Revelations (joint RP by Stuart Slane and Amelia Abernathy)
Aug 22, 2020 21:03:27 GMT -5
Shadowlove, Lissie Hope, and 3 more like this
Post by Stuart Slane on Aug 22, 2020 21:03:27 GMT -5
Revelations
Red looks at his watch then at Stu. “You’re early,” he says gruffly.
“I’m never early. I’m always precisely on time.” He fires back at him with a coy grin. Red grunts and pushes the gym door open. Immediately Stu’s caught off guard by the sight in the ring. It’s Amelia landing a vicious yet beautiful DDT on…. Azurine Vebbins??? That can’t be right. There’s no way the two would be caught dead in the same room together, or rather if they were it’d be Amelia dead. Slane hastens his pace forward when Amelia kips up like he’s taught her.
“Ezra, how was it?” she barks, back still to Stuart. Suddenly the ring lights up with a plethora of holographic images and charts. Slane stops in his tracks unsure of what to make of things.
“Ninety-eight percent completion rate, Miss Abernathy,” replies an intelligent, distinguished voice of British tone. “Your angle of drop needs to be adjusted by point 4 degrees to reach perfect compatibility with Subject Matter Expert.”
Amelia slides her fingers expertly across the holographic landscape and isolates two slow motion videos - one of her a moment ago executing the DDT on Azurine, and the other of a man with long hair and a epic mustache with snake designs on his tights doing the same styled DDT. She begins studying every minute detail.
“May I introduce myself to Mr. Slane now or do you still want me to wait?”
Amelia whips around and sees her trainer there gobsmacked.
“Stu? (checks watch) you’re early.”
“What is... this?”
Stu gesticulates at the holographic display floating around Amelia and the seemingly unconscious Adorkable Angel laying at her feet.
“Independent practice. You’ve dragged your feet on teaching me moves with actual impact, so I have come up with one.”
Amelia grabs a handful of Azurine’s hair. Jerking her up, she puts her in a front facelock, does a little hop, and then falls backward, again savagely driving Vebbins headfirst into the mat. Stuart rushes the ring and rolls inside to check on Vebbins. He’s startled when Azurine suddenly sits up Undertaker style and looks at him before fully coming to a stand. It’s only now at closer inspection that he realizes it’s not Azurine at all but… a robot? Cyborg? Cybot? Roborg?
“Was there an estate sale for Jay Omega?” Stu asks while rising and cautiously examining the android. When he accidentally steps into one of the hovering images he flinches on reflex.
“Pft, no,” Amelia clucks. She disperses the holograms, “I built Ezra.”
“Ezra? That’s the robot’s name?”
“Not just the robot; it’s the entire OS.”
“OS?”
The Villain of Virtue shook her head , “Operating System. Ezra’s an AI program.”
“AI is an abbreviation for Artificial Intelligence, Mr. Slane,” Ezra offered hopefully helpfully.
“That’s amazing,” Stuart blurts out, looking at Amelia with newfound respect, “I know such things are possible-Polar Phantasm had his Iceberg Six supercomputer; but you built this?”
“Yes!” Amelia answers again, frustrated with the line of questioning, “What’s the issue here, Stuart? Is it because I’m a girl and, like, *giggle* Math is soooooo hard!”
Amelia cocks her hip and throw backs her hair so her posture complements the ‘dumb blonde’ aesthetic her affected baby-voice intends.
Stuart is rightfully chastened.
“No.”
“You can believe a dirtball stoner with a brain turned into oatmeal from so many deathmatches is capable of building something like this, but not me?”
“That’s not what I meant at all.”
Stuart thinks back to the impressive display of science trophies and awards he’s seen throughout the vast Abernathy estate. He recalls the picture of her in her cap and gown, holding a degree, while her younger brother Logan looks on with pride.
“It’s not even a fair comparison, really; the Iceberg OS is a damn Speak N’ Spell compared to Ezra,” Amelia glares at Stuart in anticipation of an apology.
She gets one, “I’m sorry for doubting you. This is a side of wrestling to which I’m not accustomed. My footing is more sure on terrain more, ah, grounded. Leave the science fiction to professionals like the Guardians, I’ve always felt. Aheh.”
“How can it be fiction if it’s staring you right in the face, Stu?” Amelia nods to “Azurine Vebbins” and its deadeye gaze, “Methinks you owe Ezra an apology as well.”
“That would be unnecessary as I am not programmed to react to stimuli that provokes or relieves the emotion denoted as ‘grief’. Also, my biometrics scan of Mr. Slane shows he suffers from higher than normal levels of anxiety, and forcing him to interact with myself on an interpersonal level will merely exacerbate his unease.”
There’s an awkward pause. Eventually Slane chuckles.
“You’re right, you’re right. Sorry. Still trying to take it all in; very remarkable.”
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at,” she replies with disappointment.
Stuart is surprised by Amelia’s melancholy. Normally so confident and proud it’s odd that she’s frustrated about her clear scientific acumen. By building Ezra, she shows brilliance that could change the world. Why be upset about that?
Perhaps a better question is how badly did Logan’s accidental death so affect her that she has spent the last seven years trying to wipe out the tiny niche of the world she feels is responsible instead of putting that mind to good use?
Stuart put a pin in those quandaries, choosing instead to discuss the reason Amelia was using Ezra in the first place.
“Speaking of Ezra, though, why do you even need a trainer if you have him erm her erm it? That kind of tech?”
She sighs. “Ezra can tell me how much PSI an opponent has behind their punches and kicks, what kind of speed burst ratio they have from one end to the ring to the other, and how much leverage I can use to hold someone down for three seconds in a roll up. What Ezra can’t account for is heart, grit, ingenuity on the fly, innovation, ring psychology and Ezra isn’t flesh and blood; I can’t get a good grasp on the physicality aspect like I can with you.. Basically where Ezra ends, you begin, Stu.”
“I see. Thank you, I think?” He cocks a brow.
“Plus you were dragging your feet on flash finishes so I wanted to get a head start. I like the DDT. It’s fast and can be delivered out of nowhere. I can dish out a lot of pain with it, which is what I want and what they deserve. They need to feel my pain. I’ll even ‘rassle it up’ with a cool name like you did your maneuvers.”
“I think you just did. Feel My Pain has a nice ring to it for a finisher and it’s symbolic,” He shrugs and leaves the decision up to her.
Her enthralling blue peepers light up. “I like that. Hmmp. Yeah. They’ll feel my pain!”
Their scheduled sparring session follows. This week the lesson is the victory roll from the ring corner. It’s a dull, plodding grind, but eventually Amelia’s able to execute the move; pitching Stu ass over tea kettle and catching him in a pinfall during the follow-through. The exhausted duo wisely choose recovery over celebration; sitting in opposite corners of the ring to hydrate and oxygenate during their break..
“You did well today,” Slane tells her after a long pull from his bottled water, “Efficient. Ruthless.”
“Tired, hurt,” she adds between labored breaths and guzzling down her water like it’s the last bottle on earth.
“That must continue if we are to have any chance of winning at Uprising.”
“I hope you know what you’re doing with this partner stuff.”
Slane smiles while admitting, “I never expected this. Neither of us signed up to be partners but I think we can make it work.”
“I hope so,” she remarks with the prettiest little smile - a practiced one - practiced to perfection. Of course she hopes so. This is a free ten month ride to her freedom. Stu does most of the work and she stays out of harm’s way. Win or lose she is sitting pretty at the end.
The two sit in silence briefly. Then, Stuart confesses something that for the moment seems tangential.
“Now, back when I truly was Scoutmaster, we’d have made it work no question. Much what you believe now I felt true then: wrestling was a garbage sport filled with shiftless reprobates and only I had the moral courage to stop them.”
She cocks her head to the side with interest.
“We would have been a sight; me in my sash of merit badges and kerchief, you in your pink Generalissimo ensemble, united in our mission to rid WCF of all its negative influences. We would have failed, but our attempts would have been interesting.”
“You looked ridiculous in that garbage, like some roided up overgrown 12 year old Boy Scout who got lost on the trail and wound up in a wrestling ring. Ha! But let’s get one thing straight, YOU would have failed because you’re a half measure man. I would’ve succeeded because I’m a full measure woman.”
He almost argues, but stops himself. Did it really matter how dedicated he was to cleaning up the Wrestling Championship Federation? All he would be admitting to was that yes, he was super serious when he futilely and repeatedly rammed his head into the proverbial brick wall. Instead he creeps closer to the true purpose of his nostalgia.
“Of course, I’m not Scoutmaster any more;” Stu leans back against the ringpost, “Lost the rank when I was excommunicated by the BSA; lost the mindset a year or so after that. It’s the best thing that could have happened. I know some want to see that side of me again, but I was miserable as Scoutmaster; a self-righteous bully who attacked others for their perceived flaws rather than turning that critical lens inward where it would have done some actual good.”
She rolls her eyes.
He gets to the point, “What made me a better man was this sport. Jeff Purse: you’ve heard of him?”
“Who hasn’t?” She replies with a sarcastic scoff.
“Jeff kept it simple. He said what goes on between the bells determines the kind of person you are. If you fight hard; if you resist those temptations to cut corners; if you show honor to the traditions of the sport; then you’re a good guy. He believed that I could do those things, and when I proved I could, wrestling suddenly became enjoyable. Now when I succeeded I knew every win counted, and when I failed I could take satisfaction in knowing I made the best possible effort.”
“And when you lost because someone cut a corner on you, you could use it as an excuse in place of failure”.
“I never make excuses anymore, Amelia. That’s one of the things that’s changed about me since taking Jeff’s message to heart. It’s my big lesson for you, Amelia. It’s why I asked to be your trainer. I want you to learn what I learned. Not so much to be a good guy in the ring- I won’t force you into that role- but that this sport has a positive influence on people. It saved me, it’s saved others. I think it’s saved more lives than it’s ruined. Wrestling has a higher purpose. I truly believe that. You see the dark side to it fine, better than most of us, and you should call wrestling out when it fails to meet expectations. The problem is you are blind to what is good about wrestling and that blindness is what makes you lash out and try to destroy it. And that’s something I can’t allow.”
Amelia tsks at him and wags a dainty finger.
“Now you see? That’s where you’re wrong. The difference between you and I is objectivity vs subjectivity. You’re subjective. You’re led by ideals and emotions. I’m objective. I’m led by statistical data, verifiable sources, tangible evidence. Studies were done using public health records and professional wrestling publications from January 1st 1985 through December 31st 2011, and guess what? The death rate among professional wrestlers was 6.4 times GREATER than that of the general population - and that was just deaths attributed to cardiovascular diseases. That’s not including the enormous amount of suicides and car wrecks from wrestlers being too sleepy to keep the car on the road, nor does it account for scores of other deaths.”
She bolts to a stand all riled up over the subject.
“WALTER is a serial killer, gets top billing, world champ runs, even some cheers. Yeah, REAL POSITIVE, Stu. Oblivion is a rapist, murderer, and baby killer - he’s still on the roster. Real positive! Victor Henry Stevens’s fate? Reeeaaaal positive. Raging Dead? His killers got awarded a tag contract and Frank was momentarily booked in All-In. Then when Torture dug into his mangina far enough to actually retrieve his balls, his big action was?”
She belts the most annoying belly guffaw Stu’s ever heard.
“A lawsuit. HA! Not a termination. Not having him or the Hangmen arrested. Nah. A lawsuit.”
Amelia does her best Tort face and mockingly shakes her fist into the air triumphantly.
“I am the great Torture! I showed them real good with that lawsuit. That’ll teach them to never murder anyone on one of my programs again.”
She marches across the ring like a banty rooster toward Stu and thrusts her hands on her heavenly hips. She bends at the waist, getting in his face, not concerned with her cleavage in his sightline.
“And you, Mister, have been largely silent on it. Even now when Tort dropped the lawsuit and turned Raging Dead’s death into a ratings grab, not a peep from you. You’ve lambasted me over smaller things than what Torture is doing; you’ve remained silent when Miss Infinitychins called me the C word and Miss Piggy and the body shaming but the moment I do something similar to her or someone else you profusely apologize for my actions and treat me like I’m deplorable as fuck. Stu, the only positive thing in professional wrestling right now is me. Using the vaunted Eye Poke of Doom I destroyed Oblivion; I saved the Television Title division from that murderous scum and you criticized me for it.”
The Villain of Virtue flicks him on the forehead. This prompts Slane to bolt to a stand, not taking kindly to the rude thump nor her mouthy but impassioned diatribe. She remains defiant and won’t give him any space, still there with her hands on her hips.
“I don’t think positive means what you think it means. We have two very different definitions for it. I don’t even know why you’re telling me this stuff now all of a sudden.”
“I am telling you these things now because if we’re going to be partners we must trust each other and I don’t want to keep secrets from you. Partners should not do that. Over the next ten months I’m going to do all I can to convince you my way is right. I think wrestling will do for you what it did for me, and I know you could be an incredible asset to this business if you wanted.”
He pauses, allowing himself a slight, triumphant smirk.
“You’ve already started, in your own way. Remember that sense of satisfaction you had when you ‘saved’ the Television Title from Oblivion? You struck a landscape-changing low blow that ‘allowed’ Claire Hawkins to eventually become that division’s champion. Would you have considered that act an accomplishment if you didn’t care about this sport even in the most minute capacity? Someone who sees wrestling as beyond redemption shouldn’t give two figs about who wins and who loses.”
“Oooohh no, don’t try reverse psychology with me.”
Stu tosses up the Scout’s Honor gesture.
“I’m just using the Amelia Method. What I said was factual, verifiable, sourceable, certified. You literally just said it. I was just going by your own guidelines.”
Her pretty pink panties are in a bunch now. Her jaw drops at the audacity of his remarks, despite them being valid. Never had she been so decisively bested on a point. She attempts a rebuttal but the drill buzzer sounds off letting them know the break’s over and they must get back to training. Her mesmerizing ocean eyes are flashing with flusterment as she backs up to her side of the ring.
“Saved by the buzzer, Stu. Just know that you’ll have a better chance of changing someone's opinion on their Facebook post before you’ll ever change my opinion on professional wrestling.”
Choosing to savor this small victory in silence, Slane does not reply. He assumes a combat ready posture and beckons Amelia to bring it.
Let’s Find Stuart Slane a Tag Team Partner!
The Official Online Newsletter of the Friends of Stuart Slane Committee
What’s Amelia mad about? Wrong answers only!
Update August 21: AberSlane is Legitimate
Some of you are happy; most of you aren’t. What cannot be disputed is that after three months of searching, Stuart Slane has found his tag team partner: Amelia Abernathy. As a result this will be the final entry to the weblog. The site will no longer post new content but remain open for archival purposes. There are plans to create a page that will chronicle the progress of Stuart and Amelia as they compete in Action Wrestling. Check your email for updates on that. For now, please read a personal thank you from the ex-Scoutmaster, along with his take on recent events.
I thank the Friends of Stuart Slane Committee for their support over these months. It has been a curious journey, and one leading to a destination I did not expect when I started. However, I have arrived and I am content.
Some of you aren't, and I understand. Amelia Abernathy represents everything we should hate about this sport. She has no regard for its rules and traditions. She belittles those who put their bodies on the line to provide us with entertainment and inspiration. She is, in many ways, a bad person.
But she will be a great wrestler.
Amelia is almost there. There is a rating system in this business that has three criteria: Look, On the Mic, and Wrestling Ability. She has the first two locked down already. There’s no denying her physical appeal or gift of gab. All Amelia lacks is technique. When she masters that she will be a true triple threat.
I’m going to make the controversial statement that Amelia’s lack of fighting prowess isn’t much a drawback now. She’s beaten more technically sound opponents in the ring on her own. In the AW Tag Division there is evidence that workrate is a prerequisite for success.. Love or hate how they do it but the Adlers win when it counts. They’ve beaten the best this company has too often to be seen as merely lucky. AberSlane can follow their blueprint and become champions. We’ll prove that at Uprising.
Even if Amelia wasn’t so talented and didn’t have so much potential, there is another reason I am confident our team will prosper. We trust each other because we rely on each other. I’m not ignorant to the fact she sees me as a buffer to the violence that awaits her between the ropes. That’s fine. That’s what I’m built for. I want to be in the ring competing; testing myself against the best. Amelia’s disinterest in bearing her ‘fair’ share of the workload is a feature; not a bug, to our arrangement.
I’ve been labeled ‘simp’ for this; but that’s wrong. Since the Havoc Rumble I’ve had one goal in mind: winning the Tag Team Championships. For weeks I fruitlessly debased myself in search of a partner. The situation became so embarrassing Action Wrestling brokered for me a glorified pity date. That lasted one match and led to me taking a baseball bat to the jaw courtesy of my temporary teammate Jason O’Neal.
And the less said about the open challenge with Shadowlove the better.
Now, though, I have a partner. One who needs me as much as I need her. One through her actions has guaranteed me a shot at the very thing I’ve been seeking for not months, but years. Ever since my failure as Tag Champion in WCF I’ve wanted to redeem myself by earning that title again. Now, I’m one victory away from doing just that here in Action; all thanks to Amelia Abernathy.
So, ask yourself: who’s truly using who?
- Stuart Slane
Location: Gorilla position
When: Moments before the Tag Title match at Uprising
The stagehand throws his hands up at Stu, asking where his partner is since they’re set to go out in five minutes. Slane sighs, shrugs, and advises him of Amelia’s propensity for lateness.
“Nuh-uh. I’m never late. I’m always precisely on time. How many times must we go through this, Stu?” Slane sighs some relief hearing her voice and turns to her.
“What in the world?” He’s surprised to find her decked in a brilliant rhinestone studded robe.
“I saw your blog post about me. It was actually really nice of you to do that. You also conceded that my lack of wrestling skill isn’t a drawback because I’m more cunning than these knuckle draggers that fumble fuck around in the ring. You’re seeing things for what they are, not how you want them to be. That’s a brave step forward.”
Stu is too relieved to see his partner to argue. Instead he asks the obvious question, “What are you wearing?”
“Because of those concessions by you I’ll return the favor and concede that your post did actually make me smile. Savor the flavor cause it might not happen again. It also spurred the competitive side of me and now I can’t let you get away with the high talk about me. I have to outdo you.”
She sheds the robe revealing her sleek form is clad snugly in a sleeveless lycra bodysuit cut to the mid-thigh. The fabric is a blend of icy blues and fiery reds with the AberSlane tagline of “Villainous” and “Virtuous” stenciled down the sides. She does a quick twirl, revealing the faces of Stu and Amelia airbrushed on the back. The new gear is gaudy, garish, and over the top.
Perfect for a wrestler.
Stuart grins, “You look more the part than I do. And think: in just a short while you’re going to earn an impressive accessory to go with that outfit. Are you ready to win those tag belts, Amelia? Ready to be a champion, and represent a company and industry you despise?”
“I’m ready to earn a SOLID week reduced from my sentence,” She says, following with a deliciously excited smile. “You can carry those ugly fake gold glued onto cheap leather things around if you want when we win them. I wouldn’t be caught dead with one around my waist. It would depreciate the value of this expensive ensemble and my net worth. Red, water me.”
Red extends a water bottle and waters her.
“Plus I can’t wait to plunge the wrestling world into their darkest age when I’m announced as one of their champions. Oh those tears. I’ll use them to salt my foods with. Yes!”
It’s not the answer Stu wanted but he isn’t about to argue. She was motivated to win, and that’s all he could ask for considering the alternative.