"You'll Know It When You See It Three"
Mar 7, 2021 22:35:18 GMT -5
Lissie Hope, Ash Blake, and 4 more like this
Post by Trey Bouchet on Mar 7, 2021 22:35:18 GMT -5
The shocking revelation during the main event of Battlefield caused pandemonium backstage. Lissie Hope coming out as Philidor Holdings’s newest acquisition sent production assistants, medical staff, and security scrambling to try and keep an already precarious situation from toppling into full blown bedlam . No one had plexpected the Heroine of Action Wrestling to align herself with the rapacious corporate ne’r-do-wells. Yet, there she was, proudly anddefiantly inserting herself into the title match between Corey Black and Philidor's chess master Ash Blake, laying a Crown of Thorns on the King of All Wrestlers to ensure the Heavyweight Championship remained Philidor property
It wasn’t just the off camera personnel that were stymied by the development. The wrestlers as well were in a state of shock. Not helping matters were those members of the media present who swarmed over any talent within eyesight in search of a reaction that would earn them the most eyes on their content.
This was the situation an already irate Trey Bouchet found himself in as he tromped through the corridors of the Hoosier Arena looking for someone who was taking the news worse than him. His response to the question of the moment was blunt.
“Philidor sucks. What you saw in that ring was a perfect plexample of how vulture capitalists operate. They take something vulnerable, make it an asset, and use it to their own advantage, not caring about the consequences.”
“You’re calling Lissie Hope vulnerable?” one reporter asked.
“All of them are. Lissie, Shaw, even that scumbag Mud. They’re all being plexploited whether they want to admit it or not.”
“Do you see them as victims?”
“No. The Philidorks went into this arrangement with their eyes wide open. They knew the risks, but figured they’d gain more than they’d lose by becoming cogs in the machine. They're wrong.”
A third journalist lended their voice to the Aaron Sorkin-inspired ‘walk and talk’, “You seem awfully sure that Philidor does not have it’s clients' best interests at heart. What would you say to those that argue that Philidor itself isn’t inherently evil, but a paradigm shift away from the traditional face/heel dynamic of professional wrestling?”
“I’d say stop making plexcuses for bad people doing bad things. Philidor sucks and they need to be dealt with.”
"Are you volunteering?"
"Yeah."
It was then the phone clutched in Trey’s hand vibrated. Without halting his truncated stride he checked for messages, his stubby forefinger swiping at the screen.
Trey heaved a sigh of relief and plotted to lose his press accompaniment. There didn’t need to be any witnesses for what was to happen plext.
************
Johnny Bacchus sat cross-legged atop one of Action Wrestling’s rolling box trucks, a spent Juul device dangling from his lower lip. Laying across the young man’s lap was the Pure Championship Belt that he had won earlier that night, an accomplishment that capped off a remarkable run of victories since the rough around the edges scrapper had signed on with the company largely as a goof. What had started a tongue in cheek ploy to remain eligible for unemployment benefits had led to earning that title; and it was the greatest moment in his young life. An hour ago he felt it too; the joy and pride of entering an arena he had previously only been a spectator to, and not only surviving, but thriving.
But life comes at you fast, and now, barely sixty minutes later, Johnny was in no mood to celebrate.
There was a knock at the storage room door.
“Hey, JBac? It’s Trey and Debbie. Can we come in?”
Bacchus smiled ruefully, “Gimme a sec to get decent,” Putting the vape pen away he went into Champ Mode: first by taking the Pure Title and slinging it across his shoulder. Next he hopped off the crate and posed: leaning back against the rounded column in the center of the room, hands in the pockets of his jeans, one foot raised and rested against the pillar’s base , “Ok guys.”
Debra Monroe and Trey entered. It was the first meeting between Deb and Johnny since he had become Pure Champion, so he was immediately favored with a Congratulatory Hug: firm and quick punctuated by several pats on the back. This was followed up with a Conciliatory Hug: longer and softer with plenty of empathetic eye contact.
“I figured you needed both,” she said once the embrace was broken.
The younger man’s plexpression flushed slightly, but otherwise he maintained his composure. With a shrug he snarked, “Ah, it’s all good, Deb. Better to know where everybody stands than to be under any kind of illusion, right?”
“Always,” Trey agreed, “And you can’t be neutral on a moving train.”
Both Debra and Johnny regarded Bouchet silently. Debra appeared apprehensive, as though she was unsure now was the time to discuss what side to take regarding the revelation that Philidor’s latest talent acquisition was one of Johnny’s wrestling heroes, and that where Lissie Hope went, his close friend Mae Ashby was sure to follow.
Bacchus, as could be plexpected, had no problem verbalizing his opinion, “God, give a guy a night to drink the pain away before asking me to go el Che."
The Cajun Catapult nodded grimly, “I hear ya, Johnny. This all just happened, and emotions are raw. You shouldn’t decide now. You need time to process. But eventually you and everybody else are going to have to take a stand regarding Philidor, and I just want to be upfront about my opposing them. I hope you’re cool with that.”
“Of course I am."
"And I don’t mean just sniping at Carter Shaw on Twitter. I’m going to take the fight to Philidor for real. That alright?"
Pause.
"Sure."
“Plexcellent,” Trey held out his hand for Johnny to clasp, which he did, “I might not have the stroke of Corey Black or the strength in numbers of the Following, but I reckon I can give them a little bit of the choux rouge* if I apply the right leverage."
“What’s your plan, Trey?” Debra asked.
“Uh, well, I’m still working out the details,” the Cajun Catapult admitted sheepishly, “My go-to solution of ‘suplexing the hell out of a problem' isn’t plexactly conducive to dealing with an evil multinational. But I think the key to driving Philidor off is by hitting them in their bank account. As long as their involvement in Action Wrestling is profitable they’ll remain invested. We just got to find ways to affect them financially, and part of that means beating them in the ring. If the wrestlers they sponsor aren’t delivering Philidor isn’t going to want to waste money on them.”
“Yeah. It’s like any guerrilla campaign; they’re too big to defeat outright, but if you hurt them enough to say ‘ouch’ they’ll cut their losses.”
“And lucky for me I got a chance to do that,” Trey grinned, “I’m in one of next week’s qualifying matches for the Elimination Chamber.”
This was news to both Debra and Johnny.
“That’s fantastic,Trey!” Deb plexclaimed as she bestowed a Good Luck Hug.
Johnny was equal in his plexuberance, “Yeah! Did I call it or did I call it? Next Action Wrestling Champion right here! Your time’s coming too Deb! The Mugger from Huggerton, Deus Plex Machina, and yours truly Da Soviet GAWD of Toon World, we are the Undercard Revolution, and by Havoc will own this fed!”
“Who are you facing in the qualifier?”
“Sam Kidsgrove,” Trey’s tone was pensive when he name-dropped the Hollywood A-Lister and Action Wrestling mainstay.
“The FINO? Hell, yeah! You can take that guy, Trey.”
“Not going to be easy,” the Suplexpert admitted, “‘course, neither will be taking the belt off of Blake.”
“You can do both, Trey.”
“Debstep is right,” Johnny declared as he draped his arms across both his friends’ shoulders, his mood seemingly lifted, “This is awesome. Just what I needed to hear. C’mon guys, let’s celebrate! I’m in the mood to get tore up!”
Trey nodded, “Sure. Been a while since I went out.”
There was a flash of- something- in Debra Monroe’s eyes. Fear? Guilt? It was only there a moment, but long enough so both men were aware that the idea made her uncomfortable. With a smile she slipped free of the shared embrace, “I’m going to have to beg off, sorry.”
“You sure, Debra? We promise not to embarrass you too much.”
“No, you boys have your fun. Blow off some steam,” Debra insisted, “I got work to do. There were a lot more losers than winners tonight. People in need of some hug therapy. If I’m lucky I’ll be able to cross a few more names off my list.”
The trio said their goodbyes and Debra departed.
“We got to watch out for her,” Bacchus noted soberly.
“Yeah, easy to forget Debra’s got her own demons to deal with. Those hugs are as much for her as others.”
“The look in her eyes when we talked about going out, you think maybe she’s in recovery?”
“Maybe. She’ll let us know if it’s our business,” Trey adjudged before breaking into a smirk, “In the meantime, let me buy you a beer, champ.”
*choux rouge is Cajun slang for “red ass”, in other words, a state of irritation
OOC: Check out this awesome Debra Monroe CD piece for a possible plexplantation of the Huggernaut’s reluctance to carouse with the boys:
actionwrestling.freeforums.net/thread/8422/private-baileys-report-1
OOC: And for a plexcellent look into Johnny Bacchus’s state of mind in the aftermath of Battlefield, read this!
actionwrestling.freeforums.net/thread/8429/puppets-cd-piece
OOC: And a big thank you to both handlers for letting me use their characters for this rp.
“You’re my Mom’s second favorite wrestler, Sam (sorry JBac).”
“I bet that’s true a lot of wrestlers’ moms out there, and I don’t mean that as an insult.”
“You’re super high profile, with your acting and your charity work, and your being a PM too but that’s across the Atlantic and of little interest to my mother; the only time she’s discussing English politics it’s to recap ‘The Crown’.”
“And she does ask me about you, when the topic of Action Wrestling comes up. She was a little bummed to learn that it was you her baby boy would face in the ‘Win in Your In Match’ at Clash next week, because of course she wants me to succeed and fight in the Elimination Chamber. But as a fan, as someone who has lit a candle or two in her day, she wants you to do well too.”
“And, real talk, Sam, so do I.”
“It just can’t be at my plexpense.”
“You’re not a bad guy, Sam, no matter what the current AW locker room in-joke punchline might suggest. You fight hard, you fight the right way, and you don’t back down from a challenge- though, part of the problem currently is you’re not too keen on making them.”
“More on that in a bit.”
“And, yeah, you got a bit of a mean streak. You don’t mind rattling the cages of guys who aren’t comfortable living in their own skin (sorry, Howard Black, not-sorry-at-all, Scoutmaster), and I get it. You operate in three very cutthroat industries: wrestling, politics, and entertainment. “You’re swimming with the sharks constantly, so who can criticize you for giving a would-be predator a metaphorical pop in the snout to keep them off balance?”
“And without going into too much detail, you have had your own addictions to conquer, and you did so with a great deal more dignity than the current poster child for rehabilitation Lissie Hope.”
“So, yeah, Sam, I’m not going to call you out for being a phony or an opportunist, because I don’t think it’s true. You do want to help people. You have helped people.”
“Take Teo Blaze, for plexample.”
“Last fall, around Clash 100 and Mexico, Teo and I had our knock down drag out. He kicked my ass and, worse, made me question a lot about myself. Losing that Suplex Match to him legit shook me. It made me doubt my career choice, because, hey, failing to deliver under circumstances that can only be described as ‘make up booking’ plexposed me as a joke. It hurt. A lot. Eventually, I was able to work through it, thanks to the people in my life who love me.”
“But Teo, even if he did come out of our own personal Trios Tournament undefeated, he was hurting too. He was bitter about losing the Cruiserweight Title to Kaz Mazy. He was tired of people like me unfavorably comparing him to his past persona of Teo Del Sol, the Sun King of pro-wrestling. He was suffering, and he didn’t have anyone there at the time to help. ”
“Until you stepped in and facilitated his reunion with his old pal Andre Jensen. You guided him back on track personally and professionally, and all the people who take their pot shots at you for being a fraud need to acknowledge that.”
“Just as the people who are taking shots are your in-ring work now need to acknowledge how dominant you were the second half of 2020. You beat the next big thing before Carter Shaw in Graham Baker and won the US Title. You proved yourself THE Hollywood Elite by defending it against Shadowlove, and it was you who put the stake in the heart of the monster Bonnie Blue when you two fought for the right to be the Last Guardian Standing. Shit, Sam, it took nine of Action Wrestling’s best, including the company’s Wrestler of the Year, to wrangle the strap off you!”
“And your losses since then, Sam, they all come with asterixis. You had your Turmoil match before Howie bushwhacked you and got Slane to pass out. At Revolution you ko'd Noris Cranley but Downfall swooped in and picked up the deuce. Two titles in your grasp; snatched away at the last second. Similar thing happened at the Battlefield go-home show with Corey Bull and Carter Shaw. You did the grunt work and someone else benefited from it.”
“You must be really pissed off right now, Sam, and I don’t blame you.”
“But this Monday, you got a chance to set everything right. All you need to do is beat me, a guy who was the ‘wrestler to be named later’ in a trade between Action Wrestling’s brands. A compensatory pick for Pasternak when he lost Lissie Hope to CruiserClash for a month.”
“Talent who went on record saying he didn’t want to be here.”
“You pin me, Sam, and that Elimination Chamber spot is yours. And if you win that, everything for you changes.”
“You become an Action Wrestling Triple Crown winner.”
“You get to headline Evolution.”
“You maybe even get a chance to punch your ticket into the AW Hall of Fame.”
“Monday Night Clash is your comeback performance; your Vincent Vega, your Randy ‘The Ram’ Robinson.”
“That’s your motivation to act, Sam Kidsgrove.”
“And if you weren’t facing me, I’d say that would be enough for you to win.”
“But that’s the plextenuating circumstance that’ll keep you out of the Chamber, Sam.”
“Because, Sam, as good as you are, and as bad as you should want this, I want it more.”
“Do not underestimate me just because my niche is ‘funny suplex guy’. I can suplay it straight when I need to, and for this, and for the Elimination Chamber, I need to.
“Let me plexplain my motivation.”
“I did not want to join Clash. I was very happy on CruiserClash. I liked the vibe. It was a bunch of talented, plexccentric people who got to do their own thing and plexpress themselves.”
“But don’t ever think the Cruiserweights weren’t taking shit seriously.”
“The thing about CC, Sam, was that every wrestler on that roster was just a couple wins away from fighting for the brand’s biggest prize: the Cruiserweight Championship.”
“That’s what made CruiserClash so tough; everybody was in contention, and everybody brought it, week after week.”
“There were no ‘consolation divisions or titles’, Sam. It was All or Nothing if you wanted to earn a belt on your own.”
“That’s the mindset I have coming to Clash. Call it being arrogant, call it having unrealistic plexpectations, but if I’m going to be part of this show the title I’m gunning for is the World.”
“Especially since I’d love the opportunity to prove what I’ve always said: CruiserClash is the ‘A Show’.”
“That’s what me beating you and making it to the Elimination Chamber would set the stage for: the after-thought, the CruiserClash plexpatriate, earning his shot to take home Monday Night Clash’s top title in only his third match on the show; that’s a hell of a statement.”
“Of course, there’s still the matter of winning the belt in the Chamber, and while that won’t be easy, Sam, I’m better prepared for it than you.”
“I’m ready for Philidor. I’m ready for Ash Blake. You aren’t.”
“Philidor is a different breed of threat. They aren’t just mustache twirling supervillains like your most recent nemesis James Nightingale, or scheming scumbags like the old Dandy Divito.”
“Blake and the others get you by worming their way into your head; they make their targets questions themselves, and second guess how they do business.”
“It’s how they were able to get Shaw and Lissie to give up their principles. It’s why the normally stalwart Howie is dithering once again after it looked like he’d righted the ship.”
“Shit, they did it to Corey Black. To beat them Black chose to forge an alliance with WALTER, revealing him as both desperate and vengeful, and then, once he was called out on it, he tried shifting the blame to his fellow Man Made God Frank Venable.”
“You can look it up.”
“If Philidor can tie the King of All Wrestlers into moral knots, just think what they can do to you: a guy who right now has to spend valuable time and oxygen proving he isn’t an asshat?”
“And you just aren’t vulnerable because of bad optics, Sam.”
“That fire that fuelled you during your US Title run? It’s plextinguished.”
“That was obvious when your Hollywood buddies had to drag you into a match for the Television Championship against Downfall.”
“You should have been champing at the bit for another shot at that guy, Sam. It was a chance to slap down one of Nightingale’s flunkies, to send a message.”
“Instead, you treated it like an obligation instead of an opportunity, and Fiehl made you pay for it.”
“You aren’t ready for the Chamber, Sam. You’re not ready for the rigors inside it or the mind games that are going to take place before it.”
“I am, because I know plexactly what I am and what I’m about.”
“I’m a guy who has decided all he needs to succeed in this sport is to be able to out-suplex the opposition. It may make me one-note, but it also gives me a sense of certitude that does not waver.”
“It makes me incorruptible, and for Philidor, inplexorable.”
“Which, for you, I’m sorry to say, Sam, is bad news; because on Monday, you’re in between me and them.”
“And that is a role you are not prepared for.”
With Monday Night Clash in Alabama, Trey made the decision to spend the weekend home. A seven hour drive from Houma to Sayre was long enough to be a hardship, but it was worth it to sleep in his own bed and have as much quality time as possible with his boo Fabunni.
Under dimmed lights the young couple spooned on his patched up leather couch watching television. Given his upcoming opponent, the Suplexpert chose something appropriate from his oeuvre.
“That was better than I remember,” he told Fabunni as the credits for ‘The Last Action Hero’ rolled.
“Learn anything useful?”
“Nah. Sam’s just acting. No real tells to suss out. Maybe there’s something in the bloops.”
“You and your bloops.”
Trey used the remote to access the DVD menu, and then the movie’s outtakes. The results were an entertaining, but otherwise fruitless, endeavour. Nothing could be learned from the multiple missteps and flubs shown that would have any effect on how Trey would approach the ‘Win and Your In’ qualifier against Kidsgrove the following evening. Trey turned off the television. Fabunni shifted herself around until she and he were face to face.
“What now?”
“I need to sleep soon if we want an early start tomorrow," he answered, "Thanks for agreeing to come with me.”
“Of course I’m coming. It’s the biggest night of your career, right?”
She smirked.
“This could be the show Katta Pult finally debuts.”
Trey laughed. Wrapping his arms around Fabunni, he sat up while simultaneously pulling her into his lap.
“Now you’ve gone and jinxed it,” he deadpanned before giving his fiancee a quick kiss.
Fabuuni rested her hands on Trey’s shoulders, “I know how big Clash is for you. This is your chance, Trey, to break through to the main event. I’m going to be there for that.”
Another smooch.
“You’re going to beat Kidsgrove, and then go on and kick that Philidor witch’s bony ass. Monday Night Clash wanted you? Well, now they got you, and soon they’ll have you as their World Champion.”
“It's going to be hard. Sam might be in a slump, but he’s no Jay Price. He’s got some pride in himself, and will fight.”
“He’s good. You’re better.”
“Yeah,” Trey nodded, “Sam just has to refocus. Really, if he gets his mind right, and commits to it, he would be one of the few wrestlers on the roster that’s a threat to Philidor out of the ring. He’s got connections as a politician and a celebrity that he could use against them if he wanted that fight.”
“Why doesn’t he then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s like a lot of the wrestlers that don’t see Philidor as the plexestential threat they are, and only something to deal with when they're opposite you on the card.”
Trey leaned back in the sofa’s cushions, “They are legit bad news, boo, and not just in the traditional ‘faction of like-minded douchebags’ sense. When Philidor says they want to take over, they mean it, and they got the talent to do it. Those HR goons are legit beasts. Carter and Lissie are as good as they get in ring, and Ash Blake's scary smart. She found a way to get Olive Adler in some management position despite no one wanting her there. Jim Mud got to perform what amounts a sanctioned hit on Donald Deruty. Everything seems like its falling into place for them and I don't think their done springing new surprises on the fed. If they keep it up, if they can get their hooks deep into Action, they’ll do what parasites like them always do: bleed it dry.”
“It won’t get to that. You all will stop them.”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck yeah, yeah,” Fabunni replied with some vigor. Cupping Trey’s cheeks, she bent forward and kissed him passionately. He responded in kind. The corresponding attempts at canoodling was awkward given the setting, and finally, hurriedly, the duo decided to make the trip to Trey’s room before fully engaging in their assignation, but not before Fabunni whispered one last bon mot as a means to motivate her man for the fights to come.
“Sam Kidsgrove had his time, Trey. You’re the Plext Action Hero."
It wasn’t just the off camera personnel that were stymied by the development. The wrestlers as well were in a state of shock. Not helping matters were those members of the media present who swarmed over any talent within eyesight in search of a reaction that would earn them the most eyes on their content.
This was the situation an already irate Trey Bouchet found himself in as he tromped through the corridors of the Hoosier Arena looking for someone who was taking the news worse than him. His response to the question of the moment was blunt.
“Philidor sucks. What you saw in that ring was a perfect plexample of how vulture capitalists operate. They take something vulnerable, make it an asset, and use it to their own advantage, not caring about the consequences.”
“You’re calling Lissie Hope vulnerable?” one reporter asked.
“All of them are. Lissie, Shaw, even that scumbag Mud. They’re all being plexploited whether they want to admit it or not.”
“Do you see them as victims?”
“No. The Philidorks went into this arrangement with their eyes wide open. They knew the risks, but figured they’d gain more than they’d lose by becoming cogs in the machine. They're wrong.”
A third journalist lended their voice to the Aaron Sorkin-inspired ‘walk and talk’, “You seem awfully sure that Philidor does not have it’s clients' best interests at heart. What would you say to those that argue that Philidor itself isn’t inherently evil, but a paradigm shift away from the traditional face/heel dynamic of professional wrestling?”
“I’d say stop making plexcuses for bad people doing bad things. Philidor sucks and they need to be dealt with.”
"Are you volunteering?"
"Yeah."
It was then the phone clutched in Trey’s hand vibrated. Without halting his truncated stride he checked for messages, his stubby forefinger swiping at the screen.
Deb: Hug Sense Tingling! I think I found him!
Trey heaved a sigh of relief and plotted to lose his press accompaniment. There didn’t need to be any witnesses for what was to happen plext.
************
Johnny Bacchus sat cross-legged atop one of Action Wrestling’s rolling box trucks, a spent Juul device dangling from his lower lip. Laying across the young man’s lap was the Pure Championship Belt that he had won earlier that night, an accomplishment that capped off a remarkable run of victories since the rough around the edges scrapper had signed on with the company largely as a goof. What had started a tongue in cheek ploy to remain eligible for unemployment benefits had led to earning that title; and it was the greatest moment in his young life. An hour ago he felt it too; the joy and pride of entering an arena he had previously only been a spectator to, and not only surviving, but thriving.
But life comes at you fast, and now, barely sixty minutes later, Johnny was in no mood to celebrate.
There was a knock at the storage room door.
“Hey, JBac? It’s Trey and Debbie. Can we come in?”
Bacchus smiled ruefully, “Gimme a sec to get decent,” Putting the vape pen away he went into Champ Mode: first by taking the Pure Title and slinging it across his shoulder. Next he hopped off the crate and posed: leaning back against the rounded column in the center of the room, hands in the pockets of his jeans, one foot raised and rested against the pillar’s base , “Ok guys.”
Debra Monroe and Trey entered. It was the first meeting between Deb and Johnny since he had become Pure Champion, so he was immediately favored with a Congratulatory Hug: firm and quick punctuated by several pats on the back. This was followed up with a Conciliatory Hug: longer and softer with plenty of empathetic eye contact.
“I figured you needed both,” she said once the embrace was broken.
The younger man’s plexpression flushed slightly, but otherwise he maintained his composure. With a shrug he snarked, “Ah, it’s all good, Deb. Better to know where everybody stands than to be under any kind of illusion, right?”
“Always,” Trey agreed, “And you can’t be neutral on a moving train.”
Both Debra and Johnny regarded Bouchet silently. Debra appeared apprehensive, as though she was unsure now was the time to discuss what side to take regarding the revelation that Philidor’s latest talent acquisition was one of Johnny’s wrestling heroes, and that where Lissie Hope went, his close friend Mae Ashby was sure to follow.
Bacchus, as could be plexpected, had no problem verbalizing his opinion, “God, give a guy a night to drink the pain away before asking me to go el Che."
The Cajun Catapult nodded grimly, “I hear ya, Johnny. This all just happened, and emotions are raw. You shouldn’t decide now. You need time to process. But eventually you and everybody else are going to have to take a stand regarding Philidor, and I just want to be upfront about my opposing them. I hope you’re cool with that.”
“Of course I am."
"And I don’t mean just sniping at Carter Shaw on Twitter. I’m going to take the fight to Philidor for real. That alright?"
Pause.
"Sure."
“Plexcellent,” Trey held out his hand for Johnny to clasp, which he did, “I might not have the stroke of Corey Black or the strength in numbers of the Following, but I reckon I can give them a little bit of the choux rouge* if I apply the right leverage."
“What’s your plan, Trey?” Debra asked.
“Uh, well, I’m still working out the details,” the Cajun Catapult admitted sheepishly, “My go-to solution of ‘suplexing the hell out of a problem' isn’t plexactly conducive to dealing with an evil multinational. But I think the key to driving Philidor off is by hitting them in their bank account. As long as their involvement in Action Wrestling is profitable they’ll remain invested. We just got to find ways to affect them financially, and part of that means beating them in the ring. If the wrestlers they sponsor aren’t delivering Philidor isn’t going to want to waste money on them.”
“Yeah. It’s like any guerrilla campaign; they’re too big to defeat outright, but if you hurt them enough to say ‘ouch’ they’ll cut their losses.”
“And lucky for me I got a chance to do that,” Trey grinned, “I’m in one of next week’s qualifying matches for the Elimination Chamber.”
This was news to both Debra and Johnny.
“That’s fantastic,Trey!” Deb plexclaimed as she bestowed a Good Luck Hug.
Johnny was equal in his plexuberance, “Yeah! Did I call it or did I call it? Next Action Wrestling Champion right here! Your time’s coming too Deb! The Mugger from Huggerton, Deus Plex Machina, and yours truly Da Soviet GAWD of Toon World, we are the Undercard Revolution, and by Havoc will own this fed!”
“Who are you facing in the qualifier?”
“Sam Kidsgrove,” Trey’s tone was pensive when he name-dropped the Hollywood A-Lister and Action Wrestling mainstay.
“The FINO? Hell, yeah! You can take that guy, Trey.”
“Not going to be easy,” the Suplexpert admitted, “‘course, neither will be taking the belt off of Blake.”
“You can do both, Trey.”
“Debstep is right,” Johnny declared as he draped his arms across both his friends’ shoulders, his mood seemingly lifted, “This is awesome. Just what I needed to hear. C’mon guys, let’s celebrate! I’m in the mood to get tore up!”
Trey nodded, “Sure. Been a while since I went out.”
There was a flash of- something- in Debra Monroe’s eyes. Fear? Guilt? It was only there a moment, but long enough so both men were aware that the idea made her uncomfortable. With a smile she slipped free of the shared embrace, “I’m going to have to beg off, sorry.”
“You sure, Debra? We promise not to embarrass you too much.”
“No, you boys have your fun. Blow off some steam,” Debra insisted, “I got work to do. There were a lot more losers than winners tonight. People in need of some hug therapy. If I’m lucky I’ll be able to cross a few more names off my list.”
The trio said their goodbyes and Debra departed.
“We got to watch out for her,” Bacchus noted soberly.
“Yeah, easy to forget Debra’s got her own demons to deal with. Those hugs are as much for her as others.”
“The look in her eyes when we talked about going out, you think maybe she’s in recovery?”
“Maybe. She’ll let us know if it’s our business,” Trey adjudged before breaking into a smirk, “In the meantime, let me buy you a beer, champ.”
*choux rouge is Cajun slang for “red ass”, in other words, a state of irritation
OOC: Check out this awesome Debra Monroe CD piece for a possible plexplantation of the Huggernaut’s reluctance to carouse with the boys:
actionwrestling.freeforums.net/thread/8422/private-baileys-report-1
OOC: And for a plexcellent look into Johnny Bacchus’s state of mind in the aftermath of Battlefield, read this!
actionwrestling.freeforums.net/thread/8429/puppets-cd-piece
OOC: And a big thank you to both handlers for letting me use their characters for this rp.
************
“You’re my Mom’s second favorite wrestler, Sam (sorry JBac).”
“I bet that’s true a lot of wrestlers’ moms out there, and I don’t mean that as an insult.”
“You’re super high profile, with your acting and your charity work, and your being a PM too but that’s across the Atlantic and of little interest to my mother; the only time she’s discussing English politics it’s to recap ‘The Crown’.”
“And she does ask me about you, when the topic of Action Wrestling comes up. She was a little bummed to learn that it was you her baby boy would face in the ‘Win in Your In Match’ at Clash next week, because of course she wants me to succeed and fight in the Elimination Chamber. But as a fan, as someone who has lit a candle or two in her day, she wants you to do well too.”
“And, real talk, Sam, so do I.”
“It just can’t be at my plexpense.”
“You’re not a bad guy, Sam, no matter what the current AW locker room in-joke punchline might suggest. You fight hard, you fight the right way, and you don’t back down from a challenge- though, part of the problem currently is you’re not too keen on making them.”
“More on that in a bit.”
“And, yeah, you got a bit of a mean streak. You don’t mind rattling the cages of guys who aren’t comfortable living in their own skin (sorry, Howard Black, not-sorry-at-all, Scoutmaster), and I get it. You operate in three very cutthroat industries: wrestling, politics, and entertainment. “You’re swimming with the sharks constantly, so who can criticize you for giving a would-be predator a metaphorical pop in the snout to keep them off balance?”
“And without going into too much detail, you have had your own addictions to conquer, and you did so with a great deal more dignity than the current poster child for rehabilitation Lissie Hope.”
“So, yeah, Sam, I’m not going to call you out for being a phony or an opportunist, because I don’t think it’s true. You do want to help people. You have helped people.”
“Take Teo Blaze, for plexample.”
“Last fall, around Clash 100 and Mexico, Teo and I had our knock down drag out. He kicked my ass and, worse, made me question a lot about myself. Losing that Suplex Match to him legit shook me. It made me doubt my career choice, because, hey, failing to deliver under circumstances that can only be described as ‘make up booking’ plexposed me as a joke. It hurt. A lot. Eventually, I was able to work through it, thanks to the people in my life who love me.”
“But Teo, even if he did come out of our own personal Trios Tournament undefeated, he was hurting too. He was bitter about losing the Cruiserweight Title to Kaz Mazy. He was tired of people like me unfavorably comparing him to his past persona of Teo Del Sol, the Sun King of pro-wrestling. He was suffering, and he didn’t have anyone there at the time to help. ”
“Until you stepped in and facilitated his reunion with his old pal Andre Jensen. You guided him back on track personally and professionally, and all the people who take their pot shots at you for being a fraud need to acknowledge that.”
“Just as the people who are taking shots are your in-ring work now need to acknowledge how dominant you were the second half of 2020. You beat the next big thing before Carter Shaw in Graham Baker and won the US Title. You proved yourself THE Hollywood Elite by defending it against Shadowlove, and it was you who put the stake in the heart of the monster Bonnie Blue when you two fought for the right to be the Last Guardian Standing. Shit, Sam, it took nine of Action Wrestling’s best, including the company’s Wrestler of the Year, to wrangle the strap off you!”
“And your losses since then, Sam, they all come with asterixis. You had your Turmoil match before Howie bushwhacked you and got Slane to pass out. At Revolution you ko'd Noris Cranley but Downfall swooped in and picked up the deuce. Two titles in your grasp; snatched away at the last second. Similar thing happened at the Battlefield go-home show with Corey Bull and Carter Shaw. You did the grunt work and someone else benefited from it.”
“You must be really pissed off right now, Sam, and I don’t blame you.”
“But this Monday, you got a chance to set everything right. All you need to do is beat me, a guy who was the ‘wrestler to be named later’ in a trade between Action Wrestling’s brands. A compensatory pick for Pasternak when he lost Lissie Hope to CruiserClash for a month.”
“Talent who went on record saying he didn’t want to be here.”
“You pin me, Sam, and that Elimination Chamber spot is yours. And if you win that, everything for you changes.”
“You become an Action Wrestling Triple Crown winner.”
“You get to headline Evolution.”
“You maybe even get a chance to punch your ticket into the AW Hall of Fame.”
“Monday Night Clash is your comeback performance; your Vincent Vega, your Randy ‘The Ram’ Robinson.”
“That’s your motivation to act, Sam Kidsgrove.”
“And if you weren’t facing me, I’d say that would be enough for you to win.”
“But that’s the plextenuating circumstance that’ll keep you out of the Chamber, Sam.”
“Because, Sam, as good as you are, and as bad as you should want this, I want it more.”
“Do not underestimate me just because my niche is ‘funny suplex guy’. I can suplay it straight when I need to, and for this, and for the Elimination Chamber, I need to.
“Let me plexplain my motivation.”
“I did not want to join Clash. I was very happy on CruiserClash. I liked the vibe. It was a bunch of talented, plexccentric people who got to do their own thing and plexpress themselves.”
“But don’t ever think the Cruiserweights weren’t taking shit seriously.”
“The thing about CC, Sam, was that every wrestler on that roster was just a couple wins away from fighting for the brand’s biggest prize: the Cruiserweight Championship.”
“That’s what made CruiserClash so tough; everybody was in contention, and everybody brought it, week after week.”
“There were no ‘consolation divisions or titles’, Sam. It was All or Nothing if you wanted to earn a belt on your own.”
“That’s the mindset I have coming to Clash. Call it being arrogant, call it having unrealistic plexpectations, but if I’m going to be part of this show the title I’m gunning for is the World.”
“Especially since I’d love the opportunity to prove what I’ve always said: CruiserClash is the ‘A Show’.”
“That’s what me beating you and making it to the Elimination Chamber would set the stage for: the after-thought, the CruiserClash plexpatriate, earning his shot to take home Monday Night Clash’s top title in only his third match on the show; that’s a hell of a statement.”
“Of course, there’s still the matter of winning the belt in the Chamber, and while that won’t be easy, Sam, I’m better prepared for it than you.”
“I’m ready for Philidor. I’m ready for Ash Blake. You aren’t.”
“Philidor is a different breed of threat. They aren’t just mustache twirling supervillains like your most recent nemesis James Nightingale, or scheming scumbags like the old Dandy Divito.”
“Blake and the others get you by worming their way into your head; they make their targets questions themselves, and second guess how they do business.”
“It’s how they were able to get Shaw and Lissie to give up their principles. It’s why the normally stalwart Howie is dithering once again after it looked like he’d righted the ship.”
“Shit, they did it to Corey Black. To beat them Black chose to forge an alliance with WALTER, revealing him as both desperate and vengeful, and then, once he was called out on it, he tried shifting the blame to his fellow Man Made God Frank Venable.”
“You can look it up.”
“If Philidor can tie the King of All Wrestlers into moral knots, just think what they can do to you: a guy who right now has to spend valuable time and oxygen proving he isn’t an asshat?”
“And you just aren’t vulnerable because of bad optics, Sam.”
“That fire that fuelled you during your US Title run? It’s plextinguished.”
“That was obvious when your Hollywood buddies had to drag you into a match for the Television Championship against Downfall.”
“You should have been champing at the bit for another shot at that guy, Sam. It was a chance to slap down one of Nightingale’s flunkies, to send a message.”
“Instead, you treated it like an obligation instead of an opportunity, and Fiehl made you pay for it.”
“You aren’t ready for the Chamber, Sam. You’re not ready for the rigors inside it or the mind games that are going to take place before it.”
“I am, because I know plexactly what I am and what I’m about.”
“I’m a guy who has decided all he needs to succeed in this sport is to be able to out-suplex the opposition. It may make me one-note, but it also gives me a sense of certitude that does not waver.”
“It makes me incorruptible, and for Philidor, inplexorable.”
“Which, for you, I’m sorry to say, Sam, is bad news; because on Monday, you’re in between me and them.”
“And that is a role you are not prepared for.”
******************
With Monday Night Clash in Alabama, Trey made the decision to spend the weekend home. A seven hour drive from Houma to Sayre was long enough to be a hardship, but it was worth it to sleep in his own bed and have as much quality time as possible with his boo Fabunni.
Under dimmed lights the young couple spooned on his patched up leather couch watching television. Given his upcoming opponent, the Suplexpert chose something appropriate from his oeuvre.
“That was better than I remember,” he told Fabunni as the credits for ‘The Last Action Hero’ rolled.
“Learn anything useful?”
“Nah. Sam’s just acting. No real tells to suss out. Maybe there’s something in the bloops.”
“You and your bloops.”
Trey used the remote to access the DVD menu, and then the movie’s outtakes. The results were an entertaining, but otherwise fruitless, endeavour. Nothing could be learned from the multiple missteps and flubs shown that would have any effect on how Trey would approach the ‘Win and Your In’ qualifier against Kidsgrove the following evening. Trey turned off the television. Fabunni shifted herself around until she and he were face to face.
“What now?”
“I need to sleep soon if we want an early start tomorrow," he answered, "Thanks for agreeing to come with me.”
“Of course I’m coming. It’s the biggest night of your career, right?”
She smirked.
“This could be the show Katta Pult finally debuts.”
Trey laughed. Wrapping his arms around Fabunni, he sat up while simultaneously pulling her into his lap.
“Now you’ve gone and jinxed it,” he deadpanned before giving his fiancee a quick kiss.
Fabuuni rested her hands on Trey’s shoulders, “I know how big Clash is for you. This is your chance, Trey, to break through to the main event. I’m going to be there for that.”
Another smooch.
“You’re going to beat Kidsgrove, and then go on and kick that Philidor witch’s bony ass. Monday Night Clash wanted you? Well, now they got you, and soon they’ll have you as their World Champion.”
“It's going to be hard. Sam might be in a slump, but he’s no Jay Price. He’s got some pride in himself, and will fight.”
“He’s good. You’re better.”
“Yeah,” Trey nodded, “Sam just has to refocus. Really, if he gets his mind right, and commits to it, he would be one of the few wrestlers on the roster that’s a threat to Philidor out of the ring. He’s got connections as a politician and a celebrity that he could use against them if he wanted that fight.”
“Why doesn’t he then?”
“I don’t know. Maybe he’s like a lot of the wrestlers that don’t see Philidor as the plexestential threat they are, and only something to deal with when they're opposite you on the card.”
Trey leaned back in the sofa’s cushions, “They are legit bad news, boo, and not just in the traditional ‘faction of like-minded douchebags’ sense. When Philidor says they want to take over, they mean it, and they got the talent to do it. Those HR goons are legit beasts. Carter and Lissie are as good as they get in ring, and Ash Blake's scary smart. She found a way to get Olive Adler in some management position despite no one wanting her there. Jim Mud got to perform what amounts a sanctioned hit on Donald Deruty. Everything seems like its falling into place for them and I don't think their done springing new surprises on the fed. If they keep it up, if they can get their hooks deep into Action, they’ll do what parasites like them always do: bleed it dry.”
“It won’t get to that. You all will stop them.”
“Yeah.”
“Fuck yeah, yeah,” Fabunni replied with some vigor. Cupping Trey’s cheeks, she bent forward and kissed him passionately. He responded in kind. The corresponding attempts at canoodling was awkward given the setting, and finally, hurriedly, the duo decided to make the trip to Trey’s room before fully engaging in their assignation, but not before Fabunni whispered one last bon mot as a means to motivate her man for the fights to come.
“Sam Kidsgrove had his time, Trey. You’re the Plext Action Hero."