Post by Jessie Lee on Dec 10, 2023 3:25:06 GMT -5
"Fuckin' hell." Jessie hissed to herself as she gently prodded the portion of her face that had swollen so drastically at Turmoil. It had been more than a week and the swelling had gone down, but the Aussie was fairly certain there was at least a small fracture from where DRAUGR's headbutt had connected. Wounds healed and there wasn't any visible marks left of the violence that had ensued that night, but that didn't mean that things were fine. If it hadn't been for DRAUGR's handler and the fat twats two cronies, she would be standing in front of the makeup mirror with the Action Wrestling Television Championship. However, that could be remedied at Holiday Bash so long as she was able to......appropriately deal with Chase Jackson.
"That isn't going to be a problem." she said absently as she stepped away from her reflection.
"Well, I certainly hope not." Craig said from across the dressing room on his position on the couch "The Doctor DID say that your face healed nicely."
"Not what I was talkin' about." she responded with an exasperated sigh as she plopped down into the swivel chair; slowly turning to face him.
"What WERE you talking about then?" he inquired quizzically; an eyebrow raised in question.
"Chase Jackson." she responded as she fought the urge to curl her upper lip in disgust. Whether it be at the thought of facing Chase or the ever increasing snake-like appearance that Craig seemed to be adopting in her eyes wasn't something she was entirely sure of. Both made her feel sick.
"Action Wrestling's prodigal son of poor investment? Why would he be a problem?" Craig continued in confusion.
"He isn't." she interjected with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"Then Why bring it up?" he said with a small scowl forming upon his face.
"Maybe because I'm on the card for Monday Night Clash to face him where the winner gets their shot at that big lizard bastard?" she said with a twinge of bitter mirth in her voice.
"RIIIIIIIIGHT. I'm still unable to see why you refereed to that as not being a problem."
"Why? Is he a problem?" she asked; quizzical herself now.
"Oh no, we needn't worry about him. I'm confident that you'll do what needs to be done." he said assuredly with a serpentine smile. A smile that she didn't particularly like.
"Then we're on the same page, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Good," she said as she leaned forward towards him; her face a frigid emotionless mask "Let's get to business then."
"Go on...." Craig said intrigued.
"Tailor Made," Jessie continued "we're down a member thanks to Doc bein' a dumb bitch and I was thinkin' tha-"
"Hold on a second, MISS LEE." he said; emphasizing her name as a reminder of the role she was supposed to play. "That isn't something that you need to worry over. Mister King i-"
"Is back at home lickin' his wounds like a dog." she finished bluntly. 'I'm not sayin' that we go behind his back or nothin'. Just make sure you run the idea past him and see if we can' get something rollin'."
"i......see." he said with narrowed eyes. "I'll see what I can do."
"That isn't going to be a problem." she said absently as she stepped away from her reflection.
"Well, I certainly hope not." Craig said from across the dressing room on his position on the couch "The Doctor DID say that your face healed nicely."
"Not what I was talkin' about." she responded with an exasperated sigh as she plopped down into the swivel chair; slowly turning to face him.
"What WERE you talking about then?" he inquired quizzically; an eyebrow raised in question.
"Chase Jackson." she responded as she fought the urge to curl her upper lip in disgust. Whether it be at the thought of facing Chase or the ever increasing snake-like appearance that Craig seemed to be adopting in her eyes wasn't something she was entirely sure of. Both made her feel sick.
"Action Wrestling's prodigal son of poor investment? Why would he be a problem?" Craig continued in confusion.
"He isn't." she interjected with a dismissive wave of her hand.
"Then Why bring it up?" he said with a small scowl forming upon his face.
"Maybe because I'm on the card for Monday Night Clash to face him where the winner gets their shot at that big lizard bastard?" she said with a twinge of bitter mirth in her voice.
"RIIIIIIIIGHT. I'm still unable to see why you refereed to that as not being a problem."
"Why? Is he a problem?" she asked; quizzical herself now.
"Oh no, we needn't worry about him. I'm confident that you'll do what needs to be done." he said assuredly with a serpentine smile. A smile that she didn't particularly like.
"Then we're on the same page, yeah?"
"Yeah."
"Good," she said as she leaned forward towards him; her face a frigid emotionless mask "Let's get to business then."
"Go on...." Craig said intrigued.
"Tailor Made," Jessie continued "we're down a member thanks to Doc bein' a dumb bitch and I was thinkin' tha-"
"Hold on a second, MISS LEE." he said; emphasizing her name as a reminder of the role she was supposed to play. "That isn't something that you need to worry over. Mister King i-"
"Is back at home lickin' his wounds like a dog." she finished bluntly. 'I'm not sayin' that we go behind his back or nothin'. Just make sure you run the idea past him and see if we can' get something rollin'."
"i......see." he said with narrowed eyes. "I'll see what I can do."
Chase.
Jackson.
MISTER. ACTION. WRESTLING.
Tell me ~Tell US~ just how worthwhile has it been to routinely sit through countless sessions with your VASTLY overpriced therapist? Better yet, just how much of a return has there been when you've shown time an' again that NOTHING changes?
You're nothing more than the terrible punchline of an even worse dad joke.
Deal with it.
Deal with it and accept the reality of once again FAILING to be anything in regards to the Television strap. 'Cause if TURMOIL reminded us of anything its that you're a complete TOOL who is so easily manipulated, used and done away with. Despite your words you have no viable claim to or have any worth to contribute to the championship that you've said you've wanted to reclaim; to elevate it in a manner only which you can.
However, MISTER WRESTLING.
Let me make it plain to you that YOU didn't EARN this opportunity to face the WOMAN that won the "Trial by Fire" gauntlet that you so STUPIDLY eliminated yourself from like the bloody brain dead spider fucking waste of Action Wrestling roster space that you are. You were HANDED this opportunity by some deluded fool on the odd chance that you MIGHT have some market value left in you......for me to use as a stepping stone as I march my way into Holiday Bash; eyes on the Television strap.
So, CHASE; this Monday Night Clash, when I'm pummeling you within an inch of your meaningless life, just know that for the FIRST time in your miserable bench warming existence you will bear fruit for an existence GREATER than yours will ever me. You, or rather your broken spirit and bloody body, will e further proof that TURMOIL was the TRUE starting point of the Big Titty Goth Dommy Mommy. The people of San Antonio will bear witness to the brutality I'm going to use on you as I place my final STAMP of the declaration ~of the WARNING~ I laid out weeks ago.
I'm going to hurt you, Chase.
I'm going to bruise your flesh.
Break your bones.
Slowly tear apart the stupidly foolish notion etched in your soul that you will EVER be Television Champion again. I'm going to use your blood as ink to sign that contract I'll be getting for a second dance with that lizard lipped lap dog from Devil's Gate. Then, once I'm satisfied with showing you how vast the difference is between us, I'm going to do Action Wrestling a whole a favor and permanently DELETE you from this life.
FATALITY.
LEETHALITY.
They aren't just names, they're going to be the very things that everyone with will remember you by whenever my arm is raised in victory.
They're your epitaph.
Jackson.
MISTER. ACTION. WRESTLING.
Tell me ~Tell US~ just how worthwhile has it been to routinely sit through countless sessions with your VASTLY overpriced therapist? Better yet, just how much of a return has there been when you've shown time an' again that NOTHING changes?
You're nothing more than the terrible punchline of an even worse dad joke.
Deal with it.
Deal with it and accept the reality of once again FAILING to be anything in regards to the Television strap. 'Cause if TURMOIL reminded us of anything its that you're a complete TOOL who is so easily manipulated, used and done away with. Despite your words you have no viable claim to or have any worth to contribute to the championship that you've said you've wanted to reclaim; to elevate it in a manner only which you can.
However, MISTER WRESTLING.
Let me make it plain to you that YOU didn't EARN this opportunity to face the WOMAN that won the "Trial by Fire" gauntlet that you so STUPIDLY eliminated yourself from like the bloody brain dead spider fucking waste of Action Wrestling roster space that you are. You were HANDED this opportunity by some deluded fool on the odd chance that you MIGHT have some market value left in you......for me to use as a stepping stone as I march my way into Holiday Bash; eyes on the Television strap.
So, CHASE; this Monday Night Clash, when I'm pummeling you within an inch of your meaningless life, just know that for the FIRST time in your miserable bench warming existence you will bear fruit for an existence GREATER than yours will ever me. You, or rather your broken spirit and bloody body, will e further proof that TURMOIL was the TRUE starting point of the Big Titty Goth Dommy Mommy. The people of San Antonio will bear witness to the brutality I'm going to use on you as I place my final STAMP of the declaration ~of the WARNING~ I laid out weeks ago.
I'm going to hurt you, Chase.
I'm going to bruise your flesh.
Break your bones.
Slowly tear apart the stupidly foolish notion etched in your soul that you will EVER be Television Champion again. I'm going to use your blood as ink to sign that contract I'll be getting for a second dance with that lizard lipped lap dog from Devil's Gate. Then, once I'm satisfied with showing you how vast the difference is between us, I'm going to do Action Wrestling a whole a favor and permanently DELETE you from this life.
FATALITY.
LEETHALITY.
They aren't just names, they're going to be the very things that everyone with will remember you by whenever my arm is raised in victory.
They're your epitaph.