Post by The Lost One on Jan 30, 2014 23:29:59 GMT -6
No Disqualification.
The Silent Destroyer.
REVENGE.
These things were written across a single sheet of solid white construction paper. It was pinned to the wall of the beautiful, massive office that was owned by Broderick Montgomery III. The paper sat between the door leading out to what was once the waiting room guarded by his buxom beautiful blond assistant and the massive wall length fish tank.
Brody sat behind the huge mahogany desk with his head leaning back on the chair and a icepack in his lap. His eyes were closed and his face was a mask of false calm. It hadn't been exactly what you would call a good couple of days. The sham of a Tag Team Match. Getting turned on by his partner. That bastard Oliver Georgio booking him in a handicap match, and now his secretary has quit.
As if his world couldn't get anymore clustered the door opened and the long legged form of Aerynn Donnelly walked in. She wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a tight sitting spaghetti strap top. Her brownish blond hair was hanging down over one shoulder and she had a huge smile on her face.
Aerynn was on cloud nine. The week Brody had had, on top of her winning her debut match had her feeling no pain and it showed clearly on every inch of her exquisite form. From her posture,to her walk, to her radiant smile. That smile when turned on Brody was faintly mocking and more then a little smug. Truth be told, she enjoyed his misery.
Aerynn: “It's been two days. Dinna ye think ye should stop icing tha' thing?”
Brody: “You weren't kicked in the nuts! She could have done permanent damage.”
Aerynn: “Tha' would imply ye have somethin' worth bein' permanent.”
Brody: “You got a big mouth for a woman.”
Aerynn: “....At least I won my match.”
And to that she merely added a shrug and offered the tiniest of little smirks.
Aerynn: “An' whot did ye do tae poor Melanie?”
Brody: “I just asked if she wanted to kiss my boo boo better.”
Aerynn: “....I'd have run away screaming, too.”
Brody's eyes narrowed and his lips curled back into a snarl, but he wouldn't give her what she wanted. He knew, deep down, what she wanted more then anything else. She wanted to be free of his service. To be released from the contract she signed. He was to smart for that however. He wasn't about to let he r off that easily.
Brody: “Don't you have an elsewhere to be?”
Aerynn: “Mmm, but I figured misery loves company. Aye?”
Brody: “Get the hell out!”
Aerynn only smirked and inclined her head almost mockingly and then turned and allowed her long legs to carry her from the office and to the elevator. She had irritated Brody. Mission accomplished and now she had things she needed to do.
Brody on the other hand had things which he needed to do as well. Leaning forward on the computer he flipped through the resumes of all the girls who had applied to take Melanie's place. And of course, Broderick had required them to all send photo's.
He dismissed immediately anyone who was over the age of forty. Dismissed the brunettes.....because to be honest one mouthy brunette in his life was maddening enough. After he dismissed the old and the brown haired he dismissed the redheads. There was just something about red heads. He had once liked them, but truth be told, something had turned him off them.
They were untrustworthy. Cruel. Conniving, lying, useless creatures. More often then not that will betray those who they claimed to love. Take everything they were taught and turn the promises made into ashes on the ground.
And when he came upon a homely, old, matron redhead he shuttered and quickly clicked away. Then he came upon a vision of pure loveliness. Aerynn would have of course called it the best looks old sugar daddy can buy, but he'd be damned if he cared.
Brody: “....Oh....Daddy likes you.”
Brody immediately punched in her number and the speaker phone rang. When the phone stopped ringing a gentle and beautiful voice answered.
Woman: “Hello?”
Brody: “Is this Joanna Reyana?”
Woman: “May I ask whose calling?”
Brody: “My name is Broderick Montgomery III. She put in a resume for the vacant secretary position.”
Joanna: “Mr. Montgomery! Hello! Yes, I did apply!”
Brody: “And would you care to come in for a interview? Say....Saturday afternoon?”
Joanna: “Of course! Will I have any roles other then secretary? Like....in your wrestling career?”
Brody: “Oh Miss Reyana. I have many roles in mind for you. I'll see you Saturday.”
Joanna: “Of course! Saturday it is!”
Brody clicked the button and leaned back in the chair staring at the fish tank. That failure that had been Jeszika Gautier had turned sour in a hurry. A woman with a body like hers, he would have liked to have had her a few more times. Felt her lips urging so hungrily a few more times. Felt her grip him so tight a few more times.
He needed a new target.
And with his private business life more or less now in line he turned his attention to his new career. The match last week was more or less history now, but he had a qualifier match this week against Sentinel with the winner going on to battle for the World Title.
His fingertips gently drummed on the edge of the chair. After a few moments he pulled the ice pack from it's resting place and tossed it into the trash and kicked his feet up. Brody reached out and opened a large wooden box that sat atop his desk and pulled out a large, beautifully wrapped cigar and a Cigar clipper. He clipped the end of the cigar off and sucked the cut end then gently spit it onto the floor next to his chair where a trash can sat.
Brody: “The All American Nightmare Vs The Silent Destroyer. Broderick Montgomery Vs Sentinel within that squared circle.....and Broderick Montgomery Vs.....some punk kid, whose too whipped to step into the ring and back up his shit talk, trading blows verbally. Seems almost unfair when you stop and think about it.
I have to face Zachariah Blood and his mouth before the match and Sentinel for the match itself. Does no one else see the screwed up thing here? That little bitch can say whatever he likes, can insult anyone and down talk everyone in the world....and never have to step a single toe into harms way. He get's to hide behind his monster like a coward.
Anyone else find that.....”
Brody paused a moment and did what any true cigar smoker would do. He lit a stick match and gently lit the cigar. The flame sucked into the end of the cigar and thick clouds of white blew from around the cigar. The smug arrogance on his face showed. The cruelty that lurked under the surface showed just as strongly and with a mocking smirk he finished.
Brody: “....The slightest bit convenient?”
Brody kicked his feet down and rose from the chair. Under the black silk shirt he wore a pair of black silk slacks and designer black shoes. He crossed the room to a counter near the window and pressed a button. From the counter a tray of various kinds of alcohol rose from the depths with a dozen glasses. Brody grabbed a small glass and filled it with a rich amber fluid. A little swirl of the glass and then Brody lifted it and took a long drink.
A satisfied breath was let out through his nose. There was just something about a hundred year old scotch. Say what you want about Irish Whiskey. One hundred year old scotch.....better hands down. Once he had his drink he turned back toward his desk, and of course, whatever or whoever was recording this video.
Brody: “Blood gets to mouth off without repercussions and Sentinel....THAT is truly the masterpiece. See, Sentinel gets to say nothing. He personally make's no promises. He make's no predictions or claims.”
Brody held up a hand using the cigar as a “Wait a second” figure.
Brody: “See, most people will say that they are going to win, and if they don't....they have to face that. They said it....and now they must admit they were wrong.
Sentinel....doesn't.
Most people will make the claim that will make their opponent tap, or lay them flat on their back for the three count. If they fail, they must accept the error.
Sentinel.....doesn't.
Most people will make claims about them slinging off the ropes, using the pillars to rebound back toward the ring, snatch a old woman's wig and slap the taste out of their opponents mouth with a hard shot from a big woman's massive bra. And when this incredible event doesn't occur they must admit the mistake.
Sentinel....doesn't.
Anyone else see the convenient pattern here?”
Brody seemed to look like this idea irritated him. More then a little bit.
Brody: “And what truly irritates me is on the other side of the coin, it still holds true. See, most people will say that they are going to win, and when they do they get to stand tall. Glad in that feeling that they took the chance, and proved to be right.
Sentinel does....as well.
Most people will make the claim that will make their opponent tap, or lay them flat on their back for the three count and when they stand with their fists raised high in the air in victory they celebrate.
Sentinel gets to....as well.
Most people will make claims about them slinging off the ropes, using the pillars to rebound back toward the ring, snatch a old woman's wig and slap the taste out of their opponents mouth with a hard shot from a big woman's massive bra. And when this incredible event, against all odds, happens they get to stand before the masses and proclaim they were right.
Sentinel does....too.
Does anyone else see how truly wrong this is? He gets to have his cake and eat it too. Truth be told it's.....”
Brody paused again and took a long drink from the glass and closed his eyes with pleasure. When he spoke again, he did so with closed eyes.
Brody: “....pathetic really.”
Brody drained the last of the glass and set it back where it had come from on the counter and then clicked the button and once again the tray disappeared below the Cabinet. Brody turned back toward the desk puffing gently on his cigar.
Brody: “And before Sentinel.....”
Brody mocked shock and held up his hands in mock disbelief.
Brody: “Sorry....before BLOOD says anything about it. I am very aware of what happened to me last week. I was teamed with Jeszika and Oliver Georgio allowed her and her pack of fucking Harpies, to assault me. I was taken by surprise. I walked into the match expecting a Tag Team Match and instead I was offered up as meat for the Harpies.
Then to suffer insult to injury I am put into some kind of punishment match with Sentinel, but THAT is where the problem will appear. See, Oliver Georgio and even Sentinel himself don't understand who I am. What I am capable of. How could they?
See Sentinel is known. His matches are known. His Championships are known. His Style is known. His aggression is known. His habits and tendencies are known. I have things I can watch to prepare. On that same token however....”
Brody once more took another pleasurable puff from the cigar and offered the faintest little smirk.
Brody: “How does Sentinel plan to prepare for me? I have no footage. No Indy events which can showcase my style. This is my second match, ever. There is nothing to watch. So, how do you prepare, for the unknown?
Does he assume that my style is based on my size and prepare for high flying? Or was that technical? I am sure no powerhouse, right? Or, could I have trained my body to be toned, but not huge?
These are but a few of the issues that face Sentinel in this coming match.”
Brody walked back behind the desk and sat down gracefully in the chair with the cigar hanging from between his teeth.
Brody: “Sentinel, I leave you with this. A great man once said that everyone has their price, but I would add that not everyone knows how to find that price. I have seen your pretty Talon, so be careful....”
Brody puffed deeply off the cigar and then pulled the smoke able from between his teeth.
Brody: “I may just find her price, and with it her nice creamy center.”
Brody leaned forward and wiggled his fingers goodbye then snuffed out the cigar. The Ashtray was shown up close with the crushed cigar smoldering lightly as the sound of his footsteps carried him out of the room.
A kick to the nuts.
Retaliation
The Silent Destroyer.
A pissed off President.
Payback
The Fem-Fatale.
Embarrassed on television.
Katt Industries Special Services.
REVENGE.
These things were written across a single sheet of solid white construction paper. It was pinned to the wall of the beautiful, massive office that was owned by Broderick Montgomery III. The paper sat between the door leading out to what was once the waiting room guarded by his buxom beautiful blond assistant and the massive wall length fish tank.
Brody sat behind the huge mahogany desk with his head leaning back on the chair and a icepack in his lap. His eyes were closed and his face was a mask of false calm. It hadn't been exactly what you would call a good couple of days. The sham of a Tag Team Match. Getting turned on by his partner. That bastard Oliver Georgio booking him in a handicap match, and now his secretary has quit.
As if his world couldn't get anymore clustered the door opened and the long legged form of Aerynn Donnelly walked in. She wore a pair of faded blue jeans and a tight sitting spaghetti strap top. Her brownish blond hair was hanging down over one shoulder and she had a huge smile on her face.
Aerynn was on cloud nine. The week Brody had had, on top of her winning her debut match had her feeling no pain and it showed clearly on every inch of her exquisite form. From her posture,to her walk, to her radiant smile. That smile when turned on Brody was faintly mocking and more then a little smug. Truth be told, she enjoyed his misery.
Aerynn: “It's been two days. Dinna ye think ye should stop icing tha' thing?”
Brody: “You weren't kicked in the nuts! She could have done permanent damage.”
Aerynn: “Tha' would imply ye have somethin' worth bein' permanent.”
Brody: “You got a big mouth for a woman.”
Aerynn: “....At least I won my match.”
And to that she merely added a shrug and offered the tiniest of little smirks.
Aerynn: “An' whot did ye do tae poor Melanie?”
Brody: “I just asked if she wanted to kiss my boo boo better.”
Aerynn: “....I'd have run away screaming, too.”
Brody's eyes narrowed and his lips curled back into a snarl, but he wouldn't give her what she wanted. He knew, deep down, what she wanted more then anything else. She wanted to be free of his service. To be released from the contract she signed. He was to smart for that however. He wasn't about to let he r off that easily.
Brody: “Don't you have an elsewhere to be?”
Aerynn: “Mmm, but I figured misery loves company. Aye?”
Brody: “Get the hell out!”
Aerynn only smirked and inclined her head almost mockingly and then turned and allowed her long legs to carry her from the office and to the elevator. She had irritated Brody. Mission accomplished and now she had things she needed to do.
Brody on the other hand had things which he needed to do as well. Leaning forward on the computer he flipped through the resumes of all the girls who had applied to take Melanie's place. And of course, Broderick had required them to all send photo's.
He dismissed immediately anyone who was over the age of forty. Dismissed the brunettes.....because to be honest one mouthy brunette in his life was maddening enough. After he dismissed the old and the brown haired he dismissed the redheads. There was just something about red heads. He had once liked them, but truth be told, something had turned him off them.
They were untrustworthy. Cruel. Conniving, lying, useless creatures. More often then not that will betray those who they claimed to love. Take everything they were taught and turn the promises made into ashes on the ground.
And when he came upon a homely, old, matron redhead he shuttered and quickly clicked away. Then he came upon a vision of pure loveliness. Aerynn would have of course called it the best looks old sugar daddy can buy, but he'd be damned if he cared.
Brody: “....Oh....Daddy likes you.”
Brody immediately punched in her number and the speaker phone rang. When the phone stopped ringing a gentle and beautiful voice answered.
Woman: “Hello?”
Brody: “Is this Joanna Reyana?”
Woman: “May I ask whose calling?”
Brody: “My name is Broderick Montgomery III. She put in a resume for the vacant secretary position.”
Joanna: “Mr. Montgomery! Hello! Yes, I did apply!”
Brody: “And would you care to come in for a interview? Say....Saturday afternoon?”
Joanna: “Of course! Will I have any roles other then secretary? Like....in your wrestling career?”
Brody: “Oh Miss Reyana. I have many roles in mind for you. I'll see you Saturday.”
Joanna: “Of course! Saturday it is!”
Brody clicked the button and leaned back in the chair staring at the fish tank. That failure that had been Jeszika Gautier had turned sour in a hurry. A woman with a body like hers, he would have liked to have had her a few more times. Felt her lips urging so hungrily a few more times. Felt her grip him so tight a few more times.
He needed a new target.
And with his private business life more or less now in line he turned his attention to his new career. The match last week was more or less history now, but he had a qualifier match this week against Sentinel with the winner going on to battle for the World Title.
His fingertips gently drummed on the edge of the chair. After a few moments he pulled the ice pack from it's resting place and tossed it into the trash and kicked his feet up. Brody reached out and opened a large wooden box that sat atop his desk and pulled out a large, beautifully wrapped cigar and a Cigar clipper. He clipped the end of the cigar off and sucked the cut end then gently spit it onto the floor next to his chair where a trash can sat.
Brody: “The All American Nightmare Vs The Silent Destroyer. Broderick Montgomery Vs Sentinel within that squared circle.....and Broderick Montgomery Vs.....some punk kid, whose too whipped to step into the ring and back up his shit talk, trading blows verbally. Seems almost unfair when you stop and think about it.
I have to face Zachariah Blood and his mouth before the match and Sentinel for the match itself. Does no one else see the screwed up thing here? That little bitch can say whatever he likes, can insult anyone and down talk everyone in the world....and never have to step a single toe into harms way. He get's to hide behind his monster like a coward.
Anyone else find that.....”
Brody paused a moment and did what any true cigar smoker would do. He lit a stick match and gently lit the cigar. The flame sucked into the end of the cigar and thick clouds of white blew from around the cigar. The smug arrogance on his face showed. The cruelty that lurked under the surface showed just as strongly and with a mocking smirk he finished.
Brody: “....The slightest bit convenient?”
Brody kicked his feet down and rose from the chair. Under the black silk shirt he wore a pair of black silk slacks and designer black shoes. He crossed the room to a counter near the window and pressed a button. From the counter a tray of various kinds of alcohol rose from the depths with a dozen glasses. Brody grabbed a small glass and filled it with a rich amber fluid. A little swirl of the glass and then Brody lifted it and took a long drink.
A satisfied breath was let out through his nose. There was just something about a hundred year old scotch. Say what you want about Irish Whiskey. One hundred year old scotch.....better hands down. Once he had his drink he turned back toward his desk, and of course, whatever or whoever was recording this video.
Brody: “Blood gets to mouth off without repercussions and Sentinel....THAT is truly the masterpiece. See, Sentinel gets to say nothing. He personally make's no promises. He make's no predictions or claims.”
Brody held up a hand using the cigar as a “Wait a second” figure.
Brody: “See, most people will say that they are going to win, and if they don't....they have to face that. They said it....and now they must admit they were wrong.
Sentinel....doesn't.
Most people will make the claim that will make their opponent tap, or lay them flat on their back for the three count. If they fail, they must accept the error.
Sentinel.....doesn't.
Most people will make claims about them slinging off the ropes, using the pillars to rebound back toward the ring, snatch a old woman's wig and slap the taste out of their opponents mouth with a hard shot from a big woman's massive bra. And when this incredible event doesn't occur they must admit the mistake.
Sentinel....doesn't.
Anyone else see the convenient pattern here?”
Brody seemed to look like this idea irritated him. More then a little bit.
Brody: “And what truly irritates me is on the other side of the coin, it still holds true. See, most people will say that they are going to win, and when they do they get to stand tall. Glad in that feeling that they took the chance, and proved to be right.
Sentinel does....as well.
Most people will make the claim that will make their opponent tap, or lay them flat on their back for the three count and when they stand with their fists raised high in the air in victory they celebrate.
Sentinel gets to....as well.
Most people will make claims about them slinging off the ropes, using the pillars to rebound back toward the ring, snatch a old woman's wig and slap the taste out of their opponents mouth with a hard shot from a big woman's massive bra. And when this incredible event, against all odds, happens they get to stand before the masses and proclaim they were right.
Sentinel does....too.
Does anyone else see how truly wrong this is? He gets to have his cake and eat it too. Truth be told it's.....”
Brody paused again and took a long drink from the glass and closed his eyes with pleasure. When he spoke again, he did so with closed eyes.
Brody: “....pathetic really.”
Brody drained the last of the glass and set it back where it had come from on the counter and then clicked the button and once again the tray disappeared below the Cabinet. Brody turned back toward the desk puffing gently on his cigar.
Brody: “And before Sentinel.....”
Brody mocked shock and held up his hands in mock disbelief.
Brody: “Sorry....before BLOOD says anything about it. I am very aware of what happened to me last week. I was teamed with Jeszika and Oliver Georgio allowed her and her pack of fucking Harpies, to assault me. I was taken by surprise. I walked into the match expecting a Tag Team Match and instead I was offered up as meat for the Harpies.
Then to suffer insult to injury I am put into some kind of punishment match with Sentinel, but THAT is where the problem will appear. See, Oliver Georgio and even Sentinel himself don't understand who I am. What I am capable of. How could they?
See Sentinel is known. His matches are known. His Championships are known. His Style is known. His aggression is known. His habits and tendencies are known. I have things I can watch to prepare. On that same token however....”
Brody once more took another pleasurable puff from the cigar and offered the faintest little smirk.
Brody: “How does Sentinel plan to prepare for me? I have no footage. No Indy events which can showcase my style. This is my second match, ever. There is nothing to watch. So, how do you prepare, for the unknown?
Does he assume that my style is based on my size and prepare for high flying? Or was that technical? I am sure no powerhouse, right? Or, could I have trained my body to be toned, but not huge?
These are but a few of the issues that face Sentinel in this coming match.”
Brody walked back behind the desk and sat down gracefully in the chair with the cigar hanging from between his teeth.
Brody: “Sentinel, I leave you with this. A great man once said that everyone has their price, but I would add that not everyone knows how to find that price. I have seen your pretty Talon, so be careful....”
Brody puffed deeply off the cigar and then pulled the smoke able from between his teeth.
Brody: “I may just find her price, and with it her nice creamy center.”
Brody leaned forward and wiggled his fingers goodbye then snuffed out the cigar. The Ashtray was shown up close with the crushed cigar smoldering lightly as the sound of his footsteps carried him out of the room.
