Spite [Vendetta Scramble Match II]
Nov 25, 2020 23:21:20 GMT -5
Adam Dante, cyborg878, and 1 more like this
Post by The Kayby on Nov 25, 2020 23:21:20 GMT -5
"Spite." Venom in the voice of Kayby Hale Cassidy permeates through the darkness. The scene opens up on the faces of Kayby Hale Cassidy and Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor as if light began emanating off of them. "S-P-I-T-E, definition; a desire to deliberately annoy, offend, or hurt. I've heard rumblings backstage of the term being directed toward us; I don't get why." The camera pans back and they are both wearing purple Los Angeles Lakers jerseys with a big 23 in the middle.
"No, they're right." Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor pulls out a vape pen and takes a drag off of it. "We are spiteful, but who could blame us? Look around at Alpha Pro Wrestling. You have a guy who pushes the boundaries maybe just a little too much, even for us, and he's screaming at the top of his lungs... just, completely incoherent sentences. You've got, literally, a serial killing priest that, quiet frankly, scares the shit out of me because I've watched season 4 of Dexter, and it did not end well for the protagonist's SO." Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor's face drops as she scoffs at the camera. "You've got that malodourous swamp sow." She stares into the camera just little too long as if talking directly to whom she referenced. "You've got a man with two first names, who's head is 90% made up of forehead." She shutters. "So why wouldn't we spite the people that haven't done anything to deserve our respect? Daniel Christopher lost decisively against America Jack-off; the man that would not currently be the North American Champion had he defended against my Bae-by. Alex Scott has some," she says sarcastically, "impressive wins under his belt since becoming Junior Heavyweight Champion like Leah Linked-in. Wow, how did he do it?" She asks rhetorically. She pushes in toward Kayby Hale Cassidy as she continues. "Brother Zeke..." nervous laughter, "...not a- not a challenge at all."
"Bambi," Kayby Hale Cassidy says as he pulls Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor in to protect her. "I will never let him touch you. I'll- I'll gouge out his eyes if he so much as looks in your direction," he says with a concerned, yet reassuring chuckle. "No... No one will touch us because we are simply better than them. Look back at my match with Damon Warrens; look at what I did to him. He struggled to get to his feet in that match because of what I did to him." He turns his attention from Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor to the camera. "That's what you won't hear from anyone else in this match. You won't hear a single one of them say that they made the World Heavyweight Champion, Damon Warrens - the Nitemare, the Devil Himself, Damon fucking Warrens - struggle to get to his feet; clutching on to the last little bit of strength he had. The last time anyone came within an inch of doing that Jason Ryan had a lead pipe in his hand. That's the difference between me and everyone else in this match. They, with the exception of John Blade, come out week after week talking about how they want to hurt people, and how disturbed they are. They talk shit week after week, but I, on the other hand, go out there and compete. I am a damn good competitor, and if you'll excuse my bluntness -I know this ain't my forte- I am as confident as I damn well need to be. I am the Better than You-ligan for good reason. In every aspect of wrestling I am better than everyone in this match. Higher compete level, better endurance, superior striking; I am smarter, I am tougher, and when it comes to the mic I am completely untouched. That's why we spite you; you're all so far beneath us there isn't any challenge in it." Kayby Hale Cassidy lets go of his embrace with Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor who looks much less scared. "That's what drives me forward, it's the competition. So that's why I must be the last Junior Heavyweight Champion, and why I must carry the torch as the first Strong Style League Champion. There are two other people holding gold in this company right now, and they are both such tough competitors that each one holds the record for longest reign with their respective belts. Putting my name beside those two put me in the top echelon of this company where I rightly deserve to be."
"Meanwhile, these idiots don't even know what they're fighting for." Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor chimes in. "Alex Scott is busy playing Smeagle with the Junior Heavyweight Championship, so that's his reason to fight? Terrible. Every week, Daniel Christopher slurs his way through a grouping of words that roughly resemble a coherent though while showing the world just a little more of his sex life than any of us would care to see. 'Loose Cooch' Leah Link-To-My-OnlyFans, no more need be said. Brother Zeke-" she trails off and looks at Kayby Hale Cassidy with fear in her eyes. He rests a reassuring hand on her shoulder that seems to instantly calm her nerves. She turns back to the camera with a new-found smolder on her face. "Hey Zeke, you are grotesquely lanky. Like, It looks like some toymaker sculpted you out of clay, but then he ran out of clay, and it was midnight which meant the clay store was close. So the toymaker said 'fuck it,' and turned you into a real boy anyway; that is how grotesquely lanky you are. So do us both a favour and stay at least six feet away from me and my poor, scared puppy, John Blade, or I will kick you squarely in the testicles."
"Now doesn't that feel better, Bambi?" Kayby Hale Cassidy says as Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor exhales loudly.
"God, we can't ever take a week off again." With that the camera fades to black.
"No, they're right." Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor pulls out a vape pen and takes a drag off of it. "We are spiteful, but who could blame us? Look around at Alpha Pro Wrestling. You have a guy who pushes the boundaries maybe just a little too much, even for us, and he's screaming at the top of his lungs... just, completely incoherent sentences. You've got, literally, a serial killing priest that, quiet frankly, scares the shit out of me because I've watched season 4 of Dexter, and it did not end well for the protagonist's SO." Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor's face drops as she scoffs at the camera. "You've got that malodourous swamp sow." She stares into the camera just little too long as if talking directly to whom she referenced. "You've got a man with two first names, who's head is 90% made up of forehead." She shutters. "So why wouldn't we spite the people that haven't done anything to deserve our respect? Daniel Christopher lost decisively against America Jack-off; the man that would not currently be the North American Champion had he defended against my Bae-by. Alex Scott has some," she says sarcastically, "impressive wins under his belt since becoming Junior Heavyweight Champion like Leah Linked-in. Wow, how did he do it?" She asks rhetorically. She pushes in toward Kayby Hale Cassidy as she continues. "Brother Zeke..." nervous laughter, "...not a- not a challenge at all."
"Bambi," Kayby Hale Cassidy says as he pulls Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor in to protect her. "I will never let him touch you. I'll- I'll gouge out his eyes if he so much as looks in your direction," he says with a concerned, yet reassuring chuckle. "No... No one will touch us because we are simply better than them. Look back at my match with Damon Warrens; look at what I did to him. He struggled to get to his feet in that match because of what I did to him." He turns his attention from Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor to the camera. "That's what you won't hear from anyone else in this match. You won't hear a single one of them say that they made the World Heavyweight Champion, Damon Warrens - the Nitemare, the Devil Himself, Damon fucking Warrens - struggle to get to his feet; clutching on to the last little bit of strength he had. The last time anyone came within an inch of doing that Jason Ryan had a lead pipe in his hand. That's the difference between me and everyone else in this match. They, with the exception of John Blade, come out week after week talking about how they want to hurt people, and how disturbed they are. They talk shit week after week, but I, on the other hand, go out there and compete. I am a damn good competitor, and if you'll excuse my bluntness -I know this ain't my forte- I am as confident as I damn well need to be. I am the Better than You-ligan for good reason. In every aspect of wrestling I am better than everyone in this match. Higher compete level, better endurance, superior striking; I am smarter, I am tougher, and when it comes to the mic I am completely untouched. That's why we spite you; you're all so far beneath us there isn't any challenge in it." Kayby Hale Cassidy lets go of his embrace with Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor who looks much less scared. "That's what drives me forward, it's the competition. So that's why I must be the last Junior Heavyweight Champion, and why I must carry the torch as the first Strong Style League Champion. There are two other people holding gold in this company right now, and they are both such tough competitors that each one holds the record for longest reign with their respective belts. Putting my name beside those two put me in the top echelon of this company where I rightly deserve to be."
"Meanwhile, these idiots don't even know what they're fighting for." Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor chimes in. "Alex Scott is busy playing Smeagle with the Junior Heavyweight Championship, so that's his reason to fight? Terrible. Every week, Daniel Christopher slurs his way through a grouping of words that roughly resemble a coherent though while showing the world just a little more of his sex life than any of us would care to see. 'Loose Cooch' Leah Link-To-My-OnlyFans, no more need be said. Brother Zeke-" she trails off and looks at Kayby Hale Cassidy with fear in her eyes. He rests a reassuring hand on her shoulder that seems to instantly calm her nerves. She turns back to the camera with a new-found smolder on her face. "Hey Zeke, you are grotesquely lanky. Like, It looks like some toymaker sculpted you out of clay, but then he ran out of clay, and it was midnight which meant the clay store was close. So the toymaker said 'fuck it,' and turned you into a real boy anyway; that is how grotesquely lanky you are. So do us both a favour and stay at least six feet away from me and my poor, scared puppy, John Blade, or I will kick you squarely in the testicles."
"Now doesn't that feel better, Bambi?" Kayby Hale Cassidy says as Taylor Made Ms. Arden Taylor exhales loudly.
"God, we can't ever take a week off again." With that the camera fades to black.
