Post by Bonnie Blue on Feb 27, 2016 22:35:39 GMT -5
It was a sunny, warm February day along the San Antonio Riverwalk. The fine weather -- less humid than usual -- coaxed locals from their homes and tourists onto the wide walkways and shopping plazas. Don Jesus Luis de Guadalupe -- known informally as Chuy (a diminutive form of the name "Jesus") -- strolled casually along the wide canal as a broad, flat-bottomed boat drifted past; crowded full of sightseers experiencing life through their phones' cameras. The festive atmosphere, however, did little to blunt the edge of Don Jesus' anxiety.
Events were moving along far more quickly than even the Timekeeper had anticipated, although Johnny Reb's inexperience with the power conferred to him didn't help matters. With Jay Omega's disappearance -- a fact confirmed by the Cyborg Hank Brown -- came a series of possibly-related events that cascaded through a dozen realities, culmanating in the arrival of a new element to the WCF; a man who called himself Scathe, and who demanded the presence of the volatile Gemini Battle. That the summons was answered so quickly troubled Chuy, added to the growing turmoil in his mind.
Then there was Bonnie; awakened to a power to which no mortal should have access, a power she could not yet control. Perhaps she never would. Her discipline was lacking, and the abilities manifested only sporadically... for now. Who knew when she might accidentally unleash causal Hell? She was a danger to herself and others.
Don Jesus shook his head and pulled a Galaxy 6 from his pocket, glancing at the screen to see if he'd missed any calls. Nothing. Another concern added to the pile. It had been nearly a week since the investigator, Minella, had been in touch; sometime just before Mardi Gras. On reflection, Chuy realized, he hadn't made a lot of sense in that last conversation. Several hints, innuendos, and the mention of a lucrative deal that would enable him to retire. Strange. Very strange, indeed.
With a sigh, he dialed the P.I.'s number again. The call was answered by an automated message, spoken in a synthesized almost-female monotone: "The voice mailbox for this user is full. Please try your call again later."
Unease prickled at the back of his mind; something was surely wrong. All these events unfolding at once couldn't be coincidence. Don Jesus had lived too long to believe in that anymore. Yet pieces of the puzzle were missing. Nothing added up. This Scathe -- he filled Chuy with a sense of chill dread -- wanted something from Gemini Battle. That alone was vexing enough, and now two of his associates were missing... but why? How did they figure into this? What was the common denominator?
"Bernardo..." whispered Chuy, as the answer suddenly struck him.
And, with a few taps on the touchscreen, Don Jesus summoned an Uber to take him away.
I-35 stretches on into the infinite Texas night, lights flashing by in long streaks of luminescence with hypnotic regularity. Behind the wheel of her Ford Ranchero, Bonnie Blue accelerates past a freight truck, her mind on the match ahead; on Timebomb, and the Trilogy tournament. In the seat beside her, Don Jesus dozes lightly; Bonnie is forcibly reminded of the last time they'd driven together. It was another reality. The older man had slumped in the passenger seat of a stolen car, bleeding from wounds inflicted by creatures known collectively as the Ripper Cult. At the time, she'd taken them for worshippers of the Chrono-Rippers. Lately, Bonnie wonders if they might have served some other dark allegiance.
It doesn't matter anymore. Their power is broken, the few who remain scattered throughout the Metaverse. Even now, CyberHank and Brian Setzer are hunting down the last of them.
She shakes off the reverie, wrenching her attention back to the road. A metaphoric noose seems to tighten around her neck. Dallas looms on the horizon -- another hour distant, but closer than she'd like. Gray and Andre should be on their way to Baton Rouge by now; DeMarcus would meet her in the morning, but the next time the four of them would be together would be Sunday. So much could go wrong in the meantime.
So much may have already gone wrong. The death of Jay Omega -- my gods, how? I almost thought he was immortal. And now Gemini Battle; if it's true he's back, that can only spell trouble for the WCF. It wasn't just Scathe who wanted him, either. Rabid kept hinting that Battle wasn't really gone; that it was only a matter of time... what does he know that we don't?
And just what is the nature of the task set for Pierce by Jay Omega? Bonnie is certain it's nothing so simple as a routine delivery, not for a million-dollar payout. Perhaps she should have gone with him, just in case. In the Ranchero, they could have been there and back in a matter of minutes. Some deep instinct whispered to her that this was something he needed to do on his own; his quest, given to him from beyond the grave. It's not her place to interfere.
He's a grown man. Gray can handle himself, and he's got 'Dre to back him up if things go sideways.
Besides which, her own concerns are paramount. Another opportunity at greatness hangs in the balance; not very different from a month ago, save for the conditions of competition. No briefcase, no ladders, this time. But a battle equally as fierce, perhaps moreso, all for a chance to enter the tournament for the Trilogy Cup. A glimmer of hope, nothing more -- or less. In the end, to the victor go the spoils. Specifically, a world title shot. Bonnie hadn't given it much thought, prior to Fifteen. She hadn't considered a chance at the most prestigious title in the business even a distant likelihood. Now, however... the possibility is enticing.
I can picture it so clearly. Standing in that ring, battered and bruised, the world title in my hands, held high for everyone to see. One single, shining moment; the ultimate accomplishment...
Yet eleven other people stand in her way, one of them her own Rebellution teammate, DeMarcus Jordan. How far can she trust him? How far can she trust herself? That any of the other competitors will be left standing in the end is almost unthinkable. Perhaps the real question is, in the long run, can she stand being the only member of Rebellution without gold?
With that less than pleasant thought foremost in her mind, Bonnie switches on the radio in an effort to drown it out. Beside her, Don Jesus stirs, and immediately reaches for a Thermos of coffee tucked beneath the seat. Once the need for caffeine is sated, he rolls a joint and sparks it, gazing thoughtfully at the young woman. They pass it back and forth, unspeaking, as Bonnie drives on under the endless Texas sky.
The video plays, revealing the modest interior of a small hotel room comprising a single bed, a writing desk, an armoire, and a flatscreen television mounted in one corner. Dressed in an oversized "WCF" t-shirt that leaves one shoulder bare, and a pair of cutoff denim shorts, Bonnie Blue sits on the edge of the mattress, one leg folded underneath her. Blonde hair hangs down her neck in a loose plait. Baby-pink lips turn up in a smile that borders on arrogant.
Bonnie Blue: Here we are once again, my friends. Almost a month since Fifteen -- an' a Hell of a show it was! -- now we're countin' down the hours until Timebomb. In slightly more'n a day, I step into the ring with eleven men; each an' every one of us with the same goal in mind. Eliminate the competition. Win the match. An' after that...
Her gaze takes on a faraway look as she contemplates the eventual outcome. Then she shakes her head and returns her attention to the camera.
Bonnie Blue: Well, one thing at a time, right? This battle royal on Sunday night, that's what's important. Me an' DeMarcus done had our talk, an' we're on the same page. We support each other, come what may. He ain't gonna be mad when I walk out the winner tomorrow night, so long's I give him everythin' I got. That ain't a problem. That's what I do every week. An' that's why I've got a string of victories over men twice my size an' three times my ugly. It's why I do some of my best work when I'm vastly outnumbered. It's how I'm gonna go out there tomorrow night an' show the whole WCF Galaxy what a future champion looks like!
It's in my blood. Johnny Reb was a world champion three times, tag team champion four times, an' even won the first-ever Trios Tournament with Chad Evans an' Kira Sakazaki. As the Inveterate Confederate's sole heir an' only kin, can I do less?
She falls silent, briefly, as she collects her thoughts.
Bonnie Blue: Now, I heard it said, by some, that the participants in this match are ..."evenly matched." That has got to be the single dumbest observation I've ever heard, clearly made by someone who has no idea what's going on. Which seems to define this Shadowlove -- what the hell does that mean, anyway? -- rather aptly. Do y'understand the forces arrayed against ya, son?
Yeah, you see names like Rage Maxx, an' ya dismiss this as some kinda time-waster. I get it. That might be my reaction, too... 'cept this ain't my first rodeo. I know that the man ya underestimate before ya step into the ring is the one who takes your ass out as soon as the match starts. But ya don't seem to realize what you're walkin' into. Would it have hurt ya to do a little scoutin'? Or are ya so cocky ya reckon y'ain't got nothin' to worry 'bout?
A smirk tugs one corner of her lips.
Bonnie Blue: Oh, boy, have you got a rude awakenin' comin' your way at Timebomb! Only real question is -- who's gonna have the pleasure of dumpin' you outside the ring? We got our very own People's Champion in Teo Del Sol, a man of upstandin' moral character an' talent that shines like his namesake, the sun. There is no better representative of the people.
Maybe you're more familiar with Bad News Benson, who's been tearin' it up ever since he got here; or Jordan Wolfram -- that racist pile of crap who ain't had the gall to open his damn mouth ever since my boy DeMarcus shut him up the last time. Yeah... probably not. You don't take this seriously. Fact is, Shadow, y'ain't got a prayer. I'd be mighty surprised if ya wasn't the first one eliminated. So why am I wastin' my time on you?
She grins shamelessly.
Bonnie Blue: All in all, only 'bout half of us involved in this are even worth mentionin'. Me an' DeMarcus, Del Sol, AJ, Zombie McMorris... an' Johnny Rabid. The Raymond Hatchers and Adam Youngs of the world will simply have to do what they do best -- take a backseat to real talent.
Honestly, I can't wait. I'm all sorta tingly with anticipation. A little scared, too. Who wouldn't be? One tiny slip, a single mistake, an' the numbers game could still put me out. Add to that, the fact that I have no idea what it's like to be face-to-face with a guy like ZMac. My interactions with him have been limited to Twitter, an' half the time, I have no idea what he's sayin'. I take comfort in the notion he prob'ly don't, neither. But I've seen what he can do to a man in the ring, an' that's enough to make me wary.
On the other hand, there's Andre Jenson... me an' him go way back, sorta. We got a hist'ry. Some of it ain't pleasant. Not that I'd hold any of that against him; all water under the bridge. I ain't faced him since we had our final confrontation played out on the biggest stage in all of wrestledom, but I feel certain he has only improved as a warrior. Lookin' forward to seein' how much.
She gives the camera a wink.
Bonnie Blue: Which leaves me with Johnny Rabid.
Her smile fades, replaced by an expression of carefully crafted neutrality. A hint of animosity flickers behind her blue-green eyes.
Bonnie Blue: We were both here a month ago, signed to a clusterfuck of a match, the promise of greatness dangled before us. Did ya think I wouldn't notice how you avoided me then, Rabid? How ya made sure there was always someone between us? Is that how it's gonna be at Timebomb, too? Keep that up, a girl might start to think she ain't appreciated. Thing is, though... y'ain't gonna be able to hide behind numbers this time. Once enough people get eliminated, you'll be faced with either me or DeMarcus.
Y'know, I was mostly kiddin' when I said on Twitter that Sharky was losin' faith in ya... but the more I think about it, the more it seems I might not have been wrong. He knows, sure as I do, that y'ain't comin' outta this with anything resemblin' a vict'ry. What other way can it go? You spend your time demoralizin' an already unstable woman, encouragin' her delusions just to watch her fall on her face. So little dignity in a man I might once have feared.
Bonnie's face reflects her sense of disappointment.
Bonnie Blue: Are ya even worth it anymore, Mr. Rabid? What about your #BeachKrew comrades? You've allowed yourselves to become mired in what amounts to the petty indulgence of a narcissist's ego. And for what? How does it benefit any of y'all? You let 'em drag y'all down to their level, an' I reckoned #BeachKrew couldn't get no lower. That's kinda depressin'. #BeachKrew used to be the dominant faction, a force to be reckoned with. Now...
She shrugs.
Bonnie Blue: Well, let's leave the past where it belongs. Timebomb is now, and Rebellution is the future.
So saying, she reaches forward to cut the laptop feed, and everything goes black.
Events were moving along far more quickly than even the Timekeeper had anticipated, although Johnny Reb's inexperience with the power conferred to him didn't help matters. With Jay Omega's disappearance -- a fact confirmed by the Cyborg Hank Brown -- came a series of possibly-related events that cascaded through a dozen realities, culmanating in the arrival of a new element to the WCF; a man who called himself Scathe, and who demanded the presence of the volatile Gemini Battle. That the summons was answered so quickly troubled Chuy, added to the growing turmoil in his mind.
Then there was Bonnie; awakened to a power to which no mortal should have access, a power she could not yet control. Perhaps she never would. Her discipline was lacking, and the abilities manifested only sporadically... for now. Who knew when she might accidentally unleash causal Hell? She was a danger to herself and others.
Don Jesus shook his head and pulled a Galaxy 6 from his pocket, glancing at the screen to see if he'd missed any calls. Nothing. Another concern added to the pile. It had been nearly a week since the investigator, Minella, had been in touch; sometime just before Mardi Gras. On reflection, Chuy realized, he hadn't made a lot of sense in that last conversation. Several hints, innuendos, and the mention of a lucrative deal that would enable him to retire. Strange. Very strange, indeed.
With a sigh, he dialed the P.I.'s number again. The call was answered by an automated message, spoken in a synthesized almost-female monotone: "The voice mailbox for this user is full. Please try your call again later."
Unease prickled at the back of his mind; something was surely wrong. All these events unfolding at once couldn't be coincidence. Don Jesus had lived too long to believe in that anymore. Yet pieces of the puzzle were missing. Nothing added up. This Scathe -- he filled Chuy with a sense of chill dread -- wanted something from Gemini Battle. That alone was vexing enough, and now two of his associates were missing... but why? How did they figure into this? What was the common denominator?
"Bernardo..." whispered Chuy, as the answer suddenly struck him.
And, with a few taps on the touchscreen, Don Jesus summoned an Uber to take him away.
=============================================================
It doesn't matter anymore. Their power is broken, the few who remain scattered throughout the Metaverse. Even now, CyberHank and Brian Setzer are hunting down the last of them.
She shakes off the reverie, wrenching her attention back to the road. A metaphoric noose seems to tighten around her neck. Dallas looms on the horizon -- another hour distant, but closer than she'd like. Gray and Andre should be on their way to Baton Rouge by now; DeMarcus would meet her in the morning, but the next time the four of them would be together would be Sunday. So much could go wrong in the meantime.
So much may have already gone wrong. The death of Jay Omega -- my gods, how? I almost thought he was immortal. And now Gemini Battle; if it's true he's back, that can only spell trouble for the WCF. It wasn't just Scathe who wanted him, either. Rabid kept hinting that Battle wasn't really gone; that it was only a matter of time... what does he know that we don't?
And just what is the nature of the task set for Pierce by Jay Omega? Bonnie is certain it's nothing so simple as a routine delivery, not for a million-dollar payout. Perhaps she should have gone with him, just in case. In the Ranchero, they could have been there and back in a matter of minutes. Some deep instinct whispered to her that this was something he needed to do on his own; his quest, given to him from beyond the grave. It's not her place to interfere.
He's a grown man. Gray can handle himself, and he's got 'Dre to back him up if things go sideways.
Besides which, her own concerns are paramount. Another opportunity at greatness hangs in the balance; not very different from a month ago, save for the conditions of competition. No briefcase, no ladders, this time. But a battle equally as fierce, perhaps moreso, all for a chance to enter the tournament for the Trilogy Cup. A glimmer of hope, nothing more -- or less. In the end, to the victor go the spoils. Specifically, a world title shot. Bonnie hadn't given it much thought, prior to Fifteen. She hadn't considered a chance at the most prestigious title in the business even a distant likelihood. Now, however... the possibility is enticing.
I can picture it so clearly. Standing in that ring, battered and bruised, the world title in my hands, held high for everyone to see. One single, shining moment; the ultimate accomplishment...
Yet eleven other people stand in her way, one of them her own Rebellution teammate, DeMarcus Jordan. How far can she trust him? How far can she trust herself? That any of the other competitors will be left standing in the end is almost unthinkable. Perhaps the real question is, in the long run, can she stand being the only member of Rebellution without gold?
With that less than pleasant thought foremost in her mind, Bonnie switches on the radio in an effort to drown it out. Beside her, Don Jesus stirs, and immediately reaches for a Thermos of coffee tucked beneath the seat. Once the need for caffeine is sated, he rolls a joint and sparks it, gazing thoughtfully at the young woman. They pass it back and forth, unspeaking, as Bonnie drives on under the endless Texas sky.
===============================================================
posted to wcf.com on Saturday, February 27th 2016, 9:57 pm:
Bonnie Blue: Here we are once again, my friends. Almost a month since Fifteen -- an' a Hell of a show it was! -- now we're countin' down the hours until Timebomb. In slightly more'n a day, I step into the ring with eleven men; each an' every one of us with the same goal in mind. Eliminate the competition. Win the match. An' after that...
Her gaze takes on a faraway look as she contemplates the eventual outcome. Then she shakes her head and returns her attention to the camera.
Bonnie Blue: Well, one thing at a time, right? This battle royal on Sunday night, that's what's important. Me an' DeMarcus done had our talk, an' we're on the same page. We support each other, come what may. He ain't gonna be mad when I walk out the winner tomorrow night, so long's I give him everythin' I got. That ain't a problem. That's what I do every week. An' that's why I've got a string of victories over men twice my size an' three times my ugly. It's why I do some of my best work when I'm vastly outnumbered. It's how I'm gonna go out there tomorrow night an' show the whole WCF Galaxy what a future champion looks like!
It's in my blood. Johnny Reb was a world champion three times, tag team champion four times, an' even won the first-ever Trios Tournament with Chad Evans an' Kira Sakazaki. As the Inveterate Confederate's sole heir an' only kin, can I do less?
She falls silent, briefly, as she collects her thoughts.
Bonnie Blue: Now, I heard it said, by some, that the participants in this match are ..."evenly matched." That has got to be the single dumbest observation I've ever heard, clearly made by someone who has no idea what's going on. Which seems to define this Shadowlove -- what the hell does that mean, anyway? -- rather aptly. Do y'understand the forces arrayed against ya, son?
Yeah, you see names like Rage Maxx, an' ya dismiss this as some kinda time-waster. I get it. That might be my reaction, too... 'cept this ain't my first rodeo. I know that the man ya underestimate before ya step into the ring is the one who takes your ass out as soon as the match starts. But ya don't seem to realize what you're walkin' into. Would it have hurt ya to do a little scoutin'? Or are ya so cocky ya reckon y'ain't got nothin' to worry 'bout?
A smirk tugs one corner of her lips.
Bonnie Blue: Oh, boy, have you got a rude awakenin' comin' your way at Timebomb! Only real question is -- who's gonna have the pleasure of dumpin' you outside the ring? We got our very own People's Champion in Teo Del Sol, a man of upstandin' moral character an' talent that shines like his namesake, the sun. There is no better representative of the people.
Maybe you're more familiar with Bad News Benson, who's been tearin' it up ever since he got here; or Jordan Wolfram -- that racist pile of crap who ain't had the gall to open his damn mouth ever since my boy DeMarcus shut him up the last time. Yeah... probably not. You don't take this seriously. Fact is, Shadow, y'ain't got a prayer. I'd be mighty surprised if ya wasn't the first one eliminated. So why am I wastin' my time on you?
She grins shamelessly.
Bonnie Blue: All in all, only 'bout half of us involved in this are even worth mentionin'. Me an' DeMarcus, Del Sol, AJ, Zombie McMorris... an' Johnny Rabid. The Raymond Hatchers and Adam Youngs of the world will simply have to do what they do best -- take a backseat to real talent.
Honestly, I can't wait. I'm all sorta tingly with anticipation. A little scared, too. Who wouldn't be? One tiny slip, a single mistake, an' the numbers game could still put me out. Add to that, the fact that I have no idea what it's like to be face-to-face with a guy like ZMac. My interactions with him have been limited to Twitter, an' half the time, I have no idea what he's sayin'. I take comfort in the notion he prob'ly don't, neither. But I've seen what he can do to a man in the ring, an' that's enough to make me wary.
On the other hand, there's Andre Jenson... me an' him go way back, sorta. We got a hist'ry. Some of it ain't pleasant. Not that I'd hold any of that against him; all water under the bridge. I ain't faced him since we had our final confrontation played out on the biggest stage in all of wrestledom, but I feel certain he has only improved as a warrior. Lookin' forward to seein' how much.
She gives the camera a wink.
Bonnie Blue: Which leaves me with Johnny Rabid.
Her smile fades, replaced by an expression of carefully crafted neutrality. A hint of animosity flickers behind her blue-green eyes.
Bonnie Blue: We were both here a month ago, signed to a clusterfuck of a match, the promise of greatness dangled before us. Did ya think I wouldn't notice how you avoided me then, Rabid? How ya made sure there was always someone between us? Is that how it's gonna be at Timebomb, too? Keep that up, a girl might start to think she ain't appreciated. Thing is, though... y'ain't gonna be able to hide behind numbers this time. Once enough people get eliminated, you'll be faced with either me or DeMarcus.
Y'know, I was mostly kiddin' when I said on Twitter that Sharky was losin' faith in ya... but the more I think about it, the more it seems I might not have been wrong. He knows, sure as I do, that y'ain't comin' outta this with anything resemblin' a vict'ry. What other way can it go? You spend your time demoralizin' an already unstable woman, encouragin' her delusions just to watch her fall on her face. So little dignity in a man I might once have feared.
Bonnie's face reflects her sense of disappointment.
Bonnie Blue: Are ya even worth it anymore, Mr. Rabid? What about your #BeachKrew comrades? You've allowed yourselves to become mired in what amounts to the petty indulgence of a narcissist's ego. And for what? How does it benefit any of y'all? You let 'em drag y'all down to their level, an' I reckoned #BeachKrew couldn't get no lower. That's kinda depressin'. #BeachKrew used to be the dominant faction, a force to be reckoned with. Now...
She shrugs.
Bonnie Blue: Well, let's leave the past where it belongs. Timebomb is now, and Rebellution is the future.
So saying, she reaches forward to cut the laptop feed, and everything goes black.
