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BANG; Tie-in to Buzzsaw RP
Topic Started: Aug 4 2010, 05:35 AM (121 Views)
"Bad Ass" Matt Covey
Member Avatar
Bad MF'er
The sun rested lazily just over the horizon as the compact silver Hybrid pulled into the rock gravel drive. Jenny Jacobs killed the ignition on her car and fumbled with her personal belongings in her purse, making sure she had everything at the ready before stepping out of her car. As she closed the door, she looked over the shambles of the all-too-familiar house that she had visited and been a prisoner of, several times before. Shingles were falling off the roof at random, and the screen door may as well have been ripped off as it was only connected by one hinge. She began to walk towards the house, when suddenly she recalled something she had forgotten. Turning around, she climbed back into her car where she grabbed something out of the glove box. Exiting the car once more, she worked quickly to put the fashionable black wig atop her head. Everyone already knew she was in fact currently bald, and it wasn't something she found herself ashamed of with her current lifestyle choice, but the man she was here to interview liked to quote/unquote "bust her balls" every chance he got, and she wasn't about to give him any ammo for his arsenal. She took a final deep breath before approaching the door, but before she could knock, the door swung wide open. And there stood Matt Covey in nothing but jeans and his boots. A nearly finished cigarette hung off his lip, which he took a final drag from before flipping it over Jenny's head, out into the yard.

Bad Ass: You're right on time, Liza Minnelli.

Jenny stammered as if suddenly lost.

Jenny Jacobs: Um...what?

Bad Ass: That shitty rug on your head.

Jenny Jacobs: Hey! I paid damn good money for this wig, thank you!

Bad Ass: How much?

Jenny Jacobs: Two hundred and fifty dollars.

Bad Ass: Damn. Looks to me like you paid two hundred and fourty nine dollars too much.

Jenny huffed. Her plan to make this go as smoothly as possible was already crumbling.

Bad Ass: Hey Ed!

Matt yelled back into the house. The reply came from another room.

Special Ed: Yeah?

Bad Ass: Quit polishing your He-Man and get out here!

Special Ed: Why?

Bad Ass: Because I fucking said so! Jenny brought a cat!

Suddenly the fast and repetitive sound of feet hammering hardwood floor, filled the house as Ed appeared from around a corner with a He-Man action figure in his hand. Like lightning, Ed was quick to strike. He dove through the air, shouting "KITTEH!!!" before tackling Jenny Jacobs to the floor. He quickly removed the black wig and hugged it tightly to his chest while rolling around on the floor.

Special Ed: I'm gonna call you Butterbean!

And with that, Ed quickly dissapeared from sight once more as he ran off with the scalp rug to do God-knows-what. Matt smirked, knowing he had gotten the best of his gender-opposite rival once again. That is until the sun's glare reflected off her shiny dome, blinding him momentarily. He raised an arm quickly to shield his eyes.

Bad Ass: Jesus fucking Christ, Jenny! Do you have to spit-shine that shit?!?

Irritated and embarassed beyond her threshold, Jenny snapped back.

Jenny Jacobs: Look! I'm tired of you poking fun at me and consistently trying to bring me down! If you don't want to do this interview, then neither do I! I can always go home and...

Bad Ass: And what? Ride the batteries in your vibrator and butt-plug til their dead while pretending you're being serviced by Kirkland, Shane, and Havok in mechanic jumpsuits? Sorry doll, I think Havok's taken. You're far too old for Kirkland. And I'm not exactly sure that Shane's playing on your team.

Jenny Jacobs: Fuck it! I've had it with this shit!

Jenny turned angrily, storming off towards her car. Suddenly her arm was grasped at the wrist by a firm grip. She stopped and turned, looking into the eyes of her vocal assailant, her heart skipping a beat. And then he suddenly drew her into his chest, hugging her tightly as he ran his hand up and down her back. She suddenly found it incredibly hard, if not impossible, to breathe. She rested her cheek against his chest, feeling the heat that radiated from beneath the skin. And for a moment she forgot where she was, as she concentrated solely on his heartbeat. She could barely believe he had one. she sighed as she pulled her head back. She closed her eyes tight and puckered her lips into a kiss. But then she found herself being pushed away abruptly.

Bad Ass: What the fuck are you doing Jenny?!?

She stuttered for a moment, regaining her sense of reality as she stuttered to find the words to say.

Jenny Jacobs: I'm sorry. I...uh...I thought...

Bad Ass: Chill, Jen. You just looked like you could use a hug, that's all. I don't want you to go. I've got something I'm cooking up right now, that I think you need to see.

Jenny Jacobs: Crystal Meth?

Bad Ass: Ha! So you DO have a sense of humor. You should let it shine more often.

Jenny Jacobs: I was being serious.

Bad Ass: Damn Jenny. Not every person on the face of the Earth who drinks beer or smokes a little pot, takes every drug known to man. My house may be in shambles, but that doesn't mean I've got a Meth lab. What happened? Straight-edge suddenly tell you it's "cool" to go around judging people now? Is it suddenly okay to look at a homeless man and assume he's a raging alcoholic? How about that black guy across the street? You gonna assume he's washes down plate-fulls of chicken with orange soda?

Jenny Jacobs: Oh god, no... I'm sorry.

Bad Ass: Don't be. Hey Cliff!

The black man across the street suddenly stopped, looking over a grill he'd been cooking on.

Cliff: Yeah, Covey?

Bad Ass: What are you drinking with that chicken tonight?

Cliff: Sunkist Orange.

Bad Ass: Sounds good.

Cliff: And maybe a few fourty's a' Colt 45.

Bad Ass: I take it back. That sounds damn good! Thanks, Cliff!

Cliff: Not a problem, my man.

Matt turned back to Jenny and just shrugged.

Bad Ass: Maybe you can judge other people. But I wouldn't reccomend it. It don't always work out like that.

Jenny Jacobs: Can we stop fucking around here?

Bad Ass: Jenny, we haven't even begun to fuck around yet. Talk to me when your hair grows back out. Maybe I'll be wasted by then.

Jenny's face turned scalded red.

Bad Ass: Easy, princess. You know you and I can't have a conversation without me busting your ba...ovaries. Let me grab a shirt, and we'll be on our way.

Jenny Jacobs: What? Where are we going?

Bad Ass: It's a surprise. But I think you're gonna like it.

Five minutes later, Matt stepped out of his house in a skull covered t-shirt and his trademark, if but a little tattered and worn, leather jacket. Jenny appropriately marched towards her Hybrid.

Bad Ass: Nope. sorry, Jen. We're taking my wheels.

Jenny hesitated for a moment, and then went along with the idea. Matt grabbed the handle to the garage door, forcefully lifting it up with a horrible sound of rusted metal grinding against rusted metal. Matt then dissapeared inside. A moment later and the thundering of a muffler erupted from within. And slowly, Matt's cherished 71' black and chrome Dodge Charger backed out of the garage. Jenny's mind suddenly went haywire, horrible flashbacks of the terror ride she had taken in this same vehicle once before. It was like she was there all over again, in the passenger seat as Matt drunkenly sped down the interstate in the on-coming lane. To say the least, the incident had driven her to pick up smoking in the past. She swallowed her fear and made her way to the passenger side where she entered the car. Matt smiled her, making her feel weird emotions before he abruptly backed the Charger up...into the front of her Hybrid, denting it all to hell. Jenny's face went white.

Bad Ass: Oops. Shitty Hybrids. Ain't worth the damn man-hours you spend paying for the sons of bitches.

Matt readjusted his ride, and then backed out around the ruined Hybrid. And then they were on their way. Matt hit the interstate, and floored the gas, absent mindedly ignoring speed limits as well as the safety of other drivers on the road. The eratic driving left a queesy feeling in her stomach, but after a while, Jenny became used to the ride. And though it went against her better judgement and newfound lifestyle, Jenny obliged when Matt asked her to retrieve him a beer from the back seat. The other straight edgers would probably chastise her for it, but seldom did she ever question the methods of "Bad Ass" Matt Covey. In fact, so long as he was being himself, she found that it made her feel secure. Safe even. The drive would take several hours, but that was okay, because Jenny had work to do.

Jenny Jacobs: So...I recently spoke with Ryan Shane about you.

Bad Ass: Who?

Jenny Jacobs: Ryan Shane. Your opponent this week?

Bad Ass: Holy shit! I have a match this week?!?

Jenny was left, mouth agape at the response.

Bad Ass: Nah, I'm just fuckin' with ya, Jen. How is Shane, anyway?

Jenny suppressed motions of dissapointment as she thought back to how Ryan had berated her.

Jenny Jacobs: He's an asshole.

Bad Ass: No, I'm an asshole.

Jenny Jacobs: Maybe. But you're one of the good ones.

Bad Ass: WHOA!!! I don't think I like where this conversation is heading! How the hell am I a better asshole than he is?!?

Jenny Jacobs: He's straight edge, right? and we're supposed to be a family, yeah? But he doesn't treat me like family. He just insults me like everyone else. At least with you, I know I've got it coming. But you're fellow family is supposed to be there for you. To make you feel good...not insignificant like he does.

Bad Ass: Wow. What a dick. Sounds to me like maybe that's not a right fit for you.

Jenny Jacobs: I thought it was. I finally thought I had found a place where I belonged.

Bad Ass: Let me give you the low down on these "Straight Edgers", Jen. They like to live a clean lifestyle. they make a concsious decision to avoid, tobacco, drugs and alcohol. They even refrain from promiscuous sex with strangers. For the life of me I can't understand why, but they do. And you know what? That's good for them. Let them be clean and shining examples of what the world looks like through the eyes of somebody who pretends their problems away. But they're also egomaniacal pricks who think it's their God-given right to tell everyone else who isn't them, that they're living life wrong. It's rubbish. Complete bullshit. And I'm not saying that everyone who lives the clean life is like that, but for the most part, every straight edger I've ever met has found it his solemn duty to clean my act up. Unfortunately for them, more often then not, they wind up in a hospital sucking on pain meds. Fucking, hypocrites.

Jenny Jacobs: He says being straight edge doesn't define him as a person.

Bad Ass: Well alright! It's about time one of these air breathers finally got the fucking message. I totally agree with that. Straight Edge doesn't define him any more than a pack of Marlboro's and a twelve pack define me. It's all just a lifestyle choice. But the choice doesn't have to define the man. Shane may be alright after all...

Jenny Jacobs: Well, outside of berating me through our entire interview, he also called you a pussy.

Matt finished his beer, belching loudly and tossing the can out the window onto the interstate.

Bad Ass: Did he now?

Jenny Jacobs: He said you're like a bully in school who eventually gets punched in the nose and cries like a bitch.

Bad Ass: Hmmm, guess I was wrong. He's still a hypocrite asshole. This guy doesn't know a damn thing about me, but he feels he has me pegged, is that it? Wow. What a fucking moron. You know Jen, a lot of people don't know this about me, but back in school I was the kid who got picked on by the bully. And I know exactly where he's coming from. Hell, I'll never forget the first time I stood up for myself in the third grade. I hit Craig Wilson so hard my hand hurt afterwards. To be honest, it felt really good.

Jenny Jacobs: So you beat him up?

Bad Ass: Nah. Never got the chance. His friends jumped me and pummeled my ass into the playground. It was a whole lot of fun though. After that, I realized just how much I enjoyed fighting. Did I win every fight I ever got in? No, of course not. No one does. And I hate to sound like a brken record, but even then, it was never about winning for me. I just liked to fight. Sometimes that made me look like the bully, and I'm sure there are times when I was. But this kid's dead wrong if he thinks a punch to the nose is gonna send me reeling to the back, drowning in my own tears. I've fought bigger and better practically all my life. Hell, my scars have scars. My fucking face looks like it lost a twelve round fight with a straight razor. This kid's gonna have to get real creative if he wants to be a blip on my radar.

Jenny Jacobs: He also says you're low card and not up to his level.

Bad Ass: Oh here we go again. Another jackass on an ego trip the size of Jenna Cyde's cock. Explain to me why it is I don't recall much of anything about this guy? I mean, I'm pretty sure he's been around for a bit, but I just can't quite recall anything of interest he's done, except for laying on his back for Sam Attic recently. Losing a title. And that's all I can recall about the guy besides the fact that he's straight laced? That's not a good sign. Especially since there's like a cluster fuck of them around these days. Kinda hard to tell them apart from each other. I made and continue to make my living the only way I know how. I intimidate. I dominate. I do what I want and take what I want, whenever the hell I feel like it. And as for low card? I've done more rounds with guys like Fiscus, Montana, O'Toole, Pablo, Ace King... If there's ever been a CZW top tier talent I haven't thrown down with on an epic main event level, then I want to meet them...and kick their fucking teeth in. Sorry, these gradeschool tactics of his are already starting to run a little thin.

Jenny Jacobs: On a more interesting note, he also claimed you speak with an imaginary friend. Care to speculate?

Bad Ass: I have no idea what the hell you're talking about.

Matt Covey in RL: You're a fucking liar!

Bad Ass: Shut up you! I'm in control this time!

Matt Covey in RL: Whatever. Don't blame me if Shane kicks your ass.

Bad Ass: Not gonna happen.

Jenny Jacobs: What was that about?!?

Bad Ass: Doesn't matter. And neither does this impromptu match with Shane. I would have been more than thrilled to do this impromptu dance with him this week, regardless. However, since he had to go and open that minty fresh yapper of his, I'm just gonna have to be the bigger man and break every bone in his lythe frame of a body. And then he will realize what everyone else in the CZW already knows. It's one thing to fight Matt Covey. It's an entire other thing to piss me off. Now enough about that dilusional pariah. Hand me another beer, and tell me what's been up with you.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Seven Hours and several gas fill-ups Later

Jenny's eyes are tightly closed, her head resting on her forearm as the night breeze whips through her hair. The car makes a jerk to the right, gently raising her from the nap she had been enjoying. When she looks up, she finds that they have turned off onto an exit for Akron, Ohio. She sits up in her seat, stretching a moment as she yawns lazily. Matt's leaned back in his seat, one hand on the wheel, toying with a toothpick that hangs from his mouth.

Jenny Jacobs: What are we doing in Akron, Ohio?

Bad Ass: Ha! How about you hand me another beer while you stop to rethink that question.

Jenny reaches in the back of the car, grabbing another beer which is obviously warm, and begins to hand it to Matt when her eyes suddenly widen, the beer can falling from her grasp and rolling around in the floor board.

Jenny Jacobs: Buzzsaw is from Akron, Ohio!

Bad Ass: Bingo! Tell the little lady what she's won, Johnny! *mock voice* You've won the once in a life time opportunity to witness something beyond awesome!* And that, my friend, is what we are doing here in "Acorn, Ohio". Home of failures and wannabes alike!

Jenny's mind began pacing. Was he looking for Buzzsaw? He had to be. Why else would he make the journey? But what was he thinking? And would it be even remotely legal? Matt seemed to be highly enjoying himself, a large cheshire grin spread across his stubbled mug. He reached down under his seat and pulled out a folded puiece of paper, which when unfolded, turned out to be a decent sized road map. Afterwards, there was nothing left to do but push the car's threshold, arriving outside a decadent suburban home in less than half an hour. Matt had killed the headlights as he slowly crept up on the home. A light shined brightly from within what one could guess was the den. Matt killed the ignition, his face taking a feverish look of anticipation and excitement. Jenny frantically decided she needed to do something. And so she whispered...

Jenny Jacobs: What are we doing here?!? This is tresspassing!

Matt smirked and spoke to her, his eyes never leaving the residence.

Bad Ass: Come on, Jen. I'm sure you've done a lot worse than tresspass before.

Jenny Jacobs: That doesn't answer my...

Bad Ass: Maybe you dropped them panties for cash? Paying for that tuition with the ol' ham wallet?

Jenny Jacobs: That was a long time ago, you ass!

Bad Ass: Hah! I fucking knew it.

Matt quietly opened his car door as he mustered the will to keep his laughter to a minimum. He stepped out of the Charger and closed the door back as gently as he had opened it. Across the lawn, a green Hybrid sat parked by the curb. Matt eyed the vehicle and raised an eyebrow at Jenny who had left the vehicle to join him. Matt whispered to her...

Bad Ass: What the fuck is up with all these stupid looking Hybrids?!?

Jenny Jacobs: they were gifts from Miss Baines. Somebody else from the company must be here speaking with Buzzsaw...

Bad Ass: Awesome. Nothing like some free publicity to line the wallet.

Matt suddenly reached into his leather jacket. He soon retrieved a large black handgun, possibly a .45. Jenny suddenly felt her bowels release as fear gripped her tightly. Matt's eyes turned furious momentarily, assuming the squeek that escaped from her ass had given away their position. Jenny's blood ran cold when Matt's eyes fell upon her. He was going too far, she thought. Beads of sweat gripped her forehead as she watched him inch closer to the lit window. He peered between a gap in the curtain, and began to snarl. His face grew cold and his emotion distant. It was then that he cocked the gun back and suddenly smashed his way in to the house through the falling shards of glass that had moments ago been the den window. The sound was loud as glass cascaded all over the floor and outside yard. And then there was a high pitched scream.

Morgan Mayhem was home.

Jenny suddenly found she couldn't hear anything in that moment. Her eyes traced Matt's face as his teeth gnashed together malevolantly in a sinister smile. She noticed how the bright burst of light lit his face up at that moment, highlighting every scar upon his flesh. And then she realized what the flash had come from, her eyes glued to the gun in Matt's hand. and suddenly, there was no more screaming, only Morgan Mayhem falling backwards to the hardwood floor, a trail of red flying from her forehead so that it sprayed the air. And Jenny's suddenly found she couldn't breathe.

Jenny Jacobs: Oh god...

She managed to stutter. Morgan had fallen behind a couch, but Jenny could see her legs, unmoving. And for a moment that froze in her mind like an eternity, time sped just as quickly when her eyes adverted to the man named Buzzsaw. No. The man named Derek Stone. He said no words, but his face told the story. Boiling red, eyes watering, teeth gnashed together so tight the enamel might crack. And then she noticed the shotgun.

A thunderous roar erupted from the shotgun.

Jenny couldn't quite remember the last few seconds. But she heard the shot, and she was pretty sure she screamed, even if she couldn't hear it. She could feel shards from the broken window explode against her. And she looked up from her ducked position and she saw what looked like boots flying over her head. She heard the sickening thump as Matt's body collided with the ground. And her heart stopped for just a moment as she stared at his mangled frame on the lawn. Her mind wasn't capable of keeping up with her thoughts. And so she thought nothing.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

20 minutes later

The red and blue lights reflected rhythmically off Jenny Jacob's eyes. She sat motionless, her eyes stained from crying she couldn't remember doing. A security blanket was wrapped around her and she had been questioned several times on the evening's events. And each time she could only repeat one phrase.

Jenny Jacobs: He shot him...

She sat in the back seat of a police cruiser, the door open so that her legs touched the ground. She couldn't watch the medics. She didn't want to. She just wanted to go back. She wanted so desperately to have spit in Matt Covey's face, and walked away from the interview, instead of...of all this. She began to sob again, wishing that she had kept true in her straight edge faith, and just avoided this whole evening. But she couldn't take it back.

Officer: Ma'am. Would you like to see him now?

What kind of question was that? It was like asking her if she wanted to see human ground beef on a slab. But she did what she thought was right, her will alone forcing her to see him one last time. She walked around to the back of an ambulance where the gourney sat, a sheet covering his remains. And then she could hold back no longer. Tears burst from her eyes and she felt weak, almost sick to her stomach. Cluthing her handbag, she opened it. Briefly she rubbed some running mascara from her already swollen eyes, and then she fumbled around in the bag. She retrieved a cigarette and a lighter. She instincitvely lit it, trying in vain to calm her nerves.

And then the body moved.

Jenny caught the movement during a nicotine intake, and nearly shit herself coughing when it happened. And then the sheet appeared to peel itself back, revealing Matt still very much alive, if not severely wounded. He smirked in pain as he eyed her and the cigarette.

Bad Ass: I fucking...knew it...

And he laughed, his eyes suddenly grimacing from pain as he clutched his chest. Jenny didn't hesitate as she pulled the sheet off the gourney. Matt looked relatively fine, except for the tattered shirt and the massive bruises on his chest and sbdomen. The cigarette fell from her lip and hit the floor.

Bad Ass: Sumbitch...was usin'...rock salt...

He grimaced in pain again.

Bad Ass: Ass...hole...

This seemed too unreal. Jenny turned her head towards the shattered window, and she saw Buzzsaw sitting on his couch with...Morgan Mayhem?!? She looked alive, and fine. But there was still blood all over her face. How?

Bad Ass: Paintball. Ha ha...ow...fuck...

And there it was. The interview of the year, maybe her entire career. What was a life changing moment that chilled her to the depths of her sanity, was nothing more than another Matt Covey ploy to haunt her and all around just freak her the fuck out. Now she was pissed.

Jenny Jacobs: You son of a bitch!!! I fucking hate you!!!

She punched matt in his gut, to which he responded with pain and a grunt. She huffed and stormed off, going so far as to ignore the officers when they asked her to stand witness. She didn't even notice the cops as they placed handcuffs on both Matt Covey and Buzzsaw. She didn't care. She got behind the wheel of Matt's 71' Dodge Charger and she opened herself a beer. She chugged it until the foam brushed her lips, and then she started the engine. She was going back to Kentucky, and she was going home in her broken piece of shit Hybrid, and she was going to bed!

And so she left it all behind. Buzzsaw and Covey violently kicking at one another as they're placed in seperate cop cars.

----------FIN----------
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