Dragon Ball Z Uncensored

[Spamdini]

Over three years ago…

FTUW is dead. Wrestling is dead. America is dead. Anarchy and bloodshed flood the streets as mayhem and murder become as commonplace as breathing. Still in the initial stages of the apocalypse, there are those who still fight back and try to instill common sense into these rabid hordes. If they can’t then they fight back, no matter how futile their efforts may be.

Titan Towers have fallen. WWE had already fallen under hard times and their roster of wrestlers diminished to a dedicated few. Still, with FTUW’s authentic insanity and bloodshed, there was no reason for fans to attend events anymore. Essentially, Titan Towers falling was more symbolic than anything since the federation was already destroyed. The survivors scattered across the country in an attempt to use the power of wrestling to restore the nation to its former glory. This soon changes into a desperate bid for survival among those who remain standing.

“Behind you Dean!”

Dean Malenko spins around in time in order to avoid the attack of a crazed ex-lawyer with a baseball filled with nails. Malenko quickly twists the psycho’s arms until they break before bodyslamming him temple-first onto the nail-filled bat.

“Thanks, Chris.”

Chris Benoit had just finished suplexing a nurse with two AIDS-filled syringes onto a flaming SUV and averts his gaze as she burns go death while cackling madly.

“It’s hopeless, Dean. It was stupid of us to think that we could fix the mess FTUW started.”

“Dammit, I didn’t come out of retirement to hear you talk like a damn pussy! C’mon, we’re only ten miles from Atlanta. They trashed our ride but we can foot it from here.”

Benoit looks at the city and sees smoke rising high in the air, forming a thick black cloud that hovers like an omen of death. He shakes his head in despair.

“Listen Dean, get out of here. They’re my family. You still have to find the others and try to stay alive. I knew this was a suicide mission to begin with. Get out of town before they lynch you too.”

“God dammit, that’s not the Chris Benoit I know! You’re a rabid wolverine! Between your intensity and my grapples, we shouldn’t have any problem getting in there! C’mon!”

Just then, a mule with an arrow filled corpse trots by. A vulture swoops down hungrily and knocks the corpse off and begins devouring the freshly dead remains.

“Look at that!” Malenko exclaims. “We can use that to help carry your family out.”

“It’s only big enough for one though.” Benoit sighs, shaking his head. “But you’re right. We can use that.”

And with that, Benoit drills Malenko with a steel chair. Losing consciousness, Malenko looks up at his friend and asks, “W-why…?” Benoit takes him and places him on the mule. With a dropkick to the beast’s ass, it trots off in the opposite direction from the city.

“I have to handle this on my own.”

It’s hours later and night has fallen before Benoit arrives at his home at The Center for Crippling and Suplexes. The gates have been smashed down and there are a variety of corpses lying around, half-eaten by steroid-enhanced German Shepherds. However, the corpses are just distractions to get the dogs away from the house! Benoit runs inside and to his horror finds two goons with green Mohawks and hundreds of piercings fucking his wife in every orifice. They look up in surprise as Benoit’s eyes grow white with rage and his canine teeth seemingly protrude in order to accentuate his anger.

“BASTARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRDS!”

Each goon receives rolling German suplexes on the concrete floor until their skulls are transformed into puddles of goo. Breathing deeply, he looks over at Woman who shudders in the corner of the room. He leans over and places his hand on her shoulder.

“Honey,” Benoit says in a calm, soothing voice.

“They…they forced themselves on me. It was awful.”

”I’m sorry. But you know what I told you when we got married.”

“N-no! I was raped! This doesn’t count!”

“I told you that no other man could have you. I’m sorry I have to do this.”

Benoit grabs a telephone cord and approaches his wife. He knocks him out of the way and runs out of the door in terror. As soon as she gets out of the doorway, she spots the vicious guard dogs snacking on their dinners, nearly done sucking all the meat off the bones. Can she make it past them? They’re there just as much to keep her in as to keep others out.

Then she hears a sound on the roof. She looks up and sees her husband perched up there.

FLYING HEADBUTT OFF THE ROOF OF THE HOUSE! Woman’s head explodes from the impact and the rest of her body stumbles around before the dogs tear all her limbs off and begin devouring them!

Benoit sits on his couch and sighs contemplatively.

“Durrrrrrrrrr?”

Benoit’s head spins around as he is faced with his misshapen and mentally retarded son.

“D-Daniel!”

He stands over the child and breaks down into tears. Benoit kneels down and hugs the child.

“Don’t worry. I’ll protect you son. Till the very end!”

Daniel smiles, exposing his crooked teeth and protruding lower lip than allows copious drool to flood the carpet.

“Durr!”

[Action Hank]

Oh gawd....I have a bad feeling about this!!!!!

[Spamdini]

Sunday night. Benoit stands atop a pile of corpses laid out on the threshold of the front door, which acts as a type of barricade. The Benoit compound is known to all in the Atlanta area as being one of the most expansive properties in the area and one of the best naturally situated and with enough security devices built in order to form a fortress. Fortunately for Benoit, this also gives him the ability to act as a one-man army against any and all intruders who look to claim his territory as their own. Not having slept in days however, he begins to falter in his concentration. Benoit turns his head and looks at the fresh scratch on his arm. Normally he would have been able to avoid that chainsaw by countering beautifully into a Crippler Crossface, but was forced to settle for a Sharpshooter and got nicked in the process.

Three more overgrown monsters shoulder tackle the mound of corpses, sending blood and guts every which way. Two of them go for simultaneous clotheslines, but Benoit leaps into the air a double dropkicks their faces in! The third grabs him from behind in a waistlock, a completely insane and retarded move on his part. Like some sort of ninja teleportation, Benoit has already reversed the waistlock into one of his own and German suplexes the beast into the ground, snapping his head right off!

The rabid wolverine doesn’t even have time to wipe the sweat off his brow before he hears a pained groan from the next room. He rushes into the weight room where poor Daniel is crawling on the ground with a knife embedded in his leg. An eight foot goon with a bald tattooed skull that says “Rapefucker” licks his bowie knife and grins ridiculously.

“BASTAAAAAAAARD!”

Benoit is cut off by a knife to his back by the goon’s diminutive partner. The midget cackles in a high-pitched, nasally voice while the giant pulls his knife up and prepares to bring it down on Daniel’s skull.

A shot rings through the air and blows a hole clear through the giant who falls to the ground lifelessly. The midget turns his head slightly before he is picked up by the throat by Benoit. Clenching his impressive back muscles, the knife falls out of the wound. The midget laughs nervously as he comes eye-to-eye with an enraged wolverine. Before he has a chance to beg for his pathetic life, he is powerbombed onto the ground and then chopped in half by a barbell.

“That was closer than my gramma’s stubble!”

A plump fellow with a cowboy hat walks through the doorway, a smoking shotgun tucked under his arm.

“JR,” says Benoit as he checks on Daniel, “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your beaver-lovin’ life! Dean told me ya’ll went here on your own so me and the Sooners came here to see if you were all right. The boys are standing guard out front. We’d best be moving before more of them come and we have to high-tail it like a raccoon out of a leaky shed!”

Benoit looks down at Daniel who is attempting to clutch his wounded leg with his crooked arms, tears mixing with the blood and drool.

“You can take Daniel. He’ll be safer with us than a cow at a Hindu barbeque!”

However, Benoit just shakes his head. “Will he, Jim? Haven’t you noticed that it’s survival of the fittest out there now? When Daniel was born and they said he’d be…different, I was torn up inside. Both my other children are so strong and beautiful. I wanted to love Daniel like I love them so I did everything I could to cure him. We used hormone injections, gene therapy, every type of witchcraft we came across, and he still is like this. Will he really make it to see the age of 18? Of 12? Of 6?! Look at him, Jim!”

Daniel picks his nose and eats it while his wound oozes blood. At a microscopic level, the platelets in his blood are going “durr”, keeping the wound from closing properly.

“Maybe I should…”

”What, Chris? What should you do?”

BENOIT TAKES DANIEL AND PUTS HIM IN THE CRIPPLER CROSSFACE!

“BAH GAWD WHAT THE HELL IS THIS?! HE’S YOUR SON!”

“It’s for his own good!”

“DAMN IT! DAMN IT! DAMN IT BENOIT! DOUBLE-CROSSING HIS OWN SON AND MERCY KILLING HIM! IT AIN’T RIGHT! WHY ISN’T ANYONE PUTTING A STOP TO THIS MADNESS?!”

Daniel tries to squirm out of the hold, but his pathetically underdeveloped muscles couldn’t even squirm their way out of a paper bag.

“HE’S AN ANIMAL! THAT RABID WOLVERINE IS A DAMN ANIMAL! BAH GAWWWD!”

And with that, Daniel stops moving. Benoit picks up his dead son and lays him out on the couch in the living room. JR leaves in disgust, bringing his Sooners with him. Benoit feels the wound on his back as he hears the roar of motorcycles rushing towards the compound. He reaches in his fridge and pulls out a bottle.

“MUSCLE JUICE TIME!” he screams as he chugs it down. The Muscle Juice causes his wounds to close and his muscles to expand. There’ll be some more killing tonight.

[Spamdini]

The sun rises on Monday morning. Two goons with pickaxes quiver as they stare down Benoit who is standing in the center of the living room. Corpses are piled everywhere on the Benoit compound, becoming food for the German Shepherds who are now so gorged that they can barely move their bodies. In spite of the murderous mayhem he is so clearly capable of, the goons decide that the only logical thing to do is to attack Benoit in hopes that THEY will be more fortunate than the dozens who came before them. They’re wrong. With the (presumed) agility of a rabid wolverine, Benoit slides between the legs of the first one and takes him down. A Sharpshooter is all that’s required to rip the poor fellow’s legs off, and his lost limbs are used to beat his friend to a bloody pulp while he bleeds to death in agony. All is quiet again.

Chris Benoit walks into his weight room and checks the mini-fridge where he keeps his health supplements. All out of Muscle Juice. “Damn…” he utters. At this point, he’s just working on fumes. In spite of the mounds of corpses littering his home, they keep coming like ants to a fallen Popsicle. It doesn’t make any sense, but frankly neither does anything else that’s happened in the last week. His wife and son, they’re dead. The sobering effect of time has allowed the grief and remorse to swell up inside of him until it feels as if two enormous weights are holding him down, begging him to join his family in the grave.

Maybe that would be the smart idea right now…

On the outskirts of the city, a giant gang lieutenant named Squantro smokes three cigars as he peers into the city through binoculars. In only five days, his boss has been able to assemble 30,000 men in Georgia and Alabama. If he can find a suitable base for their Atlanta division, he’s sure to be promoted to captain and get tons of food, booze and pussy!

“Gya ha ha, see that boys?” he cackles to his two soldiers. “Chris Benoit’s compound is fortified and has less defiled Indians buried under the soil than Ted Turner’s place. It’s perfect! He looks bushes now so we should be able to take them!”

He turns around and sees his men hugging each other in joy. “Ugh! What the hell are you doing?! Just because we’re in close confines as we ride across the desert with sweaty muscle men for days on end, doesn’t mean you get to go fag on me!”

But then both men hug each other so hard that their backs break. As their corpses tumble to the ground, a third man is revealed standing behind them.

“Hold 514: Male Bonding Backbreaker!” Dean Malenko grunts. Squanto’s eye’s bug out and he brings his pickaxe down on the vertically challenged wrestler, but his arm is grabbed and twisted around until it resembles a corkscrew. Malenko takes the corkscrew arm and uses it to drill through Squanto’s own chest.

“Hold 113: Go Screw Yourself.” Malenko turns his gaze towards Atlanta and sighs. “Chris, you’d better be alive.”

A couple hours later, Benoit is still in his weight room pumping iron! Bench pressing I can assume as it is the manliest workout. Now that his pecs are in pristine shape, he’s ready to end it all. He adds the maximum amount of weight, 5000 pounds, to one of his machines and puts his head underneath. All his has to do is pull out a pin securing the device and it’ll crush his skull like a grape. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes and removes the pin.

“Are you sure about this?” asks a mysterious voice. Benoit opens his eyes and sees a man in a black hood and cloak holding up all 5000 pounds with a single hand. This astonishes the rabid wolverine, but he remains resolved in his wish to kill himself.

“I have nothing left. I’m tired. Just let me die.”

“Oh really? That’s quite a shame. Your brutality, your kill instinct, your technique, they’re all perfect. You feel remorse for your family now, but that will pass. You don’t have a soul like normal people. No, you were born heartless and cruel, able to snap a baby’s neck if necessary.”

”Sh…shut up! I’m not like that! Let me die for my sins!”

“Heh heh, I saw the bibles. But stop trying to pretend that you’re some sort of God-fearing human being. You’re confused, not remorseful. Let me help you.”

”Why bother? The world’s gone to shit anyways!”

“What if I told you that you have the power to change the world?”

This catches Benoit’s attention. He sits up and looks the figure in the eyes, even if he can’t see them through the perpetually shadowed hood. “How could I possibly change the world on my own? I’m just one man?”

The man shakes his head. “Haven’t you been listening? You were not born to be an ordinary man. You were born to be the next personification of evil on Earth.”

“!!!”

“Since the dawn of time, men have transcended humanity and altered the course of history. Demonic creatures such as Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, Zeus…”

“Zeus was a man?”

“Originally, yes.”

“What about Hitler?”

“He was just a German fag who hated Jews. That’s not special at all. Fuck, why does Hitler get so much attention?”

“And…I’m able to take on this role?”

“Ten years ago, the role was offered to another. He could have been the most perfect god of all, but decided to use his abilities to revive some faggy wrestling league that was hitting hard times. To this day, he still wastes the infinite talent that he has on hedonism and trivialities. Sigh…what a terrible waste.”

Benoit is confused. “So, uh, I can suplex and grapple guys, but how will I change the world?”

“Simple, my son! Embrace Him as your lord! Take His power within you! Be His messenger on Earth and you will know endless power!”

Benoit sits there, speechless. He doesn’t know who this man is or why he should believe a word he says, but there’s just something that makes every word so believable, as if this man is incapable of lies. He stares blankly into the wall when a man crashes into the room.

“CHRIS!”

Benoit and the cloaked man turn around to see Dean Malenko standing there in the doorway.

“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this one!” He jumps on the cloaked man’s back and hooks his arms and legs and begins to stretch. “Hold 32: Standing Romero Special!”

The cloaked man just laughs. He slithers his limbs free as if he had no joints and elbows Malenko in the skull, sending him to the ground.

“All you have to do, Chris, is say three words. The three words to summon His power.”

Somehow, Benoit knows what the words are. He can see His dark aura filling the room already. If he doesn’t accept the power, he’ll die for sure. No doubt about it. But he doesn’t want to decline the power anyways. It feels so right, as if he’s been waiting his whole life for this.

“D…don’t do it, Chris!” Malenko shouts as he makes it to his hands and knees.

“Be quiet fool!” the cloaked man yells as he kicks Malenko in the ribs.

“Chris…”

“Dean…I’m sorry.”

“Say it!” the cloaked man cackles.

“YOU BETTER RECOGINZE!!!”

Ebony bands wrap around Benoit, covering his entire body and making his skin tone somewhat akin to Akuma. The ground bursts open and a red hot metal chest protector rises upwards and fuses itself onto Benoit’s chest. He screams in agony as his skin melts while the chest protector begins to cool down until it is as much part of Benoit’s body as his own arms and legs. There are ancient runes engraved on the protector, representing a language not known to mortal man. Dean Malenko looks up in horror at the beast that his friend has become.

The cloaked man claps. “Now the final seal on the contract. You must administer the ‘brand’.”

“Yes…”

“Chris, what have you done?” Malenko asks as he gets to his feet and feels Benoit’s new metal chest, which is now cool to the touch. However, his friend’s only response is a kick to the gut! Benoit picks Dean Malenko up in the air and then, without so much as a hint of emotion on his face, he powerbombs the man neck-first into the ground. His neck snaps and his spine. The runes glow red on Benoit’s chest and the silhouette of a menacing ebony face appears on his back. The transformation is complete.

“Congratulations! You are now ready to leave your mark on humanity! The rest I leave up to you! You are no longer Chris Benoit. You are…CRIPPLER!”

Crippler does not say a word. He just walks away. However, a tiny weak voice stops him.

“K…kill me!” Dean screams as loudly as he can. His tiny limbs can no longer move, leaving an oversized, paralyzed torso on the floor. “Chris, if you have any compassion left, don’t leave me like this.”

Crippler doesn’t say anything. He just walks away. The cloaked man cackles and throws Malenko over his shoulder.

“Sorry chump, but you’ve gotta live. You see, He is fueled by humanity’s pain and suffering. When a new child of His paralyzes someone he cares about, it is worth millions of normal human souls. Your painful existence is necessary for now. Don’t worry though! Once He comes back, you can be free to die.”

“Come back…no…”

Malenko blacks out. Crippler shambles down an Atlanta street with legions of goons staring him down.

“What the fuck’s that nigger’s problem?!” shouts a crazy redneck with a shotgun coming out of his chest. “We gonna gut you boy!”

A minute later, that city block no longer exists. This is the first of his unholy acts. However, Crippler would disappear not long after his birth. He has not been seen again until this day. He waits for the day when the wheels of fate will be set in motion.

Present day…

FTUW is alive again. Elsewhere, a pair of coal-black eyes snap open.

End…?

[Big Fagot]

I didn't read this until just now but it made me very happy.

[Matthew Outland]

Do you actually spend time and effort in to this shit?

You should just make comics instead or something

[Big Fagot]

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