sUCCESS iS tHE bEST vENGEANCE

[Tiffany White]

PROMO #6 - sUCCESS iS tHE bEST vENGEANCE

Fifteen was an absolutely spoiled night for me. How did everything go wrong? Oh, let me count the ways.

A little before I was set to leave for the arena, I was told by my friend Jason (who I had entrusted in keeping Pixie Paradoxxx save back in Nevada) that Pixie had flown the coup and was headed straight for Fifteen. I'll be honest with you, when Jason broke the news to me, I was furious. All this work I had put into protecting her, for her sake and her babies, and she puts all of it at risk. I wasn't just doing this for my health, y'know. But I couldn't focus too much on all of that, I still had a match with Chance von Crank to focus on.

I had the fucker. I hit him with the fucking Bad Beat. There was no way he was gettin' up from that. ONE. TWO. I almost have him beat for good!

Then...out of the fucking blue...the cops show up. I had known Chance had done some riot inciting in Harlan, but I just assumed the cops would wait like, ONE SECOND before showing up to take him into custody. Took him out in the middle of my pin. Everyone could see plain as day that I was the victor of this match, forget the official decision to call it a "draw." In fact I find it almost insulting to call this a draw, as if Chance and I were equals in that ring. Fuck that shit, Chance was BARELY scrapping by at the end. I don't care what the records say, that is getting marked on the record as a Tiffany White victory.

Unfortunately I had barely any time to rest from this incident. Right after the match ended, and as soon as I was certain Chance was gone from the arena, I began searching for Pixie backstage in the crowded gorilla position. Usually backstage is moderately packed with workers, but tonight it was even worse. It was absolute madness as people rushed around trying to make sure everything was ready to go for showtime, as I tried squeezing my way through the crowd.

Tiffany: PIXIE! WHERE ARE YOU? I know you're here! It's Tiffany, I'm here to help! PIXIE!

Sadly, no answer. Fuck. I kept looking, eventually making my way to the locker room, which (just like the gorilla position) was packed. Some wrestlers still recuperating from their matches, some getting ready. Sweat, blood and testosterone filled the atmosphere. I held off from gagging long enough to ask if anyone knew about Pixie's whereabouts.

Tiffany: Any of you fuckboys seen a girl named Pixie? Trailer park chick, slightly pregnant?

Some of the wrestlers shook their heads, most just ignored me completely. I muttered aa quick "fuck" under my breath before I heard a voice.

Hugh Jazz: I think I may be of assistance...Ms. White, I presume?

I turned around, and staring me down was Hugh Jazz, perennial WCF jobber and so-called ladies man. Chest hair fully exposed, mustache on display in all it's glory. I wanted to puke in my mouth just looking at him. Still, any information, even from this bozo, was good information.

Tiffany: What do you know?

Hugh Jazz: That Chance von Crank fella? I heard him yelling at someone in the hallway next to the janitors closet. Couldn't hear him real well, but it sounded like he was talking to a woman. You may wanna look there.

Panic set in. Had Pixie actually made contact with Chance? No. No no no NONONO. I didn't want it to be true. I began running out of the locker room-

Hugh Jazz: Now hold on there sweet little lady...what's in it for old Huey, eh?

Jazz grabbed my arm before I could get out.

Hugh Jazz: Y'know, I know you got your eyes set on the puss and all that, and that's fine, I like the puss myself. Lots...and lots of it. But you ain't gotta be afraid of a little D every now and again.

He leaned in to whisper in my ears.

Hugh Jazz: I could take you to places you've never even dreamed of before. Just take a little Mustache Ride, won't you?

I gave him a swift kick right to the testicles. His smooth sultry voice quickly changed to a high pitched scream as his knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, a weeping mess.

Tiffany: How pathetic. Next time you pull something like that I'm giving that precious lip caterpillar of yours a Brazilian wax.

I stopped wasting my time with him, running out the locker room and into the hallway. My caught a hold of it, the janitors closet. I sprinted to the door, and put my ear up to listen. Nothing. If Jazz was lying to me just to try and score I was going to murder him. Still, I wanted to make sure, so I slowly began to open the door...

...

*THUD!*

Out of the closet came an unconscious Pixie Paradoxx, tumbling onto the floor, and landing on her side. Both her eyes were a sick shade of swollen blue, they made a sick compliment to the choke marks on her neck. Chance had donee a fucking number on her, I feared for a moment she may actually be dead.

Tiffany: PIXIE! IT'S TIFFANY, CAN YOU HEAR ME?

No answer. Panic set in.

Tiffany: MEDICAL! I NEED MEDICAL OVER HERE ASAP!

---

Later that night, at the local hospital, I stood across from Dr. Ian McHaven, a young doctor who looked straight out of Med School. In between us, laying across the hospital bad in total slumber, was Pixie. Until I heard something definite from the doctor, I was nervous for her.

Tiffany: So Doc...how's it looking for her?

McHaven: She took quite the beating, most women in her situation would be crippled severely or dead. At the very least they would lose the baby. However, she got lucky. She'll have to take some time to recover from her injuries, but she'll be okay.

Tiffany: And the baby?

McHaven: While we can't be sure for certain, we do believe the baby will survive. It's too early in the pregnancy to know for sure, but we have faith the little meatball'll make it out alive.

I breathed a heavy sigh of relief. Finally tonight...some good news.

McHaven: You yourself look pretty exhausted. I'd suggest getting some rest.

Tiffany: No shit. I might come back to check up on her, but for now I'm going back to my hotel room. It's been a long fucking day for me.

---

Hank had gotten into contact with me the day after Fifteen to discuss getting an interview set up. Believe me when I say it was on the absolute bottom of my to-do list. I would much rather pluck out each one of Hugh Jazz's chest hairs (INDIVIDUALLY) then talk about Fifteen. Nevertheless, whenever Hank comes a callin, you gotta answer. I could hear him outside my hotel door.

Hank: Tiffany, it's me. Are you ready?

Tiffany: Sure, just give me one second.

I slowly shook myself awake from what I could only assume was my drunken stupor. My initial scans of the hotel room revealed an almost total mess. Clothes scattered everywhere, empty take out boxes, to the side of me an empty bottle of wine (of course.) I turned around and saw the naked body sleeping like baby next to me. Apparently my idea of "getting some rest" is going out, getting drunk on wine and picking up strangers to bang. Oops. Judging from her skin tone and my own hazy memories she appeared to be Asian. It would make sense given my preferences. I tried slowly shaking her awake.

Tiffany: Hey babe, you there?

No answer. I continued shaking her gently.

Tiffany: Hellooo sweetie, anyone home?

Finally, a word escaped her lips.

Asian: Nani? (What?)

Of course. I should've known. This was another in the list of non-English speaking Asians I brought over to bang. It's always been a habit of mine. I leaned over close to her to whisper in her ear.

Tiffany: Watashinokoegakikoemasuka? (Can you hear me?)

Yes, I bang so many Asian chicks I've begun to pick up some of the languages. So what? At least I could tell this chick was Japanese so I could actually talk to her.

Asian: Hai (Yes.)

Tiffany: Anata no namae, akanbō wa nanidesu ka? (What's your name, babe?)

Asian: Miyuki.

Tiffany: Miyuki o kiite, watashi wa otoko ga watashi ni hanashi o suru ni wa kite imasu. Moshi anata ga nete iru ma, watashitachi ga hanashite bakkin? (Listen Miyuki, I have a man coming in to talk to me. You fine with us talking while you sleep?)

Miyuki: Tashika ni, chōdo suimin o remu. Watashi wa hageshī zutsū o motte imasu. (Sure, just lemme sleep. I have a raging headache.)

Tiffany: Kireina. (Beautiful.)

I gave her a quick little peck on the cheek before slowly climbing out of bed, making sure not to disturb her, and slipped on some clothes. A T-shirt and a pair of sweatpants, nothing more. As long as my girls weren't out for the world to see I was good. I debated whether or not I should clean the place up, but my deep-seeded laziness got the best of me.

Tiffany: You ready, Hank?

Hank opened the door and made his entrance. He stopped dead in his tracks, surveying the scene.

Hank: Tiffany, this place is a mess.

Tiffany: I know. It's been a long night, bear with me.

I swished the bottle of wine in my hand a bit. I had thought it was empty, turns out there was still some stuff left in it.

Tiffany: Want some?

Hank: Sorry, I don't drink on the job.

Tiffany: Suit yourself.

I downed the remnants of the bottle in one gulp. Still damn good.

Tiffany: So how do you wanna do this?

Hank: Well I was gonna suggest sitting down in those two chairs over there, but uh...

I looked at the aforementioned chairs. They were covered in clothes, spilt wine, and other...um, fluids.

Tiffany: Yeah that ain't gonna work. You could just do it from here y'know?

Hank: Fine with me, doesn't look like I have much of a choice.

I sat up as Hank set the camera up, he finally caught a glimpse of the naked, sleeping Asian next to me.

Hank: Tiffany, why am I not surprised?

Tiffany: I dunno, should you be?

Hank: Whatever, it's not a big deal. If the watchdogs complain about nudity we can blur her out.

Tiffany: Fine by me. Just...be quiet, will you?

After some camera finagling, the red light popped on, and Hank took a seat next to me on the bed, a WCF microphone in hand.

Hank: WCF Galaxy I am here LIVE from the hotel room of rising star Tiffany White the morning after arguably the greatest Pay-Per-View in WCF history, Fifteen! How are you feeling right now, Tiffany?

Tiffany: To be honest, a little shitty.

Hank: Why though? You had the win locked up against Chance, any idiot could see that.

Tiffany: I did, and I appreciate that everyone knows how that match would've ended. It does feel good knowing everyone knows you had the win locked up. I'm just annoyed is all. Annoyed that the official decision is a draw. Cause now all the redneck crowd is gonna go "You couldn't pin Chance you whore" not having actually seen the damn thing cause they don't understand how to work Pay-Per-view nor do they know how to pirate the show. But everyone in attendance last night, and everyone who ordered the show...yeah, they know how that match ended. A W for Tiffany White. Plain and simple. This scene we're in right now? Consider it a celebration bender.

Hank: Very well. Have you heard the news that Chance von Crank has made bail earlier today?

I scoffed.

Tiffany: Of course that little shit made bail. He's gotta be a free man before I destroy him again just like I did last night. I'm not surprised. That would explain why Seth put him on the card, I guess.

Hank: Speaking of Slam, this week you've been booked into a Tag Team match with Vengeance, a man who you've had absolutely no interaction with at all so far in your WCF career. Do you think the two of you would make a good team?

I giggled a little bit, thinking about how I would answer this.

Tiffany: The obvious answer to this type of question would be to say "I dunno, the guy ain't me and all I care about is me so fuck him, I'mma look out for myself." But that's not the answer I'm giving you, Hank. Cause while this may come as a shock to some of the folks out there, it is a fact that I do hold some respect to some of my locker room mates in this federation. Vengeance being one of them. Dude was getting a bad beat, he got pissed and actually fucking did something about it instead of just whining and complaining. Think back to a few months ago, people thought Vengeance was just another no-name midcarder being used to fill up spots on the card. Now look at him. Number one contender for the united States title, arguably the second most prestigious title in this whole fed. That's called fucking HUSTLE, and I have tremendous respect for him because of it. And you know what? He strikes me as the type of guy who would respect the waves people like me are making. You can lone wolf it all you want, but if the Stable Wars have taught us anything, it's that it's always good to have allies in this federation.

That's why I think ole Vengy and I will come out on top this week. Cause look at Mikey and Chance. They're too focused on themselves to focus on the goal at hand. They forgot that this is a Tag TEAM match. TEAM. They've spent nearly all week just shit talking each other as much as they trashed Vengy and I. That's bad form, bub. They'll spend thee whole match just fighting with each other, not focused on the actual goal. Vengy and I? We'll be a well oiled machine that can't be beat. Fuck, I bet you if Vengy wasn't so focused on the US Title and I wasn't so focused on murdering Chance von Crank we could make a run for the Tag Team titles and no one would even bat an eye. But he's got his own goals, and I got mine, so for now that's just a possibility. Just don't expect this to be the last time Vengy and I work together.

Hank: Over the past few weeks you and Chance von Crank have been having...quite frankly oddest of rivalries. And from the looks of it, it doesn't look like it's gonna end soon. Do you have any words for Mr. Crank?

Tiffany: Do I have any words for Chance von Redneck? Does Jordan Wolfram molest children in his spare time? Of course I got something to say to Chance.

Chance, you should count your lucky fucking stars the cops spared you the humiliation of getting pinned at Fifteen, cause we all know if they hadn't that you couldn't live with yourself if you had. THE ALMIGHTY CHANCE VON CRANK, GREATEST WRESTLER IN HARLAN COUNTY, THE GREATEST WRESTLER IN JAPAN, THE FUTURE GREATEST WRESTLER IN THE WCF, BEATEN BY A DYKE! How could you fucking live with yourself, now that pretty much every belief you've held about us people you call "queer" and "fags" is shattered. Your whole life, ever since you were a kid, you've been demonizing us, people like myself and your dear old pappa. Ever since your dad walked out on you with that sumo wrestler you've believed anyone who isn't straight or male is inferior to you. When in fact? You're just a coward who couldn't accept people for who they were. Shit, you couldn't accept who YOU were, so you became a monster to cope with it.

You can shit talk your daddy all you want, and while I don't condone him getting it on with his daughter, at the very least I can he was the bravest member of your deranged family, may his soul rest in whatever afterlife he's in. He stayed true to himself in n environment hostile to his lifestyle, but he STILL had the fucking CAJONES to wear his dress with pride and say "Fuck you, this is who I am, if you don't like it well then tough shit!" You think he wasn't a man cause he was a little queer? Chance, your dad was more of a man then you'll ever be!

The delusions you've created for yourself are laughable. You actually THINK you had me BEAT at Fifteen? HA. Don't make me laugh little man. We all know how that shit would go down. You think you're the one driving this feud as high up the card as it is right now? Well, you'd be right in that regard. People are buying tickets and tuning in just to see your ass LOSE to Tiffany fuckin White. If you can't even beat the slut you demonize in your promos, then how are any of the rednecks who call themselves Chance von Crank fans respect you? They won't, trust me.

You still think your man enough to beat me, Chance? Well let me tell you something, and head my words. I'm not much into looking into how relationships between straight people work, that's not my jam, but I do know one thing, and I'm sure every sensible person in the world can agree with me on this...

THE MOMENT YOU LAY YOUR HANDS ON A DEFENSELESS WOMAN, YOU'VE REVOKED ALL RIGHT TO CALL YOURSELF A MAN.

What you did to Pixie was hideous, petty, and cowardly. I knew you were all of these things already, but now everyone knows it. But your also foolish. Cause what you did to Pixie? It just makes me want to cripple you that. Much. More.

I'll be ready for you at Slam, Chance. Let's hope your ready for me.

---

It felt weird, actually waiting for a man to show up.

Five Guys Burgers and Fries made some damn good food, that much is certain in life. Greasy ass all hell and probably unhealthy, but still damn good. The restaurants themselves were nearly always packed though, but for the food, it was worth it.

I sat at one of the tables, my food in front of me, sunglasses on and my headphone on full volume. I was listening to one of the many wrestling podcasts out there to get in the right mindset for Slam. I had no idea what vengeance looked like underneath all that makeup, he could be anyone in this whole building. Suddenly, a greasy brown bag plopped down in front of me.

Harley: Tiffany White, I presume?

I looked up at the guy standing next to me. To my surprise, there was no theatrics with this guy. No makeup, no robbed guys, no baseball bat. Just a normal dude.

Tiffany: Vengeance?

Harley: Please, just call me Harley. You can call me Vengeance once we're in the ring.

Tiffany: I gotcha homie.

Harley: What's wrong, you seem a little...shocked?

Tiffany: I am, a little bit. I guess I was just expecting something more.

Harley laughed at this. Not like a "MUAHAHAHAHA" maniacal laugh either, just a laugh a normal guy would make at something he found funny.

Harley: Tiff, if you're gonna tag with me, then you gotta know one thing. I like to keep my in-ring life at least a little separate from my out-of-ring life, you feel me? When I'm out there, of course I'm gonna play it up, hurt some people to get what I want, maybe break a few bones. Out here though? I enjoy the simple things in life. Like burgers. And future title shots.

Tiffany: I feel ya. And congrats on that by the way. Gonna be a crazy match at Timebomb.

Harley: Damn right it will be. It took a lot to get that match, but I'm proud of the momentum I've set up for myself. I intend to ride it out as long as I can.

He finally took a seat across from me, taking his food out the bag, I had already begun mindlessly munching on my fries as he started biting into his burger.

Tiffany: This match'll be a good preview of what's to come at Timebomb. You vs. Mikey, me vs. Chance, cause let's face it, that's how I'm gonna get booked for that show.

Harley: Gotta make up for that shoddy call at Fifteen. And can I just say, that was a load of horse shit the way that went down.

Tiffany: Oh trust me, I know. But don't worry, I got something planned against Chance for timebomb that'll insure that shit doesn't repeat.

Harley: Really? Mind giving me a sneak peak?

Tiffany: Well, I haven't brought it up to Seth yet, but what I'm thinking is this. If I want to insure no one interferes with the match at all, what better way to keep people out of the ring then a steel fucking cage.

Harley: Oh shit! A steel cage match? Get outta here!

Tiffany: You heard it here, man. Expect it to happen.

Harley: Damn, I may need to check that out if I get the chance.

Tiffany: What about you? Got any scoops on you and Mikey?

Harley: Other then the obvious "I win?" Not much.

We both had a good laugh at that. I knew this guy would make a great team mate.

Tiffany: I mean, you already have the advantage, you've already got one win over him, it shouldn't be too hard to get another over him, yknow?

Harley: Exactly.

Tiffany: He always struck me as the type of asshole, just like Chance, that made me join WCF in the first place, just to shut him up. Only unlike Chance he's at least got some gold to back himself up.

Harley: Absolutely. He's not gonna be a walk in the park.

Tiffany: He's still a smug bastard though. Thinking he can take on both of us at once by himself, that's cute. Didn't he pay attention to what happened at Fifteen? Dune, the World Champ of the fuckin year, got taken down by two men. It doesn't matter how talented you are, if you're outnumbered there's not a lot you can do about it. And lemme tell you, Mikey eXtreme ain't no Dune.

Harley: He may as well be fighting this match by himself. You saw the way he talked about his partner Chance?

Tiffany: I did. He's got no respect for Chance at all. And who in their right mind would? I imagine those two floundering in this match cause they go about as well together as scrambled eggs and ketchup.

Harley: Can you please? I'm eating.

Tiffany: Oh yeah, my bad.

Harley: But I get what you're saying. Makes total sense.

Tiffany: Plus Mikey is too caught up in the numbers of the whole situation. He's too busy trying to hold onto that belt for 140 days. What YOU need to do is make sure he doesn't even get past 98.

Harley: Believe me, after I'm done with him he won't be worrying about any belts. He'll be too concerned figuring out aa way to breath after I choke him out with the Sounds of Silence at Timebomb.

Tiffany: That's what I wanna hear, man. As for me, I have my own reasons for wanting to take him down.

Harley: Like what?

Tiffany: Simple. Revenge for what he did to Chelsea Armstrong at One.

He nodded in understanding.

Tiffany: This company quite frankly has always had a shitty run with female talent. For every Sarah Twilight we get like five Celestes. Chelsea Armstrong was actually one of the more talented chick out there, and watching Mikey do what he did to her...yeah, I didn't take kindly to it. And while I'd love to see Chelsea herself wreck his shit, she's in no condition to do anything about it, so I'm the next best person to do it.

All these smug assholes in the federation, underestimating people like me just cause I have a vagina and a pair of tits. You just look at how Chance or Mikey talk about me, and that's all they view me as. But that's fine. That's how Sarah Twilight got so big so quick, cause no expected it cause she was a girl. They refused to see the actual talent us chicks have. So that's what I intend to do with my stay here in the WCF.

That billboard Mikey saw me on, for the poker tournament? Trust me, he'll be seeing me on many more billboards to come. Only this time, it'll be for headlining Pay-Per-Views, while he and Chance fade into backwoods American history.

Harley: Damn straight.

After we finished off our food, we said our goodbyes as he left to catch his flight to Tennessee. As for me? I decided to head to the local bar. One last taste of the local...*ahem*..."population" in my hotel room before the flight couldn't hurt.