Post by Regan Voorhees on Jan 9, 2022 12:54:32 GMT -5
Christmas
Recorded on the phone of Regan Voorhees
The play button was pressed, and Regan’s previously recorded pitch began.
“Happiest of holidays, merriest of Christmases, whateverest of whatevers you celebrate, Miss Park. If you don’t, I do hope the break has been a revitalizing one. Cheers.”
The Duchess of Pork raised a mimosa toward the camera from the chair of her breakfast nook. Regan was uncharacteristically casually dressed, particularly for a presentation, in pajamas themed around the Grim Reaper-as-Santa. Her makeup was still pristine, if minimal, and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. A grey Alabama dawn crept through the window beside her, an indication that she was pulling either an early morning or an especially late night.
“Allow me to preface this with the appropriate candor - but you may have noticed that I have some difficulty making friends. Please forgive any informality on my part. Normally I’d be more immaculate, offer some pie charts, a PowerPoint, et cetera. But I would prefer to get the proverbial ball rolling, and I feel you’ll be uniquely empathetic to my situation. The two of us shared stellar rookie years in the same company, yet our paths somehow never crossed. Successes… Failures…”
Her fist seized a butter knife beside her plate, burying it in a mason jar of apple jelly, where the blade clanged off the glass at the bottom.
“My current options are to either stay the course for 2022 or to implode spectacularly. Allow my greatest failure to consume me, dissolve into nothing. Melodramatic, perhaps, but rest assured I have no intention of imploding. Though it pains me greatly, I will be departing my home at CruiserClash so that I might journey to Clash proper. In doing so I enter unfamiliar territory, and while I have some experience facing members of the Clash roster, most of them are fresh competition for me. The competition itself isn’t something I shy away from, but a great many of them have friends, partners, and allies of their own. Despite my – some might say psychopathic – tendencies, that puts me at a distinct disadvantage. To be blunt, I need to know someone is on my side. I confess I’m not the most social of butterflies, Miss Park, but a mutually beneficial partnership doesn’t necessitate sleepovers and shoe shopping. I don’t really do the gal pal thing. But I do win matches, however I must. And when I don’t…”
She seized the butter knife from the jelly, drawing it free like a cutlery Excalibur. Her fist squeezed it for a moment, then she applied the jelly to a charred piece of toast on the plate in front of her.
“I refocus my efforts, mentally(or otherwise) dissect the person who beat me, and make sure that I don’t lose again. One big defeat can stall a career, but like me, I believe you share a certain mental fortitude that goes unappreciated by so many of our peers. You and I don’t have to do this, Miss Park. We choose to.”
For the sake of an auditory period at the end of her declaration, Regan crunched into her toast. Impolitely even, she kept crunching as she continued.
“I may be the only person in this company who can truly respect, understand, and even admire your commitment. But I’d be delighted to hear your perspective. No rush, I understand the holidays are an avalanche of obligations. Think it over at your convenience, and we’ll chat. The olive branch is extended, Miss Park.”
Another crunch punctuated her sentence, while the sound was used to mask a phone fumble on the recording. The video ended.
December 26th
Venice Beach, California
”The olive branch is extended, Miss Park.”
Back in Venice Beach, Jill Park lowers her iPad into the marble countertop of her kitchen island. Judging by her attire: a red silk robe, it was early morning. A perplexed look found it’s way onto her face. She turned and walked into the next room, finding a space on her leather loveseat.
“Don’t release this until I give the approval.” She barked at the closest MTV employee. She peers into the camera closest to her.
“Regan, I would first like to extend to you a Happy Holidays. You seem to be embracing this little break we have, and that’s great. You’re overworked, I think.” Jill offered with a playful smile, as she snapped her fingers aggressively behind her until an intern briskly walks up to her with a latte in a Styrofoam cup. He got no thank you or acknowledgement beyond Jill accepting the drink.
“I would be lying if I said I haven’t been a fan. I'd lying if I said I haven’t been paying attention as you strapped CruiserClash to your back and carried it to new heights in 2021. While critics and jealous rivals like to denounce you as 'deranged' or 'psychotic', I saw myself in you. Maybe that says more about me, than it does you.” Another playful chuckle; they were performative, if nothing else.
“You’re bang on that we share a short of…kindred spirit that’s hard to ignore. You could be the only person in all of Action Wrestling that could make such a claim. For a time I thought there were others, potentially, that thought like I do, but it was all for show. You, Regan, nothing you do is 'just for show'. Everything has a purpose; a reason. It’s a beautiful thing to behold."
"So, as I’m sure you’ve surmised by now, I would be more than happy to form this alliance with you. Despite recent events, I think the two of us could do what you did to CruiserClash."
"Bring it to its knees.”
Jill took a sip of her latte, and flashed a huge smile at the camera. Some might call it “uncomfortable”. The clip would cut there and she would turn to the closest employee again.
“Make sure this gets into the hands of Regan Voorhees. And remember what I said, don’t release it until I give the go ahead.”
Monday Night Clash - January 3rd
Backstage
All was quiet in the backroom where Jill Park and Regan Voorhees found themselves as they watched the AW World Heavyweight Championship unfold on a small 22 inch monitor. The room was a little more than a small round table with the TV set occupying the center. Both of them sat in your typical steel folding chair, but their demeanours were polar opposites. Regan was laser focused on the match before her; noticing every minute detail. Jill, on the other hand, seemed giddy for what they both knew was coming in mere minutes from now.
“This is going to be fucking awesome!” Jill exclaimed, nearly jumping from her seat. Regan remained calm and focused on the screen, as she offered no response whatsoever. Jill decided to sit back down and join her “partner”.
“So…” Jill began, again. “Are we going to actually talk about the plan?”
Prefaced with a brief sigh, Regan craned her neck to stare at Jill. “I thought you’d never ask.”
They shared a smile, as Regan finally stood and paced around the small room for a moment.
“I’m sure you realize the importance of this moment, Jill. All eyes are on that Championship match. Regardless of who comes out Champion at the end of it is of little consequence to either one of us. Once that bell rings and the Champion is standing tall and seemingly one top of the world…we strike. We tell all of Action Wrestling we aren’t just a couple of rookies with a ton of potential. It’s not that 'someday' we will be at the top of this company. We TELL them, we are NOW. We won’t sit back any more. We won’t be pushed down or passed over. AND we tell them they better deal with it. It starts with the Champion, and it ends with nothing but broken bodies in our wake."
Jill rose from her seat again, her grin as wide as ever. “THAT’s what I’m talking about, Regan.” Jill grabbed hold of the chair she had previously been sitting on, and folded it up. As she clasped the cool steel in her hands, she closed her eyes momentarily, savoring the moment. “I said all along, Regan. I understand. A lot of people look at you like this stone-faced psycho for the things you’ve done in the past year.” She closed the short distance between them. “But not me. I see a killer. Just like me. And that’s exactly what this company needs to be reminded of. Nobody is safe.”
Regan nodded, with a grin. “Nobody.”
“You know, I would be remiss if I didn’t at least bring this to the table. You’ve clearly got some unfinished business with Downfall. That’s an understatement, really. I’ve got that World Title in my sights, always. So what happens in the event he is new World Champion and we are both in a position to take it?"
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about such a scenario. I suppose we focus around the task at hand, and cross that bridge when we come to it."
Jill nodded, that was certainly reasonable. In the background the pinfall could be heard.
Regan’s eyes shut. She was visibly upset by the sight. “Downfall.” As she grabbed a chair of her own, Regan nodded to Jill, and they both stormed out of the room.
It was a mild Saturday morning in Sacramento. Jill Park and Regan Voorhees, now known officially as “Affluenza”, settled in at the VEG Cafe & Bar. Both seated at a table far enough in the back to feel somewhat secluded, even in such a small space. Jill was certain to up the security as the camera crew also packed the tiny cafe, leaving little room for anyone else; which was exactly as the pair desired. Following the shocking actions of the pair on last Monday’s Season Premiere episode of Clash, tensions may be a little high. That was not evident by the chummy nature of the two “ladies”.
“So…” Jill began, after taking a sip of Mimosa from a champagne flute. “I think it goes without saying that last Monday night was a huge success.”
“I’m happy with the results,” Regan said, sounding less than happy. She swirled her own mimosa and glared at the liquid, as if she could separate the champagne and orange juice through sheer willpower. “More or less. I suppose the man who beat me for Wrestler of the Year becoming the champion should make that loss easier to stomach. Certainly the assault was cathartic. So much better than punching a pillow.”
“Nobody saw it coming! Least of which is our new 'Champion', Downfall. That’s a pretty fitting name after what we did to him following his big win! Haha! Everybody was shocked! Fans were crying…it was glorious.”
Regan chuckled. Her teeth crept into her bottom lip, a nervous tick that mutated into a smirk. “It was glorious, wasn’t it? Honestly, since Turmoil I’ve been brooding over Downfall. Obsessing over that loss. Mentally I haven’t been, as they say, in a good place. But it never occurred to me to stop and smell the roses. Savor the shiver that goes up your arm when you smack someone in the head with a steel chair. I dare say it was… Enjoyable, even.” She drained her mimosa and held the empty glass up, signaling for a refill.
As the waiter approached, both women halted their conversation, not even giving him a look as he placed their plates before them on the table, along with a mimosa carafe. An awkward pause later, the waiter said nothing, and nervously shuffled back towards the kitchen.
“And now, the best part is this week, our plan has actually been expedited by Pasternak in some strange form of 'punishment'? Yeah, finally dethroning the paper Champions that are The Vanguard is a real punishment, isn’t it?"
“This…” Regan began, swirling her drink again as she searched for the correct words. “Is something of a longterm project for me. Part of the appeal of a tag team wasn’t just climbing the tag ranks. It was facing the Vanguard, belts or no. Naturally, the belts are an especially delightful cherry on top… But, well, I suppose I’m obsessing. Eventually I’ll get another singles match against Downfall, but when I do, I want to be prepared. Any practical, in-ring experience I can get against him until then is a means to that end. But it’s not practical to focus too much on one opponent among six. At the very least, our attention should be on the two with the most to lose.”
“Downfall and Dionysus.” The snarky tone seemed to be emphasized as she took a bite of her Turmeric chickpea crepe. “Exactly like I said last week. They had their self-centered, egotistical moment in the Havoc rumble when they decided to form some ill-fated alliance based on…eh, who the hell even cares at this point? I get it, they have history and a series of brutal matches blah blah blah…” The two share a brief laugh, as Jill finishes off her mimosa. “Anyways…like I said, they’ve been little more than paper champions. Who’ve they beat since they beat two habitual enemies, Kidsgrove and Dandy?”
Dead silence.
“Precisely. A couple random tag teams that decided to show up in Action Wrestling and then split when they couldn’t immediately ascend to the top of the mountain. Pathetic, weak-willed idiots. Is that the sort of title reign we are meant to admire; to appreciate? Is that the kind of spectacle this company is to value?"
"I said it last week, and I said I was going to make Dionysus tap. And what happened?"
"I made him tap. When I make a promise, I will make sure to follow through. Everyone likes to think I’m smoke and mirrors because they can’t step out of their bubble and recognize that I have become a media mogul for Action Wrestling. So much so, they’ve tried to duplicate my success with less deserving talents, with horrible results.”
“My issue,” Regan said, sawing a piece of toast in half with her butter knife, before sawing that piece into smaller halves. “The in-ring chemistry we may or may not have, it’s untested and we’ve been put in a feast or famine situation. Certainly I would’ve liked the chance to iron out any wrinkles in our teamwork before our first chance at the champions, but I suppose pressure makes diamonds or whatever fortune cookie nonsense. Neither of us would’ve gotten this far if we couldn’t rise to the occasion under extreme circumstances.” Using the broad side of her knife, she crushed an especially small piece of toast into charred dust. “But three other teams? Chaotic, difficult to strategize around. I would prefer for this team of ours to bear fruit sooner rather than later. But, if I’m being perfectly honest, I think we’re at a disadvantage.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Jill concedes as she swallows another piece of her brunch. “I get it. And you know what? We shouldn’t deny how huge this match is. We destroyed the Tag Champs last week. We destroyed the World Champion, the former World Champion. Everyone. We left a mess of bodies all over the ring. We sent everyone a message, just like we planned. This week? This is even bigger. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but damn it, it’s the truth. I beat Dionysus last week, and then we destroyed everybody later on. This week, we have an opportunity to do the exact same, only this time? We will be holding the World Tag Team Championships at the end of the night. I can’t think of a bigger message than that.”
“I would very much like that,” Regan said, her hands creating a virtual headline in the air. “Affluenza’s first match ends in championship gold. The tag team landscape in Action Wrestling changes overnight. Regan Voorhees and Jill Park slaughter six people on worldwide television. The prospect of us winning delights me. The reality and logistics of how we get there, however, aren’t quite clear to me. Ever play Whac-A-Mole? For any potential problem I foresee, I like to prepare a hammer. And when said problem pops up, I smash its fucking skull to pieces. You’ve beaten Dionysus, and while I haven’t beaten Downfall, one of my New Year’s resolutions is to find out how I specifically can beat Downfall. Still have a few ideas percolating there.”
“Bentley Unlimited, allegedly the best tag team money can buy, could prove particularly difficult under normal circumstances. If this were two-on-two, I wouldn’t relish the idea of us as an untested team facing them in their element. Best case scenario, a four-way match could put them at as much of a disadvantage as anyone. Disrupt their usual flow and cohesion, too many bodies in the mix for them to effectively double-team anyone. But.. provided they can work around those issues, they could make for a useful hammer. Regardless of who wins, if Bentley Unlimited wants to make a statement, they’ll go after the champions. We intervene if they attempt to pin or submit anyone, but otherwise let them devastate our other opponents to their hearts’ content. If they make the mistake of overlooking us, we stand to cash(ha) in on their hard work. Think of it as wrestling outsourcing.”
“Of course, if Scott David and Mike Wheeler like money so much, we can accommodate them as well as Steve Bentley. But you know how dramatic men can be about things like…” Regan grimaced, forcing the word out. “Integrity. Though I have to admit, my professional pride would be better satisfied if we actually beat them. If we’re to conquer this division we’ll need to prove that we’re not just a pair of singles stars mashed together into some sort of tag-chimera. Bentley stands a good chance of being the teamiest team in a match where that isn’t necessarily an advantage. Though, naturally, better to have someone you know you can rely on than a big question mark.”
“One thing that may throw a wrench into everything is this team of Carter Shaw and whatever loser actually agrees to be his partner.”
“As if there wasn’t enough drama, Carter Shaw is bringing a blind date to the soiree. I loathe wildcards. Tempting as it is to speculate on who his partner may be, I don’t think it’s viable. Wrestle-Twitter can argue over the possibilities from most to least obvious. We’re better off preparing for the five known quantities. Although per Shaw, you seem prepared enough for the both of us.”
“It dates back to Turmoil, as I’m sure you know. After I stomped out his aspirations of reclaiming the World Championship, he’s been dying to get even. Just look at the way he tried to ruin my moment at the AwardsClash. He tried to one-up me, but again, I showed everyone that I’m not messing around anymore. Then last week, after I submitted Dionysus, Shaw was there again, trying to take the spotlight away from me. Just like he tried to do at Turmoil. Just like he tried to do at AwardsClash. Just like he always tries to do. That is his sole reason for being in this match: to try and disrupt me. He’s not out to capture tag gold, or make some sort of grand message to the AW faithful. Carter Shaw is much more self-centered than that. He’s always looked out for Carter Shaw above all else. While I could kind of admire such an attitude normally, it is precisely why Carter Shaw is not going to win."
"There is going to come a time in this match where someone is going to have to dig down deep, make that big tag, be a team player. Maybe even sacrifice for their team. Do you honestly think Carter Shaw is even capable of such a feat? Of course he isn’t. He wants me to lose more than he wants to win and ironically, it could be the very thing that helps us rip those titles from The Vanguard.”
Regan took the opportunity to seize the carafe and refill both their mimosas. “Then let’s make you not losing a priority then, since that means I lose, which is something I have no interest in. Suppose Shaw only has eyes for you, then that makes it that much easier for me to blindside him on your behalf. The obvious countermove on his end would be to pick a partner who could conceivably nullify me, but that wouldn’t be terribly practical with the championships on the line and two other teams in the mix.” Regan raised her glass. “All this scheming is more fun than I expected. To the new Action Wrestling Tag Team Champions."
A smile crept its way onto Jill’s face. Truth be told, she had her own reservations about the alliance with Regan. Both of them were alike in a way, and that could be to their success or to their detriment. However, they seemed to be on the same page for now, which is all she needed to know. She raised her glass.
“To the new Action Wrestling Tag Team Champions.”
They clinked their glasses.
Recorded on the phone of Regan Voorhees
The play button was pressed, and Regan’s previously recorded pitch began.
“Happiest of holidays, merriest of Christmases, whateverest of whatevers you celebrate, Miss Park. If you don’t, I do hope the break has been a revitalizing one. Cheers.”
The Duchess of Pork raised a mimosa toward the camera from the chair of her breakfast nook. Regan was uncharacteristically casually dressed, particularly for a presentation, in pajamas themed around the Grim Reaper-as-Santa. Her makeup was still pristine, if minimal, and her hair was pulled back in a tight bun. A grey Alabama dawn crept through the window beside her, an indication that she was pulling either an early morning or an especially late night.
“Allow me to preface this with the appropriate candor - but you may have noticed that I have some difficulty making friends. Please forgive any informality on my part. Normally I’d be more immaculate, offer some pie charts, a PowerPoint, et cetera. But I would prefer to get the proverbial ball rolling, and I feel you’ll be uniquely empathetic to my situation. The two of us shared stellar rookie years in the same company, yet our paths somehow never crossed. Successes… Failures…”
Her fist seized a butter knife beside her plate, burying it in a mason jar of apple jelly, where the blade clanged off the glass at the bottom.
“My current options are to either stay the course for 2022 or to implode spectacularly. Allow my greatest failure to consume me, dissolve into nothing. Melodramatic, perhaps, but rest assured I have no intention of imploding. Though it pains me greatly, I will be departing my home at CruiserClash so that I might journey to Clash proper. In doing so I enter unfamiliar territory, and while I have some experience facing members of the Clash roster, most of them are fresh competition for me. The competition itself isn’t something I shy away from, but a great many of them have friends, partners, and allies of their own. Despite my – some might say psychopathic – tendencies, that puts me at a distinct disadvantage. To be blunt, I need to know someone is on my side. I confess I’m not the most social of butterflies, Miss Park, but a mutually beneficial partnership doesn’t necessitate sleepovers and shoe shopping. I don’t really do the gal pal thing. But I do win matches, however I must. And when I don’t…”
She seized the butter knife from the jelly, drawing it free like a cutlery Excalibur. Her fist squeezed it for a moment, then she applied the jelly to a charred piece of toast on the plate in front of her.
“I refocus my efforts, mentally(or otherwise) dissect the person who beat me, and make sure that I don’t lose again. One big defeat can stall a career, but like me, I believe you share a certain mental fortitude that goes unappreciated by so many of our peers. You and I don’t have to do this, Miss Park. We choose to.”
For the sake of an auditory period at the end of her declaration, Regan crunched into her toast. Impolitely even, she kept crunching as she continued.
“I may be the only person in this company who can truly respect, understand, and even admire your commitment. But I’d be delighted to hear your perspective. No rush, I understand the holidays are an avalanche of obligations. Think it over at your convenience, and we’ll chat. The olive branch is extended, Miss Park.”
Another crunch punctuated her sentence, while the sound was used to mask a phone fumble on the recording. The video ended.
December 26th
Venice Beach, California
”The olive branch is extended, Miss Park.”
Back in Venice Beach, Jill Park lowers her iPad into the marble countertop of her kitchen island. Judging by her attire: a red silk robe, it was early morning. A perplexed look found it’s way onto her face. She turned and walked into the next room, finding a space on her leather loveseat.
“Don’t release this until I give the approval.” She barked at the closest MTV employee. She peers into the camera closest to her.
“Regan, I would first like to extend to you a Happy Holidays. You seem to be embracing this little break we have, and that’s great. You’re overworked, I think.” Jill offered with a playful smile, as she snapped her fingers aggressively behind her until an intern briskly walks up to her with a latte in a Styrofoam cup. He got no thank you or acknowledgement beyond Jill accepting the drink.
“I would be lying if I said I haven’t been a fan. I'd lying if I said I haven’t been paying attention as you strapped CruiserClash to your back and carried it to new heights in 2021. While critics and jealous rivals like to denounce you as 'deranged' or 'psychotic', I saw myself in you. Maybe that says more about me, than it does you.” Another playful chuckle; they were performative, if nothing else.
“You’re bang on that we share a short of…kindred spirit that’s hard to ignore. You could be the only person in all of Action Wrestling that could make such a claim. For a time I thought there were others, potentially, that thought like I do, but it was all for show. You, Regan, nothing you do is 'just for show'. Everything has a purpose; a reason. It’s a beautiful thing to behold."
"So, as I’m sure you’ve surmised by now, I would be more than happy to form this alliance with you. Despite recent events, I think the two of us could do what you did to CruiserClash."
"Bring it to its knees.”
Jill took a sip of her latte, and flashed a huge smile at the camera. Some might call it “uncomfortable”. The clip would cut there and she would turn to the closest employee again.
“Make sure this gets into the hands of Regan Voorhees. And remember what I said, don’t release it until I give the go ahead.”
Monday Night Clash - January 3rd
Backstage
All was quiet in the backroom where Jill Park and Regan Voorhees found themselves as they watched the AW World Heavyweight Championship unfold on a small 22 inch monitor. The room was a little more than a small round table with the TV set occupying the center. Both of them sat in your typical steel folding chair, but their demeanours were polar opposites. Regan was laser focused on the match before her; noticing every minute detail. Jill, on the other hand, seemed giddy for what they both knew was coming in mere minutes from now.
“This is going to be fucking awesome!” Jill exclaimed, nearly jumping from her seat. Regan remained calm and focused on the screen, as she offered no response whatsoever. Jill decided to sit back down and join her “partner”.
“So…” Jill began, again. “Are we going to actually talk about the plan?”
Prefaced with a brief sigh, Regan craned her neck to stare at Jill. “I thought you’d never ask.”
They shared a smile, as Regan finally stood and paced around the small room for a moment.
“I’m sure you realize the importance of this moment, Jill. All eyes are on that Championship match. Regardless of who comes out Champion at the end of it is of little consequence to either one of us. Once that bell rings and the Champion is standing tall and seemingly one top of the world…we strike. We tell all of Action Wrestling we aren’t just a couple of rookies with a ton of potential. It’s not that 'someday' we will be at the top of this company. We TELL them, we are NOW. We won’t sit back any more. We won’t be pushed down or passed over. AND we tell them they better deal with it. It starts with the Champion, and it ends with nothing but broken bodies in our wake."
Jill rose from her seat again, her grin as wide as ever. “THAT’s what I’m talking about, Regan.” Jill grabbed hold of the chair she had previously been sitting on, and folded it up. As she clasped the cool steel in her hands, she closed her eyes momentarily, savoring the moment. “I said all along, Regan. I understand. A lot of people look at you like this stone-faced psycho for the things you’ve done in the past year.” She closed the short distance between them. “But not me. I see a killer. Just like me. And that’s exactly what this company needs to be reminded of. Nobody is safe.”
Regan nodded, with a grin. “Nobody.”
“You know, I would be remiss if I didn’t at least bring this to the table. You’ve clearly got some unfinished business with Downfall. That’s an understatement, really. I’ve got that World Title in my sights, always. So what happens in the event he is new World Champion and we are both in a position to take it?"
“Yes, I’ve been thinking about such a scenario. I suppose we focus around the task at hand, and cross that bridge when we come to it."
Jill nodded, that was certainly reasonable. In the background the pinfall could be heard.
Regan’s eyes shut. She was visibly upset by the sight. “Downfall.” As she grabbed a chair of her own, Regan nodded to Jill, and they both stormed out of the room.
It was a mild Saturday morning in Sacramento. Jill Park and Regan Voorhees, now known officially as “Affluenza”, settled in at the VEG Cafe & Bar. Both seated at a table far enough in the back to feel somewhat secluded, even in such a small space. Jill was certain to up the security as the camera crew also packed the tiny cafe, leaving little room for anyone else; which was exactly as the pair desired. Following the shocking actions of the pair on last Monday’s Season Premiere episode of Clash, tensions may be a little high. That was not evident by the chummy nature of the two “ladies”.
“So…” Jill began, after taking a sip of Mimosa from a champagne flute. “I think it goes without saying that last Monday night was a huge success.”
“I’m happy with the results,” Regan said, sounding less than happy. She swirled her own mimosa and glared at the liquid, as if she could separate the champagne and orange juice through sheer willpower. “More or less. I suppose the man who beat me for Wrestler of the Year becoming the champion should make that loss easier to stomach. Certainly the assault was cathartic. So much better than punching a pillow.”
“Nobody saw it coming! Least of which is our new 'Champion', Downfall. That’s a pretty fitting name after what we did to him following his big win! Haha! Everybody was shocked! Fans were crying…it was glorious.”
Regan chuckled. Her teeth crept into her bottom lip, a nervous tick that mutated into a smirk. “It was glorious, wasn’t it? Honestly, since Turmoil I’ve been brooding over Downfall. Obsessing over that loss. Mentally I haven’t been, as they say, in a good place. But it never occurred to me to stop and smell the roses. Savor the shiver that goes up your arm when you smack someone in the head with a steel chair. I dare say it was… Enjoyable, even.” She drained her mimosa and held the empty glass up, signaling for a refill.
As the waiter approached, both women halted their conversation, not even giving him a look as he placed their plates before them on the table, along with a mimosa carafe. An awkward pause later, the waiter said nothing, and nervously shuffled back towards the kitchen.
“And now, the best part is this week, our plan has actually been expedited by Pasternak in some strange form of 'punishment'? Yeah, finally dethroning the paper Champions that are The Vanguard is a real punishment, isn’t it?"
“This…” Regan began, swirling her drink again as she searched for the correct words. “Is something of a longterm project for me. Part of the appeal of a tag team wasn’t just climbing the tag ranks. It was facing the Vanguard, belts or no. Naturally, the belts are an especially delightful cherry on top… But, well, I suppose I’m obsessing. Eventually I’ll get another singles match against Downfall, but when I do, I want to be prepared. Any practical, in-ring experience I can get against him until then is a means to that end. But it’s not practical to focus too much on one opponent among six. At the very least, our attention should be on the two with the most to lose.”
“Downfall and Dionysus.” The snarky tone seemed to be emphasized as she took a bite of her Turmeric chickpea crepe. “Exactly like I said last week. They had their self-centered, egotistical moment in the Havoc rumble when they decided to form some ill-fated alliance based on…eh, who the hell even cares at this point? I get it, they have history and a series of brutal matches blah blah blah…” The two share a brief laugh, as Jill finishes off her mimosa. “Anyways…like I said, they’ve been little more than paper champions. Who’ve they beat since they beat two habitual enemies, Kidsgrove and Dandy?”
Dead silence.
“Precisely. A couple random tag teams that decided to show up in Action Wrestling and then split when they couldn’t immediately ascend to the top of the mountain. Pathetic, weak-willed idiots. Is that the sort of title reign we are meant to admire; to appreciate? Is that the kind of spectacle this company is to value?"
"I said it last week, and I said I was going to make Dionysus tap. And what happened?"
"I made him tap. When I make a promise, I will make sure to follow through. Everyone likes to think I’m smoke and mirrors because they can’t step out of their bubble and recognize that I have become a media mogul for Action Wrestling. So much so, they’ve tried to duplicate my success with less deserving talents, with horrible results.”
“My issue,” Regan said, sawing a piece of toast in half with her butter knife, before sawing that piece into smaller halves. “The in-ring chemistry we may or may not have, it’s untested and we’ve been put in a feast or famine situation. Certainly I would’ve liked the chance to iron out any wrinkles in our teamwork before our first chance at the champions, but I suppose pressure makes diamonds or whatever fortune cookie nonsense. Neither of us would’ve gotten this far if we couldn’t rise to the occasion under extreme circumstances.” Using the broad side of her knife, she crushed an especially small piece of toast into charred dust. “But three other teams? Chaotic, difficult to strategize around. I would prefer for this team of ours to bear fruit sooner rather than later. But, if I’m being perfectly honest, I think we’re at a disadvantage.”
“Yeah, yeah…” Jill concedes as she swallows another piece of her brunch. “I get it. And you know what? We shouldn’t deny how huge this match is. We destroyed the Tag Champs last week. We destroyed the World Champion, the former World Champion. Everyone. We left a mess of bodies all over the ring. We sent everyone a message, just like we planned. This week? This is even bigger. I can’t believe I’m saying it, but damn it, it’s the truth. I beat Dionysus last week, and then we destroyed everybody later on. This week, we have an opportunity to do the exact same, only this time? We will be holding the World Tag Team Championships at the end of the night. I can’t think of a bigger message than that.”
“I would very much like that,” Regan said, her hands creating a virtual headline in the air. “Affluenza’s first match ends in championship gold. The tag team landscape in Action Wrestling changes overnight. Regan Voorhees and Jill Park slaughter six people on worldwide television. The prospect of us winning delights me. The reality and logistics of how we get there, however, aren’t quite clear to me. Ever play Whac-A-Mole? For any potential problem I foresee, I like to prepare a hammer. And when said problem pops up, I smash its fucking skull to pieces. You’ve beaten Dionysus, and while I haven’t beaten Downfall, one of my New Year’s resolutions is to find out how I specifically can beat Downfall. Still have a few ideas percolating there.”
“Bentley Unlimited, allegedly the best tag team money can buy, could prove particularly difficult under normal circumstances. If this were two-on-two, I wouldn’t relish the idea of us as an untested team facing them in their element. Best case scenario, a four-way match could put them at as much of a disadvantage as anyone. Disrupt their usual flow and cohesion, too many bodies in the mix for them to effectively double-team anyone. But.. provided they can work around those issues, they could make for a useful hammer. Regardless of who wins, if Bentley Unlimited wants to make a statement, they’ll go after the champions. We intervene if they attempt to pin or submit anyone, but otherwise let them devastate our other opponents to their hearts’ content. If they make the mistake of overlooking us, we stand to cash(ha) in on their hard work. Think of it as wrestling outsourcing.”
“Of course, if Scott David and Mike Wheeler like money so much, we can accommodate them as well as Steve Bentley. But you know how dramatic men can be about things like…” Regan grimaced, forcing the word out. “Integrity. Though I have to admit, my professional pride would be better satisfied if we actually beat them. If we’re to conquer this division we’ll need to prove that we’re not just a pair of singles stars mashed together into some sort of tag-chimera. Bentley stands a good chance of being the teamiest team in a match where that isn’t necessarily an advantage. Though, naturally, better to have someone you know you can rely on than a big question mark.”
“One thing that may throw a wrench into everything is this team of Carter Shaw and whatever loser actually agrees to be his partner.”
“As if there wasn’t enough drama, Carter Shaw is bringing a blind date to the soiree. I loathe wildcards. Tempting as it is to speculate on who his partner may be, I don’t think it’s viable. Wrestle-Twitter can argue over the possibilities from most to least obvious. We’re better off preparing for the five known quantities. Although per Shaw, you seem prepared enough for the both of us.”
“It dates back to Turmoil, as I’m sure you know. After I stomped out his aspirations of reclaiming the World Championship, he’s been dying to get even. Just look at the way he tried to ruin my moment at the AwardsClash. He tried to one-up me, but again, I showed everyone that I’m not messing around anymore. Then last week, after I submitted Dionysus, Shaw was there again, trying to take the spotlight away from me. Just like he tried to do at Turmoil. Just like he tried to do at AwardsClash. Just like he always tries to do. That is his sole reason for being in this match: to try and disrupt me. He’s not out to capture tag gold, or make some sort of grand message to the AW faithful. Carter Shaw is much more self-centered than that. He’s always looked out for Carter Shaw above all else. While I could kind of admire such an attitude normally, it is precisely why Carter Shaw is not going to win."
"There is going to come a time in this match where someone is going to have to dig down deep, make that big tag, be a team player. Maybe even sacrifice for their team. Do you honestly think Carter Shaw is even capable of such a feat? Of course he isn’t. He wants me to lose more than he wants to win and ironically, it could be the very thing that helps us rip those titles from The Vanguard.”
Regan took the opportunity to seize the carafe and refill both their mimosas. “Then let’s make you not losing a priority then, since that means I lose, which is something I have no interest in. Suppose Shaw only has eyes for you, then that makes it that much easier for me to blindside him on your behalf. The obvious countermove on his end would be to pick a partner who could conceivably nullify me, but that wouldn’t be terribly practical with the championships on the line and two other teams in the mix.” Regan raised her glass. “All this scheming is more fun than I expected. To the new Action Wrestling Tag Team Champions."
A smile crept its way onto Jill’s face. Truth be told, she had her own reservations about the alliance with Regan. Both of them were alike in a way, and that could be to their success or to their detriment. However, they seemed to be on the same page for now, which is all she needed to know. She raised her glass.
“To the new Action Wrestling Tag Team Champions.”
They clinked their glasses.
