Post by James Raven on Feb 24, 2021 23:59:41 GMT -5
It’s dark outside, the full moon above the only source of light. The soft idling of an engine carries through the neighborhood, the line sound echoing through the night. A windowless white van is parked in front of a typical suburban home. The vans engine cuts off and the headlights soon follow.
“What are we waiting for? There are way too many dudes in this van for me to even pretend I can ignore the smell…” The familiar voice of James Raven is heard in a hushed tone, as he looks over to Warstein for an answer “... what the hell are you doing on your phone right now Shawn?!”
Shawn sits with his face lit from the screen of his phone, and looks up at Raven.
“Relax man….” Shawn holds a finger up and then with one tap points towards the house they are outside of. “Give it a minute.”
“Shawn, I thought you said this was going to be a sure fire score.” The exasperated tone of Betsy Granger rings through the van as she leans over from the passenger seat, “This looks, well, less than promising.”
“Yeah dove, I don’t know what you’re playing at…” It’s like an echo chamber of exasperation as Atara Themis chimes in with the rest, while placing an arm on Shawn’s shoulder to soften the blow.
“Will you cunts give pa some credit! If he said this was a major score, then that’s what it is. Have some faith in the man! When has he led us wrong yet?” Noah flashes a comically goofy grin to his partners, and gives the group a thumbs up as they all contemplate his question.
It doesn’t take long for them to come up with answers.
“Well, he was in the Black Order… and that was just an awful, awful time for everybody involved.” James responds quickly.
“He’s used multiple people as a human shield in a match. Multiple. Way too many to try and count, honestly.” Betsy chimes in.
“He nearly kicked my head off after saying he loved me.” Atara said with a shrug.
James and Betsy both point at Atara and nod their heads in vigorous agreement.
“Yeah and he let me dangle off the roof of a thirty foot cage.” Noah said with a smile. “What I said was… where has he gone wrong. James with the Black Order, didn’t that eventually lead to you becoming the GOAT?” James nods with slight hesitation as Noah continues, “And for the human shields, if it wasn’t for that the XWF wouldn’t have the referee reform they are going through!” A quick eye roll from Betsy. “And Step-Mum, after he did that didn’t you go out on your own, make a name for yourself without his shadow?” A deep sigh and nod from Atara. “As for me dangling off the cage….that was just sick as fuck.” Noah holds out a fist as Shawn and he bump knuckles. “The point is Dad has done a lot of fucked up shit, but it always works out. Give him the benefit of the doubt, here.”
“Chill, Noah. Damn, we get it! You’ll follow your Dad to the gates of hell. Lay off the hard sell. We’re all already here, aren’t we?” Jackson Hart chimes in from the back of the van. “Also… who da fook is this guy?” Jackson thumbs over to a man sitting next to him, and the rest of the group turns to look at the man that they’ve failed to acknowledge this entire afternoon.
“Oh him?” Shawn quickly responds. “Legacy… meet Euan. Euan meet Legacy.”
“Yew-en? Like the actor?” Raven asks dismissively.
“That’s Ewan McGregor,” Shawn clarifies, “This is just Euan.”
“So… nothing to do with ‘Moulin Rouge!’? Shame…” Betsy says, turning away.
“OK Shawn…. but why is he here?” Jackson continues to question.
“Well, I figure that Danny Ocean had 11, but you five are the only people that like me enough to do this, and we needed at least seven for this job to work… so...” Shawn points towards Euan. “That’s where he comes into play. Say hello, Euan.”
“H-” Before Euan can get a word out, he’s cut off by James Raven, who leans towards Warstein.
“Yeah, great, nice to meet ya. Shawn? A word?” Shawn scoots closer to James as Raven begins to whisper, “Are you sure it’s a good idea to have an unknown with us right now?”
“Don’t worry about it man. It’ll all work out. Look who you’re talking to.” Shawn pats James on the shoulder and sits back where he was, looking towards the home they’ve all been observing, “It shouldn’t be long now.”
“What exactly are we waiting for, dove?” Atara’s tone was one of curiosity and exasperation. “Normally your plans don’t take this long...”
“Told you stamina was never my issue.” Shawn gives her a quick wink before looking out the front of the van. “When you’re dealing with people that have a combined IQ lower than the tire pressure on this van, it takes a minute.”
“Huh? What’s the tire pressure of this van?” Jax asks from the back seat, and is unanimously ignored.
The seven of them sit in an awkward silence for what seems to be an eternity, but in actuality was just a few minutes. Noah constantly taps his foot on the floor as James and Betsy stare at each other with googly eyes. Atara rests her head on Shawn’s shoulder, while Jackson noisily eats a bag of chips and offers it to Euan, who politely declines.
Suddenly, a loud ruckus draws the attention of everyone in the van back to the house. A stampede of fuck bois come barreling out through the front door, each one dressed more ridiculous than the next as they stumble over the hems of their Gucci robes and nearly collapse to the pavement under the weight of their gaudy jewelry. Without a second look you could tell that they were failed Tik Tok rappers, with little more than a hoard of easily impressionable teens that “smashed that like and subscribe button!” keeping them afloat. The swarm of unsuccessful Fortnite streamers descend on a small and beat up Mazda with spinner rims and suicide doors, piling in like the clowns that they are. The low humming of dollar store subwoofers fills the neighborhood, and everyone in the Legacy van ducks down as the caravan of douchiness and whistle tips rolls past them.
“Ok James. Now.” Shawn taps James on the shoulder. He quickly starts the van and slowly pulls up into the driveway of the home. It leads down and wraps around the backside, hidden away from the street. The van stops and everyone jumps out.
“Oi cunt… how did you know they were going to leave?” Noah says, slowly lowering a ski mask over his face.
“Well… here… check it out.” Shawn pulls out his phone and hands it over. “I just retweeted that.”
“So what?” Betsy says while also pulling her mask down over her face.
“You don’t get it...” Shawn responded.
“What don’t we get, dove?” Atara says from the comfort of the driver seat, after James slides out and exits the van.
“These fucking clowns follow her around like they’re rabbits and she’s got carrots falling out of her ass, and she turns Petey down like he was a prescription for penicillin.” Shawn says while clapping his hands together. “I knew they wouldn’t be able to resist the bait. Plus the fact that they're all idiots. They don’t realize the tweet is from days ago. She’s not even there anymore.”
“Kind of sounds like you and Atara,” Euan chimes in as everyone’s eyes turn and lock on him. Noah stifles laughter, while James quickly pulls his mask down over his face like the others.
“Nice knowing you, kid,” James says before turning away, “You lasted longer than I would have expected, honestly.”
“No. Not like Atara and myself.” Shawn said in a childish, mocking tone. “See her and I actually have had…. You know what? I’m not getting into this with you right now. Let’s just get inside and get what we came for.” Shawn grabs his mask and puts it on as they all head towards the door. Shawn and Noah hang back while the other four take the lead.
“Okay. Remember what we are here for.” Shawn looks over to Noah.
“Yup. All hard drives, usb sticks and any computer we can carry. While they go after all the jewelry and Ed Hardy pajamas they can grab.”
“You fucking know it.”
“So,” Betsy calls back to the two of them, “What’s the plan to get in? Are we going to try and short the security system, or-”
She’s interrupted by the sharp smashing of a glass pane. Betsy, Shawn and Noah all turn to see Raven with his fist through a small window on the back door.
Raven shrugs.
“I don’t think they have much of a security system…” he mutters to Jackson and Euan.
“Well, I guess that’s the plan,” Shawn reaches inside the broken window and unlocks the door.
“Ok so this is going to be really simple, much like Big Drip themselves, so just...” Shawn is stopped by Betsy.
“Get in, take shit, wreck shit, get out. Yeah Shawn not really trying to steal the Declaration of Independence here.” Jackson Hart and Noah enter the house first. Euan grunts as he enters the house brushing past Shawn in the process. Leaving Shawn, Betsy and Raven outside.
“You coming?” Shawn asks Raven as he holds the door ajar.
“We need a look out.” Raven quickly responds. “And I don’t trust Atty to not murder every cat in this neighborhood.”
“Yeah that tracks.” With that reply Shawn ducked into the house leaving James outside as the lookout.
Betsy stands beside James, eyeing him carefully now that the two are alone.
“You’re staying out here?” she asks.
“Yeah,” he mumbles back, “I wouldn’t be surprised if these dumb bastards aren’t back here in five minutes just because Yung Sauce wore the wrong leopard print pants or because Li’l Petey forgot his favorite sunglasses. I’m not risking us getting caught over this. Besides, you guys have it under control.”
She nods her head slowly.
“You’re OK, though?” she presses him.
“All good,” he assures her with a wink, “Now go rob these fucks blind.”
Betsy grins, and points at the broken window.
“Give me a boost?” she asks.
Without hesitation he crouches down and forms his hands into a foothold for her, hoisting her up and over the sill, through the open window. Betsy disappears from sight, leaving James Raven alone outside the house. He turns and takes a few steps back towards the van, his eyes wandering through the neighborhood as he moves… and coming to rest on the house next door…
“Oh, fuck me…” he mutters, glancing to the van where Atara is sitting and watching him. He points to the neighboring house, and watches as her gaze drifts to follow his gesture. Her eyes widen as she notices the two children standing in the yard, staring intently at Raven and the broken window.
“Hey guys!” James calls over to them, “What’s up?”
He makes his way across the driveway, stopping a good ten yards from the children. He glances at Atara, who is shaking her head emphatically and telling him not to engage, but he shrugs his shoulders. What else is he supposed to do? The kids say nothing, so James presses on.
“How are you guys?” he asks, “You doing good?”
“Did you just break into that house?” the first asks him, immediately and without an ounce of sugar coating.
“Me? No! Of course not!” Raven denies.
“We saw you break the window,” the second kid follows up.
“It was an accident,” Raven covers.
“You punched it,” the first kid clarifies, “You don’t accidentally punch stuff.”
James sighs, looking down at the ground as he toes the dirt uncomfortably.
“Yeah, well,” he stammers, “I’m still out here, right? I can’t break into a place if I never go into the place. Come on! That’s just common sense.”
He grins from ear to ear, convinced that will be enough to shut the two young children up.
“Well all of your friends went in, soooo…” the second kid says, rolling his eyes dramatically.
“Sooooooo what?” Raven asks, his blood boiling more than he’d like to admit. These are kids after all, he can just turn and walk away, but… but we all know that’s not going to happen.
“So you’re trying to steal from Sauce and Petey!” the first kid shouts, equally enraged by the People’s G.O.A.T.’s audacity, “We’re not stupid, we know what you’re doing!”
“Sauce and Petey? You actually know those two clowns?” Raven asks, his jaw hanging slack and dumbfounded, “Where the hell are your parents? Do they know that you’re hanging out with third rate sound cloud rappers? They’re, like, the definition of a bad influence!”
“Nu-uh!” whines the second, and significantly shorter, child, “My mom thinks Petey is great! He comes over and mows the grass, and cleans the pool, and he babysits me when my mom and date go out for a date!”
James groans and rolls his eyes.
“So he’s simping for your mother!” Raven nearly explodes, “Who gives a damn?!”
“Language!” the kid shouts back at him.
“FUCK! YOU! FRODO!” James screams at the vertically challenged minor, “Lil Petey is trying to sleep with your mother! That doesn’t make him, her OR YOU special! He is NOT a good guy, kid! He is NOT a role model! Neither is Yung Sauce, TJ whatever the fuck, or the hulking mountain of mexican supplements they’ve recruited this week to try and give themselves a fucking edge!”
“Whoa dude,” mumbles the first kid, “We don’t really know what you’re talking about…”
“Yeah,” affirms the second kid, “Besides, you don’t even have any drip. We’re not about to listen to someone with no drip.”
“Can you even hear yourself, munchkin?” Raven fires, “No drip? Big Drip is what Petey is trying to give your mother!”
“JAMES!” shouts a voice from behind Raven, and he turns to see Atara leaning out of the rolled down passenger window in the van. She motions for him to shut his mouth and get away from the kids, but he shakes his head and turns back to the children, lowering his voice so only they can hear him.
“You want to talk about drip?” James hisses at them, “I’m the Project Honor tag team champion! I’m undefeated, and your supah fly, dumb shit, phat ass, dumb fuck retardedly fly neighbors over there? They’re trying to steal that drip from me. FOR THE SECOND TIME, I MIGHT ADD! They were in the same tournament I was in, and they got SMOKED! Smoked, I tell you! So if me and my friends are trying to break in and steal some of their drip, it’s just a preemptive measure!”
The two kids look at each other, exchanging a knowing smile.
“So you admit it,” says the first.
“You ARE breaking in,” says the second, “I’m telling my parents!”
James holds out his hands frantically, rushing across the grass to get closer to the two kids.
“No! No no no!” he stammers, “Don’t do that! Look, you guys are missing the point! You think you’re helping the good guys, but you’re not! Those guys that live next door to you with the stupid grills on their teeth and the bad music bleeding out the windows all day? They’re everything that’s wrong with the world today! Talentless hacks that believe being colorful characters is enough to bypass everyone else in their industry; the people that have put in years of blood, sweat and tears and had to scratch and claw for everything they’ve had… Petey and Sauce want to stomp on all of them, put on some shitty and likely fake jewelry, and skip to the head of the line. It’s like they’re cheating! Cutting corners! Taking shortcuts! You understand right?”
The two kids say nothing, but turn towards their house to find their parents.
“OK, fine, I get it, you like those guys and I’m not going to change your mind,” Raven continues to scramble, “But what about Lance Williams?! You want to talk about cutting corners and taking shortcuts?! Do either of you really think that guys body came solely from hard work in the gym? HELL NO! You can’t tell me you can root for that! The guy looks like Sean Astin on growth hormone! He has purple lightning bolts in the side of his head for FUCKS SAKE!”
The kids continue to the house, reaching the door.
“Fine! What’s it going to take to get you not to tell anyone we’re here?!” Raven pleads.
The two kids stop, looking at each other for a moment before slowly revolving to face him. James breathes a sigh of relief.
“Well…” says the first.
“The chick in the van is hot, can we talk to her?” the second finishes.
James turns slowly, his eyes locking with Ataras as she watches with concern from the van. She holds her hands in the air, unsure as to whats happening, and Raven turns back to the two boys while reaching into his pocket.
“How about I give you two a thousand dollars, and you get the fuck out of here for an hour?” he offers.
“Yup.” says tweedle dee.
“That works,” agrees tweedle dum.
James pulls out his wallet and hands over a stack of bills, watching as the two boys snatch the money from his hands and take off down the street, disappearing around the corner and out of sight. Raven turns and stomps across the grass, back to the drip house. Atara leans out of the drivers side door, calling out to him.
“Everything OK?”
“Perfect!” he shouts back, “I’m going to see what’s going on inside. I don’t think it’s safe for me out here. Also you owe me a thousand dollars, and I can’t explain why.”
Atara watches as James disappears into the house. She shrugs her shoulders, and returns to her music.
Sick Scene Transition That makes you think Vertigo not only was a good movie, but like a legit thing to have.
“I hate materialism.”
The not-so-often heard voice of Euan Hill echoes from behind the mask that The Outcast wears as he makes his way through the Drip House, lumbering like more of a beast than a man, a war machine with a singular purpose, one prime directive. Euan takes his fist and runs it along the walls as he rustles through the hallway. He stomps into a room-now empty, of course, but with closets thrown open and clothing scattered about. That which lines the floor is valueless, the items of real value likely hidden inside the closet dead ahead. Euan lumbers toward it, a quiet megalith, his voice-either in his own head, or not perceived too audibly-narrating his thoughts.
“It’s the quiet killer. The Death of All Deaths. Children of lesser fortunes are forced to sew cloth to cloth, in the names of what? Brands? Fashion? The rags I dress in were forged by my hands, or those of Aurora. No infant will perish to clothe me. It goes against morality. Goes against logic. Goes against what we should do in society...but the machine demands it. The meat grinder demands it, demands more, each and every time.”
Hill reaches the closet, but, unsurprisingly, there’s a jam on the slider. He leans down, and examines a locking component keeping the door from opening. He grabs hold of the component, and tries to open it, but it’s not budging. Hill grits his teeth.
“Drip. Such an interesting thing, right? Takes the entire concept of materialism and puts a jet engine behind it. And here, you have three…otherwise talented individuals putting all of their weight behind it. All their money into clothing, so that they can produce songs, so that they can gain more money, which becomes more clothing. A vicious cycle, one that harms far more than it could ever help. The collective three of you, i’ll leave the last for later-you have a lot to gain coming up, don’t you? ‘Petey’ and ‘Sauce’...the Project Honor Tag Team Championships await you. Two of the finest pieces of gold in this industry, on the shoulders of two of the greatest men who I’ve ever stood beside...and you want to steal them from beneath. You want to dirty them with your filthy hands.”
Hill releases the locking mechanism. He grabs a hold of the closet door, and gives it a bit of a shove, but it still won’t budge.
“Were things so different, were you two entirely different people, things would be different. I would laud your opportunity at Legacy’s tag team championships...but instead, I spit in your face. Men like you are nothing, you deserve nothing, not the cloth on your backs, nor the air in your lungs, nor the opportunity set before you. I could rage for hours about how many men have given me shit for mocking the business before I choked the fucking life out of them, but you two make me see their point. Allow me to find common ground with men who I’d sooner kill than conversate with.
You won’t see it like I do, though, because you’re too consumed by all of this…materialism. Too engorged by all of it. Your friend TJ Thompson, he doesn’t see it, either. Facing off against some of the best that Project Honor has to offer, the Warrior Rising Champion, the only one of you to currently hold gold, even if you feel that the fact that more of you will is a foregone conclusion. TJ Thompson isn’t a warrior, he’s a rat who’s been allowed to feel that he’s a dragon. A gerbil, a creature of sound and shit, signifying nothing. You could’ve stayed off to the side, making your noise, but instead, you decided to look away from the wood chews and claim your gold.
An impressive effort, at my expense.
Since then? Your challengers have been paper. Your record has been padded. Alex Slayer fell before both of us in the challenge where you won your championship, and the Postman is just that…a Postman. A waste of flesh. A waste of space. Your time to hold that gold is running out, Thompson, and while your Big Drip Brethren may help you to try and keep your name afloat...you’ll fall before my fists.
This’ll be the first time.
The next will be the last.”
Hill grabs the closet door, and eventually, with great force and a massive heave, the closet breaks free from the locking mechanism holding it in place. Euan adjusts his mask as he drops an old bag to the ground, grabbing the items from therein. We see some valuable looking clothing slowly being sorted into the duffle-bags. He pauses for a moment.
“And then we have Lance Williams. Bulldozer. Six-foot-five stack of nothing. Old, grizzled veteran, or whatever the fuck he’ll have you believe. Attitude. Power. You fit in well with these gremlins, and you’ll share the same grave with them, if you desire to keep that affiliation together. I have little to say to you, largely because you’ve done so little since you’ve gotten here. There’s only one apple to my eye...and it’s not Lance Williams.
It’s TJ Thompson.”
Hill continues his ransacking, dumping all of the gear he’s collected into a bag. He makes his way into the hallway, trudging down it as we hear more sounds of burglary all around him. He enters into another room.
“As I said, I despise materialism. And you four...you either exemplify it, or you feed on it. Scott Oasis can’t help you from the beating you’re going to receive at my hands, even if I’m solely focused on one man. I tend to get a bit narrow minded at times...it’s a flaw, and even if I’m partaking in all of this pageantry...in the ring, there’ll be none of that. Just violence.
Just vitriol and venom.
Glory and gore.”
Hill lets out a dark chuckle.
“Hope you’re ready.”
As the camera haphazardly switches to Betsy.
Meanwhile on the other side of the Home. Timing, what’s that? Time is a construct… you’ll learn that from Betsy I’m sure of it.
Once Betsy wiggles through the window with James’ help, she peers back through it at the guys. Despite her reservations, she had agreed to do this madcap scheme of Shawn’s. Now that she was looking at him through the window James had just smashed open, the doubt returned tenfold. She plants her hands on her hips as she purses her lips. When she finally speaks, her tone is querulous.
“So... What exactly am I supposed to use to cart all the booty off with?” She holds up her empty hands to help make her point.
“You’re looking at em’, Sister Mine.” Shawn replies, too cheerfully for her taste. “Just grab whatever looks the most valuable and get back to the rendezvous point.”
The window James had broken had connected to a conveniently unused library; Betsy noted with disappointment the layers of dust that covered the volumes that were shelved along the walls. Mumbling under her breath about the stupidity of the plan, Betsy flips them off before turning to slink down the hallway. Treading lightly on the hardwood floors, her soft-soled sneakers barely make a sound as she wanders through the house. Reaching into the utility belt that hangs casually from her hips, she pulls out her phone and looks up the blue prints of the house. After studying them closely, she turns due east and heads towards a large wing of rooms used as the living quarters. As she heads deeper into the home, an indescribably horrid odor hits her nose; her face scrunches as she covers the bottom half of her face. Snapping the walky-talky from its holder, she flicks on the button to voice her displeasure.
“Whatever is in here better be worth it, Warstein. The smell alone could knock a man dead.”
“Ooooh, Betsy’s mad.” Atara’s voice is taunting from the background.
“That’s the smell of mediocrity and being a complete and utter failure and disappointment to everyone. Power through it.” Shawn still sounds obnoxiously good-natured considering their activities.
Blowing a raspberry into the walkie, she flicks it off and snaps it back to her waist. The clinging smell of body odor and overwhelming amounts of cologne made her gag as she continued her cautious journey through the home. The walls of the hallways were littered with promotional posters of Project Honor PPVs, Shows, and roster talent. It was clear this particular clan of morons favored Drip Productions over anyone else. Stopping to study a collage of the individual members, Betsy nibbles on her lower lip. Narrowing her eyes, she holds up her hands, forming her fingers into a rectangle and stepping backwards. Closing one eye, she studies the image again. Shaking her head, she can’t help but feel something is missing from the masterpiece.
“Status update, Viadante. Have you made it to the target area?”
Rolling her eyes, she grabs the walkie.
“Negatory, I was just admiring the local art. Their selection is pitiful, nothing of value here.”
“Then why the fuck are you wasting time admiring it? We don’t have all day, let’s just get the job done.” Her lips curve into a satisfied smile at the sound of his exasperated tone.
Attaching the walkie once more to her hip, she refocuses on the collage of Big Drip Productions. Pulling out a sharpie, she begins to recreate the images. Humming as she works, dicks begin to appear in each photo; Lil Petey is wearing a top hat, holding a dick-shaped chalice in his hand. Young Sauce has a smoking dickarette between his fingers and a razor thin hookstache. And finally, TJ Thompson is eating a dick tucked in a hotdog bun that looks like foreskin, a testicle shaped balloon tied to his wrist. All of them have a self-deprecating thought bubble over their heads. Once she’s finished, she tucks away the marker and steps back to inspect her work. She smirks and continues further into the home. Passing by the open doors of a game room, three of the bros didn’t make it out; they continued to play their game with headsets on, screaming out obscenities and orders to one another. She walks by unnoticed.
“Wait, who are you?”
Well, so much for that. Turning, she holds up her hands and smiles, forgetting about the mask.
“Don’t worry about me, pledge. I’m all part of the game.”
“Huh? Seriously, who are you? Are you one of the party girls we hired? Take off that mask so I can see your pretty face.”
The fuckboi in front of her is everything out of a Big Drip Production wet dream; from the way he styled his hair to the gaudy clothing. However, it was the chain and crown pendant dripping with diamonds that caught her eye. Nodding towards it, she lowers her hands slowly to her sides. His hands instinctively clutch the pendent, which she notes quickly. When he doesn’t answer, she takes a step forward. The look on his face is comically horrified as he takes a step backwards to compensate. Betsy halts and clicks her tongue against the back of her teeth in frustration. This wasn’t part of the plan; Shawn’s brilliant scheme had found its snag.
“I didn’t mean to startle you, mate. It’s just my cunt of a friend set me up to help play a little prank on the pledges. The house was supposed to be emptied out.”
“Who sent you? I didn’t hear anything about it, and it would have had to go through me to get approved at all.”
“Uh... Who are you, the club president?”
He looks her square in the eyes. “Yes, actually.”
Betsy’s emerald eyes widen behind her mask as her brain shuts down and instincts kick in. With ninja-like speed, she’s behind him; one hand is over his neck, limiting his oxygen, the other is over his mouth to keep him from making a sound. His eyes widen as he struggles against her, but she only tightens her grip. It takes a few minutes, but the struggling president fuckboi gradually stops moving and slumps heavily in her arms. She lets him drop to the ground and looks down on him with disgust. Planting her hands on her hips, she shakes her head and gives his body a little kick. Just as she starts to bend down to grab the chain, footsteps hurry down the hallway. Cursing in Italian under her breath, she eyes the door to a small towel closet and slips inside. She peaks cautiously through the crack of the still open door... And heaves a heavy sigh of relief when the familiar frame of James Raven comes into view.
“Oh, am I glad it’s you.”
Raven jumps back as she pops out of the closet; the terrified squeak that escapes his lips stops her dead. They stare at one another for a moment before Betsy bursts into laughter. She can feel James scowling at her through his own mask, but she can’t help it. Giggle after giggle peels from her lips as he recovers and crosses his arms, waiting for her to finish. After a few minutes, she looks down at the floor and lifts up her mask and wipes away her tears. His eyes go wide under his own at the ballsy move.
“Are you crazy? There could be cameras everywhere!”
“Oh, I’m sure there are... Ugh, this is stupid.” She slips the mask back down and looks up, stomping her foot in the process.
Chuckling, James closes the gap between them and puts his hands on her shoulders. Giving them a squeeze, he tries for a relaxed tone. “Just run with it, Bets. I came in to cover you after you took too long to get back. Let’s just get this shit and get out of here.”
Nodding, the two make their way down the hallway. Stopping for a moment, Betsy turns back towards the fallen fuckboi president. He was snoring softly, now safely sleeping off the effects of the sleeper hold she’d applied. Giving his body one more kick, she leans over and slips the chain off his neck. Putting it around her own, she skips back to James and they quickly head towards the shared living quarters. Bedrooms broke off on each side of the hallway, leading to the master bedroom. They start in there together, sticking to the job at hand. After a while, Betsy sits down on the bed and stares at James while he continues to search through the wardrobe.
“This bed is comfortable.”
James spins around in shock as she allows herself to fall back into it. She rolls around the soft blankets that smell surprisingly fresh compared to the rest of the house. Approaching the bed, James stares down at his girlfriend, taken completely aback by her ridiculous behavior.
“What are you doing?”
Rolling onto her back, she props herself up by her elbows and looks up at him. “Since we’re already technically committing a felony, I figured a little debauchery could add a little more flavor to this mix.”
“Here... Now?” They stare at one another through their masks for several moments. She can almost see his grin creep across his face as his mind quickly makes itself up. “Who am I kidding?”
In moments, he has crawled into the bed on top of her, pulling his mask up far enough to free his mouth. Pulling up her own mask, they begin kissing fervently; it quickly evolves into playful wrestling as they grab at each other’s clothing. Raven’s hands start creeping down her body, pulling at the waistband of her black leggings. Just before he can start sliding them down; An unexpected voice from the doorway hits them like ice water.
“As much as I’d love to catch the live show, we really have a schedule to keep. So can we keep it professional just this once, Doves?” The plan has gone awry as the the teens had made their way out to Atara and the van. The team didn’t know that yet, but they would when everything settles down.
James and Betsy scramble from the bed as Atara makes her presence known. Betsy grins apologetically as she fixes her blonde hair back into its bun. James slips his shirt back on, much to Atara’s disappointment, before lowering his mask back down. Atara turns and heads to another of the bedrooms. James and Betsy glance at one another and exchange a private chuckle. This would be finished after the work was done. Separating, they begin searching all the bedrooms for anything that could be hawked for a price. Her mind is still on the feeling of James’ body pressed against hers when the top drawer reveals a cigarette case filled with fat joints.
“I’ll be taking you with me, friends.” Betsy says, slipping the case into her bra. Suddenly, the walkies begin blaring and Jackson’s voice is heard.
“I think it’s time to get out of here, kids. A tweet was just put out by one of them that there’s no sign of their queen and they were taking the party back to the house.”
Convening in the hallway, covered in bling, Atara, James, and Betsy make haste back to the rendezvous point. Everyone was accounted for, except...
“Where’s Euan?”
Sick Welcome Promo from The First Lady Of Legacy.
“And here I thought my first test on a program called Proving Ground would be an actual challenge. This match... This is just a treat.
It’s always a good time when I get to tag with James; but this will be the first time Shawn and I get to be in the ring together as a team. Congratulations, PH, on gaining Legacy’s finest import yet. You’ve also beat GCWA to the punch by showcasing this dream team in a showcase tag match, big shocker there. I’ll hand it to you lot, you sure don’t waste time booking your money matches. I can appreciate a company that will give the people what they want. And who doesn’t want to see Legacy competing together... With Euan Hill.
I don’t know anything more about the guy other than he’s big and a bit antisocial. That’s fine with me, our partnership in this is strictly professional anyway. As long as Shawn, James, and I don’t have to worry about him screwing things up... Or having to watch our backs. But I suppose we’ll cross that bridge when and if we get to it. So, let’s shift our focus to the actual competition at hand. The ones who call themselves... Hold on, I’ll get it... Big Dinkus Productions. And some alabaster looking guy who calls himself a bulldozer? I guess he fancies himself some sort of Transformer/Bob the Builder hybrid nightmare. Lance Williams, there it is. I couldn’t think of his damn name for a second there.
I know I’m new around these parts, and I’m coming in here talking a lot of shit. Get used to that. I may be unproven here, but my records elsewhere will back up my every word going into this. Look me up: I’m currently packing gold in two separate companies, I’m also a force to be reckoned with in all three and anywhere else I step foot. Underestimate if you will; throw me your disdain due to my alliances, I’ve already heard it all. Time and time again, I’ve walked into companies and proved why I’m the one to start watching. I intend to make absolutely sure that Project Honor is no different.
So, let’s start talking about the clown squad, shall we? I’ve been doing my studies, as I always do, and Yung Sauce... What’s with all the jailbait entering the industry all of a sudden? You’ve strayed a bit far from the path of social media, don’t you think? I’m surprised you're willing to let your money makers take such abuse in the ring; won’t that tarnish all your Instagram suck face selfies? Or will you turn it into a fabulous makeup tutorial on how to cover facial bruising? You know, I’m not going to lie, I’d probably watch that. Alright, alright, look, even though you’re a walking lawsuit waiting to happen, you seem like an alright kid. I certainly can’t fault someone who makes themself the butt of all their jokes; I’m a mistress of the craft. I just hope you’re prepared to show PH why you belong there. This is usually the part where I’d fret over the same thing, but let’s be honest: I’m well past the point of modesty by now. If you don’t think I’m a big deal, let’s rewind back to The Crowning. Not only was the top champion of the company excited to see me, I got a mention in that brilliant state of the union address he made later on. In TikTok, that means I gained ten million followers overnight and now everyone is watching my streams. But I digress...
Let’s talk about your partner in crime, Lil Petey. Do you know how difficult it is for me to verbally destroy someone who perfectly exemplifies what it means to be “White and Nerdy”? It’s as if I’m talking to the mold Weird Al used to conceptualize the lyrics. It’s almost riveting in its brilliance; too bad the ridiculousness of the act dulls the shine. In my experiences, those who act the happiest carry the darkest secrets. I wonder what sort of demons the charismatic goofball known as Lil Petey carries around in his noggin. Is that why you cling so tightly to your young protégé? What are you trying to instill into him that you missed so much yourself? And how could you lead him into a lifestyle that’s going to get him endlessly roasted by peers, fans, and the media alike? I thought you were supposed to be the good guy going into this... Well, you know what they say: The road to hell is paved with good intentions. I’m sure you just wanted to take the child under your wing and show him a better way of life. I guess that's why you led him right into an industry infested with sharks. Maybe the two of you should pack it in for the day and go back to the studio to record your next flop of an album.
TJ, how does it feel being the shoulders that has to carry the other two along? I’m honestly trying not to be snarky right now, but how can I take my opponents seriously when they call themselves names like that. Big Drip and Bulldozer? Fuck's sake, Big Drip sounds like a basement rate porn company, and TJ Thompson looks like a Woody Award reject. The spirit is willing, but the talent is absent. Well, maybe not completely, I know TJ has a championship under his belt. Something I may or may not set my sights upon once this match is said and done. Another bridge I’ll cross when we get to it. But consider this a warning shot, TJ: Wherever I aim, I hit. I should note with some admiration that despite the absolute joke Yung Sauce and Lil Petey presents themselves as, you boys work together impressively as a unit. Something tells me that may possibly be your doing; I could also be completely off the mark and basing my hypothesis on the fact that you are the only one toting gold within this stable. Either way...
Lance, just... Try to stay out of the way. I’ll be honest: I don’t know why you and Euan are in this match at all. If you have unresolved drama that PH is trying to hype up, great; I just don’t see why... Eh, fuck it, trying to rationalize the situation isn’t going to change it. The fact is, each stable has to deal with some rando being stuck on their team for whatever reason the bookers decided on. It just sucks for the ol’ Bulldozer that he got stuck on the losing side. I mean, looking at it from his POV, I wouldn’t want to be in the position he’s in either. He’s landed with a team that looks like they just stepped out of a Rainbow store, and about as much legitimacy behind them. TJ having the title gets their name some credibility, but the product tends to wear down quickly. Fortunately for Euan, he was put with Legacy; if nothing else, at least he can say he’ll walk out with a win under his belt at the end of the night. Lance will be forced to watch as one of those clowns, probably Lil Petey or Yung Sauce, eat the pin... If one of them doesn’t tap out to me, that is.
If you don’t already know who I am, allow me to introduce myself: My name is Betsy Granger, but you may call me the Impossible Traveler.
And Now We end Our Fateful Tale.
“Well where the fuck have you been?” A deep voice bellows from outside as Betsy, Atara and Raven come out of the house. “You were supposed to be in the van. You were supposed to be the lookout, and you….” Noah comes rushing out from around the corner two giant duffel bags slung around his shoulders.
“Move it you cunts!!!” It didn’t take long for everyone to begin running after him. They all dive into the back of the van. All of them out of breath and Noah smiling widely. “I got it! I got it all!!!”
“What are you talking about?” The winded voice of Raven echoes to the back of the van.
“Well there me and dad were.” Shawn raises a hand to stop Noah.
“We made our way to the basement, it wasn’t the first place we went to mind you. We passed so many pictures with dicks on them.” Betsy stifles her laughter.
“Yeah that was me.”
“You went to the basement and had nice photos of them placed all the way down to the bottom?” Both Shawn and Noah tilt their heads towards her.
“What no!.... Wait what?”
“Oh yeah cunt, these douchebags…”
“These assholes took Sears quality pictures of themselves in the buff and lined the walls down to the basement. So naturally Noah and I ignored that fact and continued on our quest. We found our way to what was clearly a never used sex room.” Shawn continued to explain. “We knew this because the heart shaped bed had a layer of dust on top of it, thicker than their dicks.”
“Oi, that and the extra small condoms from the 90’s.” Noah added.
“Still we hadn’t found what we were looking for until we reached the end of the basement. What did we find when we got there Noah?”
“A simple recording studio.”
“Well if you could call it that. Basically it’s a bathroom, with a laptop, and a suspiciously sticky floor.”
Noah makes a jerk off motion with his hands and then pantomimes the climax.
“Yeah I’m pretty sure the next time someone has sex in this house with a willing partner, will be the first time. Anyways we didn’t have anything to carry the stuff with, but Noah, who had forgotten the bags, just so happened to have…” Shawn was cut off by Noah.
“A big ass magnet!”
“Yes.”’Shawn sighs. “A big ass magnet. So what did my demon offspring do?”
“I fucken wiped all their hard drives.” Noah smiles. “No more shitty rap music. No more flaunting rented cars. No more…”
“Yeah Noah, we get the point.” Shawn stops Noah before he continues for what would be the rest of the evening. “So once we did that we decided to search the room. We found two large duffel bags filled with all sorts of stuff. I’m talking jewelry, clothes, cash and basically anything else a frat boy would just leave in an unattended bag. So we took it, and bolted. Noah lagged behind because he tried getting Euan’s attention… he was busy monologuing.”
“Yeah silly cunt was going on and on about….” Noah raises an eyebrow. “What’s their name again?”
“Big Drip. It consists of…. well…. there’s…..” Shawn looks around and then up to James who shakes his head in disbelief.
“You forgot their names didn’t you?” James smirks while still shaking his head.
“No!” Shawn smiles back. “I never bothered to learn them. It’s pointless. I could watch MTV’s Spring Break and get more entertainment than them. I don’t need to know their names to know that they are nothing more than a joke.”
“But…” Noah rolls his wrist.
“But not like a funny one. Like an old knock knock joke that a toddler tells you. But like the kid has a stuttering problem, and god bless that kid they power through and make it to the end. And of course you laugh at the joke because you want to spare the child’s feelings, but the second that kid leaves you feel sorry for whoever has to hear that joke again. That’s what Big Drip is most akin to….” Shawn stops and points to Noah and waves his finger at him. “You’re trying to get me to promo aren’t you?”
“Yeah, obviously.” Noah knocks Shawn’s hand away. “Look Step-Mum is recording this.”
“Noah I told you, save the promo for later. And as for you Dear….” Shawn throws Atara a quick wink. “Keep that camera for later.”
“Really Dad? I’m right here.” Noah shivers his shoulders. “Anyways let’s get out of here.”
“Yeah. James, get us out of here.” James turns the key as the van fires up. “Hold up…. Where’s Euan?”
“Better yet cunts....” Noah feverishly begins to tear apart the van. “Where are the fuckin’ bags?”
Legacy began to tear apart the van, but no one could locate the bags. A quick cut away from Legacy being dumbfounded in the van. We see the same two duffle-bags that had earlier been filled from a shattered closet and basement. The streetlights nearby catch a massive shadow walking away, before it approaches a car. The window rolls down, revealing Aurora Ray.
“Did you get the stuff?” She asks, raising a brow. Euan Hill reveals both duffle-bags and their contents. “Excellent plan, Outcast. Did they suspect it?”
Euan shows a rare smile.
“Not at all.”
The camera cuts to black.