For the Sake of the Eggs (PGXXXII: March of Champions)
Mar 12, 2022 20:48:17 GMT -5
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Post by Betsy Gallagher on Mar 12, 2022 20:48:17 GMT -5
GALLAGHER ACADEMY
UNITED KINGDOM
MAIN HALL
UNITED KINGDOM
MAIN HALL
Betsy Gallagher keeps to herself in a corner with a glass of red wine in hand, her head bowed in shame and humiliation, a frown on her face. The rest of the academy seems to be in higher spirits, as a jovial music plays through the training area turned into a great hall for such a celebration. I lost two titles matches in a row, even though I promised the others otherwise. She heaved a sigh, the most disappointed in herself. Casanova English, it seemed to her, just had her number. Twice. In a row. Even if two others were added in that second title match, her second opportunity in such a short time. In retrospect, Betsy still had an impressive record at 4-2-0 in the promotion and those title opportunities were even gained in just her fourth and fifth matches with the promotion. None of that mattered to her now. None of that ever mattered to her family.
Looking up by chance from her glass, she spotted her former tag team partner who was staring at her with a scowl. Betsy felt her throat tightened a little, feeling the heat of the inevitable but unwanted encounter. It has been a while since they last talked, met, so this was extremely awkward. If Betsy could turn back time, change something in her past, that would involve the woman she once called a sister, she once shared an entire life of experiences with, she once—
"Did you hear me?" Betsy's sister-in-law suddenly stole her attention, appearing from out of nowhere.
"Hm?"
"I said, I need another cocktail. You coming?"
The woman seemed to play the role of Betsy's guardian angel, keeping her from enduring that undesired conversation with Betsy's former tag team partner, who decides to simply shake her head and depart the scene after realizing Betsy was no longer alone. Betsy herself heaved a sigh of relief, thankful for her brother's wife. She had always been so lovely and kind to Betsy, and in turn, Betsy tried her best to be the same to her. Betsy was never that good with those things, however. "That is an excellent idea. Where's the mimosa?"
Unfortunately, another interruption, not a mimosa, was in Betsy's immediate future. "Betsy?"
"Steven! How nice to see you." Betsy was delighted to encounter another familiar face, someone who was actually happy to see her. Or at least seemed like it.
"It's good to see you, too. In fact, I've been looking forward to meeting you again. Would you mind coming with me to the kitchens?" Steven offered her a courteous smile, the most polite she had seen today, though it felt more professional than personal. "Oh, and I'm going by the British Bulldozer now."
"...well, that's not going to stick." Betsy offered him in turn an apologetic smile. She hoped someone else suggested the name because Steven was no "bulldozer." He should've been more like a ring general or a technician, something that attributes either of those to his name, not some stereotypical title with no bearing to his actual moveset, style, and just another random word attached to "British." Otherwise, oof. "Happy to help you with whatever you need, British Bulldozer."
"Great. Because it's about your brother."
"..." Betsy heaved a sigh, though she was unsure yet if it was of disappointment or relief. She had too many brothers, too many for her to deal with easily. Charles was, of course, the most famous one, England's favorite son. But there were more of them that helped make her childhood too much of a nightmare. "Which one?"
"Why, Betsy." Her brother purred, clearly drunk out of his mind. He was holding a glass of red wine in one hand and in the other its half-empty bottle. "Something's new about you. Different shade of pink in the hair?"
The British Bulldozer groaned. "Can you please do something? He won't listen to any of us. The kitchens are supposed to remain, well, sterile, and he's doing really gross stuff in there."
"Oh, my god, Ricky." Betsy had to look away when Ricky Gallagher started zipping up his pants for reasons no one in that room wanted to know. If she could've vomited right then and there, she would have, but unlike Ricky, Betsy has always been unable to go against their family's teachings. "You're back?"
"Of course I'm back, little girl!" He went straight to her, and with the wine splish-splashing on either hand, tried to give his sister a quick but tight hug. "Things are practically status quo again, what with you back to looking like Charles with eyelashes—" He cut himself off to forcefully surrender his glass and the bottle to the hapless British Bulldozer before turning his full attention to his sister yet again. "It's like we're family again. Back when it was good. After Mum and Dad died, I mean, they were a bore, but when it was just us and Charles—"
This time, Betsy cut him off, smacking his hand off of her shoulder. "You know, you popped fresh out of nowhere as if you're without a sin. You could have started all over. And you had to go and say something awful like that."
"I..." Ricky's face turned into a frown, seemingly genuinely saddened by her remark. "Bets, I only meant that it used to be good, when we were kids."
"When did he get here?"
"Just a few hours ago, I think?" The British Bulldozer in turn handed off Ricky's glass and wine bottle to a passing help. "He sneaked in through the back, I'm told, and Charles hasn't even seen him yet. We've got other people that sneak in through the back. But Ricky's made the most mess."
Ricky turned to the British Bulldozer with a frown. He tried to grab him by the collar but Betsy foiled his plot, grabbing her brother's wrists and forcing him to face her instead. Between the two, Betsy was always the stronger one while Ricky was mostly just cunning and untrustworthy, selfish to his core. "Enough, Ricky. For god's sake, you're my brother. You're our brother. You've been gone. It may be funny to you, but this matters to people. To me."
"Clean this place up and get dressed. You've got wine all over you." Betsy had other problems in mind, but she can't deny, this entire thing was a good distraction from her negative mindset. Maybe Ricky crashing Charles' party was a good thing. For now anyway. "I want Charles to see you for himself before he decides if he wants you in his life or not." She looked him over from head to toe, scowling. "I haven't decided if I want to know you again."
"Oh, well..." Ricky sighed, feigning great pain in his wrists after Betsy let him go. "I don't mind tidying up. It's not my style to trash Big Brother's kitchens. But I'm not leaving the Academy. Mum and Dad may have left it all to Charles, including most of their terrible baggage, but look at the number they did on all of us. So I don't much fancy knowing anyone outside of the two of you. Even the ones we're related to."
"I won't lie to Charles about this!"
"Then don't." Ricky sighed again and pilfered another glass of wine from the tray of some random waiter who just passed them by, much to the British Bulldozer's chagrin. "But I've a right to never see him again if I don't want to."
Betsy slapped the glass out of his hand. "I think he has a right to see you. After everything he's risked for you. I think you should go to him—"
The British Bulldozer interrupted her, a careful hand on her shoulder, while Ricky lamented the spilled wine all over the kitchen floor. "Hey, please don't do that in here... People might hear you arguing—Charles wouldn't want that."
"Fine." Betsy shoved off the hand and began walking out of there. "Then I'll bring Charles to you."
"Thank you! We're trying to keep things really pleasant here for the sake of the eggs." The British Bulldozer called out to her like a goddamn idiot.
"One big happy family, Bets!" Ricky was on his knees now, still crying over the spilled milk, not even turning towards his sister. "Even if it's by force."
Even if it's by force, huh? Betsy lied awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating her returned but annoying brother's words of accidental wisdom from not too long ago. In the end, she didn't even bring Charles to Ricky. She was interrupted yet again by someone else, someone who told him of his next singles match for Project: Honor's Proving Ground. She knew of Elena DeDraca, the Gothmother. Haven't actually wrestled her in singles competition. Betsy was well aware of the other woman's skills in the ring, how much of a veteran she was, a threat. She wondered then if the British Raven would be an obstacle in her own march back to championship contention. It would be a shame, considering they were country(wo)men, practically family. One big happy family... Even by force.
[END]
Looking up by chance from her glass, she spotted her former tag team partner who was staring at her with a scowl. Betsy felt her throat tightened a little, feeling the heat of the inevitable but unwanted encounter. It has been a while since they last talked, met, so this was extremely awkward. If Betsy could turn back time, change something in her past, that would involve the woman she once called a sister, she once shared an entire life of experiences with, she once—
"Did you hear me?" Betsy's sister-in-law suddenly stole her attention, appearing from out of nowhere.
"Hm?"
"I said, I need another cocktail. You coming?"
The woman seemed to play the role of Betsy's guardian angel, keeping her from enduring that undesired conversation with Betsy's former tag team partner, who decides to simply shake her head and depart the scene after realizing Betsy was no longer alone. Betsy herself heaved a sigh of relief, thankful for her brother's wife. She had always been so lovely and kind to Betsy, and in turn, Betsy tried her best to be the same to her. Betsy was never that good with those things, however. "That is an excellent idea. Where's the mimosa?"
Unfortunately, another interruption, not a mimosa, was in Betsy's immediate future. "Betsy?"
"Steven! How nice to see you." Betsy was delighted to encounter another familiar face, someone who was actually happy to see her. Or at least seemed like it.
"It's good to see you, too. In fact, I've been looking forward to meeting you again. Would you mind coming with me to the kitchens?" Steven offered her a courteous smile, the most polite she had seen today, though it felt more professional than personal. "Oh, and I'm going by the British Bulldozer now."
"...well, that's not going to stick." Betsy offered him in turn an apologetic smile. She hoped someone else suggested the name because Steven was no "bulldozer." He should've been more like a ring general or a technician, something that attributes either of those to his name, not some stereotypical title with no bearing to his actual moveset, style, and just another random word attached to "British." Otherwise, oof. "Happy to help you with whatever you need, British Bulldozer."
"Great. Because it's about your brother."
"..." Betsy heaved a sigh, though she was unsure yet if it was of disappointment or relief. She had too many brothers, too many for her to deal with easily. Charles was, of course, the most famous one, England's favorite son. But there were more of them that helped make her childhood too much of a nightmare. "Which one?"
GALLAGHER ACADEMY
UNITED KINGDOM
THE KITCHENS
"Why, Betsy." Her brother purred, clearly drunk out of his mind. He was holding a glass of red wine in one hand and in the other its half-empty bottle. "Something's new about you. Different shade of pink in the hair?"
The British Bulldozer groaned. "Can you please do something? He won't listen to any of us. The kitchens are supposed to remain, well, sterile, and he's doing really gross stuff in there."
"Oh, my god, Ricky." Betsy had to look away when Ricky Gallagher started zipping up his pants for reasons no one in that room wanted to know. If she could've vomited right then and there, she would have, but unlike Ricky, Betsy has always been unable to go against their family's teachings. "You're back?"
"Of course I'm back, little girl!" He went straight to her, and with the wine splish-splashing on either hand, tried to give his sister a quick but tight hug. "Things are practically status quo again, what with you back to looking like Charles with eyelashes—" He cut himself off to forcefully surrender his glass and the bottle to the hapless British Bulldozer before turning his full attention to his sister yet again. "It's like we're family again. Back when it was good. After Mum and Dad died, I mean, they were a bore, but when it was just us and Charles—"
This time, Betsy cut him off, smacking his hand off of her shoulder. "You know, you popped fresh out of nowhere as if you're without a sin. You could have started all over. And you had to go and say something awful like that."
"I..." Ricky's face turned into a frown, seemingly genuinely saddened by her remark. "Bets, I only meant that it used to be good, when we were kids."
"When did he get here?"
"Just a few hours ago, I think?" The British Bulldozer in turn handed off Ricky's glass and wine bottle to a passing help. "He sneaked in through the back, I'm told, and Charles hasn't even seen him yet. We've got other people that sneak in through the back. But Ricky's made the most mess."
Ricky turned to the British Bulldozer with a frown. He tried to grab him by the collar but Betsy foiled his plot, grabbing her brother's wrists and forcing him to face her instead. Between the two, Betsy was always the stronger one while Ricky was mostly just cunning and untrustworthy, selfish to his core. "Enough, Ricky. For god's sake, you're my brother. You're our brother. You've been gone. It may be funny to you, but this matters to people. To me."
"Clean this place up and get dressed. You've got wine all over you." Betsy had other problems in mind, but she can't deny, this entire thing was a good distraction from her negative mindset. Maybe Ricky crashing Charles' party was a good thing. For now anyway. "I want Charles to see you for himself before he decides if he wants you in his life or not." She looked him over from head to toe, scowling. "I haven't decided if I want to know you again."
"Oh, well..." Ricky sighed, feigning great pain in his wrists after Betsy let him go. "I don't mind tidying up. It's not my style to trash Big Brother's kitchens. But I'm not leaving the Academy. Mum and Dad may have left it all to Charles, including most of their terrible baggage, but look at the number they did on all of us. So I don't much fancy knowing anyone outside of the two of you. Even the ones we're related to."
"I won't lie to Charles about this!"
"Then don't." Ricky sighed again and pilfered another glass of wine from the tray of some random waiter who just passed them by, much to the British Bulldozer's chagrin. "But I've a right to never see him again if I don't want to."
Betsy slapped the glass out of his hand. "I think he has a right to see you. After everything he's risked for you. I think you should go to him—"
The British Bulldozer interrupted her, a careful hand on her shoulder, while Ricky lamented the spilled wine all over the kitchen floor. "Hey, please don't do that in here... People might hear you arguing—Charles wouldn't want that."
"Fine." Betsy shoved off the hand and began walking out of there. "Then I'll bring Charles to you."
"Thank you! We're trying to keep things really pleasant here for the sake of the eggs." The British Bulldozer called out to her like a goddamn idiot.
"One big happy family, Bets!" Ricky was on his knees now, still crying over the spilled milk, not even turning towards his sister. "Even if it's by force."
MARRIOTT CANCUN RESORT
CANCUN, MEXICO
Even if it's by force, huh? Betsy lied awake in her bed, staring at the ceiling, contemplating her returned but annoying brother's words of accidental wisdom from not too long ago. In the end, she didn't even bring Charles to Ricky. She was interrupted yet again by someone else, someone who told him of his next singles match for Project: Honor's Proving Ground. She knew of Elena DeDraca, the Gothmother. Haven't actually wrestled her in singles competition. Betsy was well aware of the other woman's skills in the ring, how much of a veteran she was, a threat. She wondered then if the British Raven would be an obstacle in her own march back to championship contention. It would be a shame, considering they were country(wo)men, practically family. One big happy family... Even by force.
[END]