Post by wblstudios on Apr 17, 2006 13:36:31 GMT -5
Director’s note: as two of the characters in this story are Japanese, it would only make sense that the conversation between them would be in Japanese. So text spoken in brackets denotes Japanese speech with English subtitles.
---
Ever wonder why some places are open 24 hours, and what kinds of people use them at the most ungodly hours? Fade in on 2 AM at a Laundromat, a pretty ratty and run down place, but at least it’s open. The “International Superbitch” Josephine Miyazaki sits on a crappy plastic chair, clothed in designer jeans and a very low-cut “Howard 100” tank top, ubiquitous bottle of sake in hand, while little Kikyo in her usual attire kneels Japanese style in front of the active washer, staring hypnotically at the clothing spinning around inside.
Josephine: [... so then I get the pin, take off my Jo Phoenix mask for the last time, and the crowd in Mexico City is going fucking insane. Then I unmask Skullomaniac, and it’s not Skullomaniac at all. It’s my first ever Mexico rival, Roshi Rich. Then the real Skullomaniac, you know he’s been doing the independent wrestling in Japan, shows up as his current persona, Baby Universe, but with the Skullomaniac mask. We brawl for a while, then Roshi gets back up, and... hey, Little Kikyo, you listening?]
Kikyo: (perking her ears up) [Hm? Yes, Senior Josephine. I just love doing laundry!]
Josephine: [You love doing laundry? This place is open 24 hours, you can do laundry anytime you want. Any time ever you say to yourself, “I wanna do laundry!”, just come here.]
Kikyo keeps staring at the spinning laundry.
Josephine: [And that’s another thing. You don’t have to refer to me with] -sempai. [That honorific makes me feel old. Just call me] Joshiphino-chan.
Kikyo: [Let me try rolling that off the tongue.] Josephine-chan... Josephine-sempai... Josephine-sama... [From now on I’ll call you] Jojo-chan!
Josephine: Dynamito Rovu, [motherfucker. Now you’re being too cute.]
Kikyo: [Very sorry!]
Josephine’s free hand scratches her right boob for a few seconds before taking a long swig of her sake as the buzzing of washer #12 indicates a new cycle to keep Kikyo entertained.
Josephine:
Kikyo: You’re the business, Jojo-chan. I guess that makes you “The Franchise”!
Josephine: [Hey! Shifting gears so suddenly?]
Kikyo:
Josephine: [Forget it. Shame on the road is written off. So tell me, we have two weeks until my big title match, so this week’s dynamite show is gonna just set up for that. Who’s in this week’s? I pay you to keep tabs here.]
Kikyo: [It’s a dual title, Champions vs. Challengers match, Jojo. Your opponents will be Tommy Havock and Genocide!]
Josephine: Teamo ova Treashari [before I know it! And I get a few whacks in on my Pay-Per-View opponent! So tell me, what lucky cat gets a free ride to another victory as my partner?]
Kikyo’s gaze temporarily comes off of the clothing spinning right round baby right round, and looks over at Josephine with a wary gaze, as if she’s afraid to answer.
Josephine: Hey, kaman, kaman. [Who is it?]
---
Slow fade to the all-too familiar bloodstained hotel room that the living dead girl calls her temporary sanctuary. Amongst the broken beds, bloody and shredded sheets. torn drapes and shattered glass, lies a new pastime. Spilled colored pencils splayed underneath an open sketchpad with a shockingly realistic depiction of a scarred young girl covered in a shroud of red, lying in a lovingly rendered coffin, peaceful enough to seem that she was simply sleeping.
A slow pan around the destruction severe enough that a ‘do not disturb’ sign must have been drilled into the door outside leads to the bathroom, half the mirror gone as a lone, pale figure stares into a half-shattered mirror. A raspy cough, a violent punch, and a set of bloody knuckles combine to get rid of the rest of the reflection and leave it in shards in the sink. A bloodied hand scoops up the shards, as the figure stares intently at them... then the mouth opens... the shards come ever-closer to shredding the throat, cutting the belly, and ending this tortured existence before they’re thrown aside, clattering uselessly to the ground.
Ellis: Cowardice... just keeps taunting me... I couldn’t do it... what if it doesn’t work? What if I’m already dead... and this is hell? I don’t know how hell could be any worse...
Hand bloodied from the discarded shards of a reflection she couldn’t stand, Ellis didn’t even bother to pick up her sketchpad and continue drawing the beautiful funeral she’d been dreaming about. It was time to address one of the little questions. The big questions were driving her to madness... why did Jack of Blades want her, of all people? Of all the gorgeous women, the powerful women, of the world, would he choose this fragile little waif to be his ‘queen’? Does something truly lie inside her, and this man Jack wants to bring it out, and unleash whatever hell would come with it... or was it the reverse? Was Jack Nolan still alive inside Jack of Blades, and seeing Ellis’ last vestiges of self-control over the demon inside of her, want to rage out himself inside this... thing that was the Jack of Blades?
And looking even closer to this week’s questions as that bloodied hand grabbed and pocketed a hotel keycard and a Coheed & Cambria wallet... With the Team of Treachery dying, would Tommy Havock have something to prove? Who was this Genocide she was facing? He seemed honorable enough, but anybody could turn when provoked by someone like Josephine.
Josephine... the name made her shudder involuntarily as she closed the door behind her, leaving bloody fingerprints on the door handle as she made her way to the hotel lobby. Partially because she hated what she said about her in the locker room the first time they met, and partially because she knew deep down, that some of what she said was true. It started after the show where Josephine premiered aired. Both were using the shower in the court-mandated women’s locker room, and somehow the conversation of the vast differences in their bodies came up. Jojo, in all her cockiness, implicated that the ‘scar-ridden freak’ was jealous of her own gigantic breasts, her rock-hard body, flawless skin, beautiful hair. Ellis had said nothing, how could she? She was... she wasn’t even jealous of Jojo’s body. Just jealous of the body of anybody who was normal.
Now the two would be partners, with Jack watching over them in the godlike position labeled ‘Special Referee’. What would he do to protect his chances for gold at the next Pay Per View? The TV title wasn’t important to either Jack or Ellis... but in being forced to compete for it, the two totally overshadowing champion Tommy Havock, they had, along with people like Biggs and Ace, helped elevate that title to almost the importance of the Heavyweight title in the fan’s eyes. All of a sudden, new blood was flowing into the WCF. But this was about more than a title she didn’t care about. This was about a million questions about her, about Jack, about Josephine. Ones that tore at her soul. Ones that broke her heart, and almost made her regret not eating those glass shards when she had a chance. Better now, to help alleviate some of that stress, focus on one of the smaller questions.
Like, where can a girl get a can of cola at one in the morning?
The broken-down living corpse disappeared behind the sliding doors of an elevator as we fade out, The words “To Be Continued” fade in over the blackness in blocky red typeface for a few seconds before disappearing themselves.
---
~Ellis & Josephine
---
Ever wonder why some places are open 24 hours, and what kinds of people use them at the most ungodly hours? Fade in on 2 AM at a Laundromat, a pretty ratty and run down place, but at least it’s open. The “International Superbitch” Josephine Miyazaki sits on a crappy plastic chair, clothed in designer jeans and a very low-cut “Howard 100” tank top, ubiquitous bottle of sake in hand, while little Kikyo in her usual attire kneels Japanese style in front of the active washer, staring hypnotically at the clothing spinning around inside.
Josephine: [... so then I get the pin, take off my Jo Phoenix mask for the last time, and the crowd in Mexico City is going fucking insane. Then I unmask Skullomaniac, and it’s not Skullomaniac at all. It’s my first ever Mexico rival, Roshi Rich. Then the real Skullomaniac, you know he’s been doing the independent wrestling in Japan, shows up as his current persona, Baby Universe, but with the Skullomaniac mask. We brawl for a while, then Roshi gets back up, and... hey, Little Kikyo, you listening?]
Kikyo: (perking her ears up) [Hm? Yes, Senior Josephine. I just love doing laundry!]
Josephine: [You love doing laundry? This place is open 24 hours, you can do laundry anytime you want. Any time ever you say to yourself, “I wanna do laundry!”, just come here.]
Kikyo keeps staring at the spinning laundry.
Josephine: [And that’s another thing. You don’t have to refer to me with] -sempai. [That honorific makes me feel old. Just call me] Joshiphino-chan.
Kikyo: [Let me try rolling that off the tongue.] Josephine-chan... Josephine-sempai... Josephine-sama... [From now on I’ll call you] Jojo-chan!
Josephine: Dynamito Rovu, [motherfucker. Now you’re being too cute.]
Kikyo: [Very sorry!]
Josephine’s free hand scratches her right boob for a few seconds before taking a long swig of her sake as the buzzing of washer #12 indicates a new cycle to keep Kikyo entertained.
Josephine:
Kikyo: You’re the business, Jojo-chan. I guess that makes you “The Franchise”!
Josephine: [Hey! Shifting gears so suddenly?]
Kikyo:
Josephine: [Forget it. Shame on the road is written off. So tell me, we have two weeks until my big title match, so this week’s dynamite show is gonna just set up for that. Who’s in this week’s? I pay you to keep tabs here.]
Kikyo: [It’s a dual title, Champions vs. Challengers match, Jojo. Your opponents will be Tommy Havock and Genocide!]
Josephine: Teamo ova Treashari [before I know it! And I get a few whacks in on my Pay-Per-View opponent! So tell me, what lucky cat gets a free ride to another victory as my partner?]
Kikyo’s gaze temporarily comes off of the clothing spinning right round baby right round, and looks over at Josephine with a wary gaze, as if she’s afraid to answer.
Josephine: Hey, kaman, kaman. [Who is it?]
---
Slow fade to the all-too familiar bloodstained hotel room that the living dead girl calls her temporary sanctuary. Amongst the broken beds, bloody and shredded sheets. torn drapes and shattered glass, lies a new pastime. Spilled colored pencils splayed underneath an open sketchpad with a shockingly realistic depiction of a scarred young girl covered in a shroud of red, lying in a lovingly rendered coffin, peaceful enough to seem that she was simply sleeping.
A slow pan around the destruction severe enough that a ‘do not disturb’ sign must have been drilled into the door outside leads to the bathroom, half the mirror gone as a lone, pale figure stares into a half-shattered mirror. A raspy cough, a violent punch, and a set of bloody knuckles combine to get rid of the rest of the reflection and leave it in shards in the sink. A bloodied hand scoops up the shards, as the figure stares intently at them... then the mouth opens... the shards come ever-closer to shredding the throat, cutting the belly, and ending this tortured existence before they’re thrown aside, clattering uselessly to the ground.
Ellis: Cowardice... just keeps taunting me... I couldn’t do it... what if it doesn’t work? What if I’m already dead... and this is hell? I don’t know how hell could be any worse...
Hand bloodied from the discarded shards of a reflection she couldn’t stand, Ellis didn’t even bother to pick up her sketchpad and continue drawing the beautiful funeral she’d been dreaming about. It was time to address one of the little questions. The big questions were driving her to madness... why did Jack of Blades want her, of all people? Of all the gorgeous women, the powerful women, of the world, would he choose this fragile little waif to be his ‘queen’? Does something truly lie inside her, and this man Jack wants to bring it out, and unleash whatever hell would come with it... or was it the reverse? Was Jack Nolan still alive inside Jack of Blades, and seeing Ellis’ last vestiges of self-control over the demon inside of her, want to rage out himself inside this... thing that was the Jack of Blades?
And looking even closer to this week’s questions as that bloodied hand grabbed and pocketed a hotel keycard and a Coheed & Cambria wallet... With the Team of Treachery dying, would Tommy Havock have something to prove? Who was this Genocide she was facing? He seemed honorable enough, but anybody could turn when provoked by someone like Josephine.
Josephine... the name made her shudder involuntarily as she closed the door behind her, leaving bloody fingerprints on the door handle as she made her way to the hotel lobby. Partially because she hated what she said about her in the locker room the first time they met, and partially because she knew deep down, that some of what she said was true. It started after the show where Josephine premiered aired. Both were using the shower in the court-mandated women’s locker room, and somehow the conversation of the vast differences in their bodies came up. Jojo, in all her cockiness, implicated that the ‘scar-ridden freak’ was jealous of her own gigantic breasts, her rock-hard body, flawless skin, beautiful hair. Ellis had said nothing, how could she? She was... she wasn’t even jealous of Jojo’s body. Just jealous of the body of anybody who was normal.
Now the two would be partners, with Jack watching over them in the godlike position labeled ‘Special Referee’. What would he do to protect his chances for gold at the next Pay Per View? The TV title wasn’t important to either Jack or Ellis... but in being forced to compete for it, the two totally overshadowing champion Tommy Havock, they had, along with people like Biggs and Ace, helped elevate that title to almost the importance of the Heavyweight title in the fan’s eyes. All of a sudden, new blood was flowing into the WCF. But this was about more than a title she didn’t care about. This was about a million questions about her, about Jack, about Josephine. Ones that tore at her soul. Ones that broke her heart, and almost made her regret not eating those glass shards when she had a chance. Better now, to help alleviate some of that stress, focus on one of the smaller questions.
Like, where can a girl get a can of cola at one in the morning?
The broken-down living corpse disappeared behind the sliding doors of an elevator as we fade out, The words “To Be Continued” fade in over the blackness in blocky red typeface for a few seconds before disappearing themselves.
---
~Ellis & Josephine
