Post by nfxak on Dec 27, 2017 15:46:16 GMT -5
The gates of the private airstrip in LAX opened up for her. It had been years since Rachel has had this kind of access and treatment. There was a moment of foreboding before she took her foot off the brake of her beat up, blue ‘89 Nissan pick-up, but she shrugged and said “fuck it” before peeling out in front of the security tower. The guards didn’t even ask her for I.D, they just seemed to instinctively know that they were supposed to let her in without question. It was a good deal. Now, the rest of this dog and pony show? Well, it could all blow up in her face, but yeah, trainwrecks can have advantages to them. Either way, she was sure that she was going to be entertained. There is just something explosive about three women from three very different walks of life coming together to form a tag team. Rachel had heard about both of them, and knew them to be talented, but if they couldn’t gel, this group that Sylvia was forming would never work. Hell, the three of them could very well start beating the crap out of each other in their first match.
Again, either way, Rachel is going to get a good laugh out of all of it. If Sylvia wants to experiment, she can experiment. Hell, the one known as Rachel Cole has always been one to try everything once. The others might not be so happy if their chance at redemption and riches is cut short because they just couldn’t work together. Sylvia asked Rachel to “try,” but that isn’t something she doesn’t. Rachel Cole is a woman a woman who does or does not. If she is here, she is going to do whatever the task asks for. She just isn’t going to be overly dramatic about it or even super intense. Being extreme is her job and she is going to do it without having to make a spectacle about it.
The woman who was once known as the Cult Classic makes it to the runway where there is a bright red “Netflix” jet waiting for her. This was clearly her ride. Make no mistake about that. And, apparently, Cole was the first one here. A perpetual pot head and drinker, Rachel is not accustomed with being the first for anything, but yet, here she was, more timely than either of her partners.
She stopped her beat-up old truck before putting on the parking brake. Sylvia assured her that somebody would take good care of her vehicle while they were away on this international tour. What’s the worst can some pimply faced valet do? Like the wallflowers, she has been running on one head light for years. Sure, she probably had just enough to buy a newer vehicle, but Chad was sentimental to her. She drove him around all of L.A when she was still training from being a spot monkey who jumped off of a sheds to a spot monkey who jumped off of jumbo trons. But she wasn’t sentimental enough to not just let some stranger deal with it when she flew away to the great unknown called Union Battleground. Sure, she’s heard of it over the last year. Her old contacts told her about this groundbreaking new federation that she would go crazy for; it would be an environment that the remainder of her fan were sure she would thrive in. Maybe they were right, maybe they were wrong. But she didn’t even know where to start as far as getting back into the business went. Then Sylvia actively attempted to recruit her. It was only when she mentioned Union Battlground as their first target did she become interested in this proposition. It had been awhile since she heard a company gain as much infamy as UB had over the last little bit, so of course the idea of her being involved did interest her more than any other no name fed that Sylvia could’ve mentioned.
She figured that Union Battlground was her deal maker as far as joining up with the rest of Netflix and Kill. It certainly wasn’t the weird sponsorship or teaming with two women she hadn’t even met in person yet.
Rachel slammed the truck door behind her while lighting up a cigarette. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a Plan 9 from Outer Space shirt with the sleeves cut off, a slit down the top and cut to show off her mid drift. Cole was also wearing sunglasses because, despite it being the dead of winter, it was still sunny out in So-Cal. Why would anyone want to live anywhere else, much less some place like New Zealand? She pulled her sunglasses down to her nose as she heard the revving of a motorcycle engine a ways down the tarmac. She had a feeling that she knew which one was arriving. Motorcycles pretty much heralded the arrival of someone trying way too hard. Three years ago, this woman would’ve arrived to fanfare in a limo and now, she is a rebel loner with a leather jacket and aviators on, beautiful brown hair blowing in the wind.
This is, of course, Eliza Lovecraft.
She brings her hog to a stop a few inches away from Cole before pulling off her helmet to reveal her model perfect good looks. As she gets off the bike in her knee high leather biker boots and tight jeans, Cole can clearly make out the athletic tone of her body, even under the leather jacket that hangs off her perfectly. Lovecraft would make any other curvy girl feel insecure, but it didn’t bother Cole much. She just saw a woman that once tried too hard to be perfect, and is now trying too hard to be bad. She shrugged her arrival as Eliza sauntered up to her. Both were trying to suss each other out. Of course she knew of the great Elize Lovecraft. Who didn’t? She was heralded as this amazing athlete for a time.
“So, you are the Aussie that made an ass of herself when she beat the living crap out of an innocent woman because she lost a tag team tournament?” Rachel said, looking her new partner up and down.
“And you are the washed-up ‘has been’ who hasn’t been taken seriously since she did a promo where she masturbated in her own vomit? Classy.” Eliza was almost sticking her nose out at her as she spoke.
“Yeah, the difference was that I was a triple crown champion while I was cutting that promo. You were an athlete throwing a hissy fit because you couldn’t walk into this industry and conquer like you’ve done so many times before in other athletics.” Rachel rolled her eyes underneath her sunglasses at the thought of this pretentious bitch judging her.
“Well, we certainly aren’t going to let that happen this time are we?” Eliza spoke as she pealed off her leather jacket and placed it on the back, revealing her muscular, but still trim arms.
“I never let that happen in the first place.” Rachel defended.
“Really? Then why are we both here, searching out for a career rejuvanation? I certainly recall hearing stories of a triple crown champion who has stooped so low that she started taking off her clothes for money again.”
Rachel clenched her fist in anger and was just about to knock the living crap out of her brand new tag team partner when the sounds of Foster the People interrupted what was surely going to be a massive brawl between these ladies. Both women stood back as Rachel herself realized that Eliza had gone into defensive position, awaiting Rachel’s attack. Fortunately, the arrival of the “annoying” one (as Rachel had already deemed her) broke that up. Both ladies sighed as they noticed that the third of their strike team was driving up in a hybrid ...because of course she was. Again, both Cole and Eliza knew about Brianna Casablancas. Eliza was even signed to the same company as her for a bit, even though they never crossed paths. The Cult Classic figured she had been trying to find an identity for years; a way for the crowd to embrace her. It just so happened to be the closest to her real personality was super bubbly and perhaps WAY too positive. If it worked for her, it worked, but Rachel didn’t know if she was prepared to be tagging with the real world equivalent of Rainbow Bright.
The tension between Rachel and Eliza eased as they found a common annoyance in Casablancas the moment she stepped out of her car. They both wondered if she even realized how much of a stereotypical hipster she looked like. Brianna was wearing giant reading glasses that they knew she didn’t need. She also had her hair up in a red bandana, matching her long red skirt. But the thing that pissed the two of them off the most about her was her wide smile that seemed plastered on her face. Her excitement was already infectious and it rubbed them the wrong way. Casablancas extended her arm hand to Rachel, but only got smoke blown into her face for good measure. Brianna coughed a bit in response, but she shook it off immediately, keeping the warm, way too friendly smile on her face.
“It is good to meet you too, Miss Cole. I’m a big fan of....” Brianna began, but was immediately cut off by Rachel shrugging her off.
“I’m sure you are. Most people are with has-beens.” Rachel took another drag of her ciggy before continuing her little diatribe. “But let’s face it, if we were REALLY that good, none of us would be here right now. Big fans are reserved for those who have fallen off the face of the planet. No, what we want is enemies. Having those is what really makes someone relevant. You can save being a big fan when I’m one hundred percent out of the business.”
“That is an interesting way to look at things, but I certainly don’t consider myself washed out nor do I think the last few years of being stagnant has made your impact to the wrestling business invalid. Now that we are together, you are just going to become stronger.” Brianna spoke with great conviction. Rachel Cole tell that she bought the pseudo-psychology bullshit that she was spouting. She respected that. It was complete hogwash, but she respected that.
“Whatever, bitch.” Rachel retorted behind her cigarette.
Casablancas soon turned her attention to the one, the only, Eliza Lovecraft. She remained optimistic, but her tone was a bit too snarky. “And aren’t you the controversial figure these days?”
“I call it learning how to make it in this petty business.” Eliza shoved her sunglasses in the pocket of her jacket.
“Well, whatever it is that you think you are doing to better yourself, just know that I am here to help you self-actualize yourself and get over this confliction that you are going through.”
Eliza is once again on the defensive, but this time it is with the peppy member of the team. “There is no conflict here. I know who I am, and who I am deserves better than being teamed with two no names.
Rachel once again interjects herself into their conversation. “These two no-names have two world titles to your zero.”
As Rachel speaks, Brianna puts her hand on her shoulder as if they were now besties.
“...in a garbage heap of a business.” Eliza adds.
“Then why the fuck are you still here?” Rachel challenges her.
“BECAUSE I NEED TO BE SUCCESSFUL!” The Australian gold medalist snaps back at her.
“Ladies, ladies, ladies ....I think we all need to settle down now.” A voice says from the door of the big red plane. It is, of course, the woman who summoned them all there: Sylvia Hanson. She is holding a big red briefcase with a giant N printed on it in her right hand. The young agent smiles as she makes her way down the steps of the plane. “Netflix doesn’t pay us to bicker amongst ourselves. They pay you to win your matches.”
“That is correct, Miss Hanson, I was just talking to these ladies about what a wonderful opportunity you and the Netflix company have provided to us.” Brianna said excitedly.
“Well, we know which one of us is going to kiss ass.” Rachel commented on her team mates eagerness.
“What’s in the briefcase?” Eliza postulated.
“Oh this?” Sylvia looked down at it. “This will be revealed in due time, however, it could possibly be the key to putting you up against quality competition in the future. The name of the game is making you look good and in all due respect, while it is a good start, beating some no names from a regional all female company doesn’t exactly make waves. At least it is on PPV.”
“And don’t forget our trip to Japan so I can win the Tornado Tag Team titles, winning the Blood Bowl for our team.” Eliza pointed out.
“That isn’t too shabby either, but nobody here in America or Union Battleground cares what happens in Japan.”
“Kira Izumi and friends?” Brianna asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Like he draws anything here in the states and his friends are practically an afterthought for him anyways. Winning the tournament, which will happen, is great, but we need to get the competition drawn to us in Union Battleground. What is in this briefcase will do that eventually ...but only if we need to use it.”
“Not that I’m a fan of them, but I suppose you have yourself a plan?” Rachel finally joined the crowd gathered around Sylvia.
“You three use the Rose City Martyr society as a warm-up; an exhibition. Figure out how to work together as a team here because this is going to be your easiest match. Hell, make it a spectacle. Proof to the fans that you ARE the team to watch; that you are the biggest threat to the Outliers’ Battalion title. Use this softball to tell the world WHY this is going to be the age of Netflix and Kill. I’ll be there to make sure that things go in your favor, but besides that, yes, do whatever you feel like and make these women regret that the Beautification Movement even turned down our challenge.”
“I can’t argue with that plan.” Rachel cracks a smile that surprises all three ladies.
“What about Rose City’s tag team champions?” Casablancas began. “After their smug claims, but cowardice to wrestle us, I was hoping we could prove them wrong. I want to show them HOW to be actual fighting champions and not just pretty girls holding belts.”
“Correction. Walking vats of silicone who THINK that is what beautiful is. They look like porn stars.” Eliza rolled her eyes at the very thought of them. “They didn’t get in the ring with us because they are just big fish in a small pond; knowing damn well that we are going to expose them.”
“I have a plan, but it might take awhile.” Sylvia said with a sneaky smile on her face. “They are already discredited, but I’m going to make sure that they pay for their ignorance with not just their titles, but their pride. But until then, you make an example of their colleagues.”
“Again, I can get behind that.” Rachel spouted out, following them into the plane.
“As can I.” Brianna agreed.
The three ladies looked back at Eliza Lovecraft, who didn’t have a whole lot of a respect for the profession in general. She shrugged at them. “What? You aren’t going to get any resistance from me. We’ll dispatch Rose City, their champions, all of Garbage Japanese Wrestling Federation, the Union Battleground Roster, and then the Outliers. That is like what? ...three tag titles that will be around our in a matter of months?”
“And whatever singles titles we win as well.” Rachel added.
“That is the spirit.” Sylvia said enthusiastically. “Now get in the plane. We are off to New Zealand.”
Again, either way, Rachel is going to get a good laugh out of all of it. If Sylvia wants to experiment, she can experiment. Hell, the one known as Rachel Cole has always been one to try everything once. The others might not be so happy if their chance at redemption and riches is cut short because they just couldn’t work together. Sylvia asked Rachel to “try,” but that isn’t something she doesn’t. Rachel Cole is a woman a woman who does or does not. If she is here, she is going to do whatever the task asks for. She just isn’t going to be overly dramatic about it or even super intense. Being extreme is her job and she is going to do it without having to make a spectacle about it.
The woman who was once known as the Cult Classic makes it to the runway where there is a bright red “Netflix” jet waiting for her. This was clearly her ride. Make no mistake about that. And, apparently, Cole was the first one here. A perpetual pot head and drinker, Rachel is not accustomed with being the first for anything, but yet, here she was, more timely than either of her partners.
She stopped her beat-up old truck before putting on the parking brake. Sylvia assured her that somebody would take good care of her vehicle while they were away on this international tour. What’s the worst can some pimply faced valet do? Like the wallflowers, she has been running on one head light for years. Sure, she probably had just enough to buy a newer vehicle, but Chad was sentimental to her. She drove him around all of L.A when she was still training from being a spot monkey who jumped off of a sheds to a spot monkey who jumped off of jumbo trons. But she wasn’t sentimental enough to not just let some stranger deal with it when she flew away to the great unknown called Union Battleground. Sure, she’s heard of it over the last year. Her old contacts told her about this groundbreaking new federation that she would go crazy for; it would be an environment that the remainder of her fan were sure she would thrive in. Maybe they were right, maybe they were wrong. But she didn’t even know where to start as far as getting back into the business went. Then Sylvia actively attempted to recruit her. It was only when she mentioned Union Battlground as their first target did she become interested in this proposition. It had been awhile since she heard a company gain as much infamy as UB had over the last little bit, so of course the idea of her being involved did interest her more than any other no name fed that Sylvia could’ve mentioned.
She figured that Union Battlground was her deal maker as far as joining up with the rest of Netflix and Kill. It certainly wasn’t the weird sponsorship or teaming with two women she hadn’t even met in person yet.
Rachel slammed the truck door behind her while lighting up a cigarette. She was wearing a pair of jeans and a Plan 9 from Outer Space shirt with the sleeves cut off, a slit down the top and cut to show off her mid drift. Cole was also wearing sunglasses because, despite it being the dead of winter, it was still sunny out in So-Cal. Why would anyone want to live anywhere else, much less some place like New Zealand? She pulled her sunglasses down to her nose as she heard the revving of a motorcycle engine a ways down the tarmac. She had a feeling that she knew which one was arriving. Motorcycles pretty much heralded the arrival of someone trying way too hard. Three years ago, this woman would’ve arrived to fanfare in a limo and now, she is a rebel loner with a leather jacket and aviators on, beautiful brown hair blowing in the wind.
This is, of course, Eliza Lovecraft.
She brings her hog to a stop a few inches away from Cole before pulling off her helmet to reveal her model perfect good looks. As she gets off the bike in her knee high leather biker boots and tight jeans, Cole can clearly make out the athletic tone of her body, even under the leather jacket that hangs off her perfectly. Lovecraft would make any other curvy girl feel insecure, but it didn’t bother Cole much. She just saw a woman that once tried too hard to be perfect, and is now trying too hard to be bad. She shrugged her arrival as Eliza sauntered up to her. Both were trying to suss each other out. Of course she knew of the great Elize Lovecraft. Who didn’t? She was heralded as this amazing athlete for a time.
“So, you are the Aussie that made an ass of herself when she beat the living crap out of an innocent woman because she lost a tag team tournament?” Rachel said, looking her new partner up and down.
“And you are the washed-up ‘has been’ who hasn’t been taken seriously since she did a promo where she masturbated in her own vomit? Classy.” Eliza was almost sticking her nose out at her as she spoke.
“Yeah, the difference was that I was a triple crown champion while I was cutting that promo. You were an athlete throwing a hissy fit because you couldn’t walk into this industry and conquer like you’ve done so many times before in other athletics.” Rachel rolled her eyes underneath her sunglasses at the thought of this pretentious bitch judging her.
“Well, we certainly aren’t going to let that happen this time are we?” Eliza spoke as she pealed off her leather jacket and placed it on the back, revealing her muscular, but still trim arms.
“I never let that happen in the first place.” Rachel defended.
“Really? Then why are we both here, searching out for a career rejuvanation? I certainly recall hearing stories of a triple crown champion who has stooped so low that she started taking off her clothes for money again.”
Rachel clenched her fist in anger and was just about to knock the living crap out of her brand new tag team partner when the sounds of Foster the People interrupted what was surely going to be a massive brawl between these ladies. Both women stood back as Rachel herself realized that Eliza had gone into defensive position, awaiting Rachel’s attack. Fortunately, the arrival of the “annoying” one (as Rachel had already deemed her) broke that up. Both ladies sighed as they noticed that the third of their strike team was driving up in a hybrid ...because of course she was. Again, both Cole and Eliza knew about Brianna Casablancas. Eliza was even signed to the same company as her for a bit, even though they never crossed paths. The Cult Classic figured she had been trying to find an identity for years; a way for the crowd to embrace her. It just so happened to be the closest to her real personality was super bubbly and perhaps WAY too positive. If it worked for her, it worked, but Rachel didn’t know if she was prepared to be tagging with the real world equivalent of Rainbow Bright.
The tension between Rachel and Eliza eased as they found a common annoyance in Casablancas the moment she stepped out of her car. They both wondered if she even realized how much of a stereotypical hipster she looked like. Brianna was wearing giant reading glasses that they knew she didn’t need. She also had her hair up in a red bandana, matching her long red skirt. But the thing that pissed the two of them off the most about her was her wide smile that seemed plastered on her face. Her excitement was already infectious and it rubbed them the wrong way. Casablancas extended her arm hand to Rachel, but only got smoke blown into her face for good measure. Brianna coughed a bit in response, but she shook it off immediately, keeping the warm, way too friendly smile on her face.
“It is good to meet you too, Miss Cole. I’m a big fan of....” Brianna began, but was immediately cut off by Rachel shrugging her off.
“I’m sure you are. Most people are with has-beens.” Rachel took another drag of her ciggy before continuing her little diatribe. “But let’s face it, if we were REALLY that good, none of us would be here right now. Big fans are reserved for those who have fallen off the face of the planet. No, what we want is enemies. Having those is what really makes someone relevant. You can save being a big fan when I’m one hundred percent out of the business.”
“That is an interesting way to look at things, but I certainly don’t consider myself washed out nor do I think the last few years of being stagnant has made your impact to the wrestling business invalid. Now that we are together, you are just going to become stronger.” Brianna spoke with great conviction. Rachel Cole tell that she bought the pseudo-psychology bullshit that she was spouting. She respected that. It was complete hogwash, but she respected that.
“Whatever, bitch.” Rachel retorted behind her cigarette.
Casablancas soon turned her attention to the one, the only, Eliza Lovecraft. She remained optimistic, but her tone was a bit too snarky. “And aren’t you the controversial figure these days?”
“I call it learning how to make it in this petty business.” Eliza shoved her sunglasses in the pocket of her jacket.
“Well, whatever it is that you think you are doing to better yourself, just know that I am here to help you self-actualize yourself and get over this confliction that you are going through.”
Eliza is once again on the defensive, but this time it is with the peppy member of the team. “There is no conflict here. I know who I am, and who I am deserves better than being teamed with two no names.
Rachel once again interjects herself into their conversation. “These two no-names have two world titles to your zero.”
As Rachel speaks, Brianna puts her hand on her shoulder as if they were now besties.
“...in a garbage heap of a business.” Eliza adds.
“Then why the fuck are you still here?” Rachel challenges her.
“BECAUSE I NEED TO BE SUCCESSFUL!” The Australian gold medalist snaps back at her.
“Ladies, ladies, ladies ....I think we all need to settle down now.” A voice says from the door of the big red plane. It is, of course, the woman who summoned them all there: Sylvia Hanson. She is holding a big red briefcase with a giant N printed on it in her right hand. The young agent smiles as she makes her way down the steps of the plane. “Netflix doesn’t pay us to bicker amongst ourselves. They pay you to win your matches.”
“That is correct, Miss Hanson, I was just talking to these ladies about what a wonderful opportunity you and the Netflix company have provided to us.” Brianna said excitedly.
“Well, we know which one of us is going to kiss ass.” Rachel commented on her team mates eagerness.
“What’s in the briefcase?” Eliza postulated.
“Oh this?” Sylvia looked down at it. “This will be revealed in due time, however, it could possibly be the key to putting you up against quality competition in the future. The name of the game is making you look good and in all due respect, while it is a good start, beating some no names from a regional all female company doesn’t exactly make waves. At least it is on PPV.”
“And don’t forget our trip to Japan so I can win the Tornado Tag Team titles, winning the Blood Bowl for our team.” Eliza pointed out.
“That isn’t too shabby either, but nobody here in America or Union Battleground cares what happens in Japan.”
“Kira Izumi and friends?” Brianna asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Like he draws anything here in the states and his friends are practically an afterthought for him anyways. Winning the tournament, which will happen, is great, but we need to get the competition drawn to us in Union Battleground. What is in this briefcase will do that eventually ...but only if we need to use it.”
“Not that I’m a fan of them, but I suppose you have yourself a plan?” Rachel finally joined the crowd gathered around Sylvia.
“You three use the Rose City Martyr society as a warm-up; an exhibition. Figure out how to work together as a team here because this is going to be your easiest match. Hell, make it a spectacle. Proof to the fans that you ARE the team to watch; that you are the biggest threat to the Outliers’ Battalion title. Use this softball to tell the world WHY this is going to be the age of Netflix and Kill. I’ll be there to make sure that things go in your favor, but besides that, yes, do whatever you feel like and make these women regret that the Beautification Movement even turned down our challenge.”
“I can’t argue with that plan.” Rachel cracks a smile that surprises all three ladies.
“What about Rose City’s tag team champions?” Casablancas began. “After their smug claims, but cowardice to wrestle us, I was hoping we could prove them wrong. I want to show them HOW to be actual fighting champions and not just pretty girls holding belts.”
“Correction. Walking vats of silicone who THINK that is what beautiful is. They look like porn stars.” Eliza rolled her eyes at the very thought of them. “They didn’t get in the ring with us because they are just big fish in a small pond; knowing damn well that we are going to expose them.”
“I have a plan, but it might take awhile.” Sylvia said with a sneaky smile on her face. “They are already discredited, but I’m going to make sure that they pay for their ignorance with not just their titles, but their pride. But until then, you make an example of their colleagues.”
“Again, I can get behind that.” Rachel spouted out, following them into the plane.
“As can I.” Brianna agreed.
The three ladies looked back at Eliza Lovecraft, who didn’t have a whole lot of a respect for the profession in general. She shrugged at them. “What? You aren’t going to get any resistance from me. We’ll dispatch Rose City, their champions, all of Garbage Japanese Wrestling Federation, the Union Battleground Roster, and then the Outliers. That is like what? ...three tag titles that will be around our in a matter of months?”
“And whatever singles titles we win as well.” Rachel added.
“That is the spirit.” Sylvia said enthusiastically. “Now get in the plane. We are off to New Zealand.”