Post by Deleted on Dec 19, 2021 21:23:51 GMT -5
It’s a familiar set up really. The lavish interior of an office suite in the notorious Benson Plaza. The camera operator does his job expertly, panning the room slowly to get every extravagant piece of art on the walls and other items from far reaches of the globe that most people can’t pronounce. He focuses the lens onto the sacred XWF ring mat that Sonya and her entourage stole from XWF when they desecrated that promotion's prestigious Hall of Legends. The priceless fabric hangs on the wall above the masterfully crafted oak wood desk that houses the despicable woman who spent years plunging countless wrestling promotions into oblivion.
Sonya Benson.
The operator levels the tool of his trade upon the visage of a woman scorned. Although wretched in her thoughts and actions, she’s still a beauty bouquet for the eyes as she sits in her luxurious chair prim and proper, regal in her posture, like royalty. The white Sherbrooke pantsuit she wears is just as prominent as it always is on her, and those oceanic blue eyes that so many get lost at sea in are pinned upon the viewer like the boot of an oppressor.
“I hope you’re all happy.”
The words drip with disdain.
“You all get an early Christmas present on Christmas Eve. You finally get to see me beaten and brutalized. Well, some of you anyway. From my understanding this is called a ‘dark match’ which means it won’t be televised. Only those in attendance will get to witness this punishment of mine that many claim is overdue. Don’t worry though; I’m sure people will record it on their cell phones and post it online. So go ahead, enjoy it. Unwrap that present like so many ungrateful and undeserving people do their traditional gifts on Christmas. Be merry and full of mirth that the goody two shoes Guy I’m facing *might* actually get a win. Cherish it, you filthy mongrels.”
She nods.
“Savor it while you can, because when it’s all said and done and my prison sentence in this god forsaken ‘sport’ is over, I’ll be the one laughing last. You see, the one thing I’ve got going for me over professional wrestling and their homo-erotic meatheads is cunning and intelligence. I outfoxed XWF after defiling their sacred Hall of Legends and felling their third generation trashcan Bianca McTrash. I dug up enough dirt on OCW to get Mr. Marcus to purge the roster including me. That’s right, I confess. It was me. If you got fired from OCW then good. HAHA! It was me!”
The revelation produces a rare smile on the most beautiful face in this world and all the worlds yet to be discovered.
“And Thunder Pro? Ha. That old geezer, Mr. Marshall, forgot he signed me so I slipped out of that trap pretty quick. Project Honor might be a step up from those promotions, but I’ll find a way out of this mess my cruel daddy is subjecting me to. Until then…”
She takes a deep breath.
“I’ll have to play ball. I’ve yet to find a trainer, but there’s bound to be someone needing the one million dollar offer I’m willing to give for their service. Someone will step up and also accept my five hundred thousand dollar offer for a tag team partner. I will get what I want because I am me, I always, always get what I want. But first, I must deal with this Christmas Eve and my opponent…. ‘Guy’...”
Oddly enough, the smile returns. Her demeanor grows pleasant, a strange twist from her normal disposition when addressing a foe set to massacre her.
“Mr. Guy, I know this is the part where I’m supposed to demean you. It’s what most wrestlers would do, even the ‘good guys’, but I’m not a professional wrestler. I’ll never claim to be such a deplorable thing. I’m not going to disparage you. See, unlike most professional wrestlers, you displayed a measure of intelligence and common sense. That’s virtually unheard of in this so-called ‘sport’. You realized that your life as a shadetree non-starter delivery boy wasn’t cutting it and when you got offered a tremendous amount of money to be a human punching bag for these professionally trained knuckle-draggers you accepted it. You made a self-assessment of your own physical toughness. You decided that you were durable enough to be a human doormat for all the slack-jaws. You tested your self-evaluation and were spot on. Dare I say what you did was… admirable?”
Oh yes, she’s buttering him up now. The corners of her mouth move north like two upturned arrows, stretching that heart-stopping grin so far that it seems to make her eyes smile.
“It was. And now? Hey, Merry Christmas, Mr. Guy. You get to face someone of your ilk in me. Someone who also isn’t trained in the exquisite art of mindless barbarism. This was the brass’s gift to you for all your hard work making their highly ‘skilled’ meatheads look good. They even made it a Last Person Standing Match, which I hear is a contest where you get to bludgeon your opponent until they can’t answer a ten count. But… ahh.. You know.. May I ask something here? Do you really want that? It seems you're far more interested in money and financial freedom to travel the world and be the best little delivery boy in the whole wide earthly world. Right?”
Her pleasant smile and demeanor mushrooms tenfold as she casts the line out.
“What if I told you that I can make it happen for you? No. That’s not a ‘what if’, I’m actually going to make that a reality for you. Yes. Mr. Guy, let’s make a deal. I’ll give you enough money to travel the world, and heck, maybe even start your own delivery business, IF you do one thing for me. I think you know where I’m going with this. You’re not a wrestler. You’re smart. What you need to do to accept this offer is simply lay down for the ten count in our match. Let me win. That’s it. Ten seconds of you laying on the mat will make you the next Jeff Bezos. Whatever the brass in Project Honor are paying you is chump change compared to this deal. Have your people contact my people to get the financials sorted and I’ll have the money for you this week when we meet to compete. You’re sensible. You’re reasonable. Let’s make this happen.”
Will she reel him in? She nods politely and posts a finger up before ending the vignette.
“As for the rest of you. May all the bad things that can happen to someone happen to all of you. May all of you die before the sun comes up and may you all rot in hell.”
With that, the scene ends.
End Rp.