Post by thehellbilly on Jan 4, 2021 18:17:29 GMT -5
*Scene 1 – Enter The Hellbilly*
***Heat Warning: If you are a sensitive little SJW snowflake this will melt your ass. ***
I stagger down the hall to the bathroom and shake the piss out of my best friend and walk back to the bedroom. Who the hell is that in my bed? I know Teresa, but who's the blonde beside her? Must have been a good night, a shame I can't remember it.
I flip my phone open, yeah I got a flip phone, not everyone has an apple-Samsung-razorblade that the government can track you, listen to you, and watch you with. Three new voicemails, I play them on speaker while getting dressed.
First unread message. "Yes, Mr. *redacted* this is Larry with Rent-A-Center and it appears your account is"...
Message deleted. Second unread message. "We have been trying to reach you about your automobile’s extended warranty"...
Messages deleted. Last unread message. "Hey, *redacted*, it's Ned, I saw on the net your pairings for the tag team turmoil. Let's just say you are going to find this interesting.
End of massages.
Fast forward a bit and I’m at Ned’s. Ned is what you might call a f**king nerd. I met him on the inside, he is what would have been known as Programmer on the inside, always taking classes, reading and shit. I looked out for him cause he kept some money on my books. He is was in for moving some shit around on a computer, he wasn’t a chomo or peterass like that James Ceno f**k, na, I’d have done him myself if he was. Did some white-collar sh*t, moved money from the rich to offshore accounts or something like that? Hell, I don’t really know, he explained it to me once, but I was too f**king stoned to understand. As long as he kept that money on my books I kept the prison wolfs out his ass.
“So, this is Betsy Grainger,” Ned says as he pulls up some pictures on his computer.
Sh*t, she’s hot.
Well, she is your tag team partner for the tournament.
You’re f**king with me.
I lean closer to the screen, resting my hands on his desk. I study the pictures, she’s fine as wine, but how the hell am I supposed to win a match, let alone a tournament with some little woman as my partner. Without even asking I take the mouse from Ned’s hand and begin scrolling through the pictures, and clicking on a few links. Winner of the GCWA Righteous Rumble, multiple championships, damn is this girl good, or are the other wrestlers just that bad?
She is quite talented; you should probably try to talk to her before your match.
I side-eye Ned as I keep scrolling through the pictures. “Sure Ned, go ahead and give her a call, use my cell. I’ve got the number filed under bitches I don’t f**king know”.
Ugh, let me handle this.
Ned swats my hand away from the mouse, if this wasn’t his world, he’d never spoken to me like this, but this f**king nerd knows his computers.
I’ll follow her on Twitter and DM her.
I don’t speak f**king nerd Ned.
Ned rolls his eyes, he thinks I’m a caveman, but he knows I could end him at any moment. We also have a very weird bond, I like Ned he’s the Gilligan to my skipper, but a f**king genius. A few clicks, beeps, buzzes, and other electronic horseshit and I find myself sitting in a booth of a little dinner called “Sally’s”. The place is pretty empty, I don’t know if it’s because this COVID bullsh*t or because the food is so damn awful. Well, the coffee is good at least.
I sit there slowly turning my cup of coffee waiting on Betsy, or should I call her Miss. Granger? Either way, like almost every woman I’ve ever known, I’m waiting on her. She finally saunters her uppity ass in, I wonder how far that stick is lodged up her ass. I’d take a first-hand look if I got the chance though.
*Scene 2 - The Impossible Traveler*
The sun shines brightly through the ice-covered window on a sleeping Betsy Granger. Rolling into its rays, she groans and holds her hand out to shield her eyes. “Allez, Soleil,” she mutters, slipping reluctantly away from the warmth of her weighted blanket. She yanks the curtain shut grumpily and turns towards the bathroom. Scooping up her phone along the way, she checks the time. It’s currently seven am and a lovely twenty-six degrees. There are also several missed calls and messages. Flipping through them, she finds that her schedule had been updated. Matches had been drawn and she was teamed up with someone called…
“The Hellbilly?”
Shaking her head, she switches over to her music and carries on with the rest of her morning ritual. Once she’s showered and dressed, she heads downstairs where James is already up and doing sit-ups. She leans over him and steals a kiss when he sits up before heading towards the kitchen. As she busies herself making waffles and bacon, she opens up her tablet on the counter and begins doing her research on her assigned partner. Scrunching up her nose at what she finds, she closes the screen and sets about finishing the food and getting the table ready. Just as she’s putting the food out, James comes in. He looks at her in surprise.
“I thought I smell food. What’s the occasion?” He asks.
She blows him a raspberry as she sits gracefully down in her chair. “I was up early enough. Don’t be a smartass, just enjoy it while it’s hot.”
Sitting down beside her, he nudges her playfully before digging in.
“So I have a rather unique lunch invite.” She begins, nibbling on some bacon. James lifts an eyebrow as he continues to shovel forkfuls of waffle into his mouth. “My lethal lottery partner was drawn and I’m with someone called the Hellbilly. And he’s… A piece of work.”
“Can’t be any worse than what you put up with now, could it?” He asks.
Betsy smirks. “Imagine Bernie Sanders and Donald Trump sitting down for tea.”
James chokes on his orange juice. He wipes his mouth, still chuckling. “That bad, eh?”
“I suppose it could be a lot worse.” Betsy gets another alert, this time a DM from an unknown source. “Ah, what do you know? That was his manager, I think? He requests that I meet his client for lunch so we can get familiar.”
“What do you intend to do?” James asks, setting down his fork and leaning back into his chair.
Nibbling on her lip for a moment, she shrugs and smiles. “I’ll go. I’ll be my usual charming self and maybe we can make something of this team.”
*Lunchtime*
Betsy lands in front of the diner proposed for the lunch. She gives a nod of approval, always appreciating a good Ma and Pa place like this. She’d opted for a pair of casual blue jeans and a silk blue blouse for the occasion. Her hair was braided down the side and through her hair, resting on her left shoulder. She adjusted her heavy blue poncho and on booted feet, marches through the door.
*Scene 3 - Revving The Heat Up*
The sound of Harley reviving up cracks through the eardrums as The Hellbilly sits on his blacked-out bike inside a small garage. He stops revving the bike and sits back on the Harley.
Johnny Fujiwara, you gotta feel my pain of being teamed up with a pretty little girl, right? Probably too concerned about breaking a nail or losing an extension to really throw down and get dirty. Probably why women are banned from being in combat in the military, as f**king stupid as our government is, even they know that the real dirty work has to be handled by men. Shit, maybe you are on some higher and enlightened plan, with your hiding dragons in your dragon crotch lifestyle.
Sensi, JOHN, I don’t give a good Jean Claude Van Damme about your tangerine belt in Wu-Tang Clan, or your rainbow belt in Kung Pow Chicken. Belts are only good for holding up your pants and helping you get your David Carradine on. Now, before ya spout some old bullsh*t about me saying I don’t care about belts, let me be f*king crystal on this. There is a difference between some cotton belt you use to hold your pajamas up with during your Tai Chi class, and a championship belt. The championship gets you the two big P’s, paid and pussy, your little Ninja Turtles belt gets you laughed out of the damn building.
The Hellbilly steps off of the bike and grabs a bottle of PBR from the workbench nearby and takes a drink from the already opened bottle. After taking a few big gulps he lowers the bottle and wipes his chin off with his massive forearm.
You ain’t gotta worry about me sweeping the leg, but I do strike first and I do strike hard, and you damn sure aren’t going to get any mercy from me. You can take your crane kicks, your chopsticks, and your water chestnuts and shove them up your ass. You Tae Bo Ho, you forty years old in a karate class. I’ll show you a kick when I shove my boot up your ass.
Then we have the Beverly Hills Ninjas partner. Anya Coyle. Anya, you’re a psychologist, well, sh*t girl how about instead of you getting in my head, you let me get this head inside of you? *Hellbilly grabs his crotch and shakes it a bit, with a devilish smile*. The only thing is, you could never call me a shrinker.
You’re a champion here Anya, so that means one of two things, either one the competition here in Revo is f**king trash, or two you got some tricks up your sleeve. I’d say you use your feminine wiles to win, but Revo seems to be the land of the Amazon. Who knows, maybe you are just the baddest bitch on the planet, I really doubt that, but if you are I really don’t give a f**k. At the end of the day, the toughest woman on the planet can’t hold a f**king candle to me.
Hellbilly snarls and takes another drink.
Am I sexist? Na, I’m just a proud man. Not a proud boy, but a mother**king man. Pick whatever creator you want to pick, whoever it was they made man better than women. Bigger, stronger, faster, smarter, and a helluva lot meaner. Get pissed and argue if ya want, but facts are facts, and ya can’t dispute it. Just like you won’t be able to dispute that Betsy and I are the future tag team champions after I drive you and the JackieMeOff Chan straight to hell.
*Scene 4 - The Diner*
Upon entering the diner, Betsy looks around. It doesn’t take long for her to lock eyes with the man who would serve as her tag partner. Unable to stop her lip from curling, she walks towards him, making note of the way his eyes shamelessly observed her from top to bottom. Fixing a determined smile on her face, she quickens her pace and approaches him quickly.
“We meet at last.” She says, sticking out a hand for him to shake.
He looks at her hand and smiles, as he takes the dainty hand into his large callused hand. He grips firm in an attempt to establish dominance, but not too firm as to entice fear. “Pleasure is all mine, but that could change”, he says giving a devilish grin.
Hiding her momentary revulsion, she gently pulls her hand from his and slides into the booth. A waitress is quick to approach, and Betsy smiles at her as she orders a coffee. She then turns her attention back to Hellbilly, having decided to let the last remark pass. “I have to admit, I was rather surprised by the invitation.”
“Figured a girl like you would be used to getting asked to lunch,” he says. He notices her unease at the comment and gives a half chuckle. He takes a sip of his coffee and continues, “look I've been a part of a lot of what most people would call teams, the core, my old MC, to me they weren’t teams, they were family. I don’t expect us to become family, but if we are going to war together, I want to know who I’m in the trench with.”.
For the first time since arriving, Betsy smiles genuinely. It’s full of warmth and her emerald eyes sparkle as she regards Hellbilly in a different light. “You sound like my father.” Her coffee arrives and she takes a deliberately long sip as she regards Hellbilly quietly with her eyes. “Alright, let’s level with one another. I’ll start: Can I count on you to have my back out there? It’s true, we likely won’t become family; but if we put our heads together and work as a team, we have a real shot at taking this thing. I don’t know about you, but I’ve enjoyed the feeling of winning lately.” She grins as she sets her cup down. “I’d like to keep that going.”
He bites his tongue, holding himself back from making a crude joke about having her back. He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table, and gripping his cup with both hands. He stares at her silently and stoically for a moment. “Don’t worry about me having your six. I need got concerns of my own though. I get it’s 2021 and all that shit, but I’ve never had to rely on a woman to watch my back, so just know I’m not going to be giving you any special treatment cause of your gender. You pull your f**king weight and we are cool, and you won’t have a damn thing to worry about from me.”.
“Good sir, I’d think less of you if you did.” The waitress approaches again and Betsy orders the full breakfast plate. Leaning forward, she folds her hands together and rests her face into them, setting her elbows on the table. “I may not offer similar advantages you’ve had with male partners, but I promise you won’t be disappointed with what I can bring to the table. I have skills and abilities that make me invaluable in a variety of situations.” Sensing a remark coming from her partner, Betsy takes quick action. Grabbing a butter-knife from the tray of dirty dishes of a passing busboy, she plants it down in between his fingers. It doesn’t stick, but the accuracy is enough to pause whatever comment Hellbilly wanted to make.
His eyes fix on the knife and he slowly raises his view to Betsy’s face. She wears a confident smile, and he smiles back in agreement. He turns his view to the waitress who stands in shock at the whole situation. “Steak and eggs darling, medium rare, eggs over easy.”.
The waitress nods her head, still, in stunned silence, she hurries to the kitchen. Hellbilly leans back and the booth and slowly pulls his hands back slowly. “You’re alright kid, maybe we can drag each other through this shitshow and come out smelling like roses”.
“I have no intention of dragging anyone through anything.” Her grin turns sly when Hellbilly raises a bushy eyebrow at her. “You’re going to powerhouse your way through, and I’ll be right beside you with my fancy flippy kicks and quick strikes. I’ve seen how you work, and I am absolutely confident that if we use our different skills set as a unit, we could damn well dominate the entire thing.” She shrugs casually and leans back in her booth again. “Or I could just be talking out of my ass.”
He smirks, “I wasn’t being f**king literal. I don’t expect to be drug anywhere, and I damn sure ain’t carrying anyone. I saw your rap sheet as of late, and you been whipping some ass. You and I can thunder and lightning our way through this sum bitch.”.
Betsy slaps the table hard enough to rattle the dishes and raises her hands in the air. Now the waitress and several patrons jump in surprise, swiveling around in irritation as Betsy sways. “BOOM BABY!” She looks around and giggles nervously, lowering her arms and biting her lip to hold back a grin. She leans towards Hellbilly and whispers. “When did they get here?” She looks over towards the waitress, who is looking at her disapprovingly. “Please don’t spit in my food,” Betsy whispers in a quiet plea as she turns back in her seat.
“You’re a bit f**ked in the head aren’t ya girl?” Hellbilly asks as he slurps down the rest of his coffee.
She says nothing for a few moments, the look on her face unreadable. “I wouldn’t say that.” She starts to circle the rim of her coffee cup with the tip of her forefinger. “I’ve just got too much going on up there and not enough space to manage it all. I suppose it’s fair to say I’m a bit erratic at times, but my focus is locked. It won’t affect this team, I have… Other outlets to let out that sort of energy.” She grins and waves a finger. “I’m not crazy, is what I’m getting at. Just… A bit out there. It comes with the territory.”
He bites his tongue again, this time to make a comment about an outlet to let out energy. He gives a smirk, “I bet you do”, is all he says. Before he can continue the waitress arrives with the food. She sits the plates down, and as Hellbilly shoves his napkin into the neck of his shirt he says, “let the big dogs eat”.
She holds out her fork in a toast. “To miss-matched pairs and the success to follow.” Hellbilly obliges with a nod and after they touch forks, little is said as they dig into the surprisingly decent food.
*Scene 5- Peanut Butter & Ketchup*
She turns it around to show a split screen; On one is current International Champion, Anya Coyle. On the other is “Sensei” John Fujiwara with a severe expression on his face.
“So Anya, it looks like you’ve made yourself a successful little home here. Got a nice comfortable spot, holding on to that International Championship. It looks pretty on you, I admit it. Too bad your attitude sucks and you’ve got the sportsmanship of a brute.” Betsy shakes her head. “I recently taught one champion that acting like an asshole had consequences. Took his title right out from under him before he even knew what happened. I had only two other champions to put in their place, but I suppose I could throw you onto the list as well. Listen, sister, even knowing who I’m teamed with, I don’t handle under-handed tactics and disrespect very well. I don’t care how much trash you talk about me leading into this; If you try anything funny during the match itself, I won’t hesitate in showing you the full extent of why I’m starting to earn the respect being put on my name.“ Betsy’s intense expression disappears as she smiles brightly. “Perhaps that was a bit strong to lead off with, you’ll have to excuse me. It’s just that I’ve seen other women like you in this industry, leaders of their locker room leading by a really shitty example. It’s disappointing as someone coming in as a relative industry newcomer and seeing a company being represented by a talent who can’t even earn her wins on actual merit. I’m typically not the woman who likes to judge someone before I’ve personally met them; however, your poor conduct speaks for itself through your match footage. I may be going into this as cold as it is outside as to who you and John Fujiwara are, but it doesn’t take much to figure out you two go together about as well as Hellbilly and me.”
She stares pointedly into the camera. “Sensei, you find yourself in a similar situation as myself, and I’m sorry for it. It’s hard enough when you have little knowledge of your opponents; it doesn’t help when you don’t know whether you can trust your own partner enough to get through an entire tournament with them. I find myself in that predicament.” She holds two fingers up in a peace sign. “At least I hope with you, I can get somewhat of a fair fight. Perhaps having tag partners that have opposite ideals will benefit us both. They’ll be willing to do the things we aren’t to get ahead in the contest. Still, the idea that they could take advantage of our heavy lifting…” She trails off and stares into space for a few moments. “I genuinely wish you the best of luck in the tournament. If Hellbilly and I fall to you and Anya, I hope the two of you find success moving forward. Yes, Anya, I do mean that. Just because I don’t like your comportment doesn’t mean I won’t shake your hand when this is said and done.” She giggles for a moment. “I’ve got to let the two of you know off the bat: I’m on a bit of a tear right now. One that I don’t intend to lose now. I admit that there are a lot of factors that breed unpredictability going into this. It’s disconcerting for a woman who looks for solutions through facts and figures. No matter how I try to play this out in my head, there are just too many fluctuating variables that come into play. All I can assume coming into this is based on what I can find."
"Listen, Hellbilly. We may not like one another very much, but we both want to win this thing. We can use that one singularly shared goal to get through the rest, but we need to prove to ourselves first that we can get through this first test. It’s not going to be easy, but I’m willing to do what it takes to move forward… Partner.” She spits that last line out with an air of distaste. “Anya, Sensei… Until we meet. Bereite dich auf deinen schlimmsten Tag vor.”