Post by Jet Somers on Apr 30, 2010 2:27:14 GMT -5
He'd probably kill her in cold blood if he knew what she was doing.
Since she'd made up her mind to taste her revenge on Jet Somers, Melanie has laid a shaky and hurried plan. Each John she takes on in the back of a car, each client who drags her, breathless, into a dirty motel and covers her in stinking, foul, and fetid breath, each of them pays almost without thinking. It was frighteningly simple to set the base of the plan in motion, and the fact that she has begun to charge them more than the going rate is something know one can know.
As long as Kyung-min never figures out that the ten percent he garnishes is taken from the original price, and not the price she's now getting, she'll be safe.
For now, she must be patient.
For now, she must quietly smolder in her hate.
-----------
It's the KeyArena in Seattle, early morning, and although it's three days before the event, already trucks are delivering for UGWC's No Holds Barred: Adapt or Die Pay Per View.
It's little wonder, with every match featuring some dangerous gimmick, there is a lot of equipment to set up. What is surprising is that this much money has been spent on the first ever pay event. Had the promotion gathered this much revenue already?
Jet Somers wanders through the line of trucks pulled up to every loading bay. He stares around in wide-eyed wonder at the various components being removed from the trailers and bustled into the arena. Reaching one of the bays, he climbs the concrete steps and follows a large, nine-foot wall of cage inside.
None of the workers in the backstage area gives him more than a passing glance, so it's a little surprising when he enters the arena proper to the irritated stares of the known members of The Consortium. Robert Ooley, Moss Edwards, Dexter Vines, and all the rest of the UGWC staff are gathered on the floor where the ring will eventually stand. They have obviously been going over the
"Jason, the entertainment professionals were given strict orders not to enter the arena before Sunday," Ooley exclaims, "What the hell are you doing here?"
Jet grins his goofy grin, but Vines doesn't give him a chance to speak.
"If you've changed your mind," he informs The Wild Card, "It's a little late now. The stipulations are in place, and orders have already gone through. As you could see on your way in here, the implements we've chosen have already been delivered and are being assembled as we speak."
"Sorry guys," Jet shrugs and about faces, "I must have missed the memo. I was just wanting a look. I'll go out the fan entrance, so I don't see anything I'm not supposed to, if it makes you feel better."
With that, he exits up through the stands.
"That was weird," Mitchell Dennis mutters.
----------
The meeting must have been adjourned, each official and staff member informed of the roles and rules they must play and play by. Each person makes his or her way to their respective vehicles in the employee parking lot. Men higher in The Consortium, and with arguably easier jobs, march proudly to their current model conveyances. Farther down the ladder, the referees trudge toward their fixer-uppers.
Like a bird of prey, Jet watches with attentive eyes until the weakest member of the flock is separated from his mates. The predator knows exactly when to dive, and as soon as the suits disappear into their customized chariots, Jet advances on Sam Greene.
Greene drops his keys, quickly retrieves them, then stands to face the unexpected form of Crazy Opie.
"Heya Sam, can I buy you lunch?" in the morning sun, Jet's trademark goofy grin looks almost hungry.
----------
It's the KeyArena in Seattle, but the day of. Backstage, Jet warms up with a jumprope in his assigned locker room. On a couch across the room, Jenny is checking her makeup with the nervous precision of a prom queen.
"You didn't even watch the first match," she announces, trying to get her mind on business.
"No need," Jet doesn't slow his jumps, "As far as I know, it's the only match tonight that doesn't have some sort of bearing on the future. But don't let that fool you. Joker is going to walk all over all three of those guys, and Eric Gold is going to go down hard. If he wins and adds to his purse, he might find it, I don't know... funny?... to start stacking his winnings up and using them in some twisted way. Barring that, all the focus I need has to be for the match I'm entering in about five minutes. Right now, they're rolling a video package that shows the exploits each of us went through to come to this point in the road. For two of us, that means showing a dull history. For Grant, it's a history that has finished. He doesn't even belong in this bout, to be honest. After dealing with Vines and his strict adherence to getting paid for his services, I'm convinced Grant used the insurance money from torching his place to buy his way in. A longstanding champion who now holds nothing? I've yet to be impressed."
"And speaking of yet to impress," Jet continues, "Did Kyle Tacker just get out of jail? Is that why we've heard or seen little of him before he took a cheap shot at me? Let me tell you what would have impressed me; if either of these guys had done anything significant since UGWC started streaming to amount to a right to be in the same match with me. On the one hand you have a champion who has so far stood outside the fire, and on the other you have a washed up ex-champion who likes to start fires. And basically, the most important thing either of them has done in the past month is act out when they saw me gunning for the Chaos Championship at full speed. It's like they suddenly woke up out of a stupor and realized that if they didn't start achieving something, this new wrestler neither of them has ever heard of was going to steal their thunder right from under their noses. Well, I've got a wake up call for them, alright."
"I appreciate you inviting me out here tonight, Jet, it's an honor, really," Jenny blushes under her makeup, "I used to make it a point not to attend my students' fights, but I have to admit, I had to ask myself when I'd ever get a chance to stand in front of thousands of fans again."
"Billions," Jet grins, "We're streaming live, remember?"
The blush turns into a look of shock.
"Do you really think there are that many people subscribing to this?" she wonders.
"When hell is full, the dead will walk the earth," Jet mutters.
"What?" Jenny raises an eyebrow as Jet stops jumping and takes a seat on the couch next to his trainer.
Shaking his head, Jet chews on the inside of his lower lip.
"Just something I've been mulling over the past few days," he says.
Jenny squeezes his shoulder, urging him to confess.
"Since day one in this business," Jet explains, his tone turning more serious, "Everything I've done has seemed to revolve around one theme. I claimed to have sold my soul and condemned myself to this world which I've always considered a Hell. When I rescued my sister from her own personal torment, the bunker burned those poor condemned souls alive. When I committed myself to destroying Raenius, I was haunted by dreams of Dante's journey with Virgil. Recently, a man has been given the right to lay claim to the championship which should be mine, and he goes by the moniker of "Inferno." And now, now I must enter what The Consortium has dubbed 'Three Floors of Hell.' Clearly, this is Hell. What am I being punished for?"
Jet sighs.
"Perhaps it isn't punishment that has been meted out by the lesser gods of this business," he suggests, "Maybe I'm like Theseus, or Orpheus, and I'm undertaking my very own Night Journey. To what is the purpose then? For what reason do I quest here in this forgotten land of those morally dead? Am I here to rescue the suffering souls who don't deserve this fate? I doubt that. Perhaps I'm here to exact vengeance and carry out the punishments that those who have been judged are to face. But then, that drive failed miserably against The Covenant, and none are as deserving as punishment as they."
"Or maybe," Jet looks up at Jenny with a wild glint in his eyes, "maybe I'm here just to cause as much chaos as possible. You see, I'm coming to realize that chaos isn't just being ultraviolent and hurting people all the time. It's not acting out and interrupting as many matches as possible. Maybe my job is to disrupt the natural order of things. If that's the case, then that job really began in earnest when I accepted the strap I bear now. People were stunned to watch me take out seven armed superstars without ever lifting a foreign object. The other entertainment professionals have raised their eyebrows at the ever-increasing purse that I've acquired, wondering at how the taint of pseudo-riches haven't driven me as power hungry as Dirge. I challenge every expectation that people have of not only me, but my opponents as well. They marvelled when I pinned a ten year veteran down in Phrixus Deimos. They sat stunned as I killed the laughter in Mark Matthews' big joke. And now, they will shake their heads in disbelief that I can enter a fight loaded with some unknown gimmick challenge--I, perhaps the most collected person on the roster, with two of the most chaotic characters ever to feature in the business--and emerge with the title of Chaos Champion."
"Why am I here in this Hell?" Jet chuckles mirthlessly, "I'm here to turn Hell upside down."
Since she'd made up her mind to taste her revenge on Jet Somers, Melanie has laid a shaky and hurried plan. Each John she takes on in the back of a car, each client who drags her, breathless, into a dirty motel and covers her in stinking, foul, and fetid breath, each of them pays almost without thinking. It was frighteningly simple to set the base of the plan in motion, and the fact that she has begun to charge them more than the going rate is something know one can know.
As long as Kyung-min never figures out that the ten percent he garnishes is taken from the original price, and not the price she's now getting, she'll be safe.
For now, she must be patient.
For now, she must quietly smolder in her hate.
-----------
It's the KeyArena in Seattle, early morning, and although it's three days before the event, already trucks are delivering for UGWC's No Holds Barred: Adapt or Die Pay Per View.
It's little wonder, with every match featuring some dangerous gimmick, there is a lot of equipment to set up. What is surprising is that this much money has been spent on the first ever pay event. Had the promotion gathered this much revenue already?
Jet Somers wanders through the line of trucks pulled up to every loading bay. He stares around in wide-eyed wonder at the various components being removed from the trailers and bustled into the arena. Reaching one of the bays, he climbs the concrete steps and follows a large, nine-foot wall of cage inside.
None of the workers in the backstage area gives him more than a passing glance, so it's a little surprising when he enters the arena proper to the irritated stares of the known members of The Consortium. Robert Ooley, Moss Edwards, Dexter Vines, and all the rest of the UGWC staff are gathered on the floor where the ring will eventually stand. They have obviously been going over the
"Jason, the entertainment professionals were given strict orders not to enter the arena before Sunday," Ooley exclaims, "What the hell are you doing here?"
Jet grins his goofy grin, but Vines doesn't give him a chance to speak.
"If you've changed your mind," he informs The Wild Card, "It's a little late now. The stipulations are in place, and orders have already gone through. As you could see on your way in here, the implements we've chosen have already been delivered and are being assembled as we speak."
"Sorry guys," Jet shrugs and about faces, "I must have missed the memo. I was just wanting a look. I'll go out the fan entrance, so I don't see anything I'm not supposed to, if it makes you feel better."
With that, he exits up through the stands.
"That was weird," Mitchell Dennis mutters.
----------
The meeting must have been adjourned, each official and staff member informed of the roles and rules they must play and play by. Each person makes his or her way to their respective vehicles in the employee parking lot. Men higher in The Consortium, and with arguably easier jobs, march proudly to their current model conveyances. Farther down the ladder, the referees trudge toward their fixer-uppers.
Like a bird of prey, Jet watches with attentive eyes until the weakest member of the flock is separated from his mates. The predator knows exactly when to dive, and as soon as the suits disappear into their customized chariots, Jet advances on Sam Greene.
Greene drops his keys, quickly retrieves them, then stands to face the unexpected form of Crazy Opie.
"Heya Sam, can I buy you lunch?" in the morning sun, Jet's trademark goofy grin looks almost hungry.
----------
It's the KeyArena in Seattle, but the day of. Backstage, Jet warms up with a jumprope in his assigned locker room. On a couch across the room, Jenny is checking her makeup with the nervous precision of a prom queen.
"You didn't even watch the first match," she announces, trying to get her mind on business.
"No need," Jet doesn't slow his jumps, "As far as I know, it's the only match tonight that doesn't have some sort of bearing on the future. But don't let that fool you. Joker is going to walk all over all three of those guys, and Eric Gold is going to go down hard. If he wins and adds to his purse, he might find it, I don't know... funny?... to start stacking his winnings up and using them in some twisted way. Barring that, all the focus I need has to be for the match I'm entering in about five minutes. Right now, they're rolling a video package that shows the exploits each of us went through to come to this point in the road. For two of us, that means showing a dull history. For Grant, it's a history that has finished. He doesn't even belong in this bout, to be honest. After dealing with Vines and his strict adherence to getting paid for his services, I'm convinced Grant used the insurance money from torching his place to buy his way in. A longstanding champion who now holds nothing? I've yet to be impressed."
"And speaking of yet to impress," Jet continues, "Did Kyle Tacker just get out of jail? Is that why we've heard or seen little of him before he took a cheap shot at me? Let me tell you what would have impressed me; if either of these guys had done anything significant since UGWC started streaming to amount to a right to be in the same match with me. On the one hand you have a champion who has so far stood outside the fire, and on the other you have a washed up ex-champion who likes to start fires. And basically, the most important thing either of them has done in the past month is act out when they saw me gunning for the Chaos Championship at full speed. It's like they suddenly woke up out of a stupor and realized that if they didn't start achieving something, this new wrestler neither of them has ever heard of was going to steal their thunder right from under their noses. Well, I've got a wake up call for them, alright."
"I appreciate you inviting me out here tonight, Jet, it's an honor, really," Jenny blushes under her makeup, "I used to make it a point not to attend my students' fights, but I have to admit, I had to ask myself when I'd ever get a chance to stand in front of thousands of fans again."
"Billions," Jet grins, "We're streaming live, remember?"
The blush turns into a look of shock.
"Do you really think there are that many people subscribing to this?" she wonders.
"When hell is full, the dead will walk the earth," Jet mutters.
"What?" Jenny raises an eyebrow as Jet stops jumping and takes a seat on the couch next to his trainer.
Shaking his head, Jet chews on the inside of his lower lip.
"Just something I've been mulling over the past few days," he says.
Jenny squeezes his shoulder, urging him to confess.
"Since day one in this business," Jet explains, his tone turning more serious, "Everything I've done has seemed to revolve around one theme. I claimed to have sold my soul and condemned myself to this world which I've always considered a Hell. When I rescued my sister from her own personal torment, the bunker burned those poor condemned souls alive. When I committed myself to destroying Raenius, I was haunted by dreams of Dante's journey with Virgil. Recently, a man has been given the right to lay claim to the championship which should be mine, and he goes by the moniker of "Inferno." And now, now I must enter what The Consortium has dubbed 'Three Floors of Hell.' Clearly, this is Hell. What am I being punished for?"
Jet sighs.
"Perhaps it isn't punishment that has been meted out by the lesser gods of this business," he suggests, "Maybe I'm like Theseus, or Orpheus, and I'm undertaking my very own Night Journey. To what is the purpose then? For what reason do I quest here in this forgotten land of those morally dead? Am I here to rescue the suffering souls who don't deserve this fate? I doubt that. Perhaps I'm here to exact vengeance and carry out the punishments that those who have been judged are to face. But then, that drive failed miserably against The Covenant, and none are as deserving as punishment as they."
"Or maybe," Jet looks up at Jenny with a wild glint in his eyes, "maybe I'm here just to cause as much chaos as possible. You see, I'm coming to realize that chaos isn't just being ultraviolent and hurting people all the time. It's not acting out and interrupting as many matches as possible. Maybe my job is to disrupt the natural order of things. If that's the case, then that job really began in earnest when I accepted the strap I bear now. People were stunned to watch me take out seven armed superstars without ever lifting a foreign object. The other entertainment professionals have raised their eyebrows at the ever-increasing purse that I've acquired, wondering at how the taint of pseudo-riches haven't driven me as power hungry as Dirge. I challenge every expectation that people have of not only me, but my opponents as well. They marvelled when I pinned a ten year veteran down in Phrixus Deimos. They sat stunned as I killed the laughter in Mark Matthews' big joke. And now, they will shake their heads in disbelief that I can enter a fight loaded with some unknown gimmick challenge--I, perhaps the most collected person on the roster, with two of the most chaotic characters ever to feature in the business--and emerge with the title of Chaos Champion."
"Why am I here in this Hell?" Jet chuckles mirthlessly, "I'm here to turn Hell upside down."
