Dragon Ball Z VS WWE! What if everything you know about the most of these two champions' careers and legacies was just a predetermined and sabotaged sham? Well regardless, these two are still hella powerful! Is John Cena's time now, or will Hercule prove otherwise?
EVEN WHEN YOU FAKE IT, YOU'RE HIDING YOUR TRUE STRENGTH!
The man, the myth, the legend himself, Hercule Satan, was inside a fighting facility before it even began to open to administrators. It was the crack of dawn, and Mr. Satan himself was planning and building up some suspicious business. He snuck into the large foundation with only one goal: to sabotage his future bout with this foreign wrestling star for his own gain. With a chuckle and suspicious smirk, he grabbed a capsule from his pocket and clicked the small button on the very top.
Hercule: Hahahahaha! With this special contraption here, my enemy will be blown away by a powerful blast! Whoever this superstar is, he won't be able to combat with such power from this baby!
Hercule held the metallic box that popped from the Capsule Corp. endorsed product, reading the labels just in case he misses something. Basic safety measures, a caution reading to not set it in hazardous areas so it can not explode, and both of those things in different languages. Well, to Hercule, nothing important was there he should know about. He adjusted the preset timer to what would be about ten minutes into the match by the time he comes back for the real deal. Just the thought of surprising the unlucky sucker with a surpise shock just made Hercule giggle a little bit. And just for safety measures, he placed a switch that automatically detonates the device for special occasions in his robe pocket.
Hercule: Now with this baby set up, let's get this planted!
Music Fades Away
The supposed world champion rubbed his hands together before beginning to crawl underneath the stage to plant the mysterious box. Yet unknown to his surprise, his new challenger also came in early, coming to pick up something he had left from the night before where he was told what to do during the fight. He lowered his red baseball hat and pulled down his fleece wristbands, with every part of his body easily explaining what this man was and what he does. And his name was John Cena!
Cena: Hello? I think I forgot the keys to my-
His attention span didn't last long when he saw a middle-aged man in a robe having half of his body underneath the stadium where combatants fight. Upon notice, Cena immediately ducked down and hoped whoever this man was didn't even hear him. He slowly crouched and made a slow duckwalk all the way to the very edge of the battlefield, being just a few feet away from where Hercule set up his trap. Even if Cena didn't know the full extent of this person's actions, he didn't like what he was seeing regardless if it was for good or bad.
Mr. Satan, still maniacally giggling to himself, continued to rub his hands together even after planting the trap underneath the surfaces of the fighting ring. His eyes closed, walking the opposite direction, having his emotions change at an instant when he walked into something. This didn't feel like a wall or any other vertical platform, this was too bulky and muscular... Hercule Satan opened his eyes and felt the instant fear and complete wimpy side of himself wash down as he laid his eyes upon his challenger staring him coldly into his eye sockets
As much as he wanted to run, Hercule was frozen solid in a petrifying moment. Cena grabbed Hercule by the shoulders and lifted him off the ground, demanding for answers.
Cena: Who are you? What are you doing here? What were you doing under the podium?
Hercule was hesitant to give an answer, but he might as well knock the first two out of the way while lying about the second one. Hopefully if he gets his persuasion through enough, this big, scary, strong looking guy may just let him go free.
Hercule: Me? Well if I'm not mistaken, I'm the World Champion! And what was I doing here? Well, er, y'see-
Cena: World Champion? So you're the one I'm supposed to fight tonight... I thought you looked a little bit, you know, tougher and muscular.
John Cena's claims were both enraging but at the same time very frightening to Mark. Despite him insulting his physique and looks as mushy and unproffessional, him being the opponent made Hercule shiver and make him believe he just got himself deeper into a whole heap of trouble. And as it looks, Cena wasn't being fooled by his luscious, innocent act.
Cena: Were you putting something under there?
Hercule's pupils shrank, gulped anxiously, and began to have a bit of sweat dripping down his face out of all this nervousness driving him down.
Hercule: N-No! Of course I wouldn't! I was just, uh-...
Cena's cold stare kept horrifying him. He couldn't endure his eyes making him spill out his guilt any longer. Mr. Satan had to confess now before he underwent a mental breakdown of some sort.
Hercule: Alright alright, you win, yes, I put an explosive device under the stage, now stop staring at me like I'm a maniac!
That was all the knowledge John Cena needed to hear. With all of his strength, he caught Hercule off guard by chucking him onto the middle of the platform. The World Champion fell flat on his back, making him growl a little from the instant back pain caused by him becoming a cannonball. Cena checked underneath the stage to assure that the contraption was where Hercule stated it was to be, in which he was telling the truth, only to make Cena punch the side of the stadium and make him jump inside from underneath the ropes.
A mere throw wouldn't bring down Hercule, as he simply rolled forward to get back on his legs and see a somewhat angry opponent facing him. John Cena took off his green "U Can't C Me" shirt and tossed it to the side as he puffed a hefty breath, ready for combat.
Hercule: Hey, what's your deal?! What's the use of tossing me overboard? We're not even fighting yet!
Hercule (thoughts): Oh God, I've made a horrible mistake...
Hercule was angry, but not so angry to throw someone to a fighting arena they weren't even scheduled to fight onto yet for hours to come. Cena had the eyes of determination and an honor to protect honesty and the good of others still cutting through Hercule's guilty mind. As per usual, Cena began to trash talk Hercule like in any other event he has been to for the sake of pumping him and the currently nonexistent audience up.
Cena: Well, we are now! I'm not going to let a lowlife cheater like you get away with stuff like this. If you're going to put up a fair fight, give it your all. If you're a "World Champion", why don't you show it to me in an actual fight before you blow this entire stage to smithereens? Are you afraid I'll beat you? Don't be a coward, be a man!
Cena used his left arm to beat his chest in an exaggerated manner, showing that he's all for the respect and positive vibes. Hercule just scoffed at his mini-speech when in reality he was just as paranoid and scared when fighting anyone else when fighting someone he believed to be too strong or enough to take his career.
Hercule: Heh, you got yourself a deal! You win, I'll forfeit. I win, you tell nobody a word about this thing, alright? That sounds good enough for me, because I'm already sure you're about to get a big can of butt-kicking right about now!
Mr. Satan proudly displayed two fingers up into the air with both hands, signaling a V for Victory, as so in his main land, to pump up his own imaginary fans that would be rooting for him. It was almost like it was the actual fight was going on right now, but it was actually a sabotage attempt gone horribly wrong. Whatever the situation, both got themselves into their occasional fighting stances and prepared for a match of the century, or so said by many fans.
Hercule (thoughts): Just stay calm, Hercule, he can't be THAT strong. Just don't think of him like Goku! He's just another human like you, this'll be a piece of cake!
HERE WE GOOO!
Cena was the first to make an attempting strike, but was dodged by Hercule in a flamboyant manner. His striking speed seems to be the same of a peak human, a breathtaking thing to notice. But being washed down in good news left Hercule vulnerable enough to actually have a hit land on him. Despite being normal in speed, he still has enough strength to take down walls of steel in a single punch. Hercule wiped off his cheek in a cunning manner and pulled out his very first flashy attack.
Hercule: Megaton Punch!
The attack landed successfully, and managed to make Cena take a step back in recoil. Could it be? His attacks are actually working?! It's a dream come true! Hercule drowned in overconfidence, believing this was just a normal man who was barely lucky enough to face him. Mr. Satan ran backwards to the yellow ropes to propel himself backwards, planning his next attack. John Cena looked back and saw it as a trap that Afro-Man over here had set up for himself and for the WWE Champ to knock him down.
Hercule released himself from the lengthy ropes to give him a massive speed boost. Cena attempted to take this to his advantage by punching, but what he got instead was far more imaginative. Hercule made a jump with countless flips, going over John Cena's head and releasing his left leg to shoot out like a piston. It struck against the back of his opposer's head, making him fly barely off his feet and faceplant onto the stage floor. All of this being a fight towards Mr. Satan himself of all people just made him laugh, laugh, and just keep on laughing as his white cape fluttered in the empty stadium.
Hercule (thoughts): This is just too easy! What was I thinking, being worried about this phony? Just a few more blows, and this sucker is going to be down faster than a-
BANG! | Stop Music
A metallic folding chair made a painful bash against the back of Hercule's head. Cena had attacked while Hercule was off boasting and slacking around, giving him enough time to get up, grab a chair from out of the ring, go back into the ring, and deliver the blow. Hercule crouched and used his hands to protect his struck skull. While turning around to face Cena and object this vile action, he was then smacked in the face by the very same chair.
Mr. Satan tumbled over on the ground with his face still vulnerable. With this weak spot open, Cena took the advantage while he still could to get another hit on Hercule's precious face. He struck again. And then another one, and another one, and another one. A faint sound could be heard throughout the entire facility, an echo that just uttered "Another one." every time Cena attacked with the grey furniture.
After what seemed to be about fifteen chair attacks, Cena chucked the chair far out of the boundaries of the stage, making it fall into the general area where the audience would sit. Just smacking Hercule around with folding chairs isn't enough for Cena, no, there has to be more action with his fists. Hercule could barely see, his face being red and his nose bleeding from the repeated impacts. He repeatedly waved his hand around his face, making an illusion to Hercule's mind that he somehow disappeared as if he was all a dream.
Cena: You can't see me!
John Cena scoffed as he moved his waving hand up to stand straight as high as it could go, balling up his fist for one of his hard hitters: the Five Knuckle Shuffle. He simply let his body drop along with his mighty fist, plundering deeper until it made a hard connection to Hercule's gut. The injured World Champion instantly sat back up with a wheeze and eyes on the verge of popping out. However, he was still in no shape at the current moment to evade Cena's next move.
With much vigor and attitude, Cena climbed on top of one of the edges of the stage, perfect for an attack from above. He couldn't be able to do what he was thinking to do, it was crazy! Hercule looked behind him and saw his opponent, gaining the upper-hand, posing from the top of the ringpost with his left hand pointing at his right, balled up in a fist. Watch out, watch out, watch out, WATCH OUT WATCH OUT!
...It missed. Cena fell like a lifeless corpse on his side, his fist in a somewhat painful situation. Hercule had managed to use what energy he had left to move out of the way. While Cena was on the verge of cursing out millions of words to describe his current physical feelings, Hercule was digging into his robe pocket to take out two capsules: one with a red cross and the other with the Capsule Corp. logo. The medical capsule was pressed on instinct, acting as a helpful benefit to heal Hercule up until about three quarters into his current strength. He looked at the second capsule, forgetting what it was, and hoped for the best.
A leathery feel was wrapped around Hercule's hand. When he opened his eyes, he noticed that his trusty jetpack was being held by one of the straps, and seemed to have full fuel ready to go. This opened up many potential ideas.
Hercule (thoughts): Just what I needed! This is perfect! Not only will I have the massive speed boost, but I'm always ready to make a hasty escape in my dire need!
Mr. Satan strapped on one of his most favorite items onto his back, more than ready to use it for it's incredible benefeciary boosts. With a click of a switch, the jetpack was ready to be used at anytime, anywhere as long as it had fuel ready to go. Meanwhile, John Cena finally got over his previous pains and went back to his battle stance. This time, he was going to be the one making the first move; and it wasn't going to be pretty.
Cena made a burst of speed fastet than what he had shown his audience before, punching outwards at blinding speeds. However, Hercule was able to dodge to the left thanks to his impressive jetpack. No confidence or adrenaline was lost, so he attempted to throw another punch, which still missed due to the sudden speed increase. Cena threw another one, and another one, and another one. Another o- You probably understand that none of the punches have landed yet, right? Right.
Hercule tired out the Champ enough to perform a sneak attack behind his back; literally. He performed a suave spinning kick on Cena's head, making him turn and face his opponent for once in the past five seconds. Mr. Satan was really feeling it, and he felt this was the right time. He performed an elegant backflip and charged up his jetpack for a sudden boost of speed. It was now or never, and it was time to reveal and perform his sacred finishing move!
Hercule: How about this? DYNAMITE KICK!
The jetpack went onto full power as Mr. Satan yelled to the top of his lungs. It seemed like a split second as the foot traversed from one side of the stage to the other, with only one thing in mind: how in the name of Kami did Cena dodge it? Cena simply sidestepped and tilted his neck, dodging the move that would defeat all regular humans. Hercule was too shocked to react, and for many reasons. One of them being that he has just pushed the rope to the verge of snapping, making himself a living projectile inside of a rubber catapult.
Hercule was sent back in the opposite direction as the durable ropes released him, sending straight into Cena's counterattack. With a swift, yet brutal maneuver, Cena simply punched forward with with all the momentum he could use. When Hercule and the muscular fist met, it created an ear-piercing sound of two objects colliding at great speeds and with full force; and the sounds made it seem incredibly painful. Mr. Satan had to follow with gravity's crazy laws, making him flip counterclockwise in a ubiquitous count of times, eventually landing back onto the stadium flat on his head.
In response to all these events happening at once, the World Champion painfully squealed in a high-pitch voice. A thin stream of tears leaked out of his eyes, and his face was of one of a person who had been kicked in the family jewels so hard it reversed his gender. But in the face of light and not willing to give up just yet, Hercule had thought of a back-up plan to do just the trick. Overconfident and barely holding on, Hercule faced Cena with a limp while readying his jetpack for another go.
Hercule: I-If you're fast and strong enou-...gh to take on th-that, then how about thi- AHs...?
Using what was left of his manliness and masculinity, Mr. Satan zoomed off in numerous directions around the ring. In a second, he could be both in and out at least three times. John Cena could barely keep track, and eventually he couldn't even see where Hercule was going. All he could see were multiple translucent afros zooming across the facility like it was a big hallucination. What the hell was he planning?
Hercule: Hercule Satan...
Mr. Satan got himself back into the ring to stay, but was now even more confusing as he blitzed by even faster than Cena could track. He got himself into a rolling position and literally rolled circles around the WWE fan favorite, making him even more confused. It was only when he saw his cape fwooshing about and rolling near him when he realized it was far too soon to take action.
Hercule: ...Rolling Punch!
Mark's right fist landed straight into Cena's gut, and it hit with all the pent up vengance it was willing to give back. For all the extreme pain and suffering he went through this entire fight, that punch was for sweet revenge. John Cena had the same expression as Hercule initally did, getting to as far as having to kneel to retain his balance. As for Hercule, he made another flamboyant scene with numerous poses, making a monologue he could actually present without getting punched in the process.
Hercule: Now with my amazing jetpack here, I'm going to made a grand escape out of this building here! And since you're in the way, I might just as well detonate the explosive early to rid of the evidence... and you, my "challenger"!
The jetpack emitted a whirring sound, slowly going louder and louder. It seemed that Cena couldn't react in time for the spectacular escape. He muttered a simple "Bastard..." under his breath, just barely on the edge of being able to get back up and pummel him down. Could it be that this phony of a fighter had finally defeated the WWE Champion? It seemed that the aerial transporation device was charged and ready to fly away from the ghost town of a stadium.
Hercule: Well, adios! Heheheheh!
...PUFF! | Stop Music
Just when it was ready to fire, the only thing that came out of the two holes was nothing but a mechanical wheeze and a puff of smoke. As for Mr. Satans' attitude and expression, what went from pride turned into sheer cowardice.
Hercule: U-...Uh-oh. This ain't good...
This was his chance, his time was now! John Cena somehow managed to pull the strength to get out of his dazed status and turn the tables. The angered wrestler grabbed Hercule by the tied straps to his cape with one hand whilst the over hovering over his face, thirsty for blood and ready to give a bruising of a lifetime. Hercule shivered, but Cena painted a sinister smirk on his face.
Cena: Actually, I think we have some unfinished business to attend to-
Without warning, and out of absolutely nowhere, the jetpack had then decided to function. Both Mr. Satan and Cena, who was still able to hold on out of some staggering determination and many years of lifting weights, were sent upwards at blinding speeds, crashing through the steel roof and beyond. Hercule was scared out of his mind, shaking and wiggling his way to be free, and eventually did succeed. But once again, gravity has to do what gravity does.
Mr. Satan realized his horrible mistake and began to spazz out even more; plus even louder screams for the entire population within a ten-mile radius to hear. Hercule was then forcefully smacked down by an annoyed John Cena, leading into the final events of this catastrophic match. The ever-so-"brave" Hercule Satan landed facefirst onto the unharmed piece of solid steel roofing. From above, John Cena has aimed his fist again, regulated his direction and speed, and finally performed a semi-deadly blow to the back of Mr. Satan's head... again.
BASH! | Restart Previous Music
The impact was so devastating that Hercule's own face completely pushed through the roof, making a medium-sized hole just by using his face and force alone. Of course Cena also fell, but this time his adrenaline was pumping far enough to keep him going, even after falling a great height. Cena wiped the small patch of blood and bruise off of his cheek, showing that at this point he had little care for nothing but to pull the finish blow.
Cena grabbed a dangling Mr. Satan from the sides, hauled him up, and then completely threw his back down again on the opposite side of him. Hercule was barely breathing straight, he couldn't take anymore of this punishment, but alas... it had to be done. It was time for the bigger legend, the stronger champion, and the immortal meme known as John Cena to pull off his final and ultimate finshing attack.
Hercule was picked up again, but was not instantly chucked around like a ragdoll like before. John Cena paid attention to the bigger hole of the two, thinking about the possibilities to finish the fight, and slowly limped over to the debris. As much as he tried, Mr. Satan couldn't squirm himself out of his opponent's grasp. If he couldn't escape now, he just had to know what the hell he was going to do with them.
Hercule: H-Hey, what do you think you're doing?! This is just crazy!
John Cena took a second to stand there, think about his question, and give a simple response as he continued to take baby steps towards the pit of Hercule's fate. A noise of something falling out of Hercule's robe pocket was heard, but it was not nearly as important as the situation at hand.
Cena: You need an Attitude Adjustment.
What? What the hell is an Attitude Adjustment? It was too late to ask any more questions, for the pit was just dead ahead in front of Cena. This was it, it was the end for Hercule. The only thing he could hope for was that his bones weren't going to be broken in anything past the double digits. With a vigorous scream claiming victory in dominance, Cena threw the injured opponent overboard.
...Yet, the attack was somehow not given enough. Unnoticed by both Hercule and Cena alike, the jetpack still kept going after being set free. And somehow, it managed to tackle Hercule down with an even stronger and faster force, sending the fighter down and crashing into the stage, going beyond it and a little ways into the concrete underneath it, being near where the bomb was planted. The jetpack finally ran out of fuel and began to power down, but Hercule only intended to lay there and wait in his pain and suffering. It couldn't get any worse, could it?
BEEP... BEEP... BEEP...
Oh right, the bomb is still there... and his emergency switch was dropped on the roof. John Cena remained on the very top of the large building and sat down after the events that just recently unfolded. While contemplating his recent decisions and actions, he noticed a grey switch with a red button at the top. Curiosity soon overwhelmed him, eventually killing the cat and making him grab it. His thumb was hasty to hover over the button, but he couldn't imagine anything without knowing what it did.
CLICK! . . . BOOM!
The explosion was devastating, taking over the entire building and eventually making it, along with Cena, collapse onto the ground. Perhaps it was more of a blessing to have it detonate now than later at an actual event, perhaps because this was more of a dangerous explosion than Hercule, now fallen, had expected. Debris and rubble fell on top of each other until eventually the entire building was just a pile of steel bars, stone, and other various items.
At the very top of the junk and broken materials, a small area began to rumble and shake before eventually revealing a figure. John Cena had survived the fall of the building, and quite easily as well. He looked at his hands to reveal a keyring holding a select set of, you guess it, keys for various objects. Although he may have caused the entire facility to become nothing but a dead man buried under tons of junk, but at least he retrieved the item he sought after.
Cena: Well, at least I got my keys.
John Cena triumphantly made a leap out of the junk puddle, dusted himself off from the dust and debris, and began to walk out of the large parking lot, trying to avoid as much of the public eye noticing the collapsed building next to him. It could leave a small hole in his reputation if they found him out, but not as much as the hole in whoever's family his opponent had was going to receive.