|
|
Post by Casanova English on Jun 7, 2023 2:30:52 GMT
Okay, how this works is you can post small mini-promos here or CD leading up to What Happens In Vegas. It can be chatting about the last PPV, your upcoming match, or just some CD on how the wrasslin world affects a wrestler’s life.
I’ll post some stuff here as well hyping the PPV, interviews and breakdowns with CU:LT staff and board meetings to push along the lore of the company.
This is completely up to you if this is used, no pressure, does not count toward RP scores for shows.
SEGMENT DEADLINE
JUNE 26TH 11:59:59 EST
A SEGMENT FOR HIGHWAY TO... CULT TV OR EVENTS WILL ADD A BONUS POINT FOR GRADES! NO POINT STACKING! |
|
|
|
Post by JJ Slayer on Jun 25, 2023 2:51:54 GMT
Continued from Every Trio For Themselves!About 30 minutes later, Voodoo walks out - well, more stumbles out and into an Uber back to The Hearts and Souls of Mankind, which has been established as being the out-of-state location of Casanova English’s CU:LT offices. Once the Uber drives off, KILROY emerges from the alleyway, looking in its direction until the vehicle is out of sight. He breathes a sigh of relief, pantomimes wiping sweat off his forehead, and saunters back into The Dying Squirrel.“Oh for-” The bartender defeatedly exclaims.
The bald nincompoop nods at one and all, much to their chagrin, dismay, scorn, and resentment. He shimmies over to the ol’ jukebox, rifles through the options several times before nodding at a particular one. He spots some change somebody left behind at one of the tables and takes enough to activate his selection. The bartender was already in the process of fixing up the unwanted guest a drink and seeing this made him double up on the glass shards and chewed-up peanut shells.Anyway, “The Ninja Rap” by Vanilla Ice begins to play, setting off a collective groan from the barflies. KILROY dances to it, but as if he were listening to a completely different song, maybe a goth rave number? Either way, he’s pissing everyone off to the max.
While the man is distracted by his dancing the door opens, and into the bar steps one JJ Slayer, sporting the same look of disgust that everyone else in the bar has. Thanks to his need to get down with his bad self, KILROY stands out even more than usual, and JJ makes a beeline for him.“You! What did Dame say to you?!” KILROY looks ever so slightly up at the newcomer, confused. “Daaame…?” “Don’t play stu—” Slayer stops himself, realizing the absurdity of the statement and instead shifting gears. He steps up to the man, giving him a steely-eyed stare. “The woman who approached you here, the one with the mask. I was told she met with you here, and I want to know why.” “Oh! Her.” KILROY said casually as if talking about an old friend. “She said she’d give me aaaaaa NICE fancy briefcase if I brought her somebody’s head!” “A what?” JJ looks utterly baffled by that part of the revelation, although what the reward is for is the far more interesting part of the statement. Considering she didn’t otherwise care about the world of wrestling outside of the weirdos in the business being profitable clientele, there’s only one head she could be looking for. The man steps back, holding up his arms up and gesturing towards KILROY to step forward. “Never mind. Well, I’m here. If you think you can get the job done then bring it.” KILROY, once more confused, looks around at the hostile crowd for some explanation. Seeing as none comes, obviously, he asks the gentleman, “You’re… gi-iving me a joooob?!” There’s a stunned silence as the former Classic champion stares at the other man, mutually confused by the presence of the other. “…No. I’m the one Dame was going to pay you to try to take down. I-I shouldn’t have to explain that to you.” “And you wiwwingwy towd meeee?!” KILROY exclaimed before he snorted, followed immediately by laughter. “AC Slater, there won’t be a bell to save you from this time around!!” He grabbed a hold of a billiards rack, shiftily shuffling forward, but then stops seconds later, “Wait a secundo there, sirrah, aren’t we al-READY fighting pretty soon?” “Yep.” Slayer apparently has no interest in waiting, diving forward and driving a heavy shoulder into the midsection of the other man in an attempt to knock him back into the bar top. The pair slam into it, sending other patrons scattering as JJ begins to drive his fist into KILROY’s ribs.“Ow, my ribs!!!” KILROY shrieks. Despite the stupidity of the proclamation, he doesn’t seem like he is joking. After one hit too many, he traps that same mighty fist under his armpit and drives a few elbows into the side of Slayer’s head with his free arm.
The elbows are enough to cause JJ to drop to his knees, ducking his head to move it away from the flailing limb. He then grabs KILROY’s leg, attempting to twist it in order to pull the man off-balance enough that another well-placed shot from Slayer’s shoulder would put him on the floor. “Big mistake accepting her offer.” In a raspy, winded voice, KILROY sputters out, “You think I shoulda held out for TWOOO briefcases?” And is immediately stomped upon right atop his solar plexus for his effrontery.
He tries to shove away at any solid form in arms’ reach in order to get a chance to scramble to his feet. Then, he looks around for that solid plastic triangle he dropped earlier. A server passes by with two pitchers of beer - whoa, deja vu! - and grabs one.“You look thirsty, friend!” He says in a taunting tone before splashing the beer in Slayer’s face. But before the larger man could retaliate for the transgression, he’s met with a familiar glass container in the hands of a familiar hand, shattering it over Slayer’s head.
Despite his best efforts to make it so, JJ isn’t invincible, and the one-two punch of being temporarily blinded by the splash of alcohol into his eyes followed by the glass pitcher crashing over his skull sends the man sprawling to the floor. He lifts a hand, feeling where the impact took place to see if there’s any blood, affording KILROY a chance to pounce.
KILROY looks around for something more substantial to hit Slayer with. “Anyone gotta saw lying around? Hmm? No? Tsk.” Instead, he grabs a hold of a smaller patron, gorilla presses him over his head, and tosses him into Slayer!
The surprised yelp of the customer as KILROY lifts him up to throw him as an improvised projectile is enough to snap Slayer back to attention, catching the man and setting him down before he grabs a nearby stool. He charges forward, ramming the object into the man’s stomach before lifting it up and bringing it down across KILROY’s back. “What the hell is wrong with you? Your fight is with me, not the people here!” He brings the stool down across his back a second time before tossing it aside so he can drive a heavy boot down onto the weirdo’s head. “Come on, you got more in you than this, I know it.” “Wait.” KILROY gasped, “Wait wait wait. What. are. we. even. doing?” He holds out a weak hand to keep Slayer away. Then, when another patron gets a little too close, KILROY dry-gulches them in the throat, smiling at Slayer before bullrushing him into the bar itself. He then levels Slayer with some headbutts, shrieking after each one, as they also hurt him.
The attack on yet another bystander in the bar serves its intended purpose, distracting Slayer enough to allow KILROY the upper hand. As the man blasts him with headbutts JJ feels around for something, anything, to try to help even the odds. The bartender decides to offer a lifeline, grabbing the seltzer sprayer and handing it to Slayer, who promptly sprays KILROY in the eyes with it.“MY EYES!!!” KILROY screams as he clutches at his spicy eyes and staggers about. “YOU’VE BLIIIIINDED MEEEE!!! I’M BLIND!!! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME, HE’S CRAZY!!” Unsurprisingly, nobody came to his aid.
Slayer takes a moment to regain his composure, looking around before spotting some sporting goods used to decorate the wall. He picks up a cricket bat, giving a practice swing before squaring up to KILROY. “Sure, I’m crazy. Batshit crazy.” The bar collectively groans, both from the bad pun and the sound of the impact of JJ striking KILROY in the stomach with the bat. That, they liked.
Doubled over, he slowly keels over in the most dramatic way ever. On the ground, he favours his gut and wheezes and seethes. He flails his legs pathetically at Slayer, and when that doesn't work, obviously, he desperately looks around for some hope. The toppled stool from earlier is within arm’s reach. He hoarsely shouts, “I… want… that… BRIEFCASE!!!” , then grabs a leg and tosses the stool right at Slayer.
JJ uses the bat to deflect the piece of furniture, his brow furrowing at the ridiculousness of the statement from his downed opponent. Agreeing to do the bidding of someone like Dame Fortune for a briefcase? How many screws did this guy have loose? Slayer steps in, looking to bring the end of the handle of the bat down against the man’s head in an attempt to subdue him. “Just buy one, you moron.” KILROY’s eyes were focused on the bat, but despite his situation, he was grinning. “What’s ‘buy’ mean?” Once more, KILROY’s towering intellectual prowess stops Slayer in his tracks, the man wondering if he was assaulting someone with a genuine genetic defect of some kind. “Y-you can’t possibly be serious.” This time, however, JJ has enough wherewithal to step back so that he wasn’t left open to any easy cheap shots.
KILROY sucks his teeth when Slayer backs up. He sighs, and takes the opportunity to return to a vertical base. He scowls at the man with the high ground, and pointing at him, he says, “Look, this would allllll be easier if you’d just be a good… SPORT about it!” Then he laughs so loudly and fakely that it resounds all throughout the Dying Squirrel. He looks expectantly at a patron, still laughing. The patron laughs fakely too, but a million times realer than KILROY does.“GET it?” KILROY asks. “Sport, bat, you know!” Nobody knew.
With most of his tricks used up, he just shrugs, lets out an extended and animalistic bellow, and once more charges at Slayer.
The charge doesn’t catch JJ off-guard in the least, and when KILROY gets in range the man ducks down, using the bat to help take his attacker off his feet and flip him over his head. The man flips ass over tea kettle over the bar top, his body smashing into the shelves or no doubt watered down bottles of liquor, the bartender scurrying away from the mess. “Yeah, I got it.” After what seems like long enough that the battle surely is now over, suddenly KILROY emerges, bloody and soaked in hard liquor. He is very angry, holding up a lighter. “Mister, yer gonna lay yer pretty lil head down fer me ta decapitate, lest Ah go all Buddhist monk on yer ass!” At this point, KILROY officially crosses the line, and it is the rest of the bar that responds. A volley of bar stools and other items fly through the air, pelting the booze-soaked hooligan. Not wanting to catch collateral damage, JJ sucks and backs off as the patrons cheer with each direct hit upon KILROY. This continues until the man is completely buried, which draws an even bigger cheer from the crowd. Slayer stares at the pile for a moment before deciding that the fight was over, turning on his heel and leaving the bar.
Finally, there is peace. Yes, there is chaos, and yes, there would be much to do in order to get The Dying Squirrel back to its original state, but the threat is at long last neutralized. The world is a better place, with the unstable menace that is KILROY downed once and for all. 
|
|
|
|
Post by Max f'n Daemon on Jun 25, 2023 23:47:26 GMT
The smoke from Max’s cigarette ascends to the ceiling in the darkened main area of The Dying Squirrel.
He approaches the bar and is immediately given a glass of whiskey.
Max narrows his eyes.
“I didn’t even order anythin yet,” he says.
The bartender shrugs.
“You were expected,” she says.
Max chugs the glass. Within a few seconds he slams the now empty glass on the counter. Another one joins it right after.
With a smoke-accented sigh, Max grabs the glass and turns around.
He looks around the bar as he sips at the whiskey.
“Any chance I could meet the owner?” he asks.
“No.”
He looks to the right and spots a burly man, taller than he, now occupying what was once the empty stool next to him.
“And you are?” Max asks.
“Security.”
“And you’re here because…?”
“Observation.”
Oh goody he only speaks one word.
Max lets out another smoke-filled sigh.
“We’ve been advised since day one that you’re a party to be wary of should you ever step in here,” the bartender says as she idly cleans his initial glass.
Max glances around. The bar is nearly empty save for a few parties about.
It is a New York City bar. Still though…maybe the squirrel on the neon sign made people wary…?
“Because I’m just that awesome?”
The burly bouncer snorts as he takes drink from a bottle of beer.
Even the bartender cracks a smirk.
“Hardly. Your tendency to disregard authority, for one.”
“One needs ta’ hold authority before it can be disregarded.”
She raises an eyebrow at him.
“But point taken.”
“Your association with other…ceding parties is another.”
This causes Max to spit his still lit cigarette out onto the counter. He uses his left fist to smash it out. He uses the right to finish his glass of whiskey. A third glass finds its way in front of him the instant the empty one hits the counter.
“I wouldn’t call what we…have an…association.”
She shrugs.
“It’s enough to leave the boss wary.”
“Indeed.”
Oh he literally only speaks one word, great.
“Sure. I only announced my loyalty ta’ this place and its fans on live TV in front of a million rabid fucks, and it’s not enough ta’ join whatever love…octagon, or whatever, Cas has cooked up for the semi-main event, but oh yeah, I’m associated with ‘em alright.”
“You said it.”
Max slams his forehead on the counter once before rising back up to meet her eyes.
“I’m really fuckin not.”
“So you’re saying you wouldn’t take the opportunity to shack up with that whore of a former champion? Or the current twink of one? Or maybe that vampire chick?”
Max responds with a grumble and a couple gulps of whiskey.
“Hm…” the bouncer smirks in a humored pleasure.
“You’re not that unpredictable, slick. What about that lost chick? That one broad that’s always around Johnny…what’s her name?” she asks.
The bouncer responds.
“Grace.”
The glass hits the floor and shatters. Max’s hands become occupied by the two pistols he pulls out and aims at the bartender.
When he cocks the dual-wielded guns, he pays attention to the pulled trigger of one aimed at the side of his head.
“Ooh…that struck a nerve.”
“Where’s Cas?” Max asks.
“Out,” the bouncer responds.
He digs the pistol deeper into the side of his head.
Might wanna cut your losses here…?
“Do you really think the owner of a New York City bar actually shows up on a random day of the week?” the bartender asks.
He doesn’t loosen his aim.
Max narrows his eyes.
She rolls hers.
“Look, he’s not here. Your best chance at catching his attention will always be at one of the shows. Now…you’re always welcome here for booze or smokes or just to hang out, but please…drop the fucking guns. We have citizens here for Christ’s sake.”
Yes, please listen to the scary but attractive bartender lady.
It takes Max a few more moments, but he uncocks his pistols, spins them around his fingers, and places them back in his pocket.
The bouncer uncocks his and returns it to a hidden holster.
Max tosses a nondescript amount of bills onto the table.
“Keep the change.”
|
|
|
|
Post by DS(Salem/Esme) on Jun 27, 2023 6:24:24 GMT
(I look at the travel package Vivian dropped off when she came by last. She left in more of a hurry than usual after patching up my split brow. I empty out the manila envelope with the words " Salem: Travel" written on it. Its contents include: Driving directions with approximate travel time Another map with the best fuel and rest spots marked Fuel Cost Calculations A mileage tracking sheet for tax purposes Weather reports Hotel Reservations She's nothing if not thorough. Before my first match she had wanted me to fly to shows. There's no way I could handle being trapped in a metal tube with a crowd of people. She relented on the issue when she realized it would probably end in me being hauled off the plane. I'm not sure what I'm going to do when an international show comes up. I guess we will worry about that when we get there. For now, I load my bags into the back of my 2004 Jeep Grand Cherokee. With the miles I'm putting on, it might be time to look into something newer. My cooler is placed on the passenger floorboard. It's mostly drinks. I have some random protein bars if I get too hungry. I don't like to eat on road trips. Honestly, I don't like to eat at all and wouldn't if I didn't have to for survival. Most food tastes like ash to me. There's no enjoyment in the consumption. Purely fuel. I miss when it had flavor. When much of anything, other than violence, felt good. I climb in and start my old SUV before lighting a cigarette. There's 2500 miles of road and very little sleep ahead of me. Finding anywhere to sleep where I feel safe is impossible. Even with multiple blades hidden around me. I tend to drive the first fourteen hours without rest and then catch a few half hour naps along the way. By the time my destination is reached, I'm an exhausted mess bareling resembling a human being. Not that I feel I resemble one much in general. Then it's pass out in the hotel room with the door barricaded, a hammer under my pillow, and a knife between the mattress and box spring. Wake up. Shower. Eat a tasteless meal. Get prepared. This is another facet of my life now and I just have to accept it. With that said, I hate traveling. I head down the road to begin my journey. What will I find a the end? In my match? I ask these questions in my head, but I know the answers. Losing control last time taught me what I needed to know. Madness is intoxicating. I want more. I know that I shouldn't. That I should be trying to escape from this like I have so many other things. Running away from this screaming is the only choice the logical part of my brain wants. It can shut it. This is all that has felt good to me in a long time and I refuse to not lean into it. My grip on the steering wheel tightens. This is the path I'm on now. I intend to walk it.)
|
|
|
|
Post by daturawashere on Jun 28, 2023 0:49:23 GMT
It’s the evening before Bodies in the Bayou, and the former Classic Champion JJ Slayer looks rather tired as he walks down the hallway of what appears to be a hotel room. He has a paper bag in one arm, clearly full, although with what it’s impossible to say at this point. In the other arm he has a bouquet of flowers. He continues on his way until he reaches the door at the end of the hall. He stops, taking a deep breath before knocking, the hand holding the flowers moving to hide them behind the broad expanse of his back.
There is a momentary lapse before the handle begins to juggle from the inside. After struggling with it, Elizabeth Mauduit flings the door open. Her face immediately twists into a look of shock as she catches sight of Jacob, which is followed by immediate suspicion. She glares at him momentarily, squinting. “What are you hiding?”
That isn’t quite the reaction Jake had been expecting, and when she makes the demand he quickly holds the flowers forward without thinking about it. “Hey Liz. I wanted to wish you good luck tomorrow, and got these for you.” Immediately upon speaking he realizes how silly it is for him to have a panicked response, inwardly cursing his own reaction.
Datura stares at the flowers for a moment before her cheeks flush a bright red. She reaches forward hesitantly, pulling them from Slayer’s hand. After examining them for a moment, she brings the petals to her face and breathes sharply, inhaling the fragrance. A smile washes over her face. “Jake, they’re beautiful.”
“Good, I’m glad you like them. I thought you wouldn’t mind a pleasant surprise before your match.” The man beams a bit, pleased that the initial hesitation from Liz dropped so quickly. He shifts the paper bag in his hand, gesturing to it. “I went around town, consulted a few places. I got some things that I was told could help deal with warding off evil. You know, because of the Classic Championship.”
Without removing her face from the flowers, Datura cannot help but grin from ear to ear. After a final deep inhale, she lowers the bouquet and widens the door to her hotel room, ushering Jake inside. “That is very kind of you, Jacob.” Her voice cracks slightly as she says this, revealing the emotional high the gift has given her. She turns from him and immediately gets to work, searching for a vase to place them in.
JJ steps inside once Datura motions for him to do so, moving towards the ubiquitous desk you’d always find in a hotel room in order to set the bag down. “You’re welcome. The florist said the assortment is one intended to bring good fortune, but I don’t know the first thing about the meaning of plants from a spiritual perspective so I just kind of took her word for it.” He finishes the statement with a shrug, seeing no reason to not be honest about his ignorance.
“It’s the thought that counts,” she murmurs before burying her face into them again. The fragrance instantly causes her muscles to relax. After getting her fill, she steps back and takes a seat on the edge of the bed, her face still showing her surprise. “Did you really just come to bring me flowers? If I did not know any better, I would assume this is a romantic gesture.” She winks, making certain that Jacob knows she’s teasing him.
“Maybe it is.” He quips back, reaching into the bag and pulling out nondescript smaller boxes from it as he speaks. He wears a smile as he does so, matching her playful energy in the moment. “I also brought the things necessary to do a cleansing ritual on that belt of yours. Seems like a good location to attempt a hex breaking.”
A sly smirk crosses her face, taken aback by Jake’s return volley. Her eyes move from his eyes to the box. Her brow furrows, intrigued by his suggestion. “Oh?” she asks, eagerly anticipating him to reveal his secrets.
“I know the championship’s history is something that bothers you, and since you weren’t blessed with my natural luck I thought you wouldn’t mind a little help there. Assuming I’m not overstepping my boundaries, it’s yours, after all.” After he finishes taking things out of the bag the giant’s gaze surveys the room, looking for the smoke detector. “I’m not sure how burning sage and the like would go over here.”
Datura shrugs. “That’s a problem for later us.” A slight giggle passes her lips as she beckons him to begin.
“I’m all for making trouble for later us.” JJ remarks in jest as he opens one of the boxes, pulling out pieces of a plant, sticks and leaves bound together with twine. He then reaches into his pocket, producing a lighter. “So, once again we’re dabbling in areas in which I have next to zero expertise, but this is Palo Santo, which is supposed to have a grounding effect to increase good fortune.”
Elizabeth chuckles at the explanation. She does not reach for it. Instead, she stands aside, allowing Jake to do the honors. “I’m nothing but bad luck. I think you should do it, considering your history with the belt.”
“You have way too much misplaced confidence in my ability to dispel evil spirits.” Slayer cracks another smile as he sets down the lighter so he could open another box, pulling a shell from it. Setting the shell onto the desk, Jake picked the lighter back up, tilting the Palo Santo at a 45 degree angle and putting it to the flame. He silently counts as he watches the fire take to the bundle, charring and burning upwards until he reaches 30, at which point he blows it out and sets it down upon the shell. “Care to bring the belt over?”
Elizabeth abides without hesitation. She grabs her most prized possession in both hands and extends her arms, offering the golden idol to Slayer.
He holds out a finger to gesture for Datura to hold on, opening the last box and pulling out a paper fan. He then picks up the shell, using the device to fan the smoke billowing from the charred Palo Santo onto the championship as best he could without putting it directly into her face. After he’s done that he moves to circle around the woman herself to continue the process. “Our intentions here today are to remove the negative energy that has impacted this prize and to bring a stop to it, as well as bring good fortune to its owner, because she deserves it.”
The last phrase catches Elizabeth off guard. She blinks several times before returning her gaze directly into Jacob’s eyes. Though she attempts to hide it, her face twists and several stray tears begin to form in the corner of her eyes. She swallows, attempting to hold back, but the harder she resists, the easier it flows. She sniffles and releases one hand from the belt, wiping her face. “Jake…” is all she can say.
“Simply speaking truths.” Jake moves to set down the things he’s holding, seemingly pleased with the results in the moment. Or perhaps he’s pleased that she seems moved by the gesture. Either way, he’s all smiles.
The smile does not go unnoticed. Datura brings the Classic Championship to her chest and holds it tightly in a hug before carefully laying it down. Without warning, she steps forward and does the same to Jake, hugging him tightly. Though there are a multitude of things she wishes to say, she simply shakes her head and shakily chokes out “Thank you.”
The big lug returns the hug, giving her a squeeze in turn. “You’re welcome, although I don’t think I’m doing anything you wouldn’t do for me if the shoe was on the other foot.” After a few moments he pulled back so he could catch her gaze. “You got this, yeah?”
Datura’s face shifts, betraying a look of disappointment as he pulls away. It is quickly replaced with a warm smile. “Of course I would, Jacob. Of course I would.”
“Good.” Noticing that expression, however fleeting, causes Jake to pull Liz back into an embrace, although not one so tight that she couldn’t escape if he was misreading the situation.
Liz immediately softened, wrapping her arms around him again. She stayed like this in silence for several long moments before finally backing away in an attempt to avoid making Jacob uncomfortable. With the smell of sage permeating from the room, she gave a wide smile. “I’m grateful. Truly.” She wipes her eyes again before inhaling deeply. “I guess we’ll see just how good you are at exorcizing curses.”
“If it doesn’t work I fully blame the fact that I’m usually making trouble, not chasing it off.” He reaches a hand back to rub the back of his neck, silently hoping in his head that he did it properly and didn’t simply amplify the bad juju around that particular strap of gold and leather. “Firsts for everything though, right?”
Elizabeth reaches out and grabs Jake’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “I think you did just fine. Besides, if trouble comes knocking, I know you have my back, and I have yours.”
“Damn right.”
|
|
|
|
Post by Grace Leary on Jun 28, 2023 3:01:17 GMT
(Written in jolly cooperation with Lissie Hope and JJ Slayer!)
There is a tense energy in the air in Baton Rouge, the backstage area of the Pete Maravich Assembly Center buzzing with activity as the crew prepares for the show to air in the evening. JJ Slayer had arrived early to the arena, finding a secluded enough room and texting the information to the two women he’s waiting to have a meeting with: Grace Leary and Lissie Hope. The man paces as he waits, working to mentally prepare himself for his upcoming match.
Of his two expected guests, Grace Leary is the first to arrive, emerging like a specter dressed in black. Her eyes didn't leave the floor as she approached unsteadily, one hand pressed to her brow to shield herself from the sting of the lights overhead. Then, as if in an instant, her hand falls to her side and her gaze darts upward. She cranes her neck to catch the eyes of the large man before her.
"Hello, Jacob," she began, lips curling into a crooked smile. "My associate has told me quite a bit about you."
“I’m sure it’s all been glowing.” He offers in response. Her approach was an unusual one, but in CU:LT “normal” is a dirty word. “Don’t suppose you happened to bump into our other guest out there?”
Meanwhile…
I didn't spend that much time in Baton Rouge, to be honest. New Orleans was always my playground and I never really ventured deeper into the swamplands. Not to mention, I would grow physically ill at any mention of LSU football, and having an entire city shut down on game nights reminded me too much of growing up in Texas -- and I'd moved for a reason.
I was always looking to start new. If there was a constant in my short quarter of a century existence, it's that I could never stay in one place for long.
And that's true of my relationships, too. I was always either turned on, or turned off -- scorching hot or freezing cold. Swinging back and forth like a pendulum, you could throw darts at a calendar and find that I'd love someone on the first strike, and hate them on the next.
I was dreading have to partner with Matt Knox. Our mutual hatred could be searing hot one day, and the next, he'd be publicly offering insight and wisdom and joining me in the chapel on a Sunday morning when I'd needed a friend. And then the following day, I'd say something so trivially stupid or inoffensive, yet it would sill upset him and I’d have to grin and bare it and be, all: “oh shucks, there goes Knox again.” It was a strange duality, though: ‘cause at a moment’s notice, he'd clip my wings and push me off the fucking cliff -- but first -- he'd ensure I'd have something on the bottom to catch me.
I never knew where I stood with the Raven.
But I was certain where I'd always stand with Grace Leary.
"Can't say I did. Perhaps it's for the best, though. Less impetus for either side to get cold feet."
JJ makes a face at that, shaking his head. What was he getting himself into here? “Well, hopefully she doesn’t take too long. Would likely be in all of our interests to not be seen with her by others beforehand. Quick in and out. Did Johnny talk to you at all about this?”
Grace nods. "We talked about it enough to get me in this room. It's a plan worth both agreeing and adhering to. Really, it's the best of both worlds — sticking to the rules imposed upon us while refusing to play the big man downstairs' game."
Her eyes dart from the Goliath towards the door, then back again.
"It's just a shame that the most reputable option from the opposition is, well…"
I don't think Grace and I will ever find common ground. I think we'll forever need to have a couples therapist on call 'cause even if we're battling the same demons, and even if share a purpose, a certain level of distrust and contempt will forever taint any desire to reconcile. How can you even repair a relationship that was built on a lie to begin with?
There isn't a bond there that either of us even want to heal. JJ Slayer is a good man, with a good heart -- but he's no surgeon. There's no wound to bother suturing when your patients have already bled out. He can be armed with an extinguisher and he'd still be fruitlessly fighting an inferno. That's why I've been so reluctant to entertain this exercise. I know what he wants to do. I just think he's stepping straight into a war that's going to live on in infamy.
But he's been so kind. He showed me support when he didn't need to, on a night that meant the absolute world to me. This was the least I could do for him.
And if I can't bite my tongue, at least I could scream into Grace's bad ear.
“I think regardless of who was on the other side with her this is what Johnny would want. If I’m being perfectly honest I want the toughest possible competition next month. Sticking it to Casanova English in the process is icing on the cake to get there.” JJ folds his arms as he moves to lean against a wall, his gaze remaining on the door for the moment Lissie Hope decides to grace them with her presence.
"I guess it's a happy accident that our desires align so perfectly, then. And I assure you that there'll be no deviations from the course on my behalf, so long as I know the same can said about our third—"
"...I've already accepted another ride."
I looked down at my phone and reread several of JJ's incoming texts asking me for an ETA. I was hoping my quick response of 'soon' would've placated him, but I could sense his frustration coming through the text. I'd been sitting outside the Assembly Center's talent entrance for, evidently, the five-minute threshold that would've either gotten me suspended from Uber, or led into a police cruiser for trespassing.
"Ma'am, please..."
My driver's frustration was actually vocalized.
I exited the vehicle without saying a word -- no graciousness, no gratitude. He probably thought I was a major bitch and would retaliate with a one-star review, but I would pay him with kindness. A 50-percent tip should suffice.
My eyes were glued to my phone, but my fingers felt like they were made of cement. I couldn't type anything, because my mind was wandering: just how badly was Grace Leary talking about me? Just how much was she convincing him that I'm an inoperable cancer that would consume him whole? She'd blame me forever for ruining her idealized vision of Philidor Holdings, but I had never intended for her to swim to shore. I wouldn't have lost an ounce of sleep if she'd sank down to the bottom of the ocean with them; not that I had been getting any to begin with.
I entered the meeting room, my eyes still trained downward at the phone. I thought I was slick with my reticent upwards glances as I approached, but Grace's eyeroll at my arrival fed into the rage that consumed my soul.
"...hey," I uttered lightly, still with two fingers on my phone. I wasn't even typing anything, but I wouldn't allow her to break my concentration.
She couldn’t have that hold on me anymore.
"How nice of you to join us, Elisabeth." The corners of Grace's lips curled into a smile that her eyes did not reciprocate. "Perhaps it's time to get down to brass tacks."
“Yes, let’s.” With everyone present Slayer pushes himself up from the wall, rolling a shoulder before he continues. “I know it’s a big ask to get the two of you in the same room, so let’s not beat around the bush any. We’re all in the six person tag match later, and Johnny came to me asking if I’d be willing to talk to the both of you about doing what we could to make sure the people advancing at the end of the evening are standing in this room. Middle finger to the boss and all of that, especially since he’s got no love lost for either of you, and once he gets the repair bill for what I did to his bar he won’t have any for me either.”
“It’s a big ask to want me to trust someone -” Lissie’s eyes glance over to Grace. “- who would never trust me.”
“I’m asking you to trust Johnny.” JJ immediately cuts in, not wanting to allow any sort of opening for the pair to begin hashing out their past grievances with each other. Wasn’t the time or the place for it. “You two can beat the shit out of each other next month after we’ve thrown the pie in Casanova’s face and he’s had to wallow in it.”
"Sounds like a plan to me," says Grace, shooting a glance over towards Lissie. "How about you?"
“That was some pretty damn quick reassurance,” Lissie answered cynically. “Forgive me for feeling a little apprehensive that you’re both completely in line here. Naturally, I’d be an idiot if I didn’t question it, being that I’ve been on the outside looking in. Casanova’s insistence, I admit.”
“That’s fair,” Slayer begins, stepping over to stand closer to Lissie so that he could look her in the eyes so she could see he means what he says as he continues. “You have a bad history with Grace and you don’t know me well enough to trust me any further than you could throw me. What you also know is that both Driftwood and Knox are scummy gutter trash who would gladly slide a blade between your ribs the moment your back is turned and KILROY isn’t even close to being all there. Me, I’m going along with this because I want the challenge. I’m not going to get that if one of those three sneak their way in.”
Lissie's gaze drifts from Slayer's to meet Grace's. Grace's vacant smile hasn't dissipated, even though she stands in silence, her hands hidden in the sleeves of her black turtleneck.
"Isn't this the part where you give your grand pitch too, or did you stop with that the same time you changed your name?"
"Truthfully," Grace responds, giving up the pleasant facade. "There's nothing for me to say. We can grin and bear it at each other all we like in this room, agree to put our differences aside for the sake of my compatriot, but all these arrangements have ever gotten him was another bullet he had to take because of you."
Lissie’s pained grimace contorts into a convincing look of assured confidence. “I think I’m a little tired of this song and dance,” Lissie mouths softly. “This revolving door of women driving this wedge between Johnny and I —“ a pause as her deadpanned expression grows quietly vicious. “When you’re no better than I am.”
"You're embarrassing, Elisabeth."
“Stop!” JJ rubs the bridge of his nose as he interrupts the bickering, a pained expression etched across his features as he looks between the two of them. “You’re both acting like embarrassing teenagers right now! You two want to snipe at each other, get on Twitter later. Right now, here in the real world, we need to focus. You both care about Johnny, yeah? Then how about you put aside the bullshit for an evening to honor a request be made of you to do something you’re going to have to do anyways.”
Silence follows JJ's words, an eternity playing out over the course of seconds as the three are overcome with a tense stillness, none willing to make the first move. Finally, Grace does, raising her hands in a show of non-aggression as Lissie's eyes snap back towards the voice of reason.
"Look, you insist that this is for Johnny? You're asking for my trust in her, claiming it is for his - and my - benefit, then fuck it. I'll take the leap of faith. Wouldn't be the first time I've let her drag me off the cliff. And if it's to clip Casanova English at the knees, then the answer is yes. I'm in. Casanova is a snake, and there's already enough of them in these swamps. And one thing my daddy always showed me was how to chop them at the neck with the pointed tip.
"So which of y'all brought the shovel?"
|
|
|
|
Post by martinflashbang on Jun 28, 2023 20:25:53 GMT
We see Martin's face sorting the camera out, behind him is a flipchart that is slightly skew-wiff and at an angle. He is wearing blue gym shorts and a grey t-shirt. He clears his throat.
Martin: My name is John Tent (under breath: shit). My name is Martin Flashbang and I am the newest member of the CUN - CULT wrestling federation. I am going to come at you with the force of a hundred wildebeests and before you know it I will be on top of you and the ref would have already counted to 3. My favourite wrestler of all time is The Rock and I even use his finishing move, The Rock Bottom. I-
We hear a voice from behind the camera
Bob: What you doing John?
Martin (frustrated): I'm doing a bit for the Highway thing. I'm gonna have to edit this out now.
Bob: No this won't count the deadline was two days ago.
Martin just stares gormlessly at Bob, his terrible, thick rimmed, black glasses magnifying his eyes
Bob: Right come on we've got training now. Get this switched off
Martin just walks up to the camera and switches it off
Cut to Martin sat in Bob's office, speaking directly to the camera, talking head style
Martin: Today I was very frustrated with Bob. I was not told about the deadline for the Highway Bodies Bayou promotional material channel, and I expect him to notify me of these things. We had a word. Promotional material is the cornerstone of the professional wrestler, and I practice every time I go for a shower. I use shampoo bottles as microphones. Radox, sometimes Adidas Showercool. Never use Tresemme though. I find the large bottles are NOT a realistic size from a microphone, and when dropped, when full, can lead to a serious foot injury. I will not have my career cut short. Anyway, training now. I would like to extend my apologies to the staff of CULT for posting my promotional material too late. It will never happen again.
He stares into the camera with a regretful and solemn pout. He jumps as his phone buzzes. He looks at it. It's Bob. He gets up and walks away and we hear him as he walks away
I'm coming Bob God we agreed i would do my vlogs to document my climb to be champion. If you smell...what the Flashbang..is cookin...dum dum dum...
|
|
