Post by LACKLAN on Mar 10, 2018 1:41:10 GMT -5
Redmaine stood before the delapited warehouse in silence.
The large man was heavy, though not overly tall, filled with corded muscles built over a lifetime of fighting and over five years while training a special operations group in New England. His head was shaved clean, the tone of his skin a pale white, and a mask was wrapped around his mouth, clasped behind the back of his head, and fashioned to look like the open maw of a sand-dwelling worm out of a nightmare. He wore his customary coat, a vest lined with fur, which he cherished deeply, and a leather ensemble which kept him warm. Behind him stood four men, each nearly a identical to one another, as if four parts of a whole, and each had their hair buzzed short and wore black military uniforms with silver pins along the collar to show rank.
“This is your opportunity,” he says to the men behind him, his deep voice muffled by the mask around his mouth. He looks back at them, taking in each of them one after another. “There are forces at work which you will not understand. You are not meant to understand. You are meant to support. Do not fail me.”
He turns back to the broken down warehouse.
“Or her. To fail her? It is to fail HIM.”
Redmaine marches forward, his pace and gait displaying confidence and power, and the four men follow behind. Redmaine pushes past the door, the hands placed against the metal encased in thick brown, and walks in as the door gives way with an angry screech. The sight before him as he walks through is one of forgotten pallets upon the ground, cobwebs hanging from every corner, empty racks, and the occasional skittering sound of some rodent or another scurrying away at the presence of men. They make their way through the expanse of desolate darkness until they find, in a change of atmosphere as sudden as Alice opening her eyes after falling in the hole, a brightly lit area.
Redmaine’s eyes, a light blue green which jumps out in contrast to the four sets of dark eyes behind him, roam over and take in a surprising array of fixtures. Two rugs, one round and lush, the other square and low, lined the room. A cot was in the corner, covered in fluffy purple cushions, with two tall houseplants rising out of planters. Off to the far side was, of all things, a pen filled with chickens, the clucking and chattering of the group of fowl coming to a sudden halt as the men approached. And finally, in what could only be some kind of joke, a kitchen table and two chairs, and sitting atop a booster seat within one, was a poorly stuffed chicken. A bowl sat on the table before the stuffed chicken, half full of pellets.
The sound of footsteps make the group turn. What they see is as odd to the eye as the tiny homestead in the middle of the forgotten warehouse: Le Bord de Dieu walked toward them, not wearing a stitch, her nude body glisten with water, her wet brown hair spilling down her shoulders. Redmaine does not flinch at the approaching nude woman, clearly having just exited an unseen shower, but there is shuffling from the feet behind him, even with a gasp from one of the soldiers.
“About...face!”
As one, the four men follow the command of their master without fail. Right toe points backward, bodies turn on the right toe and left heel, and then left foot snaps into the body to join its mate.
“Effecient.”
Bordy’s French accent is thick, though Redmaine has no trouble understanding her. He never has. She finishes her walk and stands before him, either unaware or unashamed of her nudity. Knowing her, it could be either one equally. Perhaps even both.
“They are well trained. I have taken my duties seriously.”
“Calling” was probably a more accurate way of saying it. Five years ago, a man he respected offered him the opportunity to be a part of the changing world. He was not sure that he was up to the task at the time, but the man had faith. Five years of drills. Five years of preparing. Five years of breaking and reforging young men into weapons. And all either forgotten or thrown aside by the man’s heir.
“And why are they here, Redmaine? Why are YOU here?”
Redmaine’s eyes stay locked on Bordy’s for a moment and then lower. Not to her chest or other curves, not to what would normally draw a man’s eyes like moths and flames. But to her arms. Small muscles, tightly corded, and covered in scars. The left side was a trail of straight lines, as if placed there by the steadiness of Strange, whereas the other side saw a ragged bunch of jagged lines out of the mind of Napier. Those eyes do a quick count of the scars, an equal amount on both sides, and looks back to Bordy’s face.
“One hundred on each arm. Any significance?”
Bordy’s sharp face falls and her eyes darken.
“One for every week. One for every week I was in that cell. One for every week I was away from my husband. One for every week L'Enfant Démon had her way and ruined things.”
She looks down at her arms and gives a small shake of her head.
“Four years, Redmaine. Four years. I cannot tell you all the things I saw.”
She looks back up, her eyes searching and scanning his.
“But she will pay. Her whole world will crumble.”
Redmaine is silent for a moment while holding her gaze.
“Ascend your throne. The people will flock to you.”
Bordy gives him a silent shake of her head, but Redmaine presses on.
“You live here. In squalor. In dirt. When you should be on your throne.”
He pauses.
“Why? Do you fear the child?”
Bordy’s face scrunches into the angry devil.
“I fear NOTHING!”
She spins on her heel and heads towards the cot off to the side. Redmaine watches her curves bounce for a moment before giving follow. He very nearly grins as her arms raise into the air and begin to flare around, a physical habit of hers when she started to rant or rave.
“I fear NOTHING, Redmaine! Nothing! I do not fear death, for God will bring me to His embrace! I do not fear pain, for the love of my husband is the salve of all wounds. I do not fear failure, for I have been brought low with humility before. I do not fear rejection, for I have no need for more than the family I have. I do not fear ANYTHING on this Earth or in this life, for I have love and life everlasting!”
She spins back to Redmaine suddenly and the big man is barely able to stop in time without bowling her over. She jabs an extended finger into him as her hair whips and her chest heaves.
“You have not answered my question, terrorist! Why are you here?!”
Redmaine goes stiff at the use of that word. A word from a lifetime ago. An occupation before the man in black, the man in the white mask, came to him. A time before he was reforged, just as he reforged the young men who were to be part of the military unit. Terrorist for higher. Bomb maker for enjoyment. A perfect record, aside from the accident which scarred him forever. A life he would rather forget, but his mistress knew all too well of.
“Training.” He motions behind him at the four men in black. “They are here to guard you, of course, but I-”
“I do not need them!” interjects Bordy, her finger jabbing into the thick muscle of the masked man’s chest under his vest. “I have a bag boy and a zombie chicken to watch out for me. I do not need your puppies.”
She began to turn again but Redmaine reached up and grabbed her wrist. He tried to be both strong and gentle; indeed, Bordy had always been a bird of flightful fancy who needed to be held but not crushed.
“The child uses them.”
Bordy barks out a burst of laughter.
“They certainly helped in that bar!”
She falls into giggles as she gives Redmaine an exaggerated wink.
“But that is a story for another day. Now you…”
She gently pulls her hand free and gives Redmaine a look up and down his body.
“I might be willing to let you stay around me. You have done well in my husband’s absence.”
She gives him another wink.
“Just do not get too comfortable!”
Redmaine gives a sound which is very near a sigh.
“I am here to help you train. Apparently, last week was not enough against Ingalls. This week-”
“Do NOT mention his name!”
The face of the angel had contorted to the demon again.
“That...that...MAN...should not have even been cleared to WRESTLE in his condition!”
She jabs her finger into Redmaine’s chest again.
“But! BUT! That is for another time. That is why I am cleansing as we speak. You may accompany me today, but leave your little puppies here.”
Redmaine gives a small shake of his head.
“I fear th-”
“I. FEAR. NOTHING!”
A jabbed finger to accentuate every word.
“I do not fear ANYTHING, Redmaine! Not even the EMBODIMENT of fear! I have face this fear avatar before, and though I did not walk out the victor, that avatar knows that it was I would truly defeated that listless Rydell! It was I and the Embrace of God that took him down and made him susceptible to being pinned. It was I who clawed and scratched my way through his flesh that left him down for the proverbial count. IT. WAS. I.”
She shakes her head in disgust and turns away from Redmaine and back to her furnishings.
“Bah! Phrixus. I do not dislike the man. I even appreciate his ability to observe and interpret. I daresay that he is more knowledgeable of his surroundings than the entire Court combined. He understands reasons and is able to take small parts of stories to create a picture of the whole.”
She bends over at the waist to open a drawer and rifle through it, and while the faces of the four men in black military dress still have scarlet faces as they face away from the nude woman, Redmaine remains unaffected by the round bottom staring at him. After a moment, Bordy stands back up and retrieves a black top covered in lace.
“As far as I am concerned, Phrixus has earned his chance to face Zane for the championship. Rydell certainly has not, of course, not with only one win this year, but Phrixus is the kind of person who shows that he can transcend wins and losses and make the world shake.”
She slips the top over her head and settles it into place where it fits snuggly over her curves. She then walks over to a dresser and pulls the doors open to reveal a handful of dresses, each elaborate with frills of lace and velvet. She rifles through them and pulls out a red dress with puffy sleeves.
“And my back STILL hurts from when he landed on me with that damned moonsault of his. Not as much as Rydell’s head hurts after then being spiked by him...or being kicked in the head by that harlot Vaughan, but I have had to stretch a lot.”
She pulls the dress over her head and into place, but then looks back over her shoulder at Redmaine.
“Help me with the buttons.”
Redmaine was motionless for a time. The way she made that statement, which was neither a request nor command, yet somehow both, was something he was used to hearing. The man she married and the step-daughter who rejected her did the same thing.
“You would sit well on the throne.”
He made his way to her and worked the buttons. He was an athletic man, always with strength and agility on his mind, but the tiny pearl buttons were still hard for him to work with thick fingers. And though his mind was squarely on other matters, the slenderness of her neck still drew his eye. Luckily, she continued on.
“I do not fear Fear. I do not fear him as a man or as an idea. He has earned his chance to stand atop the company in this time of triad focus, but so have I. I have caused chaos from the moment I stepped into UGWC and made everyone shake their heads in confusion. And before too long, they will understand the full reason of why I am here. They will understand the full breadth of my mission. They will understand just how sick this world has become and the medicine it needs to survive. Fear is no different. He is older, though younger than my husband. He is successful, though nowhere near what my house has accomplished. And in this moment, he is driven, though he does not see the tidal force that is coming for him, this company, or this business. His victory two weeks ago shall not be repeated this week. He shall have the momentum of failure as he runs into Zane.”
As Redmaine finishes the buttons, Bordy spins around, the train of her dress twirling, and smiles. Her smile lights up her face and deep dimples crease in her cheeks.
“How do I look?”
Redmaine had no need to bluster.
“Like a queen.”
She giggles at him and motions toward the four guards still facing the wall away from them.
“They can call me queen. But you?”
She steps forward, her chin nearly resting on Redmaine’s chest, and looks up into his eyes.
“You may call me Ava.”
“AND ANOTHER THING!”
Le Bord de Dieu’s face was that of the demon, her eyebrow pulled down, her face flush, her eyes aflame, with a finger jabbing towards the hapless and wide-eyed woman behind the desk. The poor woman’s face was white with stark terror as the mad Frenchwoman screamed at her, a tirade which had gone on WELL into her lunch break, but the real fear was the man standing behind her. Bald head that looked like a skeleton, a mask on his face, and arms heavy with muscles folded in front of his chest, he looked like some kind of super villain. The duo had shown up to the Unified Global Wrestling Coalition headquarters in a fury, the two sweeping in like the winds of a hurricane, causing chaos wherever they went.
“I am SICK and TIRED of getting those weekly emails from that Dexter fellow! I will NOT stop using French in my social media content! I will NOT stop slut-shaming women online! I will NOT stop showing the WORLD how superior I am to them! I AM THE ULTRAVIOLET AND THIS IS MY MANIFEST DESTINY!”
The woman flinched as spittle flew from her mouth and she began to tremble. This was NOT in her contract! She would have to contact her union rep about this. It was bad enough that they didn’t even know who they worked for, only “CONSORTIUM” was written on their checks, but they didn’t need to be subjected to this. She shied away as the crazy woman’s mouth opened for what was sure to be another burst of anger.
“Madame Bordy.”
A French accent from behind the woman made her eyes go wide and she was already screaming as she started to turn.
“THAT IS NOT MY NA-”
Bordy cut short as she finished her spin and saw the man in front of her.
“Monsieur Ooley?”
She sounded somewhat taken aback, her voice falling to its normal timber. Ooley stood before her in a suit and, of course, a look on his face which made it seem as though he had recently smelled a particularly foul odor, or perhaps had watched a Amy Jo Smyth promo. The beret atop his head matched that expression.
“Oui, Madame. How can I help you?”
She gives a small shake of her head.
“I did not expect someone of your caliber to see me, Monsieur. To be honest, going off what I have had to deal with within the company before, I assumed I was going to be stuck with the witless wonders behind the desk.”
Ooley takes no offense. After all, anyone not French WAS a witless wonder.
“You are different, Madame. Now! What can I do for you and your...friend?”
His eyes move up to the figure behind Bordy for a moment and this allows Bordy to take control of herself. With a shake, her face hardens and she reaches up to Redmaine. The big man reaches into his coat and hands Bordy a piece of paper, and she in turn hands it to Ooley with an exaggerated flourish.
“This, Monsieur!”
Ooley looks at the paper and his face blows up into incredulity.
“What?!”
He shakes the paper back at Bordy.
“You want your match last week thrown out?! On what grounds!”
“Hygiene!”
She holds up her hand again for Redmaine and the same thing enfolds, Redmaine reaches into his vest, pulls out a paper for her to take, and she hands it to Ooley with a flourishing exaggeration.
“Article Five subsection Six of my UGWC contract CLEARLY states that ALL members of the roster must maintain IMMACULATE hygiene at ALL TIMES! And that….MAN….Jason Ingalls had TERRIBLE HYGIENE!”
She shivers with pure revoltion.
“I told him to SHAVE that HIDEOUS thing on his face! Zane shaved and had a beautifully sharp face. Why couldn’t Ingalls?! Instead, I got a beard SO SMELLY that I could not even BREATH! How was I supposed to WIN that match when I could not even BREATH! And he shed! MY GOD! That FILTHY beard was shedding EVERYWHERE!”
She pulls back the sleeve of her dress to show her her arms.
“I have bathed TWELVE TIMES in the last five days, and I STILL have his putred hair ALL OVER ME!”
Ooley blinks at the onslaught and tries to make heads or tails of the pieces of paper in his hands.
“Listen...I can’t just throw out that title match. It was an extreme match. No rules!”
“Then call us co-champions.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then get me a rematch at the Trios Pay Per View.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Then get him to shave his beard.”
“I can’t do that.”
“BAH!”
She throws up her arms in frustration.
“What do I even PAY you for?!”
“You don’t do that.”
“For the love of-”
She holds up her hand for a third time and, for that third time, the muscled man in the weird mask reaches into his coat and hands her a piece of paper. A third flourish of paper is handed to Ooley. His eyes join the trio of movements (because everything in the UGWC is about trios things right now, obvs) as they go wide.
“You want me to what?!”
“Have the official check that Vaughan woman’s boot!”
Her arms go into the air as she begins pacing back and forth.
“Everyone in the BUSINESS knows that the Vaughan slut loads her boot with some kind of weapon. Some have guessed steel, others a hunk of gold, but no matter WHAT it is, I will NOT fall victim to her cheating ways! She has defeated person after person after kicking them with that VILLAINOUS boot of hers. She even almost KILLED a woman in Mexico! Just imagine! That woman survived the drug wars and water only to be nearly KILLED by the loaded boot of VAUGHAN!”
She stops pacing and jabs her dreaded finger at Ooley.
“I will NOT besmirch my PERFECT record against her by allowing her to SNEAK her hidden WEAPON into the Synergy arena! I DEMAND that East check Vaughan’s boot BEFORE AND DURING the match to make sure that that evil slut does not cheat her way to another victory! She has PROVEN time and AGAIN to not be able to win matches FAIRLY and I REFUSE to be another one of her SCANDALOUS wins!”
Ooley is speechless at the onslaught about the sweet Angelica.
“I-I-uh-”
DING!
Bordy’s eyes flare as the all-too-familiar sound of her phone goes off. She reaches up as Redmaine hands it to her, looks at it, throws her head back, and screams so loud and high that even banshees take a moment out of their day to say “Damn, dude.” Bordy thrusts her phone into Ooley’s chest.
“If you can’t fix ANY of what I DEMAND...then PLEASE FIX THIS!”
Ooley looks at the phone and the series of messages. His face falls.
“Sorry...I don’t think anyone can fix this…”
In a huff, Bordy takes her phone back, spins on her heel, and storms out of the UGWC offices.
“MEN!”
x2
