Post by King on Jan 29, 2024 17:27:52 GMT
The stream begins. Stephen Terrella and Portia are standing side-by-side, mere inches apart, in front of a wall in their club.
"I got a million fucking reasons to be pissed off right now," Terrella grumbles. "Smarten them up to a few, babe."
"Where do I even begin?" Portia asks.
"Oh, I know. Why don't we talk about the fact that we're being forced to board a plane for Long Island... in January. It will literally be cold enough to see the mouth-breathers' breath in the air as they file into the building-- and that is just, ew..." Her face contorts, visibly put off by the prospect.
"For someone with all those digits in his bank accounts, when it comes to booking locations, Roberto clearly can't afford to buy good taste," she complains.
"We could deal with it if Savage By Nature was receiving the World Tag Team Title match that we deserve. That clearly won't be in Long Island, though, now will it?"
"The question then becomes: who do we blame for that?"
"Savage By Nature gave Sanguis Immortalis everything they could handle, and more, the last time we fought-- and yes, that was with Alexandra at our side instead of Brandy. It is so obvious the champions don't want any part of that again though, regardless of who my man is teaming with, or they'd have stepped up by now and given us another match. Everyone knows the royal family of professional wrestling always get what they want, too; and if anyone wants to try to say that's a lie, I'd just like to point you to the the fact that Jennie Fenix is trying to drag another rematch out of Brooklyn after Brooklyn has beaten her like a million times. However, somehow, we can't get one single rematch?"
"Or maybe -just maybe- this is all the Kings of Flight's fault?"
"Stephen and Brandy have already beaten them like a thousand times, but they just won't get out of the damn way so we can properly focus Sanguis Immortalis. First they're upset at me, of all people after Brandy and my man beat them cleanly in a match they picked. Then Charlie and Tyson apparently got their feelings hurt because they didn't like my man's officiating a few weeks ago. Which," she holds up her first finger, taking a dramatic pause, " is insane because he never went to referee school; so maybe you should take that complaint up with the office instead of us. So we finally decide to pay a visit to Sacrifice to remind them of their place, and they have the audacity to be mad at us! Us!!! We wouldn't have done what we did if the two of you weren't such annoying losers, anyway."
"Now it sure does seem as if they're going to try to drag another match out of us, doesn't it?"
Portia shrugs dismissively. "Charlie... Tyson, you should just quit while the two of you still have a shred of dignity between you. I don't want to be the one to start rumors, but the way the two of you keep begging for fights you can't win, it almost seems like Jennie Fenix might be spreading her legs for you on the side; and you caught whatever she has, like some weird type of STD."
Portia turns her body sideways, gluing herself to Stephen's side. She begins to trace her finger gently across his chest as he glares at the camera, gruffly saying, "and this triple threat match against Harper and Fenix is one more thing I should probably be pissed off about. I know what I'm walking into. Yeah, it's a triple threat and all that bullshit-- but I know the score. It boils down to two members of the family -both good wrestlers, no matter how much I fucking hate'em- against just me."
"Thing is, I'm not even pissed."
"Yeah, they're both going to get their shots in. Harper's in it, meaning I'm probably going to fucking bleed; because every time me and Harper stand across the ring from each other, that's just what we do-- we fucking bleed. I'd be a damn fool not to acknowledge the possibility that they may even have a plan to take my ass out. Be a helluva favor for the tag champs, and in that environment, everything is on the table."
Terrella momentarily looks down at his own feet, scratching at his chin with his left hand as Portia rests her head on his right arm. Looking up, he intensely asks: "But either of you thought about what in the hell I just might do to you?"
"Going into one of the biggest shows of the year, anyone think about that shit when they put this match together?"
"The two of them put together don't weigh as much as I do, and they're walking into a match where I can do anything I want to them to win."
"That means if I want to wrap a television cable around your neck, Jennie, and squeeze until that airhead of yours' pops off and floats up into the fucking rafters, ain't nobody going to stop me. Hell, maybe I just peel back the padding at ringside and smash that face of yours into the concrete floor over-and-over again until Chaney can't tell what is nose and what is lips anymore the next time he goes to kiss you. I could do Brook a huge favor, and make sure your ass never sees Metamorphosis -or any wrestling ring, period- for the next twelve to eighteen months. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't enjoy that shit, too."
"I could even go hunting for the head of the kingshit himself, Dean Harper. Mr. World fucking champ himself."
"I'm bringing my tire iron with me, and I just might start on one of your knees, working my way around your body limb-by-limb until I reach that other fucking toothpick you call a leg-- shattering anything I can along the way. I know you won't quit, but that's where the fun in it is, watching your ass try to fucking struggle while I put you in a wheelchair. And the way I see it, I take out the champ, that puts me at the front of the line to be the champ, right? They can't wheel your ass to the ring for title defenses and expect to sell tickets."
"The World belt on one shoulder, and a tag belt on the other sounds damn good to me."
"I'll tell you what this match is more than anything else though-- and that's a chance to send a message to every last one of you motherfuckers."
"I want Jennie Fenix to feel pain, and to leave with a few scars to remind her what I'm capable of."
"I want Dean Harper to feel pain, and to not be able to walk out at all."
"I want the Kings of Flight to watch, and to think long and hard if you're going to try and step up for a fight with me again."
"More than anything else though, I want Angel and Wraith to watch as I dismantle two people you love. The shit that's about to fucking happen, it's on you. It's a hundred percent on you. But just in case you ever forget, you have my word I'll leave just enough left of Jennie and Dean to send back to you so you always have a reminder of the price you paid for keeping my belts from me."
Both Terrella and Portia hold up a middle finger for the camera as the footage cuts.
"I got a million fucking reasons to be pissed off right now," Terrella grumbles. "Smarten them up to a few, babe."
"Where do I even begin?" Portia asks.
"Oh, I know. Why don't we talk about the fact that we're being forced to board a plane for Long Island... in January. It will literally be cold enough to see the mouth-breathers' breath in the air as they file into the building-- and that is just, ew..." Her face contorts, visibly put off by the prospect.
"For someone with all those digits in his bank accounts, when it comes to booking locations, Roberto clearly can't afford to buy good taste," she complains.
"We could deal with it if Savage By Nature was receiving the World Tag Team Title match that we deserve. That clearly won't be in Long Island, though, now will it?"
"The question then becomes: who do we blame for that?"
"Savage By Nature gave Sanguis Immortalis everything they could handle, and more, the last time we fought-- and yes, that was with Alexandra at our side instead of Brandy. It is so obvious the champions don't want any part of that again though, regardless of who my man is teaming with, or they'd have stepped up by now and given us another match. Everyone knows the royal family of professional wrestling always get what they want, too; and if anyone wants to try to say that's a lie, I'd just like to point you to the the fact that Jennie Fenix is trying to drag another rematch out of Brooklyn after Brooklyn has beaten her like a million times. However, somehow, we can't get one single rematch?"
"Or maybe -just maybe- this is all the Kings of Flight's fault?"
"Stephen and Brandy have already beaten them like a thousand times, but they just won't get out of the damn way so we can properly focus Sanguis Immortalis. First they're upset at me, of all people after Brandy and my man beat them cleanly in a match they picked. Then Charlie and Tyson apparently got their feelings hurt because they didn't like my man's officiating a few weeks ago. Which," she holds up her first finger, taking a dramatic pause, " is insane because he never went to referee school; so maybe you should take that complaint up with the office instead of us. So we finally decide to pay a visit to Sacrifice to remind them of their place, and they have the audacity to be mad at us! Us!!! We wouldn't have done what we did if the two of you weren't such annoying losers, anyway."
"Now it sure does seem as if they're going to try to drag another match out of us, doesn't it?"
Portia shrugs dismissively. "Charlie... Tyson, you should just quit while the two of you still have a shred of dignity between you. I don't want to be the one to start rumors, but the way the two of you keep begging for fights you can't win, it almost seems like Jennie Fenix might be spreading her legs for you on the side; and you caught whatever she has, like some weird type of STD."
Portia turns her body sideways, gluing herself to Stephen's side. She begins to trace her finger gently across his chest as he glares at the camera, gruffly saying, "and this triple threat match against Harper and Fenix is one more thing I should probably be pissed off about. I know what I'm walking into. Yeah, it's a triple threat and all that bullshit-- but I know the score. It boils down to two members of the family -both good wrestlers, no matter how much I fucking hate'em- against just me."
"Thing is, I'm not even pissed."
"Yeah, they're both going to get their shots in. Harper's in it, meaning I'm probably going to fucking bleed; because every time me and Harper stand across the ring from each other, that's just what we do-- we fucking bleed. I'd be a damn fool not to acknowledge the possibility that they may even have a plan to take my ass out. Be a helluva favor for the tag champs, and in that environment, everything is on the table."
Terrella momentarily looks down at his own feet, scratching at his chin with his left hand as Portia rests her head on his right arm. Looking up, he intensely asks: "But either of you thought about what in the hell I just might do to you?"
"Going into one of the biggest shows of the year, anyone think about that shit when they put this match together?"
"The two of them put together don't weigh as much as I do, and they're walking into a match where I can do anything I want to them to win."
"That means if I want to wrap a television cable around your neck, Jennie, and squeeze until that airhead of yours' pops off and floats up into the fucking rafters, ain't nobody going to stop me. Hell, maybe I just peel back the padding at ringside and smash that face of yours into the concrete floor over-and-over again until Chaney can't tell what is nose and what is lips anymore the next time he goes to kiss you. I could do Brook a huge favor, and make sure your ass never sees Metamorphosis -or any wrestling ring, period- for the next twelve to eighteen months. I'd be lying if I said I wouldn't enjoy that shit, too."
"I could even go hunting for the head of the kingshit himself, Dean Harper. Mr. World fucking champ himself."
"I'm bringing my tire iron with me, and I just might start on one of your knees, working my way around your body limb-by-limb until I reach that other fucking toothpick you call a leg-- shattering anything I can along the way. I know you won't quit, but that's where the fun in it is, watching your ass try to fucking struggle while I put you in a wheelchair. And the way I see it, I take out the champ, that puts me at the front of the line to be the champ, right? They can't wheel your ass to the ring for title defenses and expect to sell tickets."
"The World belt on one shoulder, and a tag belt on the other sounds damn good to me."
"I'll tell you what this match is more than anything else though-- and that's a chance to send a message to every last one of you motherfuckers."
"I want Jennie Fenix to feel pain, and to leave with a few scars to remind her what I'm capable of."
"I want Dean Harper to feel pain, and to not be able to walk out at all."
"I want the Kings of Flight to watch, and to think long and hard if you're going to try and step up for a fight with me again."
"More than anything else though, I want Angel and Wraith to watch as I dismantle two people you love. The shit that's about to fucking happen, it's on you. It's a hundred percent on you. But just in case you ever forget, you have my word I'll leave just enough left of Jennie and Dean to send back to you so you always have a reminder of the price you paid for keeping my belts from me."
Both Terrella and Portia hold up a middle finger for the camera as the footage cuts.
Well howdy there pardner.