Booty and the Beast: A Team SarVonn joint
Aug 2, 2020 12:16:48 GMT -5
Vonn Richter and Andrew Barnes like this
Post by Lacklan on Aug 2, 2020 12:16:48 GMT -5
July, 27th, 2020
Tokyo, Japan
“Hurry your black butt up! I don’t want to be late!”
Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan, dressed in a red and black kimono filled with spider webs, hurries down the street, her heeled boots clicking and clacking sharply in the air. A gloved hand holds down her black and red feathered hat, she moves with a rigid determination which echoes her words, and her red eyes shine with a dangerous glint. Her other hand clutches that of Kenzi Grey-Lacklan, the caramel-skinned starlet, who is dressed in a kimono of deep blue and golden lines.
“...Tom Cruise forbid we be late to see your boyfriend…”
“What was that, Beloved?”
“Nothing baby! Love you so much!”
Down the street the odd-looking couple go, each step drawing eyes from the locals. In Day 3 of 6 of their vacation, a birthday gift for Kenzi, the trip was somewhat of a third honeymoon for the Grey-Lacklans, an opportunity to enjoy themselves after what had been a horrendously busy time for Sarah. In the town where they had spent their honeymoon nearly three years prior, they had enjoyed endless amounts of sushi, beautiful sights, entrancing music, and a collectivist culture so different from their own as to be a refreshing change. But the hurried steps from the albino as she drug along her partner was causing an interesting scene.
“Buraddo Purinsesu!”
The call from a young woman only a few years their junior makes Sarah smile and Kenzi shoot daggers. “The Blood Princess” was known in Japan from long ago, back when she was the seemingly-demonic child of her father, who was well respected in the world of puroresu. Fifteen years later, having, just won a major championship in Saitama Arena, it was little wonder that her popularity would soar.
“...damn whores…”
Sarah smiles wider as Kenzi mumbles behind her. Sarah was known for being touchy when it came to “whores” trying to make a move on Kenzi, but knowing the feeling was mutual always made her heart sing.
“Here we are!”
Sarah pulls them into a set of double doors and they pass through a hotel lobby. Employees give small bows, which the Grey-Lacklans return, though with a hurried speed which they hope does not invite insult. Up the stairs they run, foregoing the wait for the elevator, until they reach their floor, and to their room, with Sarah fumbling through her YSL purse to pull out her cardkey. Into a room dominated by a large bed and a ridiculous amount of flowers, and Sarah drops Kenzi’s hand as she runs over to an athletic bag.
“Quick! Get Netflix started!”
Kenzi shuffles her feet slowly as she sets down her purse.
“...you and wrestling…”
“Shit up, you’re a wrestler, too.”
“True...but I don’t like to watch it 24/7 like you!”
“You know what you married!”
Opening up her bag, Sarah pulls out the Alpha Pro Wrestling Hardcore Championship. She smiles at it, her eyes shining with glee underneath her glasses, and gives it a big hug, crushing it to her chest.
“SO much better after I gave it that sanitizing steam bath! No more gross blood!”
She straps it around her waist and looks in the closest mirror. She flashes her Billion $$$ Smile to herself and the sunlight spilling into the room from the window seems to make the newly-cleaned title belt shine as brightly as her teeth.
“Not kidding when I said I was going to clean up the hardcore division!”
She turns to the television as Kenzi gets Netflix turned on and the “season premiere” of Alpha Pro Wrestling begins. Her face falls and her mouth opens as the memorial graphic for Raging Dead shows across the screen.
“...babe? You okay?”
Sensing the sudden change in Sarah’s demeanor, Kenzi moves over and takes her by the arm. Sarah raises her pointed chin towards the screen.
“...I know that guy.”
Sarah slowly sits down on the foot of the bed as Jessica Kaine relays the story of his passing. She reaches across the bed and shuffles through her purse before pulling out her black iPhone, featuring the smiling mug of Kenzi, and her fingers fly across the screen.
Sarah shakes her head as she sets down her phone and clutches Kenzi’s hand.
“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, Beloved.”
Kenzi smiles down at Sarah and then sits next to her and gives her a hug. Sarah shakes her head and pushes away the dark thoughts of lost loves as the show continues.
“...pfft, like that Victoria chick had any chance against Jackson...but at least that is better than seeing ‘I Drastically Change My Look Every Three Months’ Jason, Captain of the Shit Champ Cruise.”
“...literally no one cares about you, A-Barn.”
“...oh look, Jaice lost ANOTHER match. Who could've called THAT one?!
“...ugh...more chicks that are only there to take their clothes off instead of being wrestlers.”
“...welp, nothing says ‘ERMAHGERD I IZ MONSTER’ like losing four straight.”
“...Dani really shouldn’t be talking to hobos in the crowd like that.”
“...Fuck, Giggles is SO DAMN FUNNY!”
“...shit up, Spartan, you’re making the real main event go on late.”
“...finally! It’s match time and...wait...wait...what is Jackson doing out there? No, Vonn! Don’t look at him! Don’t let the champ go! I SAID-GODDAMNIT!”
Sarah pushes herself up from the bed, pulls off one of her boots, and throws it at the television screen. Kenzi yelps as the heel scrapes across the surface and leaves a mark.
“How many times?! How many times is Vonn Richtor going to be SCREWED out of a WELL-DESERVED VICTORY in literally EVERY company he works for?!”
Sarah starts to pace back and forth in front of the television, but hobbles and almost falls. She grunts and kicks off her other boot, sending it flying across the room.
“Over and over again! A ref blows a call! Outside interference! Hell, I’m pretty positive, as I heard it from SEVERAL sources, several VERY reliable sources, that Karnes spanked O'Shaughnessey’s “Spanky” to make that quick count back in May, if you catch my drift. But that ends NOW!”
Sarah slams her foot down hard enough to create an echo in the room.
“Once we get back from our trip, I’m going to get Vonn in mental shape! I’m going to press him! I’m going to work with him! I’m going to quiz him! I’m going to get him all KINDS of caught up on how we WIN matches in this business, no MATTER the cost! Even against guys like the Storm!”
She turns back to the television just as the screen moves away from the jubilant duo, and she gives them a dismissive wave before she starts pacing again.
“Fah! They aren’t that tough. I mean, sure, they comprise two of the four singles title holders in the company-”
She pats the Hardcore championship around her waist.”
“-and Zaigon himself is THE champ around these parts, but so what?! I have literally beaten Jackson in the last month, and that was during a SUPER busy week where I was being assaulted by ninjas ‘n shit in Las Vegas! You remember, of course. That was when the mysterious Great Miko saved your booty.”
Kenzi narrows her eyes and looks away.
“...you didn’t save me…”
“SAVED YOU! Because that’s what REAL heroes do, ya know? Not like the Storm and their odd ideas about what America should stand for. Mind you, I’m a good Christian woman-”
Kenzi (barely) successfully avoids rolling her eyes while subtly caressing the Church of Scientology pendant hanging underneath her shirt.
“-and I believe in hard work and faith in God and all of that, but the stuff THEY spout, or at least Zaigon, is drivel! Accept him as my savior? Please! Big J does that just fine, thank you so much-”
Kenzi (again barely) is able to suppress her usual “Help me, Tom Cruise, you’re my only hope!” prayer and keep it just inside her head.
“-and what all has it done for Zaigon? What does all of that nonsense about trying to create a “real” America done for him? Sure, it’s revitalized his career and brought him back to a place of prominence, but has it really? I say no to that! He’s holding onto that World Championship, holding it uhigh as testament to what he has been preaching, but anyone who pays attention realizes how his foundations are built upon mud. He may be champ, but he didn’t BEAT a champ. Jubei, recently defeated by me and about to be cast into the shadows of obscurity by that idiot Steve? He was a shell of his former greatness at Bulletproof. And Ryan? That dipshit was such a shitty champ that he was too busy planning out his next makeover and extreme weight loss and/or gain plan that he didn’t even know who was on the roster! Let’s not pretend Zaigon became champ by beating Warren, amIright?
“The fact is that both members of the Storm have done EXCELLENT...when fighting middling talent. Win after win after win to gain momentum and cement somewhat of a position within the company. But when they face REAL stars? Like...oh, I don’t know...Corey Black and ME? They lose. And when we get back home, I’m going to make sure that Vonn is counted in that number, as well.”
Sarah stops her pacing and spins on her heel to face Kenzi.
“This weekend, I didn’t just make an impact by winning my third ‘world’ championship, I moved the needle for an entire company. Now it’s time to help Vonn live up to his moniker and move Alpha Pro’s!”
July 27, 2020
Seattle, Washington
Moments after Vonn Richter’s loss to Zaigon Carter at Metal
“The Man Who Moves the Needle” was pissed. No surprise, really. He always seemed to be in a state of agitation, and the outcome of his most recent match gave him just cause. This time, though, it was different.
Vonn was pissed at himself.
He had him. Vonn had the Alpha Pro Wrestling World Champion dead to rights. He knew it. If he hadn’t let himself get distracted, he could have beaten Carter and made a case he deserved a spot in the upcoming Showdown match. He could have been in line for two title shots in one night.
Instead, he took his eyes off the prize and now all he had was a wedgie and regrets.
He walked quietly up the ramp after his match and through the curtain. He begged off a post-match interview with Dani Applegate with a somber, “Not now, boo” and went to his dressing room to shower. He had little interest in the main event before Raging Dead passed; there was certainly no reason to watch it now.
After cleaning up he checked his phone for messages. There were three texts:
Vonn’s mood brightened. Him and Little Bit against “The Alt Wrong”? They’ll murder those clowns!
So Sarah knew, and was on board. Very cool. Vonn was self aware enough to know the APW Hardcore Champ had her attention divided across multiple feds and as such he couldn’t always be a priority, but he knew she’d be committed to this match.
The third text was a bit of a buzzkill.
Ian Nathan Vicers was the head of Wrestlegate, an organization of professional wrestling fans that had been secretly bankrolling Vonn since summer started. They paid his expenses, and had chipped in with the costs for his more extravagantly produced promos (what you didn’t think Antifat was real did you LOL?). He hadn’t really heard much from them over the last several weeks, which he didn’t mind at all because they were creepy beta neckbeards who he thought were just happy to be living vicariously through Vonn. What did these cucks want from him now?
TRANSITION!
It was Friday, the last day of July. It is stiflingly hot outside the Smoothie King. Vonn had half a dozen styrofoam cups stacked in front of him, their contents emptied into the massive travel mug he slurped from. Ian Nathan Vicers, pale and sweaty, approached and extended a hand.
“S’up, big guy?”
Vonn shook the proffered hand and immediately regretted it. Ian’s fingers were moist and warm like half cooked bacon. He wiped the flop sweat from his paw and got right to the point.
“What do you want, Vicars?”
Ian was here to drop some knowledge on “The All Natural Disaster”. Taking an empty chair, he turned it around, and straddled it.
“Wrestlegate sees your match against The Storm as a huge opportunity to advance its agenda.”
“Oh, hey, me too.”
Vicers grinned signifying he knew something Vonn didn’t, “Even though our organization and Zaigon Carter’s share very similar critiques about the current state of pro-wrestling, we were content with supporting you in your original match against him. But now that we know he has expressed an interest in you joining his cause, well, things have changed.”
Vonn made a sour face. Carter did say something about him joining The Storm in his hype video last week, but Richter hadn’t given it much mind. He had no use for a bunch of goofballs playing toy soldiers in Bumfuck Montana or Wyoming or wherever the hell Carter had his compound.
“Nothing’s changed, bro. The Storm sucks and I don’t need them. Me and Sarah gonna murk them Monday.”
“We think it’s in your best interest to turn on Lacklan during the match.”
Vonn did a spit take with his Smoothie.
“Why the fuck would I do that?!?” he asked after cleaning his chin and chest of expectorated Original High Protein Banana Chocolate Lemon Pineapple blend.
“Let me answer that question with a question-”
“Hell no- just tell me!”
Ian was resolute in his desire to unveil Wrestlegate’s origins and motivations. He had wanted to make this speech for a very long time, and Goddamn Vonn was going to hear it!
“When did Professional Wrestling lose its relevance in the pop culture Zeitgeist, Vonn?”
“Huh?”
“When did it start to become unpopular?”
Vonn thought he knew the answer.
“Uh, when Chris Ben-”
“The year 2001. That was the high point of professional wrestling in America, by any metric that matters. Since then it’s been in a slow, steady decline. Do you know what else happened around that time, Vonn?”
“Just tell me, bro.”
Ian glowered, “The debut of Corey Black: ‘The Last King’ of a Dying Sport, a literal ‘Creeping Death’ for Pro-Wrestling.”
Vonn didn’t follow Ian’s line of thinking, “So? Black isn’t in this match.”
“But what he represents does, Vonn. At least in part. Before Corey Black, wrestlers were larger than life figures you felt were capable of the amazing feats they accomplished in-ring. What Black did, what he brought to the sport, was a resumption of disbelief. He was the vanguard of a new wave of wrestlers, ones who, at least in the eyes of the average fan, always came up--- short.”
Ohhhhhh! Vonn understood now. It was a size thing!
“Yeah, Black’s a munchkin, but- hey! This is about Little Bit- I mean Sarah!”
“Very good, Vonn. Sarah Lacklan is a symptom of the same syndrome. Who can have faith in a woman barely tall enough to ride Space Mountain? Who can believe in her, really, when she’s in the ring with Real Americans like Zaigon Carter and yourself? She exposes the business, Vonn, and we need to stop her.”
“But she’s good!”
Ian snickers and shakes his head, “Talent only gets you so far in the eyes of the public, Vonn. Believe me. I’ve seen the data. Sarah Lacklan is a drag on this sport and a drag on your career. How many times have you helped her, Vonn, here and elsewhere? And how many times has she been around to help you?”
On this point Ian made some sense to Vonn. He had done some grunt work for Sarah in her matches but had never returned the favor. There were always reasons, and at the time they seemed good, but Vonn always wondered, was he being used?
Vicers sensed the big man’s doubts and played to them, “What did Thomas Snow say? Called you a ‘simp’ for Lacklan? Is that how you want to be known in the industry, Vonn? You help her, and then, when folks are out there looking for receipts, she’s nowhere to be found. She’s off competing in another fed for another title and leaving you alone to face the music.”
Vonn didn’t say anything. He took a sad sip from his travel mug as he thought about how on some level Vicers had a point. As cool as Little Bit could be to him, in wrestling you had to look out for yourself first.
“You could change pro-wrestling’s perception of you with one simple screwjob, Vonn. Turn on Lacklan during the match. Join the Storm. Put Lacklan on the shelf and throw the booking of three companies into disarray. You do that, and you will truly be ‘The Man Who Moves the Needle’, whom everyone will be talking about. You will fire the first shot in the war that will take back this sport for its rightful rulers: men like yourself. Help change the culture so that when Sarah comes back the only avenues available to her are pudding matches and bikini contests. You’d be doing her a favor: how long do you think that delicate little china doll can last in this sport before she starts resembling her wreck of a stepmother? More importantly, Vonn, do it for you.”
Ian sat as straight in his chair as his weak posture would allow and gave Vonn a knowing look.
Vonn did not look as sure, but he was definitely conflicted. A lot of what Vicers was peddling was bullshit, but on one subject he might have had a point?
Was he better off with Sarah Lacklan in his life, or without?
CLIFFHANGER TRANSITION!
“Hello everyone!”
Dani Applegate stands in a bright room before the new and improved Alpha Pro Wrestling vs. TEH WORLD~! banner with a microphone shoved into her smiling face.
“My guests at this time are one half the main event, ‘the Man Who Moves the Needle’ Vonn Richtor and his partner, Hardcore Champion Sarah Lacklan!”
Vonn walks into the room, his wide form seeming to take up the entire screen, and Sarah skips in behind him with her championship around her waist. Sarah takes the microphone from Dani and “shoos” her away with a disdainful flip of her hand, and Dani walks away in shame. Sarah turns towards the camera and flashes her Billion $$$ Smile.
“First of all! I want everyone RIGHT HERE in the Fargodome to know that you are looking at one of THE most ELITE tag teams in the business today! You have me, YOUR Alpha Pro Hardcore Champion, the person CLEANING UP the garbage division with pure wrestling excellence, one half of the UNDEFEATED (...here in APW…) 5’2” Mafia, who packs the brains, the mind, the intelligence, the cunning, the wiles, the strategy, the...dare I say it...KNOW HOW to beat each and every member of this roster. And! AND! Supplying that infamous, world-renowned, unexpurgated, unadulterated, 100% natural #SquatBooty!”
Sarah turns around and flips her hair back, flexes her sizable glutes, and winks to the camera, before turning back to the front.
“And beside me is the MONSTER-”
“...show them some sugar…”
...Vonn immediately starts to pose after Sarah’s whisper, flexing out his arms downward so that his triceps pop…
“-, the POWER-”
...he brings his arms up into a double bicep…
“-, the 100% Natural Disaster-”
...he brings them down and steps forward, making his pecs pop.
“-who has, for MONTHS, challenged everyone to face him in a pose-off, and NONE of you, except for ME, have had the fortitude of the testicular nature to accept said challenge. But what HAS been the answer from this roster? To fuck him over! To screw him over! To STEAL his victories through cheating, distraction, and, in at least one instance, by way of Referee Handjobage! But that stops TODAY! Because I am here to help him, to support him, to LEAD HIM to the path of victory! And that starts TONIGHT when we face off with the Storm!
“A full one half of the singles champions within APW, but that doesn’t mean JACK to the Booty and the Beast duo standing before you! Zaigon is the so-called ‘world champion’ who has let himself be a laughingstock, a doormat, no better than a PAPERWEIGHT since winning that strap, either losing to Black in the main event, no doubt before crying his eyes out like a BABY in the back, and blatantly CHEATING to sneak a win over the big man. What kind of ‘savior’ does THAT?! I’ll tell you the kind: The kind of ‘savior’ who is no more than a 2nd-tier level mini-boss the hero squishes on the way to the Big Bad. And America? Pfft! That racist hick is just the Starter Villain when you’re still using the wooden sword! He’s basically just the ‘Giant Toad King’ in the Haunted Forest that the 15-year-old punks beat with rocks and a Level One Firebolt! But the hero in this story? The one who goes on to triumph over evil with a sage by his side? Welp, I’m the sage and HE’S the hero! Tell ‘em, Vonny!”
Sarah tosses the mic to Richtor, crosses her arms, and leans against him. Vonn takes the mic, glances down at his partner for the evening, and gives her a nod.
“Almost everything Little Bit said is truth. We are unstoppable! She got the skill and the smarts; I got the size and power. Together we complement the other! Now, some people are going to say that America Jackson and Zaigon Carter got all those things individually.. They big. They strong. They got brains and technique. And they also got experience tagging together here in APW. They so tight you can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins.
They even sound alike.
You know.
They speak in short clipped sentences.
They think it adds weight to their words.
But really it doesn’t.
It sounds more like a kid stalling his way through show and tell.
One that earns them a C-.
The Storm are a pair of boring pissed off dudes who think “Making Wrestling Great Again” is still money five fucking years too late. Two guys who’ve been sifting their way through what’s left of APW and thinking they’ve legitimized it. Well guess what fuckos? Party’s over! Because you are facing two of Alpha Pro’s best! Me and Little Bit aren’t like your recent competition who were already planning their exits. We’re here for a long time, which means tonight won’t be a good time for you. The Storm about to go up against the real motherfucking Force of Nature in APW and the Blood Princess, the Hardcore Queen, The Ivory side of the 5’2” Mafia. She called us Booty and the Beast earlier and that’s clever. We could make a mint putting that on tee-shirts and yoga pants and whatnot. But what we really are is Buddy and the Beast! And the truth is, Storm, the nicknames fit for both of us. We equal parts friend and fiend. We what happens when Jason and Freddy decide to team up. You’ll learn that the hard way tonight, Storm? Ain’t that right, Beast?”
Vonn put his arm around Sarah’s shoulder and gave her a quick reassuring hug. Sarah pushes herself to her tippy toes to get to the mic.
"See ya soon!"
Tokyo, Japan
“Hurry your black butt up! I don’t want to be late!”
Sarah Selena Grey-Lacklan, dressed in a red and black kimono filled with spider webs, hurries down the street, her heeled boots clicking and clacking sharply in the air. A gloved hand holds down her black and red feathered hat, she moves with a rigid determination which echoes her words, and her red eyes shine with a dangerous glint. Her other hand clutches that of Kenzi Grey-Lacklan, the caramel-skinned starlet, who is dressed in a kimono of deep blue and golden lines.
“...Tom Cruise forbid we be late to see your boyfriend…”
“What was that, Beloved?”
“Nothing baby! Love you so much!”
Down the street the odd-looking couple go, each step drawing eyes from the locals. In Day 3 of 6 of their vacation, a birthday gift for Kenzi, the trip was somewhat of a third honeymoon for the Grey-Lacklans, an opportunity to enjoy themselves after what had been a horrendously busy time for Sarah. In the town where they had spent their honeymoon nearly three years prior, they had enjoyed endless amounts of sushi, beautiful sights, entrancing music, and a collectivist culture so different from their own as to be a refreshing change. But the hurried steps from the albino as she drug along her partner was causing an interesting scene.
“Buraddo Purinsesu!”
The call from a young woman only a few years their junior makes Sarah smile and Kenzi shoot daggers. “The Blood Princess” was known in Japan from long ago, back when she was the seemingly-demonic child of her father, who was well respected in the world of puroresu. Fifteen years later, having, just won a major championship in Saitama Arena, it was little wonder that her popularity would soar.
“...damn whores…”
Sarah smiles wider as Kenzi mumbles behind her. Sarah was known for being touchy when it came to “whores” trying to make a move on Kenzi, but knowing the feeling was mutual always made her heart sing.
“Here we are!”
Sarah pulls them into a set of double doors and they pass through a hotel lobby. Employees give small bows, which the Grey-Lacklans return, though with a hurried speed which they hope does not invite insult. Up the stairs they run, foregoing the wait for the elevator, until they reach their floor, and to their room, with Sarah fumbling through her YSL purse to pull out her cardkey. Into a room dominated by a large bed and a ridiculous amount of flowers, and Sarah drops Kenzi’s hand as she runs over to an athletic bag.
“Quick! Get Netflix started!”
Kenzi shuffles her feet slowly as she sets down her purse.
“...you and wrestling…”
“Shit up, you’re a wrestler, too.”
“True...but I don’t like to watch it 24/7 like you!”
“You know what you married!”
Opening up her bag, Sarah pulls out the Alpha Pro Wrestling Hardcore Championship. She smiles at it, her eyes shining with glee underneath her glasses, and gives it a big hug, crushing it to her chest.
“SO much better after I gave it that sanitizing steam bath! No more gross blood!”
She straps it around her waist and looks in the closest mirror. She flashes her Billion $$$ Smile to herself and the sunlight spilling into the room from the window seems to make the newly-cleaned title belt shine as brightly as her teeth.
“Not kidding when I said I was going to clean up the hardcore division!”
She turns to the television as Kenzi gets Netflix turned on and the “season premiere” of Alpha Pro Wrestling begins. Her face falls and her mouth opens as the memorial graphic for Raging Dead shows across the screen.
“...babe? You okay?”
Sensing the sudden change in Sarah’s demeanor, Kenzi moves over and takes her by the arm. Sarah raises her pointed chin towards the screen.
“...I know that guy.”
Sarah slowly sits down on the foot of the bed as Jessica Kaine relays the story of his passing. She reaches across the bed and shuffles through her purse before pulling out her black iPhone, featuring the smiling mug of Kenzi, and her fingers fly across the screen.
Sarah is the best, Sarah number one
Hey Sara(no H). Just heard. You have my condolences.
Hey Sara(no H). Just heard. You have my condolences.
Sarah shakes her head as she sets down her phone and clutches Kenzi’s hand.
“I don’t know what I would do if I lost you, Beloved.”
Kenzi smiles down at Sarah and then sits next to her and gives her a hug. Sarah shakes her head and pushes away the dark thoughts of lost loves as the show continues.
“...pfft, like that Victoria chick had any chance against Jackson...but at least that is better than seeing ‘I Drastically Change My Look Every Three Months’ Jason, Captain of the Shit Champ Cruise.”
“...literally no one cares about you, A-Barn.”
“...oh look, Jaice lost ANOTHER match. Who could've called THAT one?!
“...ugh...more chicks that are only there to take their clothes off instead of being wrestlers.”
“...welp, nothing says ‘ERMAHGERD I IZ MONSTER’ like losing four straight.”
“...Dani really shouldn’t be talking to hobos in the crowd like that.”
“...Fuck, Giggles is SO DAMN FUNNY!”
“...shit up, Spartan, you’re making the real main event go on late.”
“...finally! It’s match time and...wait...wait...what is Jackson doing out there? No, Vonn! Don’t look at him! Don’t let the champ go! I SAID-GODDAMNIT!”
Sarah pushes herself up from the bed, pulls off one of her boots, and throws it at the television screen. Kenzi yelps as the heel scrapes across the surface and leaves a mark.
“How many times?! How many times is Vonn Richtor going to be SCREWED out of a WELL-DESERVED VICTORY in literally EVERY company he works for?!”
Sarah starts to pace back and forth in front of the television, but hobbles and almost falls. She grunts and kicks off her other boot, sending it flying across the room.
“Over and over again! A ref blows a call! Outside interference! Hell, I’m pretty positive, as I heard it from SEVERAL sources, several VERY reliable sources, that Karnes spanked O'Shaughnessey’s “Spanky” to make that quick count back in May, if you catch my drift. But that ends NOW!”
Sarah slams her foot down hard enough to create an echo in the room.
“Once we get back from our trip, I’m going to get Vonn in mental shape! I’m going to press him! I’m going to work with him! I’m going to quiz him! I’m going to get him all KINDS of caught up on how we WIN matches in this business, no MATTER the cost! Even against guys like the Storm!”
She turns back to the television just as the screen moves away from the jubilant duo, and she gives them a dismissive wave before she starts pacing again.
“Fah! They aren’t that tough. I mean, sure, they comprise two of the four singles title holders in the company-”
She pats the Hardcore championship around her waist.”
“-and Zaigon himself is THE champ around these parts, but so what?! I have literally beaten Jackson in the last month, and that was during a SUPER busy week where I was being assaulted by ninjas ‘n shit in Las Vegas! You remember, of course. That was when the mysterious Great Miko saved your booty.”
Kenzi narrows her eyes and looks away.
“...you didn’t save me…”
“SAVED YOU! Because that’s what REAL heroes do, ya know? Not like the Storm and their odd ideas about what America should stand for. Mind you, I’m a good Christian woman-”
Kenzi (barely) successfully avoids rolling her eyes while subtly caressing the Church of Scientology pendant hanging underneath her shirt.
“-and I believe in hard work and faith in God and all of that, but the stuff THEY spout, or at least Zaigon, is drivel! Accept him as my savior? Please! Big J does that just fine, thank you so much-”
Kenzi (again barely) is able to suppress her usual “Help me, Tom Cruise, you’re my only hope!” prayer and keep it just inside her head.
“-and what all has it done for Zaigon? What does all of that nonsense about trying to create a “real” America done for him? Sure, it’s revitalized his career and brought him back to a place of prominence, but has it really? I say no to that! He’s holding onto that World Championship, holding it uhigh as testament to what he has been preaching, but anyone who pays attention realizes how his foundations are built upon mud. He may be champ, but he didn’t BEAT a champ. Jubei, recently defeated by me and about to be cast into the shadows of obscurity by that idiot Steve? He was a shell of his former greatness at Bulletproof. And Ryan? That dipshit was such a shitty champ that he was too busy planning out his next makeover and extreme weight loss and/or gain plan that he didn’t even know who was on the roster! Let’s not pretend Zaigon became champ by beating Warren, amIright?
“The fact is that both members of the Storm have done EXCELLENT...when fighting middling talent. Win after win after win to gain momentum and cement somewhat of a position within the company. But when they face REAL stars? Like...oh, I don’t know...Corey Black and ME? They lose. And when we get back home, I’m going to make sure that Vonn is counted in that number, as well.”
Sarah stops her pacing and spins on her heel to face Kenzi.
“This weekend, I didn’t just make an impact by winning my third ‘world’ championship, I moved the needle for an entire company. Now it’s time to help Vonn live up to his moniker and move Alpha Pro’s!”
July 27, 2020
Seattle, Washington
Moments after Vonn Richter’s loss to Zaigon Carter at Metal
“The Man Who Moves the Needle” was pissed. No surprise, really. He always seemed to be in a state of agitation, and the outcome of his most recent match gave him just cause. This time, though, it was different.
Vonn was pissed at himself.
He had him. Vonn had the Alpha Pro Wrestling World Champion dead to rights. He knew it. If he hadn’t let himself get distracted, he could have beaten Carter and made a case he deserved a spot in the upcoming Showdown match. He could have been in line for two title shots in one night.
Instead, he took his eyes off the prize and now all he had was a wedgie and regrets.
He walked quietly up the ramp after his match and through the curtain. He begged off a post-match interview with Dani Applegate with a somber, “Not now, boo” and went to his dressing room to shower. He had little interest in the main event before Raging Dead passed; there was certainly no reason to watch it now.
After cleaning up he checked his phone for messages. There were three texts:
@nedtheintern
It’s official: You and Sara(h) Lacklan vs. The Storm next week
It’s official: You and Sara(h) Lacklan vs. The Storm next week
Vonn’s mood brightened. Him and Little Bit against “The Alt Wrong”? They’ll murder those clowns!
@cooltubesource
TAG TEAM MAIN EVENT NEXT WEEK
TAG TEAM MAIN EVENT NEXT WEEK
So Sarah knew, and was on board. Very cool. Vonn was self aware enough to know the APW Hardcore Champ had her attention divided across multiple feds and as such he couldn’t always be a priority, but he knew she’d be committed to this match.
The third text was a bit of a buzzkill.
@iannathanvicers
We need to meet. Same time and place
We need to meet. Same time and place
Ian Nathan Vicers was the head of Wrestlegate, an organization of professional wrestling fans that had been secretly bankrolling Vonn since summer started. They paid his expenses, and had chipped in with the costs for his more extravagantly produced promos (what you didn’t think Antifat was real did you LOL?). He hadn’t really heard much from them over the last several weeks, which he didn’t mind at all because they were creepy beta neckbeards who he thought were just happy to be living vicariously through Vonn. What did these cucks want from him now?
TRANSITION!
It was Friday, the last day of July. It is stiflingly hot outside the Smoothie King. Vonn had half a dozen styrofoam cups stacked in front of him, their contents emptied into the massive travel mug he slurped from. Ian Nathan Vicers, pale and sweaty, approached and extended a hand.
“S’up, big guy?”
Vonn shook the proffered hand and immediately regretted it. Ian’s fingers were moist and warm like half cooked bacon. He wiped the flop sweat from his paw and got right to the point.
“What do you want, Vicars?”
Ian was here to drop some knowledge on “The All Natural Disaster”. Taking an empty chair, he turned it around, and straddled it.
“Wrestlegate sees your match against The Storm as a huge opportunity to advance its agenda.”
“Oh, hey, me too.”
Vicers grinned signifying he knew something Vonn didn’t, “Even though our organization and Zaigon Carter’s share very similar critiques about the current state of pro-wrestling, we were content with supporting you in your original match against him. But now that we know he has expressed an interest in you joining his cause, well, things have changed.”
Vonn made a sour face. Carter did say something about him joining The Storm in his hype video last week, but Richter hadn’t given it much mind. He had no use for a bunch of goofballs playing toy soldiers in Bumfuck Montana or Wyoming or wherever the hell Carter had his compound.
“Nothing’s changed, bro. The Storm sucks and I don’t need them. Me and Sarah gonna murk them Monday.”
“We think it’s in your best interest to turn on Lacklan during the match.”
Vonn did a spit take with his Smoothie.
“Why the fuck would I do that?!?” he asked after cleaning his chin and chest of expectorated Original High Protein Banana Chocolate Lemon Pineapple blend.
“Let me answer that question with a question-”
“Hell no- just tell me!”
Ian was resolute in his desire to unveil Wrestlegate’s origins and motivations. He had wanted to make this speech for a very long time, and Goddamn Vonn was going to hear it!
“When did Professional Wrestling lose its relevance in the pop culture Zeitgeist, Vonn?”
“Huh?”
“When did it start to become unpopular?”
Vonn thought he knew the answer.
“Uh, when Chris Ben-”
“The year 2001. That was the high point of professional wrestling in America, by any metric that matters. Since then it’s been in a slow, steady decline. Do you know what else happened around that time, Vonn?”
“Just tell me, bro.”
Ian glowered, “The debut of Corey Black: ‘The Last King’ of a Dying Sport, a literal ‘Creeping Death’ for Pro-Wrestling.”
Vonn didn’t follow Ian’s line of thinking, “So? Black isn’t in this match.”
“But what he represents does, Vonn. At least in part. Before Corey Black, wrestlers were larger than life figures you felt were capable of the amazing feats they accomplished in-ring. What Black did, what he brought to the sport, was a resumption of disbelief. He was the vanguard of a new wave of wrestlers, ones who, at least in the eyes of the average fan, always came up--- short.”
Ohhhhhh! Vonn understood now. It was a size thing!
“Yeah, Black’s a munchkin, but- hey! This is about Little Bit- I mean Sarah!”
“Very good, Vonn. Sarah Lacklan is a symptom of the same syndrome. Who can have faith in a woman barely tall enough to ride Space Mountain? Who can believe in her, really, when she’s in the ring with Real Americans like Zaigon Carter and yourself? She exposes the business, Vonn, and we need to stop her.”
“But she’s good!”
Ian snickers and shakes his head, “Talent only gets you so far in the eyes of the public, Vonn. Believe me. I’ve seen the data. Sarah Lacklan is a drag on this sport and a drag on your career. How many times have you helped her, Vonn, here and elsewhere? And how many times has she been around to help you?”
On this point Ian made some sense to Vonn. He had done some grunt work for Sarah in her matches but had never returned the favor. There were always reasons, and at the time they seemed good, but Vonn always wondered, was he being used?
Vicers sensed the big man’s doubts and played to them, “What did Thomas Snow say? Called you a ‘simp’ for Lacklan? Is that how you want to be known in the industry, Vonn? You help her, and then, when folks are out there looking for receipts, she’s nowhere to be found. She’s off competing in another fed for another title and leaving you alone to face the music.”
Vonn didn’t say anything. He took a sad sip from his travel mug as he thought about how on some level Vicers had a point. As cool as Little Bit could be to him, in wrestling you had to look out for yourself first.
“You could change pro-wrestling’s perception of you with one simple screwjob, Vonn. Turn on Lacklan during the match. Join the Storm. Put Lacklan on the shelf and throw the booking of three companies into disarray. You do that, and you will truly be ‘The Man Who Moves the Needle’, whom everyone will be talking about. You will fire the first shot in the war that will take back this sport for its rightful rulers: men like yourself. Help change the culture so that when Sarah comes back the only avenues available to her are pudding matches and bikini contests. You’d be doing her a favor: how long do you think that delicate little china doll can last in this sport before she starts resembling her wreck of a stepmother? More importantly, Vonn, do it for you.”
Ian sat as straight in his chair as his weak posture would allow and gave Vonn a knowing look.
Vonn did not look as sure, but he was definitely conflicted. A lot of what Vicers was peddling was bullshit, but on one subject he might have had a point?
Was he better off with Sarah Lacklan in his life, or without?
CLIFFHANGER TRANSITION!
“Hello everyone!”
Dani Applegate stands in a bright room before the new and improved Alpha Pro Wrestling vs. TEH WORLD~! banner with a microphone shoved into her smiling face.
“My guests at this time are one half the main event, ‘the Man Who Moves the Needle’ Vonn Richtor and his partner, Hardcore Champion Sarah Lacklan!”
Vonn walks into the room, his wide form seeming to take up the entire screen, and Sarah skips in behind him with her championship around her waist. Sarah takes the microphone from Dani and “shoos” her away with a disdainful flip of her hand, and Dani walks away in shame. Sarah turns towards the camera and flashes her Billion $$$ Smile.
“First of all! I want everyone RIGHT HERE in the Fargodome to know that you are looking at one of THE most ELITE tag teams in the business today! You have me, YOUR Alpha Pro Hardcore Champion, the person CLEANING UP the garbage division with pure wrestling excellence, one half of the UNDEFEATED (...here in APW…) 5’2” Mafia, who packs the brains, the mind, the intelligence, the cunning, the wiles, the strategy, the...dare I say it...KNOW HOW to beat each and every member of this roster. And! AND! Supplying that infamous, world-renowned, unexpurgated, unadulterated, 100% natural #SquatBooty!”
Sarah turns around and flips her hair back, flexes her sizable glutes, and winks to the camera, before turning back to the front.
“And beside me is the MONSTER-”
“...show them some sugar…”
...Vonn immediately starts to pose after Sarah’s whisper, flexing out his arms downward so that his triceps pop…
“-, the POWER-”
...he brings his arms up into a double bicep…
“-, the 100% Natural Disaster-”
...he brings them down and steps forward, making his pecs pop.
“-who has, for MONTHS, challenged everyone to face him in a pose-off, and NONE of you, except for ME, have had the fortitude of the testicular nature to accept said challenge. But what HAS been the answer from this roster? To fuck him over! To screw him over! To STEAL his victories through cheating, distraction, and, in at least one instance, by way of Referee Handjobage! But that stops TODAY! Because I am here to help him, to support him, to LEAD HIM to the path of victory! And that starts TONIGHT when we face off with the Storm!
“A full one half of the singles champions within APW, but that doesn’t mean JACK to the Booty and the Beast duo standing before you! Zaigon is the so-called ‘world champion’ who has let himself be a laughingstock, a doormat, no better than a PAPERWEIGHT since winning that strap, either losing to Black in the main event, no doubt before crying his eyes out like a BABY in the back, and blatantly CHEATING to sneak a win over the big man. What kind of ‘savior’ does THAT?! I’ll tell you the kind: The kind of ‘savior’ who is no more than a 2nd-tier level mini-boss the hero squishes on the way to the Big Bad. And America? Pfft! That racist hick is just the Starter Villain when you’re still using the wooden sword! He’s basically just the ‘Giant Toad King’ in the Haunted Forest that the 15-year-old punks beat with rocks and a Level One Firebolt! But the hero in this story? The one who goes on to triumph over evil with a sage by his side? Welp, I’m the sage and HE’S the hero! Tell ‘em, Vonny!”
Sarah tosses the mic to Richtor, crosses her arms, and leans against him. Vonn takes the mic, glances down at his partner for the evening, and gives her a nod.
“Almost everything Little Bit said is truth. We are unstoppable! She got the skill and the smarts; I got the size and power. Together we complement the other! Now, some people are going to say that America Jackson and Zaigon Carter got all those things individually.. They big. They strong. They got brains and technique. And they also got experience tagging together here in APW. They so tight you can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins.
They even sound alike.
You know.
They speak in short clipped sentences.
They think it adds weight to their words.
But really it doesn’t.
It sounds more like a kid stalling his way through show and tell.
One that earns them a C-.
The Storm are a pair of boring pissed off dudes who think “Making Wrestling Great Again” is still money five fucking years too late. Two guys who’ve been sifting their way through what’s left of APW and thinking they’ve legitimized it. Well guess what fuckos? Party’s over! Because you are facing two of Alpha Pro’s best! Me and Little Bit aren’t like your recent competition who were already planning their exits. We’re here for a long time, which means tonight won’t be a good time for you. The Storm about to go up against the real motherfucking Force of Nature in APW and the Blood Princess, the Hardcore Queen, The Ivory side of the 5’2” Mafia. She called us Booty and the Beast earlier and that’s clever. We could make a mint putting that on tee-shirts and yoga pants and whatnot. But what we really are is Buddy and the Beast! And the truth is, Storm, the nicknames fit for both of us. We equal parts friend and fiend. We what happens when Jason and Freddy decide to team up. You’ll learn that the hard way tonight, Storm? Ain’t that right, Beast?”
Vonn put his arm around Sarah’s shoulder and gave her a quick reassuring hug. Sarah pushes herself to her tippy toes to get to the mic.
"See ya soon!"
