Rise Of The Black Sands- Chapter IV (Finishing Touches)

[King]

April 17th, 2023
Monday, 01:48 p.m. PST
The Black Sands Club

For the first time we see inside of the now, almost fully finished, club that Stephen Terrella and Portia have been renovating after their purchase of the building in the summer of twenty-two.



Portia sits on the edge of the stage with her legs crossed, watching as her fiance, Stephen Terrella, stands by the bar and takes in the scene of what they have built together.

"Finally this shit has come together," Stephen tells Portia.

"I had my reservations at first, but this is really amazing. I can't believe we built this place," Portia says to Stephen.

Turning his head toward her, Terrella says, "We're doing things our way now, babe. Gone are the days when you and I just took what we were given. This is about us making our lives into what we want."

She smiles. "What are you thinking as far as when we open it?"

"We still need to get a liquor license," he says, running his hand over his bald head. "We also need to get the shit with the sound system worked out, and hire some people. But I was thinking Memorial Day weekend, for summer. Night of the Immortals is in being held here in Vegas this year. We're home. It makes sense."

"I want to invite Jenna and Brooklyn," Portia says with an excited tone in her voice. "Maybe Brandy, but she weirds me out a little sometimes."

"Half the time I don't know what the fuck is going through that girl's head, especially lately." Terrella walks over to sit down on the edge of the stage next to Portia. "She probably ain't going to care either way, though."

"She does what she wants, but we can't really be mad at her for that. I'll just invite her to come. If she wants to come, she will anyway." Portia shrugs. "She's been so busy though lately, who knows. Every time I ask her if she wants to hang out to see if we can find some things in common, she can't."

"That girl may be looking for a place to bury Tara when she's fucking finished with her," Terrella quips.

"I'd love it," Portia says with a laugh.

Pointing to a black door with a heavy lock on it in the corner, Portia asks Stephen, "How are we going to go about opening that, though?"

"I need to talk to some people." Terrella rubs at his chin. "That's going to be where the real money is in this place, but I need help, and we need to do it quietly."

Suddenly there is a buzz at the door.

"Fuck," Terrella grumbles at the interruption. "That's probably Wes. I owe him a thousand bucks for the hook up on that note, and I told him we'd be here."

"I still can't believe that worked," Portia says.

"Shit looked real. Had the letterhead and everything." Terrella says, getting up from his spot on the stage. "Let me go get him this money, though. I'll be right back."

"Don't be long," Portia says to Terrella. "I have an idea how we can break in the stage."

--------------------------------

April 19th, 2023
Monday, 12:03 p.m. PST
The middle of nowhere

Stephen Terrella stands firm, his feet shoulder-width apart, with his arms folded against the backdrop of the Nevada desert. Dressed in jeans, his boots loosely tied, but having chosen to go shirtless, he presents an imposing figure. The Invictus Championship wrapped around his waist reflects a glint of light from the sun's rays beating down on it. The short shadow behind him hints to the time: high noon in the wastelands.

His fiancee, Portia, stands by his side, practically joined at the hip. Scantily clad in a low-cut white top, jeans shorts and flip flops; she casts her hair back over top of her left shoulder with the wave of her hand. Her smile is noticeably absent of warmth. It is a knowing curl of the lips, the type that would suggest control over the situation at hand.

"Everyone wants a shot at my man, the Invictus Champion, Stephen Terrella." Portia states, her smile having given way to her speech.

"Wraith wanted another opportunity after he failed to win it on his first try, and we were more than willing to give him one more try with certain... conditions attached. Unfortunately for Wraith, he couldn't control that temper of his after his mommy got roughed up a little bit. He robbed himself of his second opportunity -and he robbed us, too- when he put Stephen on the shelf with an injury. Stephen wanted that match every bit as much as Wraith did because it was our chance to finally put Wraith in our past for good."

"Then there is Matthew Knox, back from his extended sabbatical at whichever retirement home he crawled out of this time." Portia flashes that wry smile she is known for. "Matthew just can't seem to keep my man's name out of his mouth. He made some rather large promises while beating up someone most of the world has never heard of. Which, bravo to you, Matt. I mean just bravo." The mocking tone in her voice is accompanied by an equally deriding slow clap. "Take them where you can get them, am I right? Whatever you need to do in order to stay relevant."

"A bit of free advice though, Matthew: if you have any interest in continuing your longevity in this business, choose a different target. Stephen will make you relevant, but the consequences of that relevancy will be especially painful for you."

Portia folds her arms across her chest, resting her weight on one foot. "Allow me to remind all of you, however, that we're not just handing out title shots like candy. You don't just ask and then receive. Only an absolute idiot like Jennie Fenix would be so very, very stupid. If you want to step in the ring with my champion, earn it. Impress him. Impress me."

"As undeserving and ungrateful as most of you are though for everything my man has done to make that championship -and the Odyssey brand- the most important parts of the IWF, we do have to give someone an opportunity this month. Or so I'm told, anyway. Which brings us to Elijiah Lassister."

"Now, Elijiah, I'm sure you're probably asking yourself why you, right? I could pretend Stephen was impressed by your freakish athleticism. I could pretend we wanted to give a promising young superstar a chance. People have accused me of being dishonest on occasion though, so allow me to share a bit of truth with you: we didn't choose you, Elijiah. We went to the office and after some negotiations, we agreed Stephen would face anyone not named Wraith. We made sure whomever it was though, they had to win an eliminator match first before we put pen to paper for a title defense because we're not stupid. We know the undeserved preferential treatment some families receive around here. They just happened to choose you, Eli."

"Congratulations."

"For once in your professional life you were picked for something."

"I'm sure by now -if your parents still speak to you after the massive disappointment you've turned out to be- you've called them; so, so very excited for this break." Portia unfolds her arms, gesturing with her hands as she speaks. "I'm sure you've called both of your friends with the confidence you're about to make a big move up the ladder here. You're an athletic guy, so you might even have a solid four for a girlfriend, and the two of you may have the champagne already on ice."

"You're playing the moment a thousand times in your head, over-and-over again, when you win this match and earn a chance to fight for the most prestigious title in the IWF."

"You've won nothing though, Elijiah."

"You're a loser."

"You've been served up to become a victim, nothing more."

Portia glances over her shoulder, speaking to Stephen now. "Tell him, baby."

Stephen spits a mouthful of tobacco juice onto the sand beneath his feet. "Lassiter, I don't fucking like you. Hell, I got no respect for you, boy. Guys like you, you're everything that's wrong with this business. Everyone wants to talk about how high you can jump. People on the internet, they talk about how you got all this promise. You're one of those fucking developmental darlings."

"But you ain't a fighter, you're a piece of trash that probably did some cute moves in a tryout and gave someone a hard-on."

"This ain't a dunk competition. It ain't about how high you can jump... how fast you can run. This is about what happens when I ball my fist up and hit you in your fucking mouth. What then? When you're laying on that canvas, ribs hurting and sucking air... and you're running your tongue across your two front teeth just to see if they're still there... what then, Lassiter?"

Stephen stops to spit again, and as he ducks his head a few beads of sweat roll off his head.

"You think that lucha bullshit is going to save you?"

"You think those people you show off for... you think they're going to help you?"

"What are you gonna do... leap to safety?"

"Don't say you ain't got that doubt either, boy. Odyssey is my fucking yard, and I see and hear everything that happens on it. About a month back you was questioning yourself before a match against a guy in a banana costume, talkin' about how you might slip."

Stephen uncrosses his arms, first to crack the knuckles on his right hand, and then to do the same to his left. He emphatically points to his own chest, hammering home his next point: "For nearly six months now, I ain't slipped! Never once thought I might. I've always had a plan, and the physical ability to back that shit up. People might not like what I do, but I get the job done. I don't care about people's opinions or if I get the praise, 'cause they're ain't no money in that."

Tapping the surface of the Invictus Championship, he adds: "I care about this. I care about keeping it. I feel like I got another decade in me, and I'm thinkin' about keeping this belt the entire time. There ain't no way I'm letting someone like you take this away from me."

"If you want to try, go right ahead. You got your shot this Friday to start down that road. Doc says I'm good to go. Won't be anything standing between you and me but air and opportunity. You come for what's mine though, then I come for what is yours'-- your health, your livelihood... your future. I will put your ass fucking down, Lassiter. I will hurt you in ways that you don't get up. And in the end, my girl is going to raise my arm in victory."

"And you, Lassiter..." Terrella smirks. "You're just going to be another name crossed off the list of contenders."

Portia waves at the camera, closing by adding: "We will see you Friday, Elijiah."