BLEED." Caligula, smirks slightly and brings his palms together over the Judge's ears, freeing him from the nearly fatal grasp.

"Geh heh, you actually turned my kidney to mush," Caligula says and then kicks the Black Judge down the stairs. The Judge's ears bleed, but it would be nearly impossible to tell. "I actually saw an African chief go murderfuck once, he wasn't as much of a pussy as you. I paid tribute to his strength by only raping his concubines for one day before I killed them. You, I'll just fuck you like I fuck all pussies, until they bleed."

He starts walking down to the body of the Judge, but before he can take his second step, both of his knees cave in and bend backward. As he falls forward, he sees the back of the Judge, his fists buried in what was left of Caligula's kneecaps. The Judge flips Caligula over his back and elbow drops him in the throat.

"SUCK MY CUNTFUCKING DICK WHEN I SHOVE IT DOWN YOUR THROAT, SHITDICKING COCKSHIT FUCK."

THE JUDGE GRABS CALIGULA BY HIS FUCKING BEARD, PUTS HIS HEAD BETWEEN HIS LEGS AND STARTS RUNNING, LEAPING INTO THE AIR AFTER BUILDING UP SPEED AND ARIAL POWERBOMBS CALIGULA INTO THE CENTER OF THE LIGHTNING DOME EXPLODING THE FLOOR LIKE A METEOR.

"FUCK YOUR DICK," THE JUDGE SCREAMS, INCHES FROM CALIGULA'S FACE, AND THEN SITS ON HIS CHEST AND REPEATEDLY PUNCHES HIM IN THE FUCKING FACE. AS THE JUDGE'S FISTS REDUCE CALIGULA'S FACE TO PULP, THE FANS START JERKING THEIR DICKS, OBLIVIOUS TO THE FACT THAT THEIR EMPEROR IS BEING MURDERED, SIMPLY PUMPED BY THE FACT THAT SOMEONE IS ABOUT TO DIE. TWO MEN ARE KILLING EACH OTHER IN THE PUREST FORM OF COMBAT THAT MANKIND IS CAPABLE OF.

THIS IS FUCKING WRESTLING.

A MUMBLING CREEPS OUT OF CALIGULA'S SHATTERED MOUTH, FAILING TO PAUSE THE ASSAULT FOR EVEN AN INSTANT. EACH PUNCH DEEPENING THE CRATER THE POWERBOMB CAUSED. LOUDER THAN THE MUFFLED WORDS OF CALIGULA, EVEN LOUDER THAN THE THUDS AND BOOMS OF THE JUDGE'S PUNCHES, THE CACOPHONY OF CHEERS FROM THE CROWD, DECIMATED AS IT WAS BY THE CLASH OF THE MONSTEROUS CREATURES BEFORE THEM, BEINGS CREATED FOR THE SOLE PURPOSE OF DESTRUCTION, THEY STILL EAT UP EVERY INSTANT OF PAIN AND DROP OF BLOOD.

AND THEN CALIGULA GRABS THE JUDGE'S FIST IN MIDSWING, LIFTING HIM UP, SPINNING HIM IN THE AIR AND THEN THROWING HIM 50 FEET INTO THE AIR. WHILE THE JUDGE FLOATS, CALIGULA STANDS TALL, POPPING HIS KNEES BACK INTO PLACE, THEN LEAPS, PUTTING THE JUDGE INTO A PILEDRIVER.

"As I was saying, listen to the cheers," Caligula says during their shared decent, "I'm doing nothing but giving the people what they want. They want me to kill them and they want to watch others be killed. And you're trying to save them from me? By using wrestling moves, you've doomed them all to death!"

Caligula stands after the impact, reveling in the adoration of the masses. "It's almost too bad I'm going to have to kill you all after watching me triumph like this. Take solace in the fact that I'll treasure your deaths, feasting on your flesh and blood, and that it is the will of your master that you should not see another day."

"NEVER," the Judge rises, wobbling on tired legs. "You're going to pay for your crimes."

"Geh heh," Caligula laughs, "I like your stubbornness, kid." He palms the Judge's face and smashes his skull into the concrete. "Now to take care of the witnesses." With the speed of lightning, Caligula shatters every pillar and support in the Lightning Dome, the ceiling quaking. The loyal guards, ready to die, shoot everyone who attempts to leave the building.

"ENOUGH," a voice shouts, causing Caligula to turn his head. The Judge should be dead ...

Caligula sees the man mounted on the crystal horse and grins, "Washington."

GEORGE WASHINGTON'S HORSE RUNS TOO FAST FOR EVEN CALIGULA TO SEE, HIS SABER FIRING OUT AND DECAPITATING EVERY GUARD IN THE BUILDING IN AN INSTANT. HE YELLS TO THOSE STILL LIVING, INSTRUCTING THEM TO RUN AND THEN DISAPPEARS, REAPPEARING IN FRONT OF CALIGULA.

"This is a mistake, Washington," Caligula says, "The master ain't gonna like it. You should know that even you can't fight him for long."

"I will fight for America as long and as hard as it takes, Caligula Lightning," Washington says, wiping the blood from his blade.

Caligula doubles over in laughter. "Look at your America, Washington," he points to the stands, "Your people haven't moved. You can't save someone who doesn't want to be saved. Your America is dead and I'm going to piss on its grave."

The building starts to collapse, huge pieces of concrete falling and crushing those still living. Washington grimaces, knowing he could save them, but they're all too brainwashed to listen to reason. Is America really dead? He didn't want to believe it. And then he heard the breathing. He rushed over to the body, shielding it from the collapsing building with his crystal horse. In an instant, the implosion is over. As soon as Caligula hurls the rubble off of his back, he sees Washington mounted and staring back at him with a body slung over his shoulder.

"So he lives, eh? Geh heh heh," Caligula grins, "Excellent. He can go with you, but I want a better effort next time. It's been a while since I've had an assassin worth an ounce of shit. Besides, as busted up as he is, he wouldn't be a filling meal."

As Washington's horse gallops away, Caligula wipes the blood from his face, not a bruise or scratch to be seen.

Jim Ross sits at the announcer's table, the only remaining survivor, miraculously untouched by a single piece of debris, popping out of his coma. "I don't know what the hell is going on!"

[Magic Juan]

Wait, WARRIOR WARRIOR IS DEAD?

[Ryoko's Biatch]

Didn't you read the part where he ripped his chains out of the ground and ran out of the building?

[Magic Juan]

Oh fuck, sry nvm

[Action Hank]

*slow clap*