Post by LACKLAN on Apr 6, 2018 16:57:10 GMT -5
Good evening, Ladies and Gentlemen
We here at Circle Television Network would like to take this time to pat ourselves on the back. Outside of that “accidentally” released Sidney Grey/Mason Moore sex tape, there has NEVER been a bigger ratings boost than last week when we aired the first part of our four-part docuseries on Le Bord de Dieu. So while we thank each and every viewer, we mostly would like to thank ourselves.
We rock.
This week, we delve into the, again in the vernacular of dear, sweet Angie, “totes legit triggering” world of the Lingerie Football League team, the Cincinnati Hit Girls. Now, we have been asked many times about the how and why we ended up partnering with Lacklan Industries on the I8 of the team, but let us be honest here, the reason is clear: Ever since she debuted in “The World According to Sid” as a teenager, we have grown quite accustomed to Kenzi Grey going “I am now THIS!” and investing 150% of her being into some crazy adventure. Actress, singer, blogger (Angie: “EW!”), wrestler, model, Scientologist, married to a billionaire heiress, member of a murderous wolf cult. What is underwear football quarterback compared to all of these things? So, especially considering that Lacklan Industries is footing the bill while we take care of broadcasting and content disbursement, it's pretty much a win/win for us.
But why Bordy? Why would the woman who delights in calling down women for being sluts and sinners join said league of footballing underwear models? This question, and more, is the focus of Part II of our special.
In order to answer the above question, the members of the documentary staff decided to ask CTN ourselves on the prevailing thoughts of why we would get into the LFL, and why we would specifically sign Bordy, who seemed to be rather antagonistic towards the quarterback, kicker, and running back. Unfortunately, the only person in the office we were able to get ahold of was Maria Salvatore, who had this to say:
Maria: “Fahgetaboutit! Sleep wit da fishes! Other embarrassingly stereotypical Italian things I say in promos to get over while I feud with myself!”
And unfortunately, when we looked for help from her husband Malik, all we say was him longingly looking at a razor blade, as if wishing to slice any blood-spurting part of his body that he could.
Thus, we moved on. Realizing that talking to ourselves wouldn’t get it done, we decided to go to the other aisle and speak to members of the Hit Girls. We initially asked the question of “Why Bordy?” to the team’s manager, Sidney Grey, but we didn’t get much in the way of response.
Sidney Grey, Mother of the Year: “What? Who are you? What is this? Who is Bordy? Can’t you see that I’m busy drinking?”
That didn’t help. Next, we asked the question of “What is it like working with Bordy?” to the newly-installed coach of the Hit Girls, and recent documentee, the masked man Generic Heel.
The Great GH: “I nailed her back in the day.”
He then looked us up and down.
GH the Great: “‘Sup, hot mama? Want a ticket to climb Generic Mountain?”
As you can imagine, we have taken several showers since then. We still feel dirty.
So, perhaps the management team is not the way to go and we should, instead, ask the players themselves. After all, they are the ones who, 2 or 3 days a week for the last month, have been working with the woman. From what we have been able to glean, Bordy seems to take to football the way she takes to wrestling: Aggressive and with a clear disregard for the rules, and perhaps even a willy ignorance of them. And much like how she was disqualified for using illegal moves in her very first match since returning to wrestling in January, she was the lone penalty in an otherwise clean and efficient pre-season game this past Friday.
Thus, we asked her teammates the question: What is it like working with Bordy?
Roxy Cotton, bubble gum blonde bombshell: “Who’s that, baby?”
Not too surprising a response from Rox…
Dear, sweet Angie Vaughn: "Ermmm, working? I wouldn't call it working, more like 'avoiding' and hoping she doesn't start hurling insults at your head in French whenever she sees you.”
Little shots of pink rose in her pale cheeks as she said this and she quickly went on to explain.
Miss Loaded Boot: “I mean, I've been in the ring with her a couple of times and no doubt she's ferocious, but I kinda question her lack of mental stability. She's not exactly an agreeable colleague or teammate. When you're in the same building with her it's kind of like God himself is watching you and judging your every move, and he can send down an angel to smite you for the slightest transgression. So... yeah, that's kinda what it's like."
An honest answer from an honest woman. Well, when she’s not kicking your head off, anyway.
Ashley Marie Chase, one of the MANY people who Kenzi does not remember having sex with: "Bordy? She is ok i guess. not like we hang out a lot. My biggest complaint would be that her and Angie are always speaking Hungarian and who the hell understands Hungarian?"
AMC then spent the next several minutes asking us to describe Bordy’s backside for her. Weird chick, that one. Then we tried a team mate who might very well be closer to Team Kickass than any other.
Milisandre Crowthorne, Lovecraftian: “Holy fuck me I am getting married in two months HOW DID THIS HAPPEN SO FAST I CAN’T EVEN
Okay, so maybe Bridezilla was a bad idea. We then tried the globe-trotting Trixie, but she ran right by us after the game and jumped into the Team Kickass T.A.R.D.I.S. and wrestled in three matches at the same time the game happened. Somewhere in the Land of Obscurity, Samantha Tolson screamed at a wall.
In the end, we figured that the BEST person, outside of Bordy herself, anyway, would be the name attached to the Hit Girls, that of Sarah herself. Mrs. Grey-Lacklan has a rule about not being seen on camera in her wheelchair OF DOOM~! so we instead shot her a text message asking the question of the day.
#DigitalPigeon: I can’t find my glasses and I stubbed my finger because I can’t see and Mackenzie isn’t here WHY IS MY LIFE SO FUCKING HARD NOW 😭😭😭😭😭
Yeeeeeesh.
Finding THAT half of Team Kickass to be...er...less than helpful...we instead tracked down Kenzi and posed this important question. She had quite a lot to say on the matter.
Kenzi, actress: “What’s it like working with Bordy?”
She paused and the wheels inside her head were turning so much that we could basically see it. The corners of her mouth took an ever-so-slight downward turn as she took a deep breath and answered, and we could tell that her tone was measured and even as she did her best to be judicious. And safe, probably.
Kenzi, model: “Working with Bordy is…stressful…”
We asked how so, and again Kenzi took her time, probably to make sure that she formed her words with care.
Kenzi, singer: “Bordy is an odd woman. She…she has very specific sensibilities and beliefs that make it very difficult to relate to her. It’s not because her moral code is way out in left field, it’s because she herself is actually the one out in left field.”
We started to ask what she meant by that (...especially considering her religion…), but she held up her hand to stop us. Then she gave a big sigh that kinda told us that a great weight had just been lifted off her chest.
Kenzi, Scientologist: “Bordy has a wonderful capacity within her to be good and kind. Look at the work she does with homeless people. She gives of herself in a way that not too many other people would. That takes a very special person to do the things that she does without the slightest complaint or desire to draw attention to herself.”
She shakes her head and the look on her face clearly shows that though she’s impressed, there is something more that bothers her.
Kenzi, semi-retired wrestler: “Bordy does so much good when no one is looking, and when we are looking…she is one of the nastiest people I have ever known…outside of my own mother. She’s rude and judgmental and basically only sees the world and everyone around her as disposable. I suppose that is why I am so confused by her. I see the good person in her…but it is wrapped in so much ugliness that I doubt anyone will ever be able to get through that surface and reach the good person that she works so hard to hide.”
We ask her if she is going to keep trying an she smiles at us, but it is very slight and very wry.
Kenzi, undefeated Candaian tag team champion: “I’d like to…I’d really like to. It’s hard…”
Another one of those hard sighs, which, lets face it, happen a lot when people are talking about Bordy.
Kenzi, totes not into girls: “…it’s really hard.”
We suppose that, in the end, it is best to go to the source. Stay tuned over the next two weeks as we sit down with Bordy herself to discuss these and many other questions!
The Cincy Hit Girl stadium is an odd place. Once home to the Cincy Beasts, it has since been purchased by a joint venture of Circle Television Network and Lacklan Industries and has become a third home to the #CoolKids, including Sativa Nevaeh, a wide receiver hotly contested over by several teams in the most recent off season. The city was used to having an ineffective LFL team, and they still had one in many ways, but the influx of cash from New England, media coverage from CTN’s #ShotsFired, and the general notoriety of their new players, put them in a spotlight which demanded attention and viewership.
There are still remnants of the spectacular fight that was Vaughn vs. Blackstar for Fight2Win two months ago, with broken glass from monster trucks controlled by reformed Scientologists stuck in the dirt in some places, as well as a bit of scorched Earth where Blackstar had met his unfortunate end. Most of the carnage of that match had been removed, and it actually had less leftover debris than one of the three-day parties over at the Love on the Rox club, but fans still gave it odd looks and took selfies for proof of the wreckage. Those fans filled out the stadium every week of the LFL season, even if their team went a pathetic 2-14 the prior season, in part due to getting to see how poorly the Hit Girls were going to do this game. In fact, there was often a pool to see how much yardage their quarterback, Kenzi Grey, was going to lose on the ground this week!
The innards of the stadium are modernized in some ways, though much of the renovation work was going to take several years to complete, but the “important” things had been handled immediately. Wheelchair (OF DOOM~!) accessible, new food options, and monitors at every urinal in the entire stadium that showcased the #CoolTube application, which showed a steady stream of matches, promos, and special interests of the #CooKids. This evening’s offerings include Angie’s Symphony of Destruction match in XWA; The Cotton Corner, wherein Roxy gives makeup tips to hide your disgusting, slutty interior with a plastic exterior; The Cuddlin’ Hour, which is literally just footage of Kenzi and Sarah making out on their couch for 60 minutes straight; Hopsville, the weekly episodic adventure of Lil’ Has, sers Alex and Bobby, and Gary the giant land snail; and Tentacle Theatre, a show “not” hosted by Mili which features the Hentai of the Week.
Le Bord de Dieu is wrapped in a towel as she walks out of the showers deep within the stadium. Her hair, recently cut to lay just to the top of her shoulders when dry, clings to her back, the occasional streaks of grey bright in contrast to the dark brown. Her bare feet hit the tile with a small smack, the sound echoing in the otherwise empty shower room, and take her to a bench near a set of lockers. A smirk comes to her lips as she approaches the bench and places a hand on the lockers.
“Do you know what I find humorous, Monsieur Pierce?”
The Frenchwoman’s accent is thick, as per the usual, with the scratch in her voice the tale-tell sign of her past troubles.
“That you have proven to be everything that I have said. You are not the first, of course. I told Mathis that her revolution would be a failure...and it was. I told the Vaughan girl that she would never amount to anything until she was brave enough to face God...and she has not. I told Lockheart that she would not be strong enough to defeat me in our Chaos title match...and she was not. I told Mizore to stay home and preserve the quality of life of her lover...and know men and women coming out of the very Abyss to insult and assault her. And I told dear Jet that you would do so little research on me that even the aforementioned brainless Mizore would seem a Rhodes scholar...and I was right.”
She shakes her head slowly as she opens a locker.
“Three champions...a challenger...the main event...and you allowed yourself to look the fool.”
We can see a small manner of clothes and personal effects within the locker. She pulls out the lock and chain she has taken to wearing the last month and slips it around her neck, clicking it into place under her hair, the lock finding its home nestled in the cleavage pushed up by the towell.
“Oh yes, you walked away with a win. But you made yourself looked quite the joke in the process. Everyone in that building, from fan to Court to the hot dog vendor, saw that you were clearly overmatched in skill and talent, and that you had, as I predicted, overstepped your station in life. And that win of yours was only through the ire of someone as equally feckless as yourself, the miserable Rydell, who has found himself in the same place you are: He reached high for one brief moment, was given an opportunity that he never should have had, and was made to look the fool once more. You two fit one another.”
She reaches back into the locker and begins to pull out clothes, an assortment of color so varied that it jars the eye.
“You know what I find quite interesting, Monsieur? Right this moment, there is no direct challenger for my place as the Champion of Chaos. Partially, I am sure, because everyone in the office knows that whoever they put in front of me at No Holds Barred will simply be the first person I defend against in what will be a long line of defences. But you? You have your challenger. Rydell. And, apparently, all you need to do to challenge for the Cross-Hemisphere championship is lose seven out of your eight last matches and then attack the champion from behind! Indeed, with the rudderless Rydell as your challenger, it seems as if your title is next to worthless.
“We both know the old feeling within the business when it comes to championships, Monsieur. It is not the title who makes the person but the person who makes the title. There have been five different holders of your title in as many months, the hottest potato it would seem, and daresay not due to quality. Why, at this stage, it would seem that even some red-eyed rat could come out of the sewers and win that championship! And while I fully expect you to defend against Rydell at No Holds Barred, that will do nothing but prove my point. The person makes the championship...and all your championship will be is the one that gets defended against the likes of Rydell. Little honor in that or you. And just as I said before, water strives to be level, and unfortunately for you, that means you will end up drowning while I walk atop it.”
She smirks as she continues to pull items from her locker.
“My championship is at the other end of the spectrum, of course. I have said before that God uses chaos to create order, which is the sad attempt within this company by the Court of Owls, and it is exemplified by me. Try as the Court might, everyone understands who reigned supreme at Lord of Trios. Try as they might, everyone understood who shone like a sparkling diamond last week on Synergy. Try as this entire company might, everyone now fully understands the extent of what I am. I am the Champion of Chaos. I am the Ultraviolet. And I WILL create order out of the chaos that is this business as a whole, and this company in particular.”
She smirk rises to a full smile.
“That is what confuses Lockheart. That is what vexes her. She doesn’t understand that you have to get into the muck and mire if you want change, that you have to-”
“You can’t come in here!”
An echoing voice in the distance interrupts Bordy, a voice accompanied by the sound of hard heels hitting the tile.
“This is for women only!”
The voice and footsteps draw nearer.
“No spouses allowed!”
Around the corner comes Redmaine, the masked hulking companion of Bordy, with a member of the Hit Girls stadium staff following close behind. Redmaine continues to ignore the agitated staff member as his eyes search out Bordy.
“We have a problem.”
His voice is muffled by the mask around his nose and mouth, but Bordy does not even seem to notice.
“That cannot wait?”
Redmaine shakes his head, his bald plate shining in the light.
“There has been an incident. We must go.”
Bordy gives him a nod and gathers her belongings.
![](https://i.imgur.com/QNjgLZL.gif")
Aveline Lacklan walks through devastation.
Dressed in a gown of red with turquoise stripes running down the arms and a high collar that reaches her ears, she lightly steps through the burned wreckage that recently was a tent city. The cycling colors of red and blue from the lights of first responders flash against her, each burst making the turquoise shine, and what seems to be a constant whimpering can be heard in the distance. Away from the wreckage and assembled in a makeshift triage, wrapped both in blankets and whatever linen could be found, the uninjured inhabitants of the ruined city are comforted by those responders, the injured long since rushed to the hospital. Dark eyes tinged with madness and shining with unshed tears take it all in, and she shakes her head in sadness and dismay.
“Do you want to change the world, Mademoiselle Lockheart?”
Her harsh voice is low as one of her slippered feet gently kicks over a blackened wooden beam.
“You have proclaimed yourself the future over and again, but it seems as if the future will never be the present for you. Oh, you have certainly had your victories, your moments to shine. But to do what you want...to be a force of reckoning which sweeps through the world and creates chaos? You do not have the stomach for it.”
She shakes her head slowly as she moves on.
“Regardless of what I think of your relationship, and regardless of how I take at least fifteen minutes a day to laugh about how you and all of your slut lesbian friends will spend eternity burning in the Lake of Fire, I commend you for coming to UGWC to help stiffen the back of your lover. She was in need of help, of support, in her battle with the Court of Owls. Unfortunately for her, outside of your momentary victory over the Good Doctor, you have been...let us go with ‘less’...than helpful. Not much more than fodder for them to leave laying in order to send a message to the roster as a whole, and your lover’s little club in particular. Indeed, you have been nothing more to this company than just another child in Little League who strikes out but has the coach tell them ‘Good cut, kid! Good cut!’”
She gives another shake of her head, the recently cut hair bouncing at her shoulders, and runs her slipper against shards of glass half-melted by the heat of the fire.
“I wonder if you still have some of that glass table stuck in that rat’s nest atop your scalp? You speak of respecting the past...but you know so little of it. I was a champion and throwing people off statues while you were still wearing a training bra, naughty child. And as for embracing the future?”
She kicks away what little of the glass is solid enough to move.
“Several weeks ago, I needed to find change. I had returned to wrestling and knew that something was...off. Something was wrong. So I fought fear and doubt and went into the heart of evil itself to pull out a talisman. A reminder. The mask of the Voice of God. Of my dear husband. And since then? Since finding myself and remembering why I am here? Devastation of those who stand before me, not unlike the very ground I am walking upon this night. And you, in that same time?”
Another slow shake of her head.
“I fully understand, perhaps in a way that no one else does, that you did not ‘care’ about our most recent encounter. No, you made it clear that our most recent match was beneath your attention. The Chaos Championship was beneath your attention. This very COMPANY was beneath your attention. And so you failed to find victory. But you also showed us what you DID care about. Your Future Stars championship that the Good Doctor mocked you for. Your opportunity to ascend the highest mountain in your extreme corporation. You cared for those things more than I have seen yet. You BLED for those things. And you still failed. You ended with nothing but cuts, bruises, and a pathetic well-wish for the people who defeated you.”
Yet another slow shake of her head as she approaches the scorched building of a wall, placing her gloved hand against it, her fingers brushing away some of the soot.
“And the future you wish to have? The future which you claim to be? You have no concept of how to change or be the future, child. All I have heard from you is crying about being a victim when you were young, about being persecuted for your idiotic life choices, and spending far too much time getting in arguments with morons on social media. You wish to change the future? Do it with you bear hands.”
She uses her left hand to remove the long glove from her right and places it back on the wall, letting the soot stain her pale fingertips.
“There are times when you must enter the body in order to rip out the cancer. You must bloody yourself to rinse away the sin. Such is why I have joined the Ladies Football League. It is a den of whores and ruffians so vile as to make Mos Eisley green with envy and needs to be burned in the Light of God. And so I am there. I have started with something simple, such as a protest about the uniforms and the assurance that I can wear something at least somewhat modest, and soon my cure will spread. My team will wear the better clothes. Then the conference. Then the league. And before you know it, this disgusting practice will be gone entirely and we will no longer have to bear witness to the likes of a Wilder or a Hartman. And if I have to suffer a little humility on the way...so be it. It will be worth it to do some good in this world.”
She moves her fingers away from the wall and looks at the soot. She purses her lips together and blows on them, sending the soot away.
“I joked with your sinful lover that her blowing out a candle was the physical representation of your career. A bright flame blown out. And as angry as she might be over my jest, the reality is that I am correct. Because whether you care or not, whether your put your soul into a match or you blow it off, you receive the exact same thing, child: Nothing. And THAT is the future you must embrace. Nothing. So respect the past...respect me...and embrace your future of nothing. Because after Monday, you will have nothing but losses to me. After Monday, Monsieur Pierce will having nothing to breathe but the water over his head. After Monday, everyone will be forced to stand at attention, mouths slack with awe, as they see the Champion of Chaos AGAIN bringing order to the troubled world around her.”
She looks away from the wall and up into the night sky. Not a speck of starlight can be seen due to the bustle and activity of the first responders, but her eyes search the heavens nonetheless.
“If I may borrow from a petulant child...do not cry when I knock you down to reality.”
She brings her eyes back down and searches out the crowd of impacted people.
“Bonne nuit.”
Redmaine stands tall just outside the alleyway where his queen inspects the damage. A line of his men, soldiers with buzzed heads and matching black uniforms, stand in a line at the mouth of the alley, keeping back the crowd. Nervous police officers look up at them and then back down or away. They had wanted to secure the scene immediately, but his arrival had changed their plans. Fresh-faced officers had balked at his demands, but their sergeant had taken care of the necessary orders. The sergeant know what name owned this town.
The masked man turns his head as he sees the faces within the crowd change from sadness at their plight to what was unmistakingly hope. The former terrorist knew why their eyes filled with light, why their frowns of worry turned to smiles of glee. Their queen was there. He did not need to hear the soft footsteps of slippered feet to know that she was making her way towards him; instead, he had but just to watch the people around him stand, some even falling to their knees right after, as their queen drew closer.
“What do we know of this man?”
Redmaine turned toward her and basked in her glory. He had known her for years and was happy that her true beauty had blossomed during that time. Her eyes still held a slight tinge of madness, the creases at the corners would always be deep, but she had recovered much of herself since her escape from the madhouse last year, particularly in the last two months since he had helped her sneak into the compound to take what was hers. She seemed to be lucid at almost all times now, and only seemed to have her moments of insanity, or moment when she forgot where she was or what she was doing, when in private with him. At least, he hoped it was only when it was the two of them in her odd warehouse.
“Not much.”
It hurt to speak. It had ever since his bomb blew up in his face as he had worked on it. A simple mistake, an amateur mistake, and his life had changed. If it were not for Lacklan…
“I am having my men look into him. At first I thought he was just another suitor of yours, like that fool Hastings, but this is different.”
He looked over her head and at the blackened carnage that had been the alley.
“Truth be told, his methods are not much different than Jean’s...”
Her comment surprised him and forced him to look back down. He almost took a step back when he realized that she had slid forward and was now but an inch away from him, her chin at the level of his chest. She reached up and touched the side of his face with her bare hand, the scent of soot still upon it, and he nearly shivered as her fingers touched the skin exposed by the mask.
“...or yours, for that matter.”
He stared down at her for a long moment.
“What shall we do with your displaced followers?”
She looked up at him for a moment more and then turned her head to see the mass of people who have lost their homes, however meager they may have been.
“Send them to the Penebscot River. Send them to the compound.”
She let out a giggle.
“Let Hargrave and the child find out how tenuous their ground is.”
She looks back to Redmaine.
“And as for Necron?”
She pinches the small bit of Redmaine’s exposed cheek and turns from him, skips toward the crowd of her followers, and breaks out into song.
Au feu, les pompiers !
La maison qui brûle,
Au feu, les pompiers !
La maison brûlée.
La maison qui brûle,
Au feu, les pompiers !
La maison brûlée.
x2