Making a statement (All)

[Sexpert]

Ever since he was a child, Sexpert had always done what commoners refer to as "owning the room". His mere appearance ensnared all eyes in the web of his beauty, his style immaculate, his appearance flawless, his allure endless.

Whenever Sexpert would walk the street, heads would turn and both men and women would ask themselves, "Who is that beautiful man?", "Is he a movie star?", "he must be a model!", "he cannot be real!".

All of these are true, except that Sexpert is real and REW is lucky enough to have witnessed him in action. Perhaps the time has come to see him in action again.

Sara Stone sits in her garbag dump of an office, beneath a crooked portrait of a drugged out Scotty Raven, with a picture of a passed out Seth on her desk. The sole REW administrator angrily pounces away on the keys of her equally filthy computer, trying to communicate with some lower class indy stars in the hopes they would show interest in her rotten ruin of a company.

The door into this dark disgusting abode swings open and it as if the stars themselves found themselves attached to the ceiling, as the room lights up, the beaming figure of Sexpert standing in the doorway, clad in only a towel.


Sara : May I help you?


Says Sara, without even taking her eyes off her ketchup splattered computer screen.


Sexpert : Yes, yes you may. For I am here to save this place!

Sara : Heard that before, you won't show up for any of your matches, NEXT!

Sexpert : But wait! Tis a lie! I have sat at home and I have seen the horrible way you contorted your already average face! Your average everyday looks were turned into something horrific as you spat into the microphone about closing this place down!

Now now, it may not be much, but a man as beautiful as me can ever have too few cameras on him, and too few channels to be on! I beg of you to stop this nonsense, for I am here and your company is...SAVED!

Sara : Uh huh, next...




Will Sara punish the beautiful Sexpert for his indiscretions already?

[The Messenjah]

Me: What makes you think you can save REW? Come next Monday I will walk out to the ring and putting REW on Hiatus until further notice.. Past weeks wrestlers have been dropping and some of the roster that's here just stop showing up to there matches.. No one is showing interest here right now that's why I'm going to close down REW and when we start back up with new wrestlers and a new arena..

I look up at Sexpert..

Me: Now get out of my office so I can think about things...


T.B.C.B?

[whitewidow]

Like my aunt Flo or Sirius' herpes, Sexpert makes his periodic visit to REW. Sara Stone defies all narrative convention and, rather than be swept off her feet by the towel-clad sexual stallion, kicks him out of her office and rests her head in her hands, thinking about just what to do with the crumbling company as it falls down around her ears. Stunned, Sexpert tries to shake off this setback, and I drop the alliteration as quickly as I catch his eye on my way to see the boss.[/i]

Sexpert: Well hello, there. Indeed, greetings and salutations, my most sultry sprite. What brings--

White Widow: Drop it. We all know how this works. You turn up, slither around with that oily body of yours, and slip right back off into the night for a few weeks. If you were here to do what REW is supposed to do, you would have went to the ring, or done something about Sung Ho and his stupid trash truck that wrecked my plans for revenge.

Sexpert: There is nothing sexy about vengeance.

White Widow: You're kidding, right? The perfect trap, set so elegantly; the patience as it slowly curls around the victim like the legs of a spider; the payoff, when they realize just who did it to them, and why. No sexual thrill comes close to the ecstasy of springing the trap, snapping the jaws, seeing the predatory past catch up with its prey. At least I saw his face as he flew off the roof... and at least I don't have to hire a lawyer to fend off charges of murder.

Sexpert: What about your brother? Surely he'd work pro bone-o? Ah-ha-ha!

White Widow: I don't think they let dogs into courtrooms. Anyway, my brother's predicament is so much like REW. Can't teach an old dog new tricks, and it seems like all our old tricks have run out. You want to prove me wrong? Hold your nose and wade into the landfill, find me Trash, and finish the job. If he is done and dusted, I might just pull the last rabbit out of REW's dilapidated hat.

With that, I sidle past Sexpert, arcing back like a cat to keep my chest from rubbing against his oiled exterior. I enter the office of Sara Stone, and close the door behind me.[/i]

TBC by ?

[The Messenjah]

I look up and I see widow walking into my office..

Me: Yes what brings you hear Mrs. Widow? I have alot on my plate right now I have things to figure out before next Monday..You know what I'm talking about if you have any ideas I am open to them..I have to figure how to save this place because my so called partner left without saying anything I been seeing him on the cameras being here but he doesn't do anything thing but come here and leave without saying anything...

So since your in here what do you want?

TBC?

[whitewidow]

White Widow: What do I want? Good question. I have achieved all I could want here in REW. I have been the world champion. I have resurrected John Michael White, brought him back from the grave after piecing together all the pieces. It didn't quite go according to plan, but I did it. I have avenged his death, too, or at least had the satisfaction of seeing Trash realize his past was coming back to haunt him, the pigeons were coming home to roost. And I've done all of this pretty much on my own, never being tested, never being thwarted, never diverted by anything except Sung Ho's drunken steamrolling.

What I want is competition. What I want is a community. What I want is to not be a big fish in an empty pond.

Sara Stone: And what am I supposed to do about it?

White Widow: If you have to ask, you can't help me.

[nathanpriest]

Before...

: I think you are ready, kid.

Persperation matted his face, his semi-permed out fro laying across his head. For the first time in the many month of tortuous training, Nathan O'Farrel smiled. The words were a sweet melody the likes of things he had never heard and floored him, taking his feet from beneath him as he dropped to his butt, down into the corner of the ring.

The man, one of his three trainers, stood above him, sweat running down his body and his caramel colored chest turning a bright red from the repeated strikes he had just endured. He smiled a cheshire smile, knowing that even though he had knocked down his student, his student had finally done what many men couldn't. He hurt him.

: You're losing your touch, Jayson.

Jayson looked to the outside of the ring, flipping off one of the other trainers as Nathan laughed.

Jayson Ray: Fuck off, Worship. The kid is good.

: I'll say.

Blake looked to his side, agreeing with the small, blonde haired man who had been running Nathan ragged for over a year now with his unbelievably tortuous training.

Blake Worship: Cloud is right. Nate the Great over here is ready for the big time.

Jayson Ray: Just in time too.

Jayson walked over to Nathan, outstretching his hand. Nathan looked up at him, eyes wide-half from exhaustion and half from legit fear of the demon standing in front of him. For over a year, Jayson had beat the life out of him, day in and day out. He had had teeth knocked out, only to be put back in later. He had been knocked unconscious more times than he could count and yet, with all of that, he reached out and took Jayson's hand. Jayson, offering to pick you up after he had knocked you down, was the greatest sign of respect.

Jayson Ray: The three of us came from REW. We are sending you in to save it. We'll show up as soon as we can but just don't let it die, Nate.

Nathan nodded. He understood his mission.

From outside of the ring, Cloud spoke.

Cloud Strife: So, have you thought of a name yet?

Nathan thought for a sec then looked to Blake.

Nathan: I have, if it is okay with you.

Blake nodded in response. Nathan smiled.

Nathan: Yeah...for now on, call me Priest...Nathan Priest.

Now...

White Widow: If you have to ask, you can't help me.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Sara's ears perked up as she and White Widow looked to the door.

Sara Stone: Whoever this is, it better be good.

Slowly sliding open, their eyes narrowed as they focused on the figure who walked through. Tall and lean and skin the color of mocha, the man smiled in the most devil may care way possible.

Sara Stone: Who in the bloody hell are you?

: Aye. The names O'Farrel. Friends call me Nathan. But, I believe here, you would call me Nathan Priest.

White Widow: Huh?

She looked to Sara Stone.

Sara Stone: Did you understand a bit of that.

White Widow: I couldn't understand anything under that thick Irish accent.

Nathan Priest: I apologize for me horrible accent. Couldn't out grow it. Queen Mab hereself couldn't get rid of it. But, that isn't why we are here. I couldn't help but overhearing that you have a problem with competition here.

White Widow: Yeah.

Nathan smiled, dragging his hands up along his sides and prepping his mowhawk.

Nathan Priest: I believe I can help with that.

TBC?

[OOC: I'm so sorry it took so long! Better late than never!]

[whitewidow]

Nathan Priest thinks he can help. Just what I need, a priest wanting to get to grips with me. It's Catholic school all over again. How I miss Mother Mayhem. And don't ask why a Jewish girl went to a Catholic school, it's not as if there were many synagogues in Dublin town.[/i]

White Widow: Top of the morning to you, laddie.

Priest turns to me, squaring his broad shoulders, sceptical look crossing his face.[/i]

Nathan Priest: I thought you couldn't understand my accent.

White Widow: It takes a little getting used to, been a while since I heard the old brogue of leprechauns living in the fields like yerself.

Nathan Priest: Och, a city gurl are ye?

White Widow: I survived Dublin without a drink problem, if that's what you mean.

Nathan Priest: Well are you going to put your fists where your feckin' mouth is? You want competition, and I brought it fresh off the boat.

I sniff the air, a theatrical trick I learned from John. He had a way about him when he did it, as if he were not merely smelling but tasting, detecting your fear on the wind. I smile that devilish grin that runs in the family.[/i]

White Widow: You don't smell so fresh to me. Trained by the old guard, here to settle their old scores no doubt. You'd suit Dublin, you know. So many old soldiers without a war to fight, still smarting over wounds from years gone by. You have the stench of vets around you. The arrogance of Blake Worship in your stance, the dully direct tone of Cloud Strife in your speech, the shallow flair of Jayson Ray in your ridiculous appearance. You're not fresh, son, you're garbage they forgot to throw out.

Priest watches me, letting my words sink in. He's a smart boy, and he's here on a mission. Swinging a wild punch at a woman who held the REW world title and is probably still undefeated (I think so, I can't even remember the last match we had though...) is not a prudent move at this time. He adjusts himself again, big muscles rippling beneath his Dropkick Murphys shirt. He's smart, but he's a fiery Irishman, and clearly not going to wear this abuse for too long.[/i]

Nathan Priest: Do you have a point?

White Widow: Do you? I had time to look at your file, I know your background, and once upon a time that would have impressed, but at this point all I can say is how very typical you are. It took three of the best and brightest in REW to train one of you, and you got lost on the way to the arena. That is not exactly a sterling return on investment.

Nathan Priest: Why don't you let me show you what my training actually taught me. I don't just stand around and talk like a doll with a string in the back.

White Widow: Ooh, burn. Call the woman a doll why don't you. But by all means, make your way to the ring and we'll see what desperation can do.

I gesture to the door, waiting Nathan Priest's answer, while Sara sits back in her chair, watching the exchange unfold.[/i]

[Toothpick Teddy]

Nathan Priest : Don't think that because I'm a man, I'm going to spare you there in the ri...

Suddenly Priest smelleth something before he seeth it. A smell of nacho cheese and a distinctive aroma of soda. Priest turns around to see that the exit to the room is in fact, out of service, due to an effektiv barrikade in the form of the true Better Pick himself, Toothpick Teddy!

Toothpick Teddy : Whats up people! What's going on here?

Thedious Toothpickus the first examines the assortment of people in the room...
No one answers him.

Toothpick Teddy : You guys having a WILD and CRAZY party here? Can I join? I love parties! Especially wild and crazy parties! You know how they say some people are party animals? Well, I'm a party zoo and...

Nathan Priest : Shut..

White Widow : Up...

Sara : Guys I still cant figure out what to do!

Toothpick Teddy is BLOWN away by finally being recognized and steps back.
Okay, actually, Nathan Jones, sorry, Priest, pushes him aside as he and Widow prepare to march to the ring.

Not cool! Not cool at all!

You know, this could be a three way match or something...or a four way if that oiled up guy finds his way to the arena again...but how could that ever be made to happen?

Sara : *sigh* I'm trying to figure out what to do guys!

TBC ?














[/color]

[The Messenjah]

Me: Okay. Guys you know what I will make a card this week if everyone shows up and more people join in on the card then the show must go on but if people don't then it won't be anymore shows.. I'm tired of the people in the main event spot doesn't show up and that kills the show.. So you guys tell me what you wanna do?

I look up at the four of them to hear what they have to say..

TBC?

[whitewidow]

White Widow: Who you calling 'guys'?

Sara Stone: Well you look pretty manly to me.

White Widow: Yeah but you have the observation skills of a mole that's been masturbating too much. You do realise that to make a card you don't need our permission, right, boss? You want us in the ring, make it happen. Like, three days ago or something.

Toothpick Teddy: She's the boss? The person in charge? The person who makes cards? How did you figure that out, White Widow?!

Nathan Priest: You mean I might actually get to stand in a wrestling ring and being trained by three super famous wrestlers for years will result in an actual wrestling match at long last?

White Widow: I don't know. I guess it's up to Sara here.

TBC by ?

[The Messenjah]

Me: You know what widow you are right I don't need your permission to make cards and how about this you four go out to the ring and once everyone is in the ring I'll tell you what kind of match its gonna be... Good luck now get out my office!

TBC?

[whitewidow]

I am told to get out of Sara Stone's office, and I am well aware of her glazed eyes buggily glaring at me as she tries to crank the gears in her mind to think of what to do... I look away, glancing at the Thank You For Not Smoking sign affixed to the wall above her desk. I can disobey two of her requests at once. I pull a cigar from nowhere, bite down with my teeth, and flick a flame onto its end. After a long draw, I puff passive-aggressive smoke into Sara's face, leaving her spluttering as a token of my frustration.

But tokens are apparently not clear enough, so I spell it out.[/i]

White Widow: No. You want me in the ring, you do your goddamn job and book me.

A clock ticks on the wall next to the no smoking sign. Like Freud I remove my cigar and jab it at the ticking timepiece as it scythes the seconds out of REW's life.[/i]

White Widow: Don't forget the deadline.

I stub out my cigar against Sara's desk, the tasteless pale pine Ikea table that a high school student might have in their room. I leave a black mark, scorching the table where REW might die. If only that big dark desk of the lawyer were in here. Even if he would pee on it and chew up his paperwork.

I leave the office, quite possibly for the last time.[/i]