| The Brand; II, Battlelines | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: May 26 2016, 03:51 PM (33 Views) | |
| Grace Goeren | May 26 2016, 03:51 PM Post #1 |
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For the longest time, the simple touch of another human being was enough to make Grace feel sick to her stomach. Just the feeling of their fingertips making contact with her bare skin sent her retreating inwards, looking to distance herself from reality. It’s not something that she’s particularly fond of talking about but it's something that she has fought extremely hard to get over. Even the first few times when she was being stretched out in a wrestling ring, she nearly threw up on her trainers just because they had their arms wrapped around her throat to show her how to properly apply a sleeper hold. Too many skeletons in the closet. More like a cemetery. Or Hell. She feels the hands on her right now. She stands upright, letting them comb over and explore her body. She’s been telling herself that she’s gotten better with this, but the queasiness in her stomach and uneasy stance must make it apparent she’s still as uncomfortable as ever with all of this intimacy. Are you almost done? Almost. Just a few more seconds. Trying to speed up the process, Grace moves her shoulders back and looks up at the ceiling. Counting tiles. One. Two. Three. Four. Forty. Four-Hundred. An old trick she used when she was younger. It always helped distance herself from the experience. Sometimes she would end up with more. Sometimes with less. As if her own mind was doing her a favor by changing the tiles to keep it interesting. She’s still here. She can’t escape the moment. She still feels his hands run between her legs which causes her to bite down hard on her lower lip. It’s different but the same. She hates it when other people put their hands on her, even now. Makes the heart darken. Makes the brain boil. A few more seconds of this and things are going to get very, very red in here. Annnnnnnnnnnnd done! You can hop on down now, Miss. Goeren. I’ve got the measurements I need. About fucking time! Do me a favor, next time you decide you want to grope me make sure you pay for dinner and a movie first. Fucking twat. Grace hops down from a one step pedestal and cracks her neck and shakes her body loose as she quickly grabs hold of her high-end leather jacket and throws it back over her top. She whips out her designer Maison Bonnett sunglasses and quickly puts them on, shading out the rest of the world. She finds herself today at the world-famous Bandier flagship store in the heart of New York City, right near Madison Park. Located in the heart of the fashion district on 5th Ave, Bandier promotes itself as providing stylish athletic wear for the fashion conscious yet active woman. The young tailor who was measuring Grace sheepishly rises from the floor after jotting down a few more notes on his clipboard. He meekly peers past his spectacles and stammers out a response. I’m...I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable… Just fucking with you man, calm down. I know you’re into dudes anyways. How’d you know? Please. My gay-dar is top notch. We’re talking military grade, baby. So what’s the damages? The young clerk scans over a few pages, adding up the total on an iPad mini by the register. Looks like with the alterations you want us to make and that customized color scheme you want us to go with, the total cost of the ring shorts, top, sports bra, boots, elbow pads, knee pads, reinforced gloves and braces will come to $9,422.40. Grace does not say a word. I...I...I know that might SEEM like a lot, but you have to understand how much work we are going to put into this outfit. Plus we have all of the branding that you wanted us to include on each piece of clothing and the reinforced gloves are going to take us awhile to get them up to the specs you provided us. She shakes her head slowly, letting out a little condescending laugh. We’ll try to get it done sooner, you have my word. I just can’t budge on the… Hmmm? What’s that? What? Were you talking just now? Yeah...I...just told you the price. Oh shitballs, that’s my bad. I was just checking my voicemail on this bitchin Bluetooth headset I just picked up across the street. Check it out. It’s got Pandora and shit on it too, now I can totally listen to Joywave and crack someone’s jaw open at the same time. That’s...great? You bet your glittery feathered ass it's great. So wait, how much did this cost? You know what, fuck it. Doesn’t matter. Here...pick a card, any card. The younger Goeren lets out a laugh and fans out a handful of credit cards, waving it in front of the young clerk. He goes to pick one, only to have Grace pull them all away at the last second. She lets out another laugh, having him try again only to have the same result. Finally, she lets him snag one and tosses the rest haphazardly into her pink leather purse. You know what? I really dig this city, man. You’re good people. First time here? Yeah, but definitely not the last. I’m thinking I’m going to get myself a sweet-ass pad here, somewhere uptown. Overlooking the park. Sure as shit beats living in Boston, that place is a dump. It’s like if there was a God and he had an asshole, then his asshole’s asshole would be Boston. You really do belong in New York. The clerk dutifully goes about processing the huge order, making small talk as the thought of a huge commission balances out Grace’s horribly condescending attitude towards him. You’re damn right. And this is just the start, got me a huge-ass bonus at my job so I’m making a day of this. You probably already know this, but I’m a massive fucking deal in the world of pro wrestling. The clerk gives a shrug of his shoulders, getting an annoyed sigh out of Grace. Yeah well sorry it's not Dancing With The Fucking Has-Beens or some other gay-ass shit you bitches watch, but soon you’ll see this face on billboards and my name at the top of the marquee. If EWA knows what’s good for it, they’ll get behind this bad bitch right now and keep the money flowing. I’m sure they will. You’re a good dude. Sorry I called you a gay-ass queen. You called me a bitch. HAHA! I did, didn’t I? Fuck me, I’m funny. Okay, we done here? Inwardly, the clerk lets out a victorious fist pump as he sees the word “APPROVED” flash across his register and a receipt automatically starts to print. Absolutely Miss. Goeren, swing on by in about two weeks and we’ll have everything ready to go. You got my wordmark and logo? I want that shit front and center on everything. Like if you think you’re being too subtle, make it like...8 times bigger. And in glitter. No wait, fuck that. No glitter. This asshole prick god-damned motherfucking cocksucker I know uses glitter. Make it rhinestones. Yeah. FUCK yeah. Holy shit, I feel good...you got a bathroom around here? The clerk gestures towards the rear of the store with his thumb. It’s the green door in the back. Suh-weet. You hold onto that receipt, I might buy a couch or something on the way back. L8TER SK8TER! Grace quickly takes off for the Ladies Room, finding the vibrant green door with no problems. She barges in and, to her joy, finds the bathroom empty. Quickly locking the door from the inside, she dumps out the contents of her purse into a nearby sink, sending credit cards and other personal belongings flying. She spots the small vial she’s looking for and makes her way over to the toilet, dumping the white powder out into a giant mound on the top of the back tank. She neatly separates the piles into lines, pops the top off the vial and brings it up to her nose before leaning down into the lines. FUUUCCCCCCK. She swings her head back and groans, wiping her nose clean with her arm. Her face lights up again as she gets a slight vibration in her right ear. She presses the side of her new earpiece and moves back towards the mirror, wiping a few speckles of blood out from underneath her nose. Just the man I wanted to talk to, how goes it? Wha? Nah, its echoing because I’m in a bathroom, Mr. Gates. A BATHROOM! Sorry, still getting used to this fuckin’ thing. Grace goes about the mundane task of piling all of her belongings back into her purse, nodding her head at what she hears the other side of the conversation. Yeah it just dropped in this morning. You know, when I started all of this I had no idea about how much money I could make in this business. It’s fucking great! Just upgraded the ring gear, headed over to the Crossfit Gym over in the Bowery after this and then I got dinner at… She stops for a moment, shaking her head in disbelief and waving off whatever concern Duane Gates just gave her. Don’t worry about it, I got it all taken care of. You were the one who told me to brand myself, right? Well that fucking “ca-ching” you hear is me doing just that. Gotta network, right? Get the name out there? Who is bigger in this business right now than me? Who is hotter? Who is the one chica the world over wants to see? Without me, EWA doesn’t have a fucking thing. I’m the future! I deserve this! I… She bites down on her lower lip, getting her emotions back under control. A nervous laugh escapes her lips as she finishes getting her bag ready. I’m sorry Gatesy baby, kinda lost it there. All good now. Listen, I promise I’ll come home first thing in the morning. You’ve got my word. She nods her head and walks out of the bathroom into the main selling floor of Bandier again, waving at the clerk who helped her as she passes by the register. He holds out her receipt which she promptly snatches and flips him off before mouthing the word “JK” to him as she gleefully bounds for the door. No problem. I’ll see you soon. Ciao! With a flick of her finger, she shuts down the call and emerges onto the busy streets of Manhattan. The incredibly warm afternoon sun beats down on her as she glances up at the street signs to find the nearest subway station. As she makes her way down the street, nearly plowing over several tourists in the process, she faintly remembers a sentence that she used to say over and over again as a young girl. One day I’ll run the world. She suddenly has a sharp, stabbing memory wiggle its way back into her skull. She remembers lying on her stomach on her bed, flipping through some of her mother’s fashion magazines. She was never allowed to read those magazines. They were sinful. Decadent. Beyond her dreams. That’s what mother always said. But when she was off at work and Grace was alone...or waiting for her next uninvited visitor...she would snatch them off her mother’s nightstand and look through the pictures of busy streets and flashing lights. She would read about Broadway plays and cultured museums. She would see how the other half lives and yearn to be there. A city that did not exist in real life. It might as well have been Camelot or Shangri La or Neverland. It was so distant to her when her life only existed within the horrible confines of her mother’s house. Only now does she remember those words. One day I’ll run the world. She has arrived. And she has taken what she has been owed. Not just the latest EWA sensation, but its greatest. All she had to do was take it. And all it cost us was her soul. Easy decision. ************************ Well lookie what we got here, sounds like I’ve shoved a stick right up Mr. High & Mighty All Glory To The Amazing and Stupendous Exalted Ruler Of The God-Damned Universe, His Holiness Known As NOTHING. Oh please, Emperor NOTHING...please take mercy on me for back-talking to you when I should be breaking out the kneepads. Let me dust off your chair for you and feed you grapes while some other preteen slut fans you with a giant palm leaf. That’s the type of respect you deserve, yeah? Kinda gets your panties in a bunch when someone cuts right through all of your make-believe drama club bullshit and tears away at the costume you spent all night making. Sorry about that old dude, I’ll pay you back for the damage done to your image after I’m done cracking open your skull like an over ripened mango at Battlelines. I bet when I split it open, all sorts of darkness and moodiness will spill out. Bunch of pentagrams. A couple of bottles of black nail polish. A few Taylor Swift CDs. Gift certificate to Hot Topic. You know, the normal shit that little girls like yourself rock out to when they want to let the world know just how deep and complex they truly are. What’s the matter, Ghost of Christmas Future? Little girl like me got your goat? Come on, you know I’m nothing to NOTHING. You shouldn’t even be wasting your time with me. You should be focused on spreading your HATE to everyone in EWA like an STD. Oh man. I just realized something that’s totally going to suuuuuuucccck for you. So here I am, just running my mouth at some 80 year old has-been and his super villain henchmen buddies when I’m not even twenty years old yet. The world is at my fingertips and there has never been anyone in the history of wrestling who is as talented and naturally suited for this fucking sport as me. I’m everything you wish you could be. I’m ascending. You’re rapidly descending. I’m a reminder to you about just how out of touch you are. I totally get why you don’t like me now. I’m the anti-thesis to your whole stupid, crock of shot crusade you have been spewing. I should hate this world because, as it's been pointed out, I had a pretty shitty childhood with pretty shitty parents and a pretty shitty life. I should be scared and alone and miserable. If anyone has the right to feel shafted, it’s me. I should hate it all. But I don’t. Don’t get me wrong, I hate a LOT of things in this world but I let that fuel me. It guides me everyday and gives me purpose. It does not own me or consume me. I benefit from it. Look at what my hate has given me. Do you think even three months earlier I would have this chance to advance in the Path of the Warrior Tournament? What if I started out like all of the other fucktwats did in this business, by going through the system and patiently learning from a bunch of broken down glory pigs like yourself. Fuck me, I’d be 30 by the time I made it into EWA if I took that route. 100 years after that, I’d be your age Mr. Robot Master. Look at me now though. I’ve taken that crappy poker hand and turned it into pocket aces, bitch. I’m the fastest rising star that EWA has ever seen and I’m making it look as easy as you going on Facebook and vaguebooking about how “life sucks” and watching all of your friends ask you what’s wrong. The only thing that I truly, truly hate in this world are the people who have personally fucked me over. They deserve to pay for their crimes and I will absolutely make sure they do, but guys like you? I can’t hate you. I can just pity you for the shell that you’ve become. As much as I absolutely love piling on your broken-ass back, you were something at one point in your career. I will absolutely give you that. You were something. You know, before I was born. Bet you had a killer flip phone, tiger. Bet it was black and had a cobra decal on it too. But any time for glory has long passed you by. Time to step aside and let the future grab hold of this industry and lead it to greatness the way you never did. You say you want to come in here and destroy? I say you’re destroying my livelihood. My future. And believe it or not, Supreme Chancellor Grand Wizard NOTHING, I’m not going to sit on my ass and watch you take away something that is rightfully mine. Make sure you bring your A+ Game at Battlelines, along with all of your orcs, elves and cryptic messages there Captain Creepy. I’ll bring my fists and a stretcher. We’ll see how real you can get. ************************ Taking a long swig of Gatorade, Grace cracks her shoulder and swears loud enough for the family of four having dinner across the street to hear her. The father covers his kids ears as Grace lets out a laugh. She just wrapped up an hour of Crossfit Training at one of the toughest, most demanding gyms in the country and her body is screaming at her right now. Damn fine workout. Body is ready. Mind is ready. Let’s get at it. Business first. She reaches down into her gym bag and pulls out her bluetooth earpiece, popping it into her right ear and speaking out a few numbers. She leans back against the bench in front of the gym, letting the dusk wash over her and cool her down. After a few moments, she starts speaking. Yeah, Hi. Listen this is Grace Goeren. I’ve called you people FOUR times over the last two days to talk to my brother. I dropped by to see him, you said he wasn’t interested. That’s bullshit. I’m all he’s got. Something is going on there and I want to know exactly what he… She freezes. She hears the receptionist on the end give her some information, but her brain can’t process anything besides the first name she hears. Wait...back up the fucking bus. Who exactly did you say has been visiting him? |
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10:51 AM Jul 11