Post by Jessie Lee on Apr 28, 2024 13:28:44 GMT -5
With little fanfare or some enticing intro, the camera faded in to reveal the simplistic scene of an empty metal folding chair sitting beneath a lone spotlight that hung high above off-screen. Except for an Action Wrestling official Jody Madrox t-shirt draped over the back, the overall aesthetic of the scene was akin to what might be seen during an interrogation scene from an old movie once upon a time. Then, like a fucking nightmare, The Aussie Assault stepped into the light to stand behind the chair. Wearing a black Alpha Wolf band shirt, a pair of faded blue jeans, and gray sneakers, the young woman ripped the top of the folding chair and leaned forward toward the camera; shadows twisting upon her face as she uttered a single phrase with as much seriousness as one could humanly muster.
"'Ey yo."
One month.
For nearly a full solitary month, she and what remained of the Tailor Made For Greatness had been going back and forth in some messy haphazard negotiation dance. Maybe it had been due to what little had come out about the "Island" but the opposing party had been rather desperate in their attempts at getting her to sign this new contract that had been written up. That or the reality that she was the only remaining member of the failed experiment and the star power she possessed despite everything was growing despite the recent setbacks; a true investment on the rise.
Except she was sick of it.
So very fucking sick of it.
Which is why she had finally decided to act.
"Well," Craig began with a touch of nervousness as he sat across from her "I was beginning to wonder when I'd hear back from you. I trust that everything in the contract was to your liking, yes?"
Dressed in an expensive black suit, Jessie smiled as took a sip of her iced tea; an exaggerative eye roll hidden behind the large sunglasses she wore. The level of audacity Craig radiated was nearly enough to make her sick.
"Yeah, well, shit's been hostile sinch ya fuckin' bailed. So makin' you sweat it out was the least I could make ya do."
"Yes, well, whatever gets the job done." he said with a hollow chuckle before taking a drink of the complimentary water that the waitress just set down in front of him. Once he set the glass down Craig fixed Jessie with a serious look. "We're good, right? Everything is signed and you're going to continue working as the flag bearer for the TMFG brand?"
"I ain't sure 'bout that, but what's signed is signed." she responded flippantly with a cheeky smile.
"Miss Lee," Craig hissed as his eyes narrowed suspiciously "Everything is good, right?"
"See for yourself."
Pulling the manilla packet he had handed to her weeks ago, Jessie dropped it onto the glass top of the table in front of him. With the alarm bells sounding in the back of his head, Craig tentatively opened the packet and slid its contents out onto the table; blood freezing as he saw the big bold "FUCK YOU" written across it in massive print.
"Miss Lee," he began before being rudely interrupted by a cup full of Iced Tea being thrown into his face. Which, more than anything, left him momentarily sputtering and flabbergasted.
"Oh shut the fuck up, ya silly little cunt. You knew fell well that I was gonna react this way so do yourself a favor an' quit actin'. I'm sure your boss has done worse to ya."
"Listen he-"
"Oh fuck off." she said as leaning across the table "You're fuckin' lucky I don't shatter this fuckin' table with you stupid little face. You fucked off an' left me when it was fuckin' inconvenient an' now we're fuckin' done. This partnership is dissolved an' you can explain to King how ya lost the hottest bitch goin' in Action Wrestling today. Savvy?"
Indignant, Craig shot out of his seat.
"Listen here, you stupid Aussie bitch. Mister King CHOSE YOU above anyone else and now you're acting all big? No. Yo-"
Before he could finish that train of thought, Jessie rose to her feet and grabbed him by the tie; pulling him over the table and closer to her.
"No! YOU LISTEN," she hissed "Beyond Action Wrestling we're NOTHING. You an' King DON'T OWN ME. Ya never have. So consider this our LAST meetin'. Now fuck off while I'm still bein' fuckin' civil."
Shoving him backward so that he tripped over the chair and fell to the ground, Jessie slid her sunnies up to the top of her head and fixed Craig with a hard stare.
"We're fuckin' done."
Slowly leaning back so that she was no longer hunched over the chair, Jessie looked down at the t-shirt with Jody's face imprinted on it. Slowly, she ran her tongue along the outside of the teeth of her upper jaw before fixing the camera with a snide smile.
"How many times?"
"How many times, Chodie, have I had to run YOU or your PATHETIC MENTOR down like the miserably disappointing cunts you are? How many times have I had to add a pair of black men to the statistic of the domestically abused? Better yet; how many times have I MADE YOU MY BITCH just to win a fuckin' match?"
"Do ya know?"
Leaning forward once more, Jessie cocked her head to the side slightly.
"Hm?"
"Do ya?"
"Too bad that count doesn't fuckin' matter as I'm just gonna add to it at Blast!"
With an explosiveness that could make the most battle-hardened motherfucker flinch, the young woman lurched back and punted the chair out of the shot with enough force that it could be heard clattering against the concrete floor several times before falling silent. The t-shirt with her Blast opponent's likeness firmly in hand.
"I gotta admit, I wasn't expectin' to have such an INTERESTING consolation prize fall right into my lap. Not after that seemingly minimal effort amount of energy that Brady Bolt put into booking an entire Clash of nothin' but tag matches. But hey; I guess even goofy muppet-lookin' motherfuckers can surprise people every once an' a while."
"But that just means you're in MY way again."
"Doesn't it?"
Allowing the question to fester for a moment, Jessie lifted the shirt and held it open; allowing the camera a full view of the former Omega Champion printed upon it to be visible. After taking a moment to seemingly admire it, Jessie nodded once and looked to the camera with that snide smile on her face.
"That shit ain't half bad, is it?"
"I mean, at least there's one good thing that came outta your wasted hundred an' five-day reign as the Omega-BITCH Champion. That an' the sudden resurgence of the Knights of the Round Table shit. But beggars can't be choosers an' now the fifteen thousand strong attendin' the Coleman Coliseum will get to gleefully watch as I drag your face across the canvas and leave you a BROKEN mess as I claim the contenders slot for the United States strap."
"Now that the stage's set how 'bout I get to the good shit, yeah?"
Folding the shirt in half, the Monday Night Mommy slung the merch piece over her shoulder and fixed the camera with a venomous sneer.
"You're such a fuckin' DISAPPOINTMENT."
"I know I already said it once but I'll say it again and I'll say it a thousand an' one more times until you FINALLY start to understand an' DO SOMETHING about it. Is that harsh of me to say? Sure, but I honestly couldn't give less of a fuck. 'Cause, from the fuckin' moment you stepped foot into an Action Wrestling ring, you have CONTINUESLY SHOWN that you'd rather be anywhere else. You, 'Da Ghetto Boi', would rather be hangin' with the doped up crackheads instead of WORKIN' like a motherfucker to BETTER YOURSELF. You'd RATHER be some scum-sucker on the street scrappin' with other stupid cunts for the best dumpster to dive in for the evening meal instead of a SUCCESFUL MOTHERFUCKER THAT PROVIDES FOR HIS PEOPLE. Johnnie-boy saw the POTENTIAL in you an' all you've done is fuckin' WASTE IT with this piss poor laissez-faire attitude bullshit 'cause you're too fuckin' AFRAID TO COMMIT. You'd much rather FAIL than actually fuckin' try 'cause that way you can at least PRETEND to give a fuck."
"THAT'S WHY I FUCKIN' HATE YOU."
"'Cause, while you're amounting to jack shit, I'm going out to THAT RING EVERY WEEK TO MAKE SURE shit stains like YOU still have a fuckin' job the following week. As much as I wanna be the fun babyface bitch that says all the nice uplifting things every week, the REALITY is that the ONLY way I can get you fuckin' shitheads to compete is to verbally tear you a new asshole EVERY. FUCKIN'. WEEK. If it weren't for ME then you'd NEVER have found that competitive fire to win that Omega strap. You would've NEVER found yourself advancing as far as ya did in the tournament for the World strap. Fuckin' 'ell; ya wouldn't even be IN THIS MATCH if it WEREN"T FOR ME."
"GET IT?"
"GOT IT?"
"GOOD."
"'Cause now I'm goin' to murk your lazy fuckin' ass because, unlike like you, I GIVE A DAMN. I WANT to be here. I WANT to be the bitch that holds this shithole up on her back an' DOESN'T fuckin' leave like an entitled whiny cunt. So those losses I fuckin' suffered to Odin and Cedrone? Yeah; they're just jet fuel on the already RAGIN' FIRE that burns in my chest 'cause I WANNA SUCCEED and you can bet your ass that I'm gonna run right through your bitch ass to do it."
"An' that ain't even the BEST PART."
"A year ago I was just another face in the cluster of fuckfaces chasing the very championship me an' you are gonna battle for contendership for. Last year I had to battle the likes of Jonny Cedrone and Alice Gemini to even remain in the conversation. But now? Now I AM THE FUCKIN' CONVERSATION. I'm the bitch out here raising EVERY ungrateful bitch UP to levels that couldn't fuckin' IMAGINE. I'm the bunt that FORCING YOU to step up and REALLY put in some effort if you don't wanna end up as just another Henry Lancaster; a broken charity case predominately out of the job."
So do I sound like a brash brainless overconfident bitch with more guts than brains?"
"Abso-fuckin'-luty."
"But I ain't out here goin' back an' forth with some wishy-washy noncommital horseshit 'cause my skin ain't thick. I ain't you. So, Jody, I WANT you to REALLY UNDERSTAND just what sort of shit you're walkin' into the ring with at Blast. I want you to understand that this ain't just another match between you and me where I kick your ass an' leave you wandering aimlessly in the purgatory of the lower card. This isn't just another match where you get to go back to whatever hole-in-the-wall shithole you crawl out of every week 'fore flyin' to Clash. Hell, this isn't even about proving to the world that I am the BADDEST BITCH IN THE BUSINESS."
"It's about taking what's MINE."
"An' at Blast the United States contendership is MINE."
As if to emphasize the point, Jessie reached into her back pocket and fished out a lighter. A lighter that she used to ignite the Jody Mardox t-shirt that had been the focal point in the video early on. However, what was really surprising was just how quickly the piece of cloth began to burn.
"Now let's fuckin' go."
Dropping the burning shirt to the floor, the former United States and Television champion stepped back into the darkness. Leaving the camera to focus of the burning face of Jody Madrox that lay on the floor.
"How many times?"
"How many times, Chodie, have I had to run YOU or your PATHETIC MENTOR down like the miserably disappointing cunts you are? How many times have I had to add a pair of black men to the statistic of the domestically abused? Better yet; how many times have I MADE YOU MY BITCH just to win a fuckin' match?"
"Do ya know?"
Leaning forward once more, Jessie cocked her head to the side slightly.
"Hm?"
"Do ya?"
"Too bad that count doesn't fuckin' matter as I'm just gonna add to it at Blast!"
With an explosiveness that could make the most battle-hardened motherfucker flinch, the young woman lurched back and punted the chair out of the shot with enough force that it could be heard clattering against the concrete floor several times before falling silent. The t-shirt with her Blast opponent's likeness firmly in hand.
"I gotta admit, I wasn't expectin' to have such an INTERESTING consolation prize fall right into my lap. Not after that seemingly minimal effort amount of energy that Brady Bolt put into booking an entire Clash of nothin' but tag matches. But hey; I guess even goofy muppet-lookin' motherfuckers can surprise people every once an' a while."
"But that just means you're in MY way again."
"Doesn't it?"
Allowing the question to fester for a moment, Jessie lifted the shirt and held it open; allowing the camera a full view of the former Omega Champion printed upon it to be visible. After taking a moment to seemingly admire it, Jessie nodded once and looked to the camera with that snide smile on her face.
"That shit ain't half bad, is it?"
"I mean, at least there's one good thing that came outta your wasted hundred an' five-day reign as the Omega-BITCH Champion. That an' the sudden resurgence of the Knights of the Round Table shit. But beggars can't be choosers an' now the fifteen thousand strong attendin' the Coleman Coliseum will get to gleefully watch as I drag your face across the canvas and leave you a BROKEN mess as I claim the contenders slot for the United States strap."
"Now that the stage's set how 'bout I get to the good shit, yeah?"
Folding the shirt in half, the Monday Night Mommy slung the merch piece over her shoulder and fixed the camera with a venomous sneer.
"You're such a fuckin' DISAPPOINTMENT."
"I know I already said it once but I'll say it again and I'll say it a thousand an' one more times until you FINALLY start to understand an' DO SOMETHING about it. Is that harsh of me to say? Sure, but I honestly couldn't give less of a fuck. 'Cause, from the fuckin' moment you stepped foot into an Action Wrestling ring, you have CONTINUESLY SHOWN that you'd rather be anywhere else. You, 'Da Ghetto Boi', would rather be hangin' with the doped up crackheads instead of WORKIN' like a motherfucker to BETTER YOURSELF. You'd RATHER be some scum-sucker on the street scrappin' with other stupid cunts for the best dumpster to dive in for the evening meal instead of a SUCCESFUL MOTHERFUCKER THAT PROVIDES FOR HIS PEOPLE. Johnnie-boy saw the POTENTIAL in you an' all you've done is fuckin' WASTE IT with this piss poor laissez-faire attitude bullshit 'cause you're too fuckin' AFRAID TO COMMIT. You'd much rather FAIL than actually fuckin' try 'cause that way you can at least PRETEND to give a fuck."
"THAT'S WHY I FUCKIN' HATE YOU."
"'Cause, while you're amounting to jack shit, I'm going out to THAT RING EVERY WEEK TO MAKE SURE shit stains like YOU still have a fuckin' job the following week. As much as I wanna be the fun babyface bitch that says all the nice uplifting things every week, the REALITY is that the ONLY way I can get you fuckin' shitheads to compete is to verbally tear you a new asshole EVERY. FUCKIN'. WEEK. If it weren't for ME then you'd NEVER have found that competitive fire to win that Omega strap. You would've NEVER found yourself advancing as far as ya did in the tournament for the World strap. Fuckin' 'ell; ya wouldn't even be IN THIS MATCH if it WEREN"T FOR ME."
"GET IT?"
"GOT IT?"
"GOOD."
"'Cause now I'm goin' to murk your lazy fuckin' ass because, unlike like you, I GIVE A DAMN. I WANT to be here. I WANT to be the bitch that holds this shithole up on her back an' DOESN'T fuckin' leave like an entitled whiny cunt. So those losses I fuckin' suffered to Odin and Cedrone? Yeah; they're just jet fuel on the already RAGIN' FIRE that burns in my chest 'cause I WANNA SUCCEED and you can bet your ass that I'm gonna run right through your bitch ass to do it."
"An' that ain't even the BEST PART."
"A year ago I was just another face in the cluster of fuckfaces chasing the very championship me an' you are gonna battle for contendership for. Last year I had to battle the likes of Jonny Cedrone and Alice Gemini to even remain in the conversation. But now? Now I AM THE FUCKIN' CONVERSATION. I'm the bitch out here raising EVERY ungrateful bitch UP to levels that couldn't fuckin' IMAGINE. I'm the bunt that FORCING YOU to step up and REALLY put in some effort if you don't wanna end up as just another Henry Lancaster; a broken charity case predominately out of the job."
So do I sound like a brash brainless overconfident bitch with more guts than brains?"
"Abso-fuckin'-luty."
"But I ain't out here goin' back an' forth with some wishy-washy noncommital horseshit 'cause my skin ain't thick. I ain't you. So, Jody, I WANT you to REALLY UNDERSTAND just what sort of shit you're walkin' into the ring with at Blast. I want you to understand that this ain't just another match between you and me where I kick your ass an' leave you wandering aimlessly in the purgatory of the lower card. This isn't just another match where you get to go back to whatever hole-in-the-wall shithole you crawl out of every week 'fore flyin' to Clash. Hell, this isn't even about proving to the world that I am the BADDEST BITCH IN THE BUSINESS."
"It's about taking what's MINE."
"An' at Blast the United States contendership is MINE."
As if to emphasize the point, Jessie reached into her back pocket and fished out a lighter. A lighter that she used to ignite the Jody Mardox t-shirt that had been the focal point in the video early on. However, what was really surprising was just how quickly the piece of cloth began to burn.
"Now let's fuckin' go."
Dropping the burning shirt to the floor, the former United States and Television champion stepped back into the darkness. Leaving the camera to focus of the burning face of Jody Madrox that lay on the floor.