Post by King on Nov 13, 2023 6:00:35 GMT
Stephen Terrella and Portia are seated at their bar in the Black Sands, talking, when Brandy Cvetkova walks in. The woman known as the Black Widow takes a seat at the end of the bar, leaving three stools between herself and the couple. Brandy casually slips a cigarette from her pack before tossing her keys and the Marlboro pack onto the bar, almost as if Stephen and Portia weren't even there.
"You got some fucking balls on you," Terrella says to Brandy, watching as she lights her cigarette.
"Yeah?" Brandy shrugs off Stephen's assertion. "Tell my father that. Maybe he'd have stuck around if I'd have been a boy."
A moment of silence ensues between the three as the bartender tries to go unnoticed by wiping down the counter. Terrella raises an empty beer bottle to his lips, which he spits a mouthful of tobacco juice into. "What the fuck do you want?"
"You're asking me what I want?" Brandy snickers at the thought. "I figured this would be about what you want, same as usual. You're in a bind, right?"
Brandy takes a drag off of her cigarette. "You picked a fight with the Kings of Flight, and Alexandra appears to be otherwise occupied teaming with her opponent at Survival of the Fittest. So I knew you were going to call me. You need me. So here I am, saving you the trouble."
"Why in the hell would I call you?" Terrella fires back. "Can't imagine you'd hop off Wraith long enough to fucking help me. So I'll ask you again: what do you want?"
Having already taken another drag off her cigarette, Brandy exhales a puff of smoke. "We're doing games now? Okay, I'll play. I want to fight Chris Diamond, how about that?"
Stephen chuckles. "You want to bleed all over the ring, knock yourself out. I ain't going to stop you. Just don't come asking for my help."
"I get it, that's your old tag partner. You did ask me to fuck over my boyfriend, but it's whatever." Brandy takes another drag. "Maybe I'll just fight Brooklyn then?"
"NO!" Portia quickly interjects. "Absolutely not!"
"My fault," Brandy looks past a visibly pissed Terrella, landing her eyes on Portia. "I didn't realize I needed your permission now, either. I promise I won't scar her pretty little face."
"I don't know who you think you are, coming into our bar, and threatening my friend. But I promise you: if you touch her, there will be hell to pay, you psycho bitch!"
"I hit a nerve!" Brandy starts to laugh.
Suddenly, Stephen slams his fist down on the bar, which resonates with a thunderous thud. "I'm fucking telling you that you're not fighting Brooklyn! Go against me, see what the fuck happens to you, Brandy!"
"There it is…" Brandy flicks her cigarette on the floor. "We're supposed to be equals, but I have rules to follow. Her rules, your rules… maybe Alexandra has some rules for me, too. I'm just a weapon that you want to keep tucked in your back pocket. I don't get the same respect from you that Alexandra gets."
"There a point to all your damn crying," Terrella asks Brandy. "If not, get the fuck out of my club."
"Yeah, there is. I don't want to fight Chris, or Brooklyn. I just wanted to see your reaction. What I want is for my voice to carry the same weight in this group as yours and Alexandra's does, and to maybe not be asked to fuck over my boyfriend in the future. I know there is only one way to get it; and that's to fight you, the same way Alexandra did. So here's the trade- I'll help you with your Kings of Flight problem, but when it's done, you give me any type of match I want against you."
Stephen deposits another mouthful of tobacco juice into his Miller High Life bottle. "You think I'm stupid enough to trust you now? I don't need your fucking help anyway. So you can keep wishing in one hand, and shitting in the other; and you let me know which one fills up first."
"Suit yourself, it's whatever." Brandy shrugs. "But nothing comes free."
"You know as well as I do, you only have three options though. You can drag Alexandra deeper into your mess, and risk fucking up her Invictus title defense. As big as you are, you can go it alone– but you'd still be dealing with two guys, even if one only has one arm. Or you can beg someone, in a company full of people that hate you, to help you out."
Brandy turns her body in her seat to face Stephen and Portia. "How do you think that's going to turn out for you?"
"I've got no reason to screw you over, anyway. If I wanted to, I would have already done it by now. But if you want some assurance, I'll deal. If I don't do everything you ask me to do against the Kings of Flight, I'll sign my career over to the two of you. Then you'll get the mindless weapon you want. I just want to fight you, pawn to King."
Portia leans over to whisper something in Stephen's ear. With a nod, Terrella agrees.
"If that's what you want, I'll have fucking Haynes draw up the papers. Time comes, I ain't pulling any punches on you. But one way or another, you best be everything I need you to be against the Kings of Flight. Do what I brought you here to do." Terrella turns his head to Brandy. "Or I'm going to take your ass out of here real quick."
Brandy hops down off her stool. "I like pain, remember? All you're doing is threatening me with a good time, but there will be time for that later on. For now, I think I'll go, since you have kicked me out a couple times already. Maybe I'll ask around, see how Charlie's arm is."
"Yeah, you do that," Terrella tells her, as both he and Portia watch as Brandy leaves.
********************
One day later…
Stephen Terrella and Portia are set up for filming.
"Tyson, Tyson, Tyson…" Portia says, her voice trailing off at the end. "Is this the big comeback you and Charlie envisioned?"
"How did you really believe this was going to go though? Honestly. Did you really think you were going to walk out, unannounced, and try to make fools of us without there being repercussions? You can't be that stupid, can you?"
"The two of you made the very worst mistake you could've made for both your personal, and professional, health. Stephen is, after all, a very violent man, who has done a long list of very violent things. You don't make a name off of my man. You become a victim."
"But if you don't believe me, or history– just try to flex your arm, Charlie, and then call me a liar."
"Everest," Terrella growls, "I know you want this fucking match. I know you want my blood. I was counting on it."
"I want the fucking match, too, because I'm going to end this shit as fast as it started. I'm going to put your ass back on the shelf with your fucking partner, and the two of you can fuck off.
<End Footage>
"You got some fucking balls on you," Terrella says to Brandy, watching as she lights her cigarette.
"Yeah?" Brandy shrugs off Stephen's assertion. "Tell my father that. Maybe he'd have stuck around if I'd have been a boy."
A moment of silence ensues between the three as the bartender tries to go unnoticed by wiping down the counter. Terrella raises an empty beer bottle to his lips, which he spits a mouthful of tobacco juice into. "What the fuck do you want?"
"You're asking me what I want?" Brandy snickers at the thought. "I figured this would be about what you want, same as usual. You're in a bind, right?"
Brandy takes a drag off of her cigarette. "You picked a fight with the Kings of Flight, and Alexandra appears to be otherwise occupied teaming with her opponent at Survival of the Fittest. So I knew you were going to call me. You need me. So here I am, saving you the trouble."
"Why in the hell would I call you?" Terrella fires back. "Can't imagine you'd hop off Wraith long enough to fucking help me. So I'll ask you again: what do you want?"
Having already taken another drag off her cigarette, Brandy exhales a puff of smoke. "We're doing games now? Okay, I'll play. I want to fight Chris Diamond, how about that?"
Stephen chuckles. "You want to bleed all over the ring, knock yourself out. I ain't going to stop you. Just don't come asking for my help."
"I get it, that's your old tag partner. You did ask me to fuck over my boyfriend, but it's whatever." Brandy takes another drag. "Maybe I'll just fight Brooklyn then?"
"NO!" Portia quickly interjects. "Absolutely not!"
"My fault," Brandy looks past a visibly pissed Terrella, landing her eyes on Portia. "I didn't realize I needed your permission now, either. I promise I won't scar her pretty little face."
"I don't know who you think you are, coming into our bar, and threatening my friend. But I promise you: if you touch her, there will be hell to pay, you psycho bitch!"
"I hit a nerve!" Brandy starts to laugh.
Suddenly, Stephen slams his fist down on the bar, which resonates with a thunderous thud. "I'm fucking telling you that you're not fighting Brooklyn! Go against me, see what the fuck happens to you, Brandy!"
"There it is…" Brandy flicks her cigarette on the floor. "We're supposed to be equals, but I have rules to follow. Her rules, your rules… maybe Alexandra has some rules for me, too. I'm just a weapon that you want to keep tucked in your back pocket. I don't get the same respect from you that Alexandra gets."
"There a point to all your damn crying," Terrella asks Brandy. "If not, get the fuck out of my club."
"Yeah, there is. I don't want to fight Chris, or Brooklyn. I just wanted to see your reaction. What I want is for my voice to carry the same weight in this group as yours and Alexandra's does, and to maybe not be asked to fuck over my boyfriend in the future. I know there is only one way to get it; and that's to fight you, the same way Alexandra did. So here's the trade- I'll help you with your Kings of Flight problem, but when it's done, you give me any type of match I want against you."
Stephen deposits another mouthful of tobacco juice into his Miller High Life bottle. "You think I'm stupid enough to trust you now? I don't need your fucking help anyway. So you can keep wishing in one hand, and shitting in the other; and you let me know which one fills up first."
"Suit yourself, it's whatever." Brandy shrugs. "But nothing comes free."
"You know as well as I do, you only have three options though. You can drag Alexandra deeper into your mess, and risk fucking up her Invictus title defense. As big as you are, you can go it alone– but you'd still be dealing with two guys, even if one only has one arm. Or you can beg someone, in a company full of people that hate you, to help you out."
Brandy turns her body in her seat to face Stephen and Portia. "How do you think that's going to turn out for you?"
"I've got no reason to screw you over, anyway. If I wanted to, I would have already done it by now. But if you want some assurance, I'll deal. If I don't do everything you ask me to do against the Kings of Flight, I'll sign my career over to the two of you. Then you'll get the mindless weapon you want. I just want to fight you, pawn to King."
Portia leans over to whisper something in Stephen's ear. With a nod, Terrella agrees.
"If that's what you want, I'll have fucking Haynes draw up the papers. Time comes, I ain't pulling any punches on you. But one way or another, you best be everything I need you to be against the Kings of Flight. Do what I brought you here to do." Terrella turns his head to Brandy. "Or I'm going to take your ass out of here real quick."
Brandy hops down off her stool. "I like pain, remember? All you're doing is threatening me with a good time, but there will be time for that later on. For now, I think I'll go, since you have kicked me out a couple times already. Maybe I'll ask around, see how Charlie's arm is."
"Yeah, you do that," Terrella tells her, as both he and Portia watch as Brandy leaves.
********************
One day later…
Stephen Terrella and Portia are set up for filming.
"Tyson, Tyson, Tyson…" Portia says, her voice trailing off at the end. "Is this the big comeback you and Charlie envisioned?"
"How did you really believe this was going to go though? Honestly. Did you really think you were going to walk out, unannounced, and try to make fools of us without there being repercussions? You can't be that stupid, can you?"
"The two of you made the very worst mistake you could've made for both your personal, and professional, health. Stephen is, after all, a very violent man, who has done a long list of very violent things. You don't make a name off of my man. You become a victim."
"But if you don't believe me, or history– just try to flex your arm, Charlie, and then call me a liar."
"Everest," Terrella growls, "I know you want this fucking match. I know you want my blood. I was counting on it."
"I want the fucking match, too, because I'm going to end this shit as fast as it started. I'm going to put your ass back on the shelf with your fucking partner, and the two of you can fuck off.
<End Footage>
Well howdy there pardner.