Grunt, a latest recruit for the Special Wrestling-Only Law Enforcement (S.W.O.L.E.), is dispatched to an abandoned mansion upon receiving a 9-1-1 call claiming that an illegal underground dealing is going on.
(S.W.O.L.E. was established after the Deweaponization Movement to replace S.W.A.T. Trainees must undergo 5 years of body-weaponization to gain a super-human physique and tolerance for pain, and then 5 years of militarized wrestling skills training. Trainees with top 0.1% test score are recruited into a secret tast force called S.T.I.F., though no one seems to know the full name or its mission.)
Grunt enters the alleged scene, but no one is there. He sees a golden candle stand near the corner, which, suspiciously, has no dust covering it. As Grunt stoops down to check it closely, a vicious wrestler with an equally bestial physique emerges silently from behind.
“Welcome to hell,” the ferocious fighter coils around Grunt with his legs so quickly that Grunt is absolutely clueless and defenseless. “You’re S.W.O.L.E. huh? That’s exactly what I wanted.”
The attacker smoothly grabs Grunt’s right arm and throws his left leg over Grunt’s neck, like a master equestrian mounting onto a horse. Grunt immediately feels excruitiating pains all over his neck and body. He struggles with agony, trying to shake the 300lb+ weight off, but it’s too late. With multiple joints locked simultaneously, feet firmly pressed into the floor by the massive attacker, Grunt stands like a sculpture, unable to take a single step.
“Who…the hell…are you….fu*k…off…” Grunt gasps for air to keep his mind from shutting down by the pain.
“Come on, blacking out this soon? Name is Mars.” As Mars getting off Grunt, he clamps Grunt’s falling head with his bicep. As he tucks his face into the armpit, Grunt’s mind is bombed with the hellish smell in Mars’s armpit. He panics desperately, only to inhale more sweats.
“Breathe hard, tiger! I never took a shower. This is the smell of all that I’ve fought with.”
Violent stomping noise resonates in the room, as Grunt’s mouth is completely smothered, unable to say any words. A forced exhale is heard every time Mars drives a lifting knee into his back, followed by an involuntary inhale, and then violent, smothered coughs and choking sounds.
Mars abruptly opens up his arms and let Grunt’s head fall down lifelessly like a rock. Then, he immediately turns around and cuts down with his monstrous bicep. *CLAMP* Grunt’s neck is CRUSHED between Mars quads and bicep, which is like an activated mouse trap. The sweat on his face splashes from the shock while his body is still flying.
“Aaarggh!….who…the…hell…are…you…..*huff*..”
“Just like you, a S.W.O.L.E. and a S.T.I.F. Ex- to be precise.” Mars calmly picks up an ankle, kneeling into Grunt’s lower back, as he transitions seamlessly into a torturous camel clutch variation.
“I gave my pledge to the Underground. F*ck law enforcement!” Mars grabs Grunt’s face and yells in his ear. “Now, all you need to do is to do the same. We are building an army and we need fighters like you.”
Mars covers Grunt’s mouth, “well, I know your honor code. A S.W.O.L.E. never takes back a pledge. Now just say it.”
“…*huff*..I…will..never…mmm…”
“You probably don’t know what a S.T.I.F. can do.” Mars grows impatient.
He turns around and swiftly knots up Grunt’s legs into the dreaded figure four. Then he presses down the left leg while poking the other leg deeply into Grunt’s groin.
“Never say ‘never’ to a S.T.I.F, punk…We are the Suspect Torture and Interrogation Force!”
Grunt howls with agony. His legs are twisted right in front of his eye, but he is unable to reach it, let alone untying it with bare hands.
“Internally we call ourselves STIFF. The extra F is for F-ck. Yes, if a suspect resists, we eff the hell out of them with pains you’ve never tasted!”
“We are the top 0.1% testoterone-level. Mess with a STIFF and you get STIFF’s motto - D.A.T.E…”
“Dominate, Annihalate, Torture and Emasculate!” As Mars roars out these words, he savagely tightens the submission hold, determined to break Grunt’s mental limit.
“aaargh…*puff*…*huff*…please…let..go….
I…I…pled..ge…my..allegience…”
“Welcome to the Underground, bro,” Mars kneels as his sweat drips down through his carved body –
“but your training has just begun.”