The French-Candaian Connection: A Bordy and Angie Joint
May 5, 2018 19:27:18 GMT -5
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Post by LACKLAN on May 5, 2018 19:27:18 GMT -5
~~Friday, April 27th, 2018~~
“What in the GOOD LORD’S name is THIS ABOUT?!”
The screech of the woman professionally known as Le Bord de Dieu rang through the halls of the Hit Girls stadium in Cincinnati with such power and intensity that men and women of lesser stature, known as “Rydells” in certain circles, ran for cover. The brunette with the streaks of gray in her hair stalked through the halls in a clatter, her heels spiking into the floor with a tinny sound which hurt the ears, and fury filling her dark green eyes and flushing her pale cheeks. The Champion of Chaos had four men behind her, two of which were holding video cameras, with the other two taking still shots with digital cameras. The sounds of CLICK and FLASH! run counterpoint to her enraged steps, sounding as if a part of the world’s most maligned symphony.
“WhatEVER do you mean, MOTHER?”
Kenzi Grey’s look of pure innocence, and the voice inflection to match it, show her hand quite clearly. Dressed in a pair of red and black Hit Girls sweats, the ebony leader of the Lingerie Football Team was standing with our intrepid hero, the leggy blonde of legend, Angie Vaughn, also in her pre-practice sweats, and her new fellow Co-Op tag team partner, Roxy Cotton. The Bubblegum Bombshell snapped her gum and went back to her phone, but Angie seemed to be quite interested in the encounter.
“You know what I mean, Grey!”
Bordy stopped before Kenzi, glaring down at her with her 3 inch height advantage, and she shook with so much rage that even the earthquake caused by #CoolKid alum Ashley’s workout seemed tame. Bordy gestured wildly to the four behind her, still snapping pictures and taking footage, her arms flailing.
“Your cameras! Why are they here?! Why are they bothering me?! I GAVE you the documentary...I GAVE you the answers you sought, whether or not you liked what you received...I am DONE with them! Why are they still bothering me?!”
Kenzi’s face stays innocent, but her freckled nose twitches a little in mirth.
“Well, you see, apparently, and this wasn’t MY idea, just so you know, but APPARENTLY, Circle Television has green-lit a reality show-”
“And you are in it!”
Angie’s beem of delight and joy could not be mistaken. She smiled as she finished her friend’s thought and was so excited about the upcoming venture that she was literally bouncing on her heels. She couldn’t help but feel even MORE happy than normal because of the momentary extra height she had when she was on her tippy-toes.
“AbsoLUTELY NOT!”
Bordy glared from one fellow Hit Girl and UGWC roster-mate to the other, clearly being annoyed at having to glare up at Angie’s 5’10”, and then back down to the short Kenzi.
“I did NOT agree to this, Grey! I did not-”
She cut off as Kenzi couldn’t help but give one of those smirks that a certain albino vlogger finds equally infuriating and irresistable and a shake of the head which makes her long, thin braids, currently bleached blonde from the official production of #CooLANoire, brush against her back and her shoulders.
“Learn to read the fine print, MOTHER.”
Bordy blinks in confusion and consternation, her mind not quite capable of wrapping itself around what she unwittingly rooked herself in for when signing with Circle Television for her relationship advice show, Dear Bordy, and Kenzi takes this opportunity to slip away and find something important to do which, let’s be honest, probably involved that aforementioned albino vlogger and thus was something NOT suitable for television.
“Nom de dieu de putain de bordel de merde de saloperie de connard d'enculer ta mère!!”
And neither were the curses that Bordy let slip there, but since it’s in French, what difference did it make to an English-speaking audience? The camera’s trained firmly on them, Angelica carefully approached Aveline (though she still preferred calling her Bordy), fully aware of the woman’s contempt for her, but as always ever so willing to start building bridges.
“Erm… Bordy?”
The woman’s head snapped up diagonally, away from Kenzi and up towards the five foot ten Co-op Champion. Gritting her teeth, it was clear she wasn’t in the mood for whatever Angelica had in store for her.
“I was thinking… I know there is some… for the sake of argument let’s call it animosity… between you, Sarah, Kenzi, and probably me. However!”
With a smile so chipper it could cut up a 100-year oak, Angelica hopped closer to Bordy and put a hand on her shoulder, trying to let the good karma flow from one body to the other. Bordy shuddered at the touch, trying to pull away, but Angelica squeezed slightly, her hand staying firmly in place.
“You have to see all of this as an opportunity! I don’t know the FULL deets of the why’s and how’s and whatever’s of your relationship with the Lacklan family but what matters is that you’re here now! Forgive and forget, and live and let live I always say! In time, this could be the best thing to ever happen to us!”
But Bordy clearly had no ears for Angelica’s optimism and positivity. She pulled a face as if she was about to gob in Angie’s face, her mouth contorting into one of utter disgust.
“The best thing to ever happen to me lies well in the past, you wretched child! Don’t you ever…!”
She slapped Angelica’s hand from her shoulder, snatching her wrist and pulling the Co-Op Champion in closer, their noses almost touching as she yanked Angelica’s upper body down with surprising strength.
“...ever insinuate again that he wasn’t the best thing to ever happen to me!”
Angelica was too late to react, her heart starting to race as she stared into the eyes of Le Bord de Dieu, the Edge of God, the woman who had so successfully grown into one of UGWC’s most feared competitors due to her viciousness and ferocity. And as their eyes met, Angelica’s grew, not knowing how to react to this sudden outburst. But as she did so, Bordy cocked her head to the side, the gears inside her head turning at full power. She pursed her lips ever so slightly, and released Angelica’s wrist, instead cupping one of the leggy blonde’s cheeks, to make sure her head stayed in place and her eyes fixed firmly on hers.
“S-sorr…”
Angelica began, but Bordy quickly put her free index finger over Angelica’s lips, hushing her. The touch of bordy’s hands was cold as an ice pack, almost numbing to the touch. And yet… it was surprisingly gentle too; far different from her brusque and violent movements inside the squared circle. Bordy's hands on Angelica’s cheek slid upward, her thumb starting to trace the outline of her face, sliding past her eye and resting on her orbital surface. Angelica grew tense, holding her breath as Bordy’s mysterious silence and change of disposition worried her. With the tension ever growing and Bordy’s touch almost numbing her senses, Angelica eventually pulled away in panic, so swiftly and suddenly that Aveline had no choice but to let go. Angelica took a deep breath and took a step backwards. She remembered all too well what Le Bord de Dieu had often repeated when they first met.
“Tes yeux. Je les veux…”
Those words had often haunted her. And while Bordy’s obsession with them seemed to have quietly dissipated over the course of the last few months, it now seemed back in full strength. Angelica backed away from Bordy, who kept her own eyes fixed firmly on her golden-haired head.
“Child...your parentage. Tell me of it.”
“M-my parents?”
A strange request to be sure, not in the least since Bordy wasn’t the first person to inquire after them. Angelia’s curiosity got the better of her, and her tension made way for the slightest hint of audacity as she straightened her back.
“Why do you want to know? They’re just… people. Mr. Hargrave already asked about them too, but I fail to see what-...”
“Answer my question, petite enfant! Hargrave, you say?”
Bordy interrupted her right away, and whatever courage Angie had been able to muster got broken down just as quickly. At the mention of the name Hargrave, Bordy’s hands had curled into a fist for reasons only known to her.
“I’m not petite! But yeah, Mr. Hargrave. But they’re just people from a Vancouver residential area! There is literally nothing remarkable about them. Other than that my mother is really tall. Like me!”
“Their names?”
“Richard Vaughn is my dad. My mother’s called Mary. They’ve lived in Vancouver for as long as I can remember.”
“Richard...Mary...your’s mother’s last name, what is it?”
“Well, Vaughn, obvs, she’s married to-”
“Her maiden name, insolent child, not her whore name!”
“Hightower! Mary Hightower!”
Aveline Lacklan stroked her chin, looking at Angelica, who had backed away so far she was standing with her back against the far wall. She nodded slowly, before turning heel and slowly starting to walk away from her leggy blonde soon-to-be tag partner. As far as she was concerned, this conversation was over and she had no interest in courteous goodbyes. Angelica, though, stretched her already long neck to keep track of her vanishing teammate.
“Don’t forget! We’re supposed to team against Maggie and Lucy! When are you free to train together???”
But she got no response from Le Bord de Dieu. nothing but the clacking of heels that signaled abandonment.
~~STILL a better love story than Twilight, Part I~~
Aveline Lacklan seethed.
The brunette, wearing nothing but a silk robe, open in the front to brazenly show her chest and stomach, sat on the floor of her wearhouse, her dark green eyes staring daggers at the CTN camera crew in her space. Those eyes moved from person to person, from camera man to producer to writer, and her face grew darker with every movement.
“I did not agree to this, Redmaine.”
She spoke in her scratchy voice to the man she was leaning against, the man with the bulging muscles we have seen at her side for weeks, with a small plea, about the 27th time she has said this in the last few days. Redmaine, simply wearing trousers and heavy boots, sat propped up against one of the walls of the warehouse, his legs splayed open, with the woman sitting in front of him, leaning against his chest. Ava enjoyed the feel of his muscles against her back, felt them keenly through the thin material of her robe, and took solace in their strength. He was her rock and had been for over two months.
“But here I am, anyway. Sweet Jesus, the things I get talked into.”
She gives a slow shake of her head as the camera team moves around. She feels her head rise and fall against Redmaine’s chest, feels it run smoothly up and down the peaks of his pectorals, and smiles. Men were supposed to be strong. Men were supposed to be like this.
“‘Keeping Up With the Cool Kids.’ BAH! I am not even one of them! How did this happen?!”
That wretched step-daughter-in-law Kenzi, if that was even a thing, convincing her to host the Dear Bordy show must have been a feint. The wretched girl MUST have known that things like this were coming in the future. First the relationship show...then the documentary series last months...then that silly bit of fiction that Roxy and the Vaughan woman wrote...and now THIS.
“Bah!”
She waves angrily at the people in front of her, invading her space, invading her warehouse.
“And now I have to work with the Vaughan girl in UGWC! What a dreadful experience this is going to be. If I was going to be teaming with one of the Co-Op champions, I wish it could at least be with the one who makes me money. But no! No! I get the one who has the most potential and gleefully...GLEEFULLY...squanders it all!”
Her face scrunches as she gives the camera crew her angry stare and then gives another small shake of her head.
“What do we know of the Vaughan girl, Redmaine?”
“Not much.”
The vibrations running through Aveline from Redmaine’s muffled speech nearly makes her giggle. The vibrations felt...good.
“She is Candaian, at least by birth, with extremely penitent parents. Kicked out of her house for becoming a wrestler. Trained by Ashley Williams.”
“Mon petit cochon? Really?”
She smiled as she feels Redmaine’s nod against the top of her head.
“She wrestles everywhere. All across the world.”
Aveline nods slowly.
“There is something so...familiar...about her.”
She reaches up and touches her own cheek, one of her fingers lightly touching one of her eyeballs through the skin.
“...and not just the schedule she keeps...not just what seems to be some NEED to fight across the world in her DNA...something…”
Her other hand rises up and mirrors the gesture of its partner, laying upon her cheek and touching her other eye through the skin, putting light pressure.
“From the very first I met her online, from when I decided to wrestle again, I have been captivated by her eyes. I used to tell her that I wanted them. That I wanted to rip them from their sockets. That I wanted to hold them in my hands. Why is that, Redmaine? What about her eyes…”
She blinks, feeling the additional pressure of her eyes against her fingertips.
“And when I look at her up close...when I look UP at her...there is something…”
Her mouth opens in a wide yawn. Regardless of the annoyance of the camera crew in her personal space, she feels warm and safe. Pressed against her protector, the link that brought her through the madness and to where she is supposed to be, she finds it easy to get lost in his strength and warmth. Dark green eyes close, lithe body settles against the warm rock of muscle, and the Champion of Chaos slips off into slumber filled with memories.
“Where the fuck is Chris?!”
SIN Wrestling employees scamper in fear as Ava Quinn’s shrill voice pierces through the hall. Whether they be tenured technicians dating back nearly a decade since the company’s founding or newly acquired intern still in college, men and women ran from the keen of the banshee, ran from the woman who shared the bed with their boss, the avowed Nazi Lord Christophe.
“Damnit, Chris! I want to fuck!”
Ava burst through a door, nearly kicking it off its hinges, and staggered into the hall. The woman was not overly tall, though a pair of stiletto boots add to her height, and she has a slight build, and wore wrestling gear in which her breasts nearly spilled out of the top and the bottoms were so tight as to be indecent. Her long blonde hair, a brightness which would not normally exist in nature, was loose and matted with a mixture of sweat and blood, the red color causing a bright pink at her temple. She carries an open bottle of vodka in one hand, the label showing that it is clearly a cheap store-bought brand, and carries a championship title in the other, the careless air of which includes one of the straps dragging across the floor as she walks.
“My body is reaaaaadyyyyyyyyy!”
She stumbles into the wall and laughs, nearly doubling over, her laugh as high-pitched and manic as her screams. She brings the bottle of liquor up to her lips, throws her head back, and takes several deep drafts. She groans deep in her throat as the liquid burns and then kicks the wall behind her.
“That’s the shit!”
She pushes off the wall and stumbles down the hall, her heeled boots clacking loudly and turns a blind corner into another aisle, this time running face first into a wall. Ava falls backward onto her ass with an “OOF!” and shakes her head to try to clear the cobwebs.
“Who the fuck puts a wall in the middle of a hallway?!”
“God works in mysterious ways, Ms. Quinn.”
Ava looks up at the deep and resonant voice, her dark green eyes clouded in drunken confusion, the vision of black boots clearing before her.
“wut”
Those dark green eyes see the boots and then travel upward, taking in a black robe with billows nearly to the ground, up and up, until she sees the massive form of a man in a menacing black mask and hood. She grows dizzy as she stares up from her seat on the ground, but the glint of metal on the mask is unmistaken, as is that voice which accompanied it.
“The fuck, Lacklan? Why you gotta just run into me like that? I was walkin’ here!”
The large man cocks his head to the side, the expressionless mask giving no hints of his thoughts, but Ava could FEEL his silent judging stare. The man was good at that. She HATED that.
“You call that walking?”
His deep voice carried a tinge of mocking humor in it. It always did. She hated that, too. The big man reaches toward her with one of his gloved hands, silently offering assistance. She waved his hand away and tried to get up herself, but the world doubled in front of her. And then tripled. She blinked hard several times and then nodded, taking his hand. Perhaps a little help would be-
“WOAH!”
He picked her up in one shot, without the hint of struggle, and set her on her feet. Fuck, he was strong. She hated that, too. And he just stood there. Staring at her, without saying another thing. Still judging. FUCK, she hated that.
“Thanks.”
She looked away from him in order to get out of the mask’s cold gaze. He had some of his followers with him, of course. They were all Goth losers from what she could tell, guys who probably weren’t cool in high school and read WAY too many books about sparkling vampires. There were six of them and, oddly, they all looked the same. When she first met the blasted man last month, his followers all looked different. Different hair styles and colors, different clothes. But now they all wore similar clothes, a surprisingly nice set of long-sleeve shirts and slacks, and had the same clipper-cut hair cut. And way behind them at the back of the group was the small bundle of black that she knew was Lacklan’s daughter. She wore some weirdo cape...thing, probably bought from Hot Topic, and had the hood pulled up over her head. She could still see a little bit of her bright white skin, though. She looked back up at Lacklan.
“What’s up with Fangs?”
Lacklan didn’t laugh or anything. Just stood there, staring at her. FUCK, she hated that. But then he turned his head the other way and answered her in that deep voice of his.
“She watches too many movies, I believe. Reads too many fantasy novels. You know how 15-year-olds are.”
Ava could remember being 15. She had already been in and out of counseling for several years. Had already been assaulted by a doctor. Had already stabbed a bitch for getting too close to her. Good times.
“Yeah. Sure. Hey, have you seen Chris? He owes me a bone for winning tonight.”
She smiled as she knocked back another drink from her bottle, nearly giggling over what she said. Lacklan and Chris were not EXACTLY friends, and she knew how uptight the preacher could be about things like her relationship with their boss. But the supposed “Voice of God” just stood there and stared at her, silently judging. FUCK, she HATED that.
“I commend you for winning tonight, Miss Quinn. But I do offer you a few pieces of advice, if I may. You will thank me later.”
She tried to tell him no thanks, but he offered it anyway. She hated that about him, too.
“First, do try to carry that championship with a touch more grace. Things like titles and wins matter. Second, be wary of Christophe. I know that he seems...exciting...but in the time I have known the man, he has not exactly been trustworthy. And third…”
He slowly reached up and pushed back his hood, showing the mask. He then took the mask in both hands and slowly lifted it up and off his face to reveal the thing which terrified and horrified his opponents both in the ring and in the political world: A head that was covered in angry red and purple scars from the fire that ruined him, and white plate of hard plastic covering his face for protection. The man was as grotesque as he was powerful, and showed, in an instant, why he was so feared in the business.
“...do be mindful of who you run into. I would hate to have to teach you a more painful and practical lesson. Again.”
She did NOT needed to be reminded of the ass whoopin’ he gave her in her first ever match. She had been “trained” by Chris, which basically meant having sex and calling it “basics,” and she had learned first-hand from Lacklan just how little she had understood four weeks ago. She did NOT want another reminder of how hard he hit or how strong he was.
“Sure thing, Japles.”
He didn’t respond...but she could SWEAR she saw one of his grey eyes twitch from underneath the eyehole of the face protector. The mighty Jean-Paul Lacklan was called “JPL” by one of his hated enemies, and then some fat journalist took it a step further and turned “JPL” into “Japles.” He HATED that.
“Take care of yourself, Ms. Quinn.”
She smirked at him and gave him an exaggerated wink.
“That’s for Chris to do.”
Then something came over her, some kind of desire for mischief, and she stepped forward and got right in front of him so that they were slightly touching. She was so close that she could feel his robe scratching her chest a little. She had to crane her neck all the way back to look up at him from this vantage. FUCK, he was big.
“Unless you want to...you know...take care of me.”
She giggled. He stood there, judging in silence, like he always did.
“Good evening, Miss Quinn.”
Lacklan slowly backed up and turned, passing by his followers. They turned and followed. The girl in the back, his daughter Sarah, stared at her from under her hood for a moment, before turning away in an exaggerated spin, sending the cape of her outfit flying. Pretentious show-off.
Ava stood there in silence for a moment, wavering a little in her inebriated state, thinking. Trying to wrap her foggy head around something. It could have been the vodka...it COULD have been...but she was pretty positive that, in response to her joking offer to Lacklan, she saw a very specific emotion in those gray eyes:
Desire.
A girl needs a hobby. Sure, wrestling had become her greatest passion, but in the end? It was work. It required a lot of training, focus, hardship, and with all of those things came expectations and pressure. Sometimes she rose to the occasion, sometimes she stumbled and faltered, but wrestling was most certainly a job that, as fun as it was, was demanding and often times soul sucking.
And yeah, lingerie football was fun too… And more of a hobby than wrestling was. But in the end, she was part of a franchise; part of a brand that required money to be made through not just on-field performances, but sponsorship deals, branding, etc. While football wasn’t her primary focus in life, that, too, brought with it expectations and demands.
No, Angelica needed something for herself, a hobby she could practice without the expectations of the wrestling or football world on her shoulders, one where she wasn’t trying to compete all the time with trash-talking world-class athletes. She needed something to occasionally take her mind off of the fact she was about to step into the ring with Maggie Lockheart and Lucy Wylde and was forced to tag alongside someone who was just as likely to stab her in the back and pluck out her eyes as she was to help her achieve victory as a team. Bordy’s unpredictability was something that troubled her greatly, especially since their encounter in the bowels of the Hitgirls Stadium, in which she’d asked about her parents. She hadn’t heard from Bordy since, which was totes fine by her… Today was meant to be all about having fun, as she’d found something that could keep her occupied during her rare days when she wasn’t travelling all over the world to put her body on the line for the sake of a stranger’s entertainment (not that she minded; she loved the fans!)
Since having relocated to San Antonio, Texas, her usual social circle was now living halfway across the country. While she still saw them quite often, Angelica also desired to see new people, meet new friends, and become part of the community in her newest hometown. And what better way to do that than with the miraculous magic of music? She’d picked up a new instrument a while back and, after having made great strides forward with the goal of mastering it, she now felt confident enough to share her newfound abilities and skills with the world. She had therefore contacted the head of a local San Antonio jazz band called the ‘Jazzhorns’, asking if she could pop by to have a listen and maybe join them. It seemed like a fun idea, and what was the worst that could happen?
She walked up to the Copernicus Community Center in San Antonio, running slightly late. She suspected the majority of the players would already be there, since she saw nobody make their way from the parking lot to the entrance. She blamed the camera team accompanying her for her tardiness, since moving around in group was a lot harder and slower than going about your business all by your lonesome, but the CoolKids reality show was a thing she couldn’t get out underneath of. She’d promised Kenzi she was all in on it and therefore had to deliver. The director of the Jazzhorns hadn’t minded; in fact, he seemed excited by the prospect of added exposure and had happily agreed to let them film the entire thing. It was hard to ignore a camera team at your back, but like she had with the multitude of servants at Lacklanland, she just pretended they were part of the scenery or furniture.
Pushing open the doors of the Center, she was greeted by the unmistakable sound of people tuning their instruments. It was a joyous cacophony, one that was almost as pleasant to listen to as an actual piece of music. After walking through the entrance corridor that branched off the multiple different rooms, she followed the sound of the instruments until eventually she reached a large room that looked like it mainly served as a basketball court for a local team. But it had been transformed into a music room, with two dozen musicians tuning their instruments behind their music standards, and even a large piano and drum kit set up in the front and back respectively. A few people looked up as she burst into the room with her camera crew in tow, but none seemed more excited than a short and stout man wearing a cowboy hat and -boots, his mustache so big it could be used as a mop. He was clearly the conductor, albeit one that seemed to have gotten stuck in the ages of the Wild, Wild West. But his eyes were friendly enough, even though Angie was half expecting him to wear a holster with a hand gun. But ever since moving to Texas, those things didn’t really surprise her any more.
“You must be Miss Vaughn!”
He smiled as he approached her and the crew, with some other band players looking on out of interest, but remaining silent other than continuing to blow some wind through their instruments. He reached out with his hand, which Angie shook. As he got closer, she noticed he smelled of barbecue.
Oh, Texans…
“Call me Angie!”
He smiled and Angelica put down her instrument case. It was long and rectangular, looking like it could could easily contain a trombone, bassoon or something similar. The conductor, who during their correspondence went by the name of Steve Michaels, wrung his hands.
“Excellent! Well, Angelica, if you’d allow me to introduce you to the rest of these here folks!”
He turned around and clapped his hands. The noise quickly settled down and the few musicians who were still standing upright took to their seats. There was obvious discipline here. While musicians, jazz musicians in particular, had a reputation for being a rowdy bunch, it seemed that during their practice they had no problem falling in line at all.
“Guys and gals, as y’all mighta seen, we got ourselves a new bandmate, and she’s a tall glass o’ water, ain’t she?! Now summa y’all mighta heard of her, summa y’all might not have the faintest; but this here girl’s quite a celebrity in some circles, as y’all mighta guessed from the camera crew ridin’ her tail. But I’m guessin’ that the best person to introduce her is herself, so here goes...”
He took a step backwards and with both hands motioned for Angie to introduce herself. Enthusiastically she hopped forward, eager to make the acquaintance of the people who would undoubtedly become her new best friends! The rest of the band looked on, some with genuine interest, others already having tuned out and wondering what they were gonna have for dinner tonight and if their bitch of a stepmother was going to be complaining about their new wall furnishings again. Nevertheless, our leggy blonde protagonist, oblivious to the goings on in the heads of the Jazzhorns, made herself known. As always, she started off with a small, awkward wave before folding her hands.
“Hiii! I’m Angelica, or Angie, if you prefer. Or Ang. or Ange. Doesn’t matter! Anywhoo, I’m a pro wrestler and football player, but I recently moved to San Antonio and while I’ll still be on the road a lot, I really wanted a hobby I could sink my teeth into whilst I’m here. Since I picked up an instrument a while back, this seemed perfect! I hope we can all have lots of fun together, and maybe we can even have practices at my place! I bought the old Brahma Bull Ranch on the outskirts of the city. They’re currently still redecorating and getting the land in good shape, but it’ll be totes! Amazeballs! Take my word for it!”
The were a few murmurs, most of approval as they seemed to like the prospect of ranch rehearsals and the like. Conductor Michaels stepped back in and nodded excitedly.
“Good, good, good! Now, young lady, eh... It mighta slipped my mind, but I don’t seem to recall what exactly it is you play? How ‘bout you take your instrument for a spin, show us what you can do, and we can see about fitting you right in with the rest of these here Jazzhorns, yeah?”
“Totes! It’ll be even cooler if I just show you, just a sec!”
She crouched down, retrieved her instrument case, and snapped open the locks. With great care, she retrieved her instrument, it was… long… and red… and plastic… and it had ribbons hanging from its shaft. As she pulled it out, Steve’s eyes grew three times in size, like the Grinch’s heart, and his mustache started quivering in confusion.
“Gurl… what in the blue hell… is that!?”
“What, you don’t know? Only the greatest instrument ever made! It’s a vuvuzela!”
And with flushed cheeks, she raised the instrument to her lips. What preluded it was a collective gasp of horror, made by every single one of the bonafide musicians in their seats.
“It’s really awesome and I became really good at it. Listen!”
*GASP*
--BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR--
*GASP*
--BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR--
*GASP*
--BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR--
*GASP*
“STOOOOOOP!”
Conductor Smith shouted in full panic mode! Slightly confused but not having lost even a teeny weeny bit of her initial enthusiasm, Angelica lowered the vuvuzela.
“What do you guys think?? It’s good, right??”
As she looked at her potential future bandmates, every single one of them was looking at her in stunned silence, not knowing how to react.
“Oh wow, I made you guys speechless! That’s great! Wait, I’ll let you hear some more!”
*GASP*
“NO, DON’T--...”
--BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR--
This time, the earlier stunned silence evolved into a full-on panic as the musicians looked like they’d rather be caught in a zombie outbreak than remain in their seats. Some of them started shouting, trying to raise their voices over the nauseating sound of Angelica’s instrument.
“QUIET PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!!”
“SOMEBODY TACKLE HER!!”
*GASP*
--BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR--
“MOMMYYYYYYY! MOOOOOM! HELP MEEE!”
“I ADMIT IT! I HAD SEX WITH MY BROTHER’S WIFE! I REPENT! I REPENT! PLEASE GOD MAKE IT STOP!!!!”
“WE DIED AND WENT TO HELL! THE ANTICHRIST HAS ARRIVED!”
*GASP*
“PLEASE! NO MORE! NO MOOOOORE!”
COnductor Michaels threw himself at Angelica’s feet, who looked down in confusion.
“...is there a problem of some sort, mister?”
She put down her instrument and the conductor slowly rose to his feet, panting loudly. The musicians were recovering from their shock, one of them having slumped off his chair and curled up into a ball on the floor.
“Get...the fuck… outta my community center, girl!”
“Erm, excuse me?”
“Get the fuck out now!”
As his voice rose, she realized he wasn’t kidding. His face got all red and he gestured furiously at the door while the rest of the musicians started to applaud his actions.
Angelica quickly crouched down again and retrieved her instrument case.
“NOW!”
“Okay, okay, jeez. Rude, much?”
And with her camera crew in tow, Angelica got chased out of the building. If this had truly been the old West, she’d have probably been tar-and-feathered for good measure.
As the door of the COmmunity Center furiously slammed shut behind her, Angelica turned around, not in the least bit happy with what had just happened.
“Meanies! Bunch of… haters!”
--BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR--
She blew one last time in the direction of the door, before sighing and looking at her beloved instrument.
“Guess they didn’t like you, little vuvu. But don’t worry. The world will come to love you as much as I do. Count on it!”
Hello out there! My name is...er...um...I’m actually not allowed to tell you my name. You see, I and the rest of the team over at #CoolRankings have the employment position of Faceless, Nameless, Penniless, Unpaid Pauper of an Intern, as set down in our contract with the Matron of Pigeons, and me telling you my name would violate that. Can’t have that!
So! Our team was tasked with coming up with a prediction on this week’s UGWC main event tag match between Lucy Wylde and Maggie Lockheart (henceforth known as Luggie) vs. Angie Vaughn and Le Bord de Dieu (henceforth known as Borngie). As we here are the #CoolRankings are nothing BUT a team of “call it down the middle” math nerds, and not in the business of coloring the #CoolPoints with perspective (that is the Matron’s job!), we decided that we would crunch our data a few different ways so that we could come up with the MOST accurate prediction. The first thing we did was look at the raw #CoolPoint totals:
Bordy: 7-6, 16 points
Angie: 5-6, 11 points
Borngie: 12-12, 27 points
Lucy: 8-4, 17 points
Maggie: 6-2, 12 points
Luggie: 14-6, 29 points
Going by the raw numbers, the Luggie have a slight advantage. However, we were curious about delving a little deeper into them and looking at the “big match” advantage, so we looked at title wins for the first four months of the year and isolated how they have performed in that regard.
Bordy: 2-1, 6 points
Angie: 1-2, 3 points
Borngie: 3-3, 9 points
Lucy: 1-3, 3 points
Maggie: 0-1, 0 points
Luggie: 1-4, 3 points
As you can see, the advantage goes to the team of Borngie, as they have more championship wins. Another question we asked ourselves was, of the various matches across the 13 cards held thus far, how many included these participants? How have they fared versus each other in 2018? So we looked at that:
Bordy vs. Angie: 3-0
Bordy vs. Maggie: 2-2
Bordy vs. Lucy: N/A
Lucy vs. Angie: 1-0
Lucy vs. Maggie: N/A
Angie vs. Maggie: 0-0
Once seperated into the two teams, this makes:
Luggie: 3 wins
Borngie: 2 wins
Unfortunately, the most dominant series of matches across the group is that of Bordy vs. Angie, where the allegedly 5’10” blonde has been unable to defeat Bordy. But we at #CoolRankings will not offer an opinion on whether or not this will detract from the Borngie team dynamic. In short, in this set of data, Luggie has the advantage.
Thus, it is with all of this information that we gave the prediction to the #CoolKids group as a whole:
Lucy and Maggie will win.
Bordy teaches Angie how to cut a promo
“Now, I need you to instill fear into the hearts of our opponents, do you understand? Let loose your GREATEST insult, Child. Your greatest! Really lay into the Lockheart girl!”
Deep breathing. Settling. Preparing. And finally…
...finally…
...unleashing.
"Maggie, you are...not AS nice as some other people I know!! But still nice!!!"
“NO! NO NO NO NO NON NON NON NON!”
The lines in Bordy’s face and the redness in her eyes tell you that they have been doing this exercise for a LONG time.
“That is not an insult, Vaughan! That is not something that will shake her to her bones! The Lockheart girl is a MASTER of a LEAST three of the dreaded ‘Top Ten Shitty Ways to Cut A Promo’ and will almost CERTAINLY do things like call a press conference 20 years after that went out of style or use a backdrop because that means she doesn’t need to worry about things like setting or detail or skill. And! Furthermore! She will almost CERTAINLY say things about you which are completely untrue to show that she has ZERO understanding of who you are as a person, what you character or heart is like, or ANYTHING even RESEMBLING giving a damn, but still makes a good sound bite! Like that case of herpes on her lips she tries to cover up with all of her factory’s worth of makeup, it seems she picked up how to completely lie about your opponent and somehow still get rewarded for your efforts from that Tolson girl she used to be engaged to. For Heaven’s sake, child, the Lockheart girl is nothing BUT the modern wrestler, spending all of her time posting pictures and being with another woman while mocking people who do the same! She is the QUEEN of everything that is WRONG with this business! She is as if hypocrisy ITSELF had come down to Earth and become INCARNATE in her!”
Bordy seethes and breathes hard after her tirade. An awkward silence stretches between the two as Angie looks back and forth from the flushed face of her partner and to her own feet on the floor.
“Tell...um...tell me what you really thi-”
“And that Wylde woman! She-”
Bordy cuts off as her eyes fill with thought and consideration.
“She’s not bad. A shame she always goes for that whole ‘floating, disembodied voice-over’ thing every time. EVERY time.”
Bordy’s eyes narrow.
“I suppose that is something which vexes me. I believe that, in my time within this company, I have shown extreme variation of style. Different things for different people. But Wylde just does...well...the same thing every time. Same way. Same meter. Same words.”
She taps one of her fingers on her chin in thought.
“I wonder if she is going to throw song lyrics at us?”
She shakes her head.
“Anyway, while her style IS tiresome, at least it is successful. Yours, on the other hand…”
She narrows her eyes at Angie.
“Say something mean about Lucy! The MEANEST thing you can. And...GO!”
“Lucy, your… face… looks, erm… tired! And you need more sleep!”
Expectantly, she looks over at Bordy, frowning and wondering if it was up to snuff. But she knew she wasn’t great at this, and judging from the eye slits through which Bordy was staring at her, she wasn’t happy at all. Bordy’s hands shake in what is most likely barely controlled fury. Her cheeks flush. Her eyes get even smaller. Something...evil...is close at hand…
“One more time, child...one more time...look into the camera...look into their SOULS...and hurt their feelings! Make them cower in fear before you! Make them RESPECT you! Now! Go!”
Angie closes her eyes, briefly thinking of what to say. She takes a deep breath, opens her eyes and…
“LUCY! You are a pitiful five foot seven!”
But before she could continue, the shrieks of Bordy cut her off completely as her frustration grew ever higher. But so did Angelica’s. She spread her arms wide (such impressive wingspan!) and looked at the woman who wanted her to bury her opponents in a deep pit of despair.
“Look, Bordy, I’m sorry, okay? I don’t know what you want me to say! Lucy’s never did anything to hurt me! And what’s wrong with song lyrics anyway? I mean, it’s smart isn’t it, if you don’t know what to say, just steal something from someone who said it better, because you lack originality! It’s great! I wish I used more song lyrics. Tee-bee-aitch!”
Bordy’s eyes race and her flushed face turns pale.
“Putain.”
The whispered word makes Angie’s face go scarlet.
“PUTAIN!”
Bordy shrieks again and stomps her foot, then spins and walk so fast out the door that Angie is quickly alone with the camera crew, alone but for the sound of the string of curses coming back to her from behind the door Bordy has pushed through.
“PUTAIN! PUTAIN PUTAIN PUTAIN PUTAIN PUTAIN!”
Perhaps their NEXT exercise will have more success...
Angie teaches Bordy how to play a vuvuzela
Angelica showed her vuvuzela to Bordy, who sat cross-legged and cross-armed on a chair, looking extremely bored. Angelica held out the plastic instrument horizontally, the kitten-patterned ribbons dangling merrily from its shaft. Since they were supposed to be team building, Angelica had had the luminous idea that they were going to take an interest in each other’s hobbies. She’d tried her best at doing something Bordy likes (insulting people, but… having failed miserably, admittedly) and now it was HER turn to try and get Bordy to do something SHE liked. Something that had absolutely nothing to do with wrestling, football or whatever.
The sting of having been turned down by the Jazzhorns was something that still troubled her, but… ‘their loss, tee-bee-aitch!’ If they hadn’t been ready for the next step in the inevitable evolution of music, shame on them. People had scolded the likes of Kraftwerk too early on in their careers, but look at them now… legends! Pioneers! The vuvuzela was bound to go the same way, and it was going to conquer the world one person at a time.
But still, Bordy didn’t look at all convinced. She pulled her nose up at the sight of the instrument, even as Angelica shoved it in her face.
“C’est quoi, ça?”
“Vuvuzela!”
Angelica retracted the instrument and put the mouthpiece to her lips.
“Listen!”
*BBRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR*
Bordy screamed, putting her index fingers in her ears as the ever so penetrating sound sought to desperately assault her ear drums.
“ARRETE! ARRETE CE SON DU DIABLE!!!!!”
Angelica stopped, looking at Bordy, who for the first time ever seemed like she was just in pain… but she seemed afraid! Her face all scrunched up, her legs pulled up to her chest, her eyes closed shut.
“What? You don’t like it either?”
Angelica seemed disappointed, frowning worriedly. Sweat seemed to spontaneously burst onto Bordy’s forehead and she started breathing hard. She kept her eyes shut as she started to rock slightly in her chair.
“What...what is that…”
She shakes her head, her dark hair flying, the streaks of grey catching the light of the room.
“Please...I beg of you...put it away...PLEASE!”
She opens her eyes and sees Angie still holding the vile instrument.
“Why must you torture me?! Begone, foul beast!”
“HMPF!”
Angelica seems none too pleased with Bordy’s reaction, but then grins mischievously.
“You know, Bordy, seeing as you like to torture people so… One would think you’d want to master this instrument for yourself!”
Angelica once again extended the instrument to her soon-to-be partner.
“Go ahead, give it a try! Think of the carnage you could cause!”
Wondering if her little mind trick would work, she looked at Bordy, who was still shivering in her aftershock. Bordy’s eyes are wild as she reaches forward with a shaking hand, slowly inching its way to Angie’s offered instrument of death. She hisses in pain as she touches it, her face contorted, but then she grasps it roughly, pulling it to herself. She keeps her eyes on the vuvuzela, as one would a viper, and sneaks peaks at Angie. Angie gives her looks of encouragement. Bordy puts the mouthpiece to her lips and-
“Non!”
She pushes it away after just that moment of contact, true fear in her, but the leggy blonde’s air of confidence and, dare we say it, love, embolden Bordy. She brings it back to her lips and blows.
For a second.
And then she is up so fast that, had this been a cartoon and NOT a promotional video for a wrestling match, a puff of lifted dirt would be where she had been. Before Angie can react, the vuvuzela is back in her own hand and Bordy, the Champion of Chaos herself, is running away with her loud screams of terror leading the way.
Adventures with kitties
Bordy stares at the two cats jumping and hopping around, and rubbing up against, Angie’s long legs. But gone is the look of annoyance or hatred she usually had in place for every bit of the near 12 feet of #Vaughnemousness. Gone is the look of near hatred that was always just one moment away from slipping from her control and turning into murderous intent. Even gone is the intense and flatly irrational fear she had of the vuvuzela. Instead, her dark green eyes are filled with…
...well…
Mournful jealousy.
“Your cats seem to like you.”
Bordy’s voice is prim and tight, and she sips lightly from the cup of tea in her hands. Angelica giggles, crouching down to pick up Ser Bobby. Her hand reaching underneath his belly and just behind his front legs, she uses her other arm to support his backside, cradling her kitty like one would hold a newborn human baby.
“They do!”
A blush of joy forms on Angelica’s cheeks as she looks down into ser Bobby’s yellow eyes. The British Shorthair purrs wildly, enjoying every moment as Angelica rubs her nose against his forehead.
“Cats are such wonderful creatures! They are strong-willed, independent, they know what they want and they won’t let anyone tell them what to do. But they have so much love to give, and they’re so soft and fluffy!”
Angelica scratched ser Bobby behind one of his ears. He closes his eyes and turns his head to the side, fully digging into her fingers to maximize his enjoyment. Down on the ground, ser Alex starts meowing, headbutting Angelica’s calves as he’s jealous of the attention his feline brother is getting. Angelica looks down.
“Now, ser Alex, wait your turn! Or go to Bordy! Maybe she’ll give you a cuddle!”
The disbelieving stare that ser Alex the Mighty gave his momma was as frank as any human’s would be, but he turned toward Bordy anyway. And to his surprise, Bordy’s green eyes shown with a slight wetness.
“May I?”
Bordy’s voice was small as she looked up at Angie and asked her question. Angie gave her a nod and Bordy looked back down at the cat and, making a clicking sound with her tongue, she wiggled her fingers. The Scottish fold’s ears perked up away from his head in surprise and interest, and he made his way over to hear. After a perfunctory sniff, he jammed his nose into her fingers in that overly aggressive way cats have and then allowed Bordy to touch him.
“I had a cat, once.”
Bordy sets her cup of tea down on the table between her and Angie and reaches down to pick up the cat with both hands. Alex is quickly settled in her lap, already purring, and on the verge of doing that paw thing that is both annoying and wonderful, which is the definition of cats. Bordy’s fingers scratch at his chin and cheek, making him nearly smile through this closed eyes.
“Jean bought him for me when I moved in. I...I don’t know what happened to him...after…”
Angelica noticed Bordy’s eyes wander over to the floor as her mind wandered equally to moments past. Angelica felt a bit sorry for her. As obnoxious as she could be, she recognized her sadness. She couldn’t even begin to imagine the pain that Bordy had to endure in her life. In a way it wasn’t surprising that she turned out the way she did. With ser Bobby now asleep in her arms and having buried his nose in her armpit (strange creatures, strange habits) she held on to her cat and tried to make conversation with Aveline.
“Jean seemed like a… great guy? Sarah always speaks so highly of him. He obviously meant a lot to you.”
Bordy’s eyes shine and she smiles widely, a smile which is true and full of life, the kind of smile that could brighten a room.
“He was the Voice of God, child. He was…”
She trails off and her smiles slips a little. She scratches ser Alex’s back and grimaces slightly as the cat does indeed go into that weird paw thing.
“He was many things. He was love. He was fire. He was joy. He was pain. And while his own progeny seems to have forgotten why he was here, I will not. I will bring his vision to fruition. I will make sure the world remembers him.”
She looks up at Angie, her eyes clearly filled with sadness.
“You lived there for a time, yes? Did you ever see a tabby who you did not know? A tabby looking for his momma?”
Angelica shook her head. On the one hand she also wanted to defend Sarah, but decided against it. For the first time ever, she felt like she was connecting with Bordy… truly connecting. And not just her, but also the woman underneath her façade.
“I’m afraid not. Just Lil Has, hopping around the mansion. But that doesn’t mean he’s no longer around! The forest is big and full of creatures! I once went in there with sers Bobby and Alex! The most wonderful adventures we had… I’m sure he’s over there somewhere, having the time of his life.”
Angelica smiled softly. Ser Bobby took his nose out from underneath Angelica’s armpit and yawned. The stench of the cat’s breath made Angie’s head recoil slightly, but she kept her smile on. Bordy sighed and looked back down at Alex.
“Four years is a long time for a cat.”
She shook her head slowly.
“I suppose that you are not terrible, child. Not as good as the Cotton woman, but still not terrible. Will you be ready for Monday?”
“Born ready, ma’am. I’ve fought all over the world this past year. One thing I’ve learned is to always come prepared.”
A gentle silence fell between them, despite the words ‘not as good as the Cotton woman’ still ringing in Angelica’s ears. But she chose to let it slide. Despite their many differences, they were making progress. And while ‘not terrible’ was about the best thing Bordy had ever said about her, there was obviously still a long way to go.
...baby steps, Angelica told herself. It was more than she ever would have dared to hope for.
Bonus Content
Want MORE adventures and team-building exercises from Angie and Bordy? You DO?! Then download the CoolTube app today! Along with streaming services for all of the #CoolKids promotional videos and monologues, also gain access to career retrospectives, sneak peaks into upcoming Dark Goddess Productions movies, such as the recently released CooL.A.Noire, the “Keeping up with the #CoolKids” reality show, LFL Hit Girls games, the award-winning #ShotsFired podcast, and MORE! And, just added as of right THIS SECOND, special NEVER BEFORE SEEN BONUS FOOTAGE of the Adventures of Borngie including:
---Angie and Bordy bond over Bible study! Watch them debate that whole “do you ‘save’ people by being nice or condemning them to the lake of fire” bit!
---Angie and Bordy go to the movies! Angie thinks they are going to watch something silly but Bordy actually cons her into going to see a PG-13 movies. Hilarity ensues!
---Roxy Cotton invites them over to her “club” to “play.” Both Angie and Bordy think that they are going to play cards or something but it turns out to be POLE DANCING! Oh, the chuckles you will have with THIS one!
---In an attempt to understand their opponents, Angie and Bordy go to a tattoo parlor. But the sheer amount of sin in the room makes Bordy burst into a screaming fit of RAGE in which Angie has to drag her away, sweetily apologizing all the while, obvs, before they get arrested. Oh, those two!
AND MORE!
DOWNLOAD NOW!
Resolution
Across these adventures, and many more not listed (Download the CoolTube app NOW!), the team of Borngie have gone from being a team less effective than Roxy and Eden trying to work together to find ways to NOT have sex with every third man they see and into, of all things, the Greatest Team in the History of Forever. Yes, they are THAT good.
Move over, Sex and Violence!
Move over, #DonoZane!
Move over, Shakedown!
Move over, whatever random pairing of whatever group Eden is sleeping herself through THIS year!
And make room for the team of….
Borngie!
x2
