Champs vs Chumps (RP1 vs Gavin and Ashleigh)
Jul 10, 2016 14:19:01 GMT -5
KEG, Aurora Knight, and 1 more like this
Post by Damon Graves on Jul 10, 2016 14:19:01 GMT -5
Scene fades in outside the front door of the condo he shares with his girlfriend and tag team partner, Aurora Knight, a small black pet carrier in one hand. Through the grate on the front of the carrier, a tiny gray paw sticks out, pawing at the edge of the carrier as the tiniest little meow squeaks from within.
Damon: Shhhh… you’re supposed to be a surprise, little guy! Don’t want to spoil it before she sees you, do you?
*meow*
Damon chuckles softly as he slips his key into the deadbolt. As the door unlocks, he slips inside as quietly as possible. As he closes the door, he lifts the carrier up to eye level and peers inside.
Damon: Good… I think we beat her home. Maybe we can find your big sister… let you two get acquainted.
He walks down the hallway and into the master bedroom, where their cat Selina is curled up in her favorite spot; the center of the bed. As Damon plops down beside her, he places the carrier in front of her. Selina slowly lifts her head, opening her mouth in a gaping, tooth-filled yawn as she stretches her front legs. She spots the carrier, then inches her tiny pink nose close to the grate, sniffing at the miniscule newcomer inside. To Damon’s surprise, Selina paws at the latch, looking at him curiously.
Damon: You want me to open it? Okay, but you have to be nice to him; he’s just a baby.
Damon opens the carrier, and with Selina looking on, a tiny gray ball of fluff pads out onto the bed. As the new arrival sniffs out his new surroundings, he comes nose to nose with his new big sister, Selina. She sniffs at him again, and then starts to groom him. Satisfied that Selina isn’t going to try to tear the little guy to shreds, he smiles.
Damon: Oh, wait until she gets home… I can almost hear the squeal!
No sooner does he say that than the sound of the front door shutting in the distance is heard. Damon rolls off the bed and heads toward the door.
Damon: There she is, now!
He goes to leave the room, but stops short of the doorway, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small red gift box, which he sets on the nightstand by Aurora’s side of the bed. He then reaches down to scratch both felines behind the ears, then hurries out of the room.
While Damon is gone, the little gray kitten starts to explore as Selina looks on. He reaches the nightstand, jumping the narrow gap between it and the bed. He paws at the little red gift box, gradually pushing it closer to the edge of the nightstand until it falls through the gap. Surprised, the kitten sticks his nose into the gap, as if trying to see where the box disappeared to. Unable to see it, he jumps back onto the bed and opts to play with the tip of Selina’s tail.
A few seconds later, Damon returns to the bedroom with Aurora, his hands covering her eyes as he guides her into the room.
Damon: Just a little bit further…. Okay! You can open your eyes now.
He uncovers her eyes, pulling back his hands as Aurora blinks, then casts her gaze at the scene on the bed. She gasps in surprise as her eyes become wide as saucers, then lets out an ear-piercing squeal.
Aurora: Oh… my… GOD! Damon, what a cute little kitty!
She quickly moves to the bed, lying down beside the kitten as he continues to play with Selina’s tail.
Damon: He’s ours. We just need to come up with a name for him.
Aurora: I don’t believe it… and Selina’s just letting him have his way with her tail. It’s funny… I thought about getting another cat, but I was afraid of how she would react. But now that I see this…
The kitten takes notice of Aurora, walking over toward her face until he’s sniffing at the end of her nose. She reaches over and scoops him into her arms as she sits up.
Aurora: But Daddy’s right. What are we going to name you? Since I named Selina after Catwoman, I think we should stick with the theme… let’s see…. Jack?
Damon shakes his head, curling his lip.
Damon: Nah, that’s too plain….
Aurora: Oswald…..
Another look of disgust at this particular name suggestion.
Damon: After the Penguin? Please tell me you’re NOT serious….
Aurora tries her best to sell him on the name, but to no avail.
Aurora: We could call him “Ozzy” for short.
Again, Damon rapidly shakes his head, showing that he clearly doesn’t like the idea. Meanwhile, Aurora takes a moment to think, tapping her finger on her chin. A few seconds later, a gasp of realization escapes her throat.
Aurora: I know…. Bruce!
Damon ponders this for a moment. The image of the frontman to Iron Maiden immediately came to mind. And with the kitten’s fur being the color of some metals… it could work.
Aurora: You know, for Bruce Wayne….
Damon: I was thinking more for Bruce Dickinson.
Aurora: That works too……
Aurora holds up the newly-named kitten in front of her face.
Aurora: Welcome to the family, Bruce…
She stands up, still holding the kitten to her chest and exits the room, Selina following after. Once she’s out of the room, he looks over at the nightstand. When he doesn’t see the box he left there, he starts to panic.
Damon: Oh, shit! Where the hell is it?
He starts looking for the box frantically. Could she have seen it and carried it off while he wasn’t paying attention? No… she was playing with the kitten the whole time she was in here. He feels around under the pillows at the head of the bed… no dice. He then reaches down into the gap between the bed and the nightstand. Stretching down toward the floor, he finally hits paydirt, pulling the box back up and breathing a sigh of relief.
Damon: Phew! That’s one surprise I DON’T need to have blowing up in my face.
He leans against the dresser, silently mouthing to himself before slamming his fist against the drawer front.
Damon: Fuck it… I need to take a walk.
With a huff of frustration, Damon walks out of the room.
The NGW camera crew comes up on Damon standing down at the shoreline on the section of beach behind the complex he now calls home. His bare feet are digging into the wet sand as the water rolls in, saturating the cuffs of his jeans. He spots the camera out of the corner of his eye, but only acknowledges it with a mild smirk as he continues to stare out over the ocean.
Damon: What a fucking rollercoaster, huh? To think that only 4 short months ago, I was spinning my wheels in the indies, kicking scrubs around for peanuts…
He scoffs, shaking his head as he looks down toward his feet. The water has soaked into his pants up to his ankles, but he continues to let the water wash over his feet.
Damon: Times have certainly changed since then. Now look at me; I’m running with the Angelz of Destruction, I’ve met the woman of my dreams, and I’m carrying some serious hardware as one half of the newly-crowned NGW Tag Team Champions! Not bad for a guy that everyone pretty much dismissed as tattooed white trash…
But that newfound fame comes with a price. Changes are flying at me like guided missiles, and not all of them are related to life inside the squared circle. Not that I mind in the slightest…. Stagnation is death, and I’m not gonna rest on my ass. If I’m not moving forward, or at least trying to, you may as well plant my fucking corpse in the ground.
Consider the next obstacle that Devlin Scott has put in my, excuse me… OUR way; he set up a match for me and Aurora that pits us against his two top ass-sucking lapdogs, Gabbin’ Grimy and Assless Jericunt, or as I call them, the Grimy Cunts. The two biggest egos this side of Kanye West, squaring off against the two people that made the tag team division MEAN something again… In a cosmic sense of irony, Gabbin’ and Ass just tied the knot. From what I heard, it was a double-ring ceremony; Gabbin’ got one ring on his finger, and another one through his nose! I’ll bet Devlin’s creaming his friggin’ pants thinking about how much money this match will put in his pockets. It’s not the 6-person match that the champ challenged me to, but that really doesn’t matter.
Damon turns to directly face the camera. His narrowed eyes are like cold steel, piercing through the lens.
Damon: Gabs, since the day I stepped foot in NGW, all I heard come out of that sphincter under your nose was the same load of shit: I’m the greatest… I’ve beaten everybody… if you don’t agree with me, just shut the fuck up….. Week in, week out, same lame crap. The only thing that changes is who you’re spewing at. One week, it’s our brother Corey Bull. Next, it’s the Candyass Cowgirl Dirk Bentover. So, me being the professional shit-stirrer that I am, I couldn’t help but to call you out on Twitter. We traded a few barbs, and you resorted to calling my remarks childish and cliché. You may be right, but they worked. They got your little panties in a bunch, and now, here we are….
But I’m not the only one you talked shit about, am I? You even managed to piss off your own WIFE with the things that spewed outta your piehole. You couldn’t bear the thought that your precious little wifey-poo wasn’t going to be content to stick to the background and just bask in the supposed magnificence that is Gavin Grimes. After all, you’re the longest reigning Unified Champion, right? Everybody is just supposed to drop to their knees and worship the ground you and Ass walk on. Sorry, dickthistle, but if there WAS a God, it sure as fuck wouldn’t be either of you.
But let’s not kid ourselves, shall we? You know that comments were enough to give her a reason to challenge you for the title. And while I’ll get to your wife in plenty of time, I still have plenty to say to you. What’s the matter, Grimy? You can’t take the fact that the little woman finally showed the world that she has more balls than you do, because the entire fucking world knows that she could hand you your ass with her eyes closed and her hands tied behind her back. So what do you do? Rather than accept a challenge from someone you KNOW can give you what could be the biggest match of your career, you put her down, and make her feel like utter shit just for opening her mouth. Some fucking champion you are, Gabs.
He scoffs, shaking his head in disgust.
Damon: And here I thought Dirk was the ultimate douchebag. Turns out IT WAS YOU ALL ALONG, GAVIN! At least Bentley doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s a world-class fuckwad, at least not anymore. But you? You want everybody to think that you’re such a good guy and that you just HAPPEN to be the NGW Unified Heavyweight Champion. But as soon as anybody doesn’t toe the line and kiss your ass, THAT’S when the real you comes out: a petulant child. A child that represents NGW to the world. While you may see nothing wrong with that, I’d rather the person that is the public face of the company I work for to have to have more maturity than a spastic toddler….
You and I could get into a dick-waving contest about our careers, but in your case, you’d be bringing a pocketknife to a swordfight. I don’t brag about what I’ve done in other promotions or what titles I’ve won there, because, seriously, nobody gives a fuck. Once you step into a new company, you have to prove yourself all over again. It’s as if you’ve never wrestled a single match at all. But here I am; I can count the number of NGW matches I’ve been in on one hand, and now I get the big dogs themselves.
I’m fully aware about what you’ve done here in NGW, namely because you won’t shut up about it. Yeah, done a lot, but like I’ve said before, you haven’t proven a damn thing. Not to me.
Let me put it to you this way: Everybody loves ice cream, right? But if everybody says that a certain flavor is the best they’ve ever come across, I still won’t believe them until I’ve tried it for myself. You see, you may be the popular flavor that everybody raves about NOW, but eventually people will get tired of you, and they’ll flock to the newer, better flavor. See what I’m getting at, chump?
If you want to be the cock-of-the-walk in the Unified Championship division, that’s no skin off my ass. But you HAVE to acknowledge that the next wave of superstars have arrived in NGW, whether you like it or not. But if you continue to try and take a dump on us, then you best be prepared to have a boot jammed up your ass!
Scene fades in in front of a vacant storefront in Downtown Long Beach, with all of the windows covered in pale brown paper and an “Available” sign sandwiched between the paper and the glass. A black Maserati Gran Turismo convertible pulls up in front of the retail space, inside of which sits one half of the NGW Tag Team Champions, Damon Graves. The driver of the vehicle is Alicia Perry, who has taken on the task of managing the careers of both Damon and Aurora. The retired former champion looks radiant in a bright red blazer and matching pants over a black blouse, with a black leather satchel at her side. Damon is, in contrast, dressed far more casually, in jeans and a black Rancid “…And Out Come the Wolves” t-shirt. The unlikely pair get the odd looks from some of the passers-by, not that Damon pays them any mind.
Damon stares at the space in front of him, his hands on his hips as Alicia pulls a set of keys out of her inside pocket.
Alicia: Alright, Damon… I think this space would be perfect for that shop you were talking about opening. It’s in a prime location… plenty of traffic; both foot and car. And as you can see, since it’s right on the corner, visibility is definitely NOT a problem. As a bonus, I’ve been talking with the seller’s agent, and they are very motivated.
Damon: If it’s such a great spot, why are they selling?
Alicia: Well, the original owner is retiring and wants to move out of state. Said he didn’t feel right about letting this place just sit here unused, so he put it on the market.
Damon thinks about it as he watches Alicia unlock the double doors. As they step inside, Damon is surprised to see that the space already has a walled off area in the back. At the front is a curved counter and a collection of empty picture frames. Damon picks up one of the frames, looking it over.
Damon: You know, I could use this. Think we can negotiate these frames into the deal?
Alicia: Actually, there’s no need. Everything you see here is included in the asking price.
Damon: Even better! Now let’s take a look at the back. I want to see what kind of space we’re working with.
They make their way to the back of the store, where it’s divided into two sections, each with three small rooms.
Alicia: These used to be fitting rooms, but you can always knock out some of the walls if you need bigger workstations.
Damon: Let’s see… there’s room for several open workstations in the middle of the shop, plus I’d have to knock out a wall on each side for private workstations… but yeah, this would be perfect!
Alicia: You know, I think it’s great you’re thinking so far ahead. As you know, the industry we work in can be brutal. Not all of us can be blessed with the gift of longevity.
Damon: That’s easy for you to say; you’ve been in the game for close to 20 years.
Alicia: 20 years next June, to be exact. And when my husband broke into the business, I was still in grade school.
Damon: I’ll bet he hates when you bring that up….
Alicia: You don’t know the half of it, kid. Speaking of my husband…
Damon: Oh, boy…
Damon runs a hand over his face, trying to hide the fact that he knows what she is going to ask him.
Alicia: Jason told me you “missed the boat,” so to speak, in Catalina.
He sighs, nodding his head and trying his best to avoid looking Alicia in the eye.
Damon: I had planned on taking her out to Lover’s Cove and proposing there, but then she told me she scored tickets for the first boat back to the mainland. Kinda blew that idea out of the water. Then I remembered that video I saw of a guy getting his girlfriend a kitten and hanging the ring from the collar, but then when I brought Bruce home, the ring went ninja on me before I could attach it to his collar.
Alicia snickers, quickly covering her mouth to hide it.
Damon: What?
Alicia: Done in by a kitten! So, what are you going to do now?
Damon: How did Jason propose?
Alicia: He took me out to dinner in Cancun… next thing I know, there was a string quartet at our table, playing our song. He dropped down to one knee… and I’m pretty sure you can figure out the rest.
Damon: Don’t think I’ll be able to find a string quartet that can cover Halestorm, so I’m afraid that’s out. Any other suggestions?
Alicia: You don’t have to be too elaborate. Sometimes, all it takes is something simple. The only thing that matters is what comes from in here.
She balls up her fist, tapping it softly against the left side of her chest as she smiles. He nods in understanding, then takes another look around.
Damon: Anyway, enough about that. We really need to get down to business. I’ve got enough for the down payment and then some. So where do I sign?
Alicia pats a hand on the satchel, a knowing smile on her face.
Alicia: I have the paperwork right here. But don’t you think you and Aurora should talk this over first? I mean, especially if you two are going to be business partners….
Damon: We’ve already talked about it. Well, glossed over it, really. I think she still thinks of it as sort of a pipe dream.
Alicia: Well, if you show her this place, maybe she’ll realize just how serious you are about your future. That’ll score some serious brownie points… not that you need them. Aurora had one hell of a wall put up, but you broke through like a linebacker through paper.
Damon’s phone goes off, prompting him to reach for his back pocket. A picture of Aurora appears on the screen.
Damon: She must’ve known we were talking about her. I gotta take this…
Alicia: Don’t let me stop you.
Damon: I’ll put it on speaker.
He taps the screen as Alicia stands as if to get a better view.
Damon: How go the travel arrangements, Harley?
Aurora: Well, we’ve got the hotel reserved, but there’s a problem with getting a plane.
Damon: What kind of problem?
Aurora: None of the flights I’ve been able to find with available seats will let the cats ride in the cabin.
Damon: Fuck! What are we going to do? We need to get to Atlanta, but the only other way is to drive. That could take days!
Alicia: Hold up, you two. I have a solution to your little problem. You can take my jet. We’re not using it right now, so it’s just sitting in the hangar at LAX.
Damon: You sure it’s no trouble?
Alicia: No trouble at all! In fact, you’re welcome to use our jet whenever you need it. Just don’t let Jason catch you in one of his robes.
Damon: You mean those thick-ass monogrammed deals Gray kept talking about?
Aurora laughs over the phone.
Aurora: Now there’s a mental image… he was probably swimming in the damn thing! Anyway, if you’re really sure about letting us use the jet, we really appreciate it, Alicia.
Damon: Yeah… you’re a lifesaver. If I didn’t think Jason would snap my neck, I’d kiss you…
Aurora: He’s not the only one you have to worry about…
He chuckles sheepishly as he looks at the screen of his phone.
Damon: Message received… I’ll see you at home, Harley. Do I need to stop anywhere on the way?
Aurora: I really don’t feel like cooking tonight. You think you can pick up some takeout?
Damon: Sure… what do you have a craving for?
Alicia opens her mouth, smirking as if she’s about to crack a joke, but when Damon shoots her a side-eye, she changes her mind.
Aurora: I could REALLY go for some orange chicken….
Damon: Chinese, it is, then. I’ll see you in a bit… love you, Harley!
Aurora: Love you too, Puddin’!
Alicia giggles.
Damon ends the phone call, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He turns back to Alicia, who is still giggling at the exchange between her charges.
Damon: What’s so funny?
Alicia: “Puddin’…”
Damon just rolls his eyes, then slaps his hands together.
Damon: So… where were we?
Alicia: Right… the paperwork that will seal the deal on this place. You’re one signature away from owning your first piece of commercial real estate.
Damon: Good thing I brought a pen…
They walk over toward the counter. Alicia pulls the paperwork out of the satchel as the scene fades out.
Scene cuts back to the condo in Long Beach that Damon and Aurora call home. More specifically, the balcony of said condo, where anyone standing there would get a magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean. We see Damon leaning on the railing, his eyes closed. After enjoying the ocean breeze for a bit, he sighs and opens his eyes.
Damon: And now, on to the newest piece of GRIME… Little Miss “Pay Attention to ME,” Ass-leigh Grimes. So, let me get this straight… is the Five Lakes Championship not enough for you? I mean, you had one defense against a stumbling drunk, underage lush, and suddenly you’re all that and a bag of chips. And you say OUR road to a championship was an easy one! You beat a Z-grade scream queen with more tits than talent for your title. Wow, that’s something for the old highlight reel, huh? No, you won’t be content until every last bit of attention is focused solely on you. About the only way I can tell the difference between you and Persephone… AKA your buddy Bitch Slap Barbie… is your hair color and the fact that she’s not still wearing a training bra. Hell, you both even have a castrated champion at your beck and call.
Those voices you hear inside your head? That’s just pride fucking with you, and it’ll use whatever tactic it needs in order to satisfy itself. Whether or not it’s to your benefit is entirely beside the point. If your pride can be fulfilled by marching your ass off the side of a cliff, it’ll convince you to run headlong into oblivion without a second thought! So you fucked up, and you fucked up ROYALLY. Just to have the last word, you made sure that your bombshell was the moment that closed out City of Sin. With a few poorly chosen words, you drove a stake right into the heart of your relationship with the hubby, both professionally AND personally! You may not be able to see it, but the rest of the world can see it on lover boy’s face; he can’t trust you. As much as he tries to hide it, that little kernel of doubt has taken root in his mind, and it’s going to keep growing. I just hope that I’m there when you choke on the fruit it’ll bear.
The camera catches Damon reaching down near his feet to open up a small refrigerator made to look like a wooden cabinet. He pulls out a bottle of water and pops the top to take a healthy pull.
Damon: News flash, Ass…. I don’t give a fraction of a fuck about you or your spotless record. I don’t even care that I’m the number one contender to your Five Lakes Championship. None of the belts are on the line, and that suits me just fine. I’d just as soon defend against REAL contenders than add another trophy to your vanity case. You think that you and Gabbin’ could just snap your fingers and take our belts… if it were that easy, why didn’t you do so before we came along? Simple… it’s because you’d have to share the glory with somebody else, even if it’s your own husband. That thought is revolting to you, isn’t it? Yeah, you’ll tag with him now and then, but there’s no way you’d team with him on a more permanent basis. After all, there’s only room enough for ONE person in the spotlight, right?
Damon finishes his beverage and crumples up the empty bottle before tossing it in a wastebasket.
Damon: Well, you’re just going to have to share… share in the fact that Aurora Knight and Damon Graves aren’t a couple of flashes in the pan; we’re here, we’re in your face, and we’re 100% legitimate. Once Vendetta has come and gone, both of you will still hold your respective belts, because right now, I’d much rather concentrate on making the NGW Tag Team Championships something that people respect again. A victory over the two top singles champs will light a fire under the rest of the NGW roster. Some people may see that we are the real deal and WANT to come after our titles, which is the whole reason we agreed to compete for them, not because we saw them as a quick road to a championship. So for you Grimy Cunts to try and take a shit on what we’ve done here in NGW, it just makes us want to knock you down a notch or fifty. This is precisely why Aurora and I joined the Angelz of Destruction, because of arrogant twats like you. In every single promotion I’ve ever competed in, people took one look at me and dismissed me out of hand. I wasn’t the biggest or strongest, so I did what I did best: I fought. If anybody could understand this, it would be you, Gabs. But no, you and Ass want to be King and Queen Shit of Turd Mountain, looking down your noses at all of us “peons”. Well, while you’re looking down, Aurora and I will be looking up… not because we find anything about you to admire, but because we’re looking for the perfect place to plant our fists.
If you were thinking that Vendetta was going to be anything but an all-out war, then I suggest that both of you grab your ears and try to pull your heads out of your asses. It’s not a title match, it’s not a friendly little scientific match, but it’s an opportunity for the Angelz to beat some respect into those thick heads of yours. You don’t like us, we sure as shit don’t like you, so frankly, any concern for your health or safety is gonna take a flying fucking leap out of the nearest window….
When Aurora and I are done with you and our hands are raised in victory, I wonder how the “Power Couple” is going to handle losing. Should be interesting, because neither of you have even let the possibility for defeat to enter your minds. You really should, but knowing you, you won’t. You’ll just waltz into Vendetta thinking that it’ll be a cakewalk, and I for one am going to relish the moment when you realize that you haven’t, because there are few things in life I enjoy more than proving people wrong.
I AM the Angel of Chaos, Grimys, make no mistake about that, and at Vendetta, you’ll both find out that the hard way…..
Aurora steps out onto the balcony with Bruce on her shoulder.
Aurora: Cutting a promo?
Damon: Yeah, don’t want those two dipshits to think that they’ve got us rattled….
Aurora looks at Damon incredulously.
Aurora: Those two? Rattle us? Not even on their best day. How can anyone find either of them intimidating? I was better developed physically than Ashleigh when I was 12 years old…. Did you see that picture that Gavin posted of her on Twitter for #NationalBootyDay? She could lie on her stomach so he could set his drink on that flat ass!
Damon chuckles as he recalls that particular Twitter post.
Damon: Yeah, and that anatomically correct Ken doll wants to play at being a tough guy. If he thinks those chicken scratches he calls tattoos makes him look like a man, he’s fucking delusional. I could strap my tattoo machine to my foot and bang out a tougher looking piece than anything that pansy has inked on him. Yeah, I may have a few pieces on me that were spur-of-the-moment deals, but most of my ink has some meaning behind it.
Aurora: You COULD give those two some new ink after Vendetta….
Damon arches an eyebrow.
Damon: Why the hell would I even WANT to?
Aurora: You could tattoo the words “We Lost to the AoD” on their foreheads….
Damon: Lovely thought, but I wouldn’t waste good ink on either of them.
Aurora steps next to Damon at the railing, cradling Bruce in her arms so that he doesn’t get loose.
Aurora: I see your point. So, when were you going to tell me about buying a business property?
Scene fades out as Damon begins to explain some of his idea for the business.
Damon: Shhhh… you’re supposed to be a surprise, little guy! Don’t want to spoil it before she sees you, do you?
*meow*
Damon chuckles softly as he slips his key into the deadbolt. As the door unlocks, he slips inside as quietly as possible. As he closes the door, he lifts the carrier up to eye level and peers inside.
Damon: Good… I think we beat her home. Maybe we can find your big sister… let you two get acquainted.
He walks down the hallway and into the master bedroom, where their cat Selina is curled up in her favorite spot; the center of the bed. As Damon plops down beside her, he places the carrier in front of her. Selina slowly lifts her head, opening her mouth in a gaping, tooth-filled yawn as she stretches her front legs. She spots the carrier, then inches her tiny pink nose close to the grate, sniffing at the miniscule newcomer inside. To Damon’s surprise, Selina paws at the latch, looking at him curiously.
Damon: You want me to open it? Okay, but you have to be nice to him; he’s just a baby.
Damon opens the carrier, and with Selina looking on, a tiny gray ball of fluff pads out onto the bed. As the new arrival sniffs out his new surroundings, he comes nose to nose with his new big sister, Selina. She sniffs at him again, and then starts to groom him. Satisfied that Selina isn’t going to try to tear the little guy to shreds, he smiles.
Damon: Oh, wait until she gets home… I can almost hear the squeal!
No sooner does he say that than the sound of the front door shutting in the distance is heard. Damon rolls off the bed and heads toward the door.
Damon: There she is, now!
He goes to leave the room, but stops short of the doorway, reaching into his pocket. He pulls out a small red gift box, which he sets on the nightstand by Aurora’s side of the bed. He then reaches down to scratch both felines behind the ears, then hurries out of the room.
While Damon is gone, the little gray kitten starts to explore as Selina looks on. He reaches the nightstand, jumping the narrow gap between it and the bed. He paws at the little red gift box, gradually pushing it closer to the edge of the nightstand until it falls through the gap. Surprised, the kitten sticks his nose into the gap, as if trying to see where the box disappeared to. Unable to see it, he jumps back onto the bed and opts to play with the tip of Selina’s tail.
A few seconds later, Damon returns to the bedroom with Aurora, his hands covering her eyes as he guides her into the room.
Damon: Just a little bit further…. Okay! You can open your eyes now.
He uncovers her eyes, pulling back his hands as Aurora blinks, then casts her gaze at the scene on the bed. She gasps in surprise as her eyes become wide as saucers, then lets out an ear-piercing squeal.
Aurora: Oh… my… GOD! Damon, what a cute little kitty!
She quickly moves to the bed, lying down beside the kitten as he continues to play with Selina’s tail.
Damon: He’s ours. We just need to come up with a name for him.
Aurora: I don’t believe it… and Selina’s just letting him have his way with her tail. It’s funny… I thought about getting another cat, but I was afraid of how she would react. But now that I see this…
The kitten takes notice of Aurora, walking over toward her face until he’s sniffing at the end of her nose. She reaches over and scoops him into her arms as she sits up.
Aurora: But Daddy’s right. What are we going to name you? Since I named Selina after Catwoman, I think we should stick with the theme… let’s see…. Jack?
Damon shakes his head, curling his lip.
Damon: Nah, that’s too plain….
Aurora: Oswald…..
Another look of disgust at this particular name suggestion.
Damon: After the Penguin? Please tell me you’re NOT serious….
Aurora tries her best to sell him on the name, but to no avail.
Aurora: We could call him “Ozzy” for short.
Again, Damon rapidly shakes his head, showing that he clearly doesn’t like the idea. Meanwhile, Aurora takes a moment to think, tapping her finger on her chin. A few seconds later, a gasp of realization escapes her throat.
Aurora: I know…. Bruce!
Damon ponders this for a moment. The image of the frontman to Iron Maiden immediately came to mind. And with the kitten’s fur being the color of some metals… it could work.
Aurora: You know, for Bruce Wayne….
Damon: I was thinking more for Bruce Dickinson.
Aurora: That works too……
Aurora holds up the newly-named kitten in front of her face.
Aurora: Welcome to the family, Bruce…
She stands up, still holding the kitten to her chest and exits the room, Selina following after. Once she’s out of the room, he looks over at the nightstand. When he doesn’t see the box he left there, he starts to panic.
Damon: Oh, shit! Where the hell is it?
He starts looking for the box frantically. Could she have seen it and carried it off while he wasn’t paying attention? No… she was playing with the kitten the whole time she was in here. He feels around under the pillows at the head of the bed… no dice. He then reaches down into the gap between the bed and the nightstand. Stretching down toward the floor, he finally hits paydirt, pulling the box back up and breathing a sigh of relief.
Damon: Phew! That’s one surprise I DON’T need to have blowing up in my face.
He leans against the dresser, silently mouthing to himself before slamming his fist against the drawer front.
Damon: Fuck it… I need to take a walk.
With a huff of frustration, Damon walks out of the room.
The NGW camera crew comes up on Damon standing down at the shoreline on the section of beach behind the complex he now calls home. His bare feet are digging into the wet sand as the water rolls in, saturating the cuffs of his jeans. He spots the camera out of the corner of his eye, but only acknowledges it with a mild smirk as he continues to stare out over the ocean.
Damon: What a fucking rollercoaster, huh? To think that only 4 short months ago, I was spinning my wheels in the indies, kicking scrubs around for peanuts…
He scoffs, shaking his head as he looks down toward his feet. The water has soaked into his pants up to his ankles, but he continues to let the water wash over his feet.
Damon: Times have certainly changed since then. Now look at me; I’m running with the Angelz of Destruction, I’ve met the woman of my dreams, and I’m carrying some serious hardware as one half of the newly-crowned NGW Tag Team Champions! Not bad for a guy that everyone pretty much dismissed as tattooed white trash…
But that newfound fame comes with a price. Changes are flying at me like guided missiles, and not all of them are related to life inside the squared circle. Not that I mind in the slightest…. Stagnation is death, and I’m not gonna rest on my ass. If I’m not moving forward, or at least trying to, you may as well plant my fucking corpse in the ground.
Consider the next obstacle that Devlin Scott has put in my, excuse me… OUR way; he set up a match for me and Aurora that pits us against his two top ass-sucking lapdogs, Gabbin’ Grimy and Assless Jericunt, or as I call them, the Grimy Cunts. The two biggest egos this side of Kanye West, squaring off against the two people that made the tag team division MEAN something again… In a cosmic sense of irony, Gabbin’ and Ass just tied the knot. From what I heard, it was a double-ring ceremony; Gabbin’ got one ring on his finger, and another one through his nose! I’ll bet Devlin’s creaming his friggin’ pants thinking about how much money this match will put in his pockets. It’s not the 6-person match that the champ challenged me to, but that really doesn’t matter.
Damon turns to directly face the camera. His narrowed eyes are like cold steel, piercing through the lens.
Damon: Gabs, since the day I stepped foot in NGW, all I heard come out of that sphincter under your nose was the same load of shit: I’m the greatest… I’ve beaten everybody… if you don’t agree with me, just shut the fuck up….. Week in, week out, same lame crap. The only thing that changes is who you’re spewing at. One week, it’s our brother Corey Bull. Next, it’s the Candyass Cowgirl Dirk Bentover. So, me being the professional shit-stirrer that I am, I couldn’t help but to call you out on Twitter. We traded a few barbs, and you resorted to calling my remarks childish and cliché. You may be right, but they worked. They got your little panties in a bunch, and now, here we are….
But I’m not the only one you talked shit about, am I? You even managed to piss off your own WIFE with the things that spewed outta your piehole. You couldn’t bear the thought that your precious little wifey-poo wasn’t going to be content to stick to the background and just bask in the supposed magnificence that is Gavin Grimes. After all, you’re the longest reigning Unified Champion, right? Everybody is just supposed to drop to their knees and worship the ground you and Ass walk on. Sorry, dickthistle, but if there WAS a God, it sure as fuck wouldn’t be either of you.
But let’s not kid ourselves, shall we? You know that comments were enough to give her a reason to challenge you for the title. And while I’ll get to your wife in plenty of time, I still have plenty to say to you. What’s the matter, Grimy? You can’t take the fact that the little woman finally showed the world that she has more balls than you do, because the entire fucking world knows that she could hand you your ass with her eyes closed and her hands tied behind her back. So what do you do? Rather than accept a challenge from someone you KNOW can give you what could be the biggest match of your career, you put her down, and make her feel like utter shit just for opening her mouth. Some fucking champion you are, Gabs.
He scoffs, shaking his head in disgust.
Damon: And here I thought Dirk was the ultimate douchebag. Turns out IT WAS YOU ALL ALONG, GAVIN! At least Bentley doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s a world-class fuckwad, at least not anymore. But you? You want everybody to think that you’re such a good guy and that you just HAPPEN to be the NGW Unified Heavyweight Champion. But as soon as anybody doesn’t toe the line and kiss your ass, THAT’S when the real you comes out: a petulant child. A child that represents NGW to the world. While you may see nothing wrong with that, I’d rather the person that is the public face of the company I work for to have to have more maturity than a spastic toddler….
You and I could get into a dick-waving contest about our careers, but in your case, you’d be bringing a pocketknife to a swordfight. I don’t brag about what I’ve done in other promotions or what titles I’ve won there, because, seriously, nobody gives a fuck. Once you step into a new company, you have to prove yourself all over again. It’s as if you’ve never wrestled a single match at all. But here I am; I can count the number of NGW matches I’ve been in on one hand, and now I get the big dogs themselves.
I’m fully aware about what you’ve done here in NGW, namely because you won’t shut up about it. Yeah, done a lot, but like I’ve said before, you haven’t proven a damn thing. Not to me.
Let me put it to you this way: Everybody loves ice cream, right? But if everybody says that a certain flavor is the best they’ve ever come across, I still won’t believe them until I’ve tried it for myself. You see, you may be the popular flavor that everybody raves about NOW, but eventually people will get tired of you, and they’ll flock to the newer, better flavor. See what I’m getting at, chump?
If you want to be the cock-of-the-walk in the Unified Championship division, that’s no skin off my ass. But you HAVE to acknowledge that the next wave of superstars have arrived in NGW, whether you like it or not. But if you continue to try and take a dump on us, then you best be prepared to have a boot jammed up your ass!
Scene fades in in front of a vacant storefront in Downtown Long Beach, with all of the windows covered in pale brown paper and an “Available” sign sandwiched between the paper and the glass. A black Maserati Gran Turismo convertible pulls up in front of the retail space, inside of which sits one half of the NGW Tag Team Champions, Damon Graves. The driver of the vehicle is Alicia Perry, who has taken on the task of managing the careers of both Damon and Aurora. The retired former champion looks radiant in a bright red blazer and matching pants over a black blouse, with a black leather satchel at her side. Damon is, in contrast, dressed far more casually, in jeans and a black Rancid “…And Out Come the Wolves” t-shirt. The unlikely pair get the odd looks from some of the passers-by, not that Damon pays them any mind.
Damon stares at the space in front of him, his hands on his hips as Alicia pulls a set of keys out of her inside pocket.
Alicia: Alright, Damon… I think this space would be perfect for that shop you were talking about opening. It’s in a prime location… plenty of traffic; both foot and car. And as you can see, since it’s right on the corner, visibility is definitely NOT a problem. As a bonus, I’ve been talking with the seller’s agent, and they are very motivated.
Damon: If it’s such a great spot, why are they selling?
Alicia: Well, the original owner is retiring and wants to move out of state. Said he didn’t feel right about letting this place just sit here unused, so he put it on the market.
Damon thinks about it as he watches Alicia unlock the double doors. As they step inside, Damon is surprised to see that the space already has a walled off area in the back. At the front is a curved counter and a collection of empty picture frames. Damon picks up one of the frames, looking it over.
Damon: You know, I could use this. Think we can negotiate these frames into the deal?
Alicia: Actually, there’s no need. Everything you see here is included in the asking price.
Damon: Even better! Now let’s take a look at the back. I want to see what kind of space we’re working with.
They make their way to the back of the store, where it’s divided into two sections, each with three small rooms.
Alicia: These used to be fitting rooms, but you can always knock out some of the walls if you need bigger workstations.
Damon: Let’s see… there’s room for several open workstations in the middle of the shop, plus I’d have to knock out a wall on each side for private workstations… but yeah, this would be perfect!
Alicia: You know, I think it’s great you’re thinking so far ahead. As you know, the industry we work in can be brutal. Not all of us can be blessed with the gift of longevity.
Damon: That’s easy for you to say; you’ve been in the game for close to 20 years.
Alicia: 20 years next June, to be exact. And when my husband broke into the business, I was still in grade school.
Damon: I’ll bet he hates when you bring that up….
Alicia: You don’t know the half of it, kid. Speaking of my husband…
Damon: Oh, boy…
Damon runs a hand over his face, trying to hide the fact that he knows what she is going to ask him.
Alicia: Jason told me you “missed the boat,” so to speak, in Catalina.
He sighs, nodding his head and trying his best to avoid looking Alicia in the eye.
Damon: I had planned on taking her out to Lover’s Cove and proposing there, but then she told me she scored tickets for the first boat back to the mainland. Kinda blew that idea out of the water. Then I remembered that video I saw of a guy getting his girlfriend a kitten and hanging the ring from the collar, but then when I brought Bruce home, the ring went ninja on me before I could attach it to his collar.
Alicia snickers, quickly covering her mouth to hide it.
Damon: What?
Alicia: Done in by a kitten! So, what are you going to do now?
Damon: How did Jason propose?
Alicia: He took me out to dinner in Cancun… next thing I know, there was a string quartet at our table, playing our song. He dropped down to one knee… and I’m pretty sure you can figure out the rest.
Damon: Don’t think I’ll be able to find a string quartet that can cover Halestorm, so I’m afraid that’s out. Any other suggestions?
Alicia: You don’t have to be too elaborate. Sometimes, all it takes is something simple. The only thing that matters is what comes from in here.
She balls up her fist, tapping it softly against the left side of her chest as she smiles. He nods in understanding, then takes another look around.
Damon: Anyway, enough about that. We really need to get down to business. I’ve got enough for the down payment and then some. So where do I sign?
Alicia pats a hand on the satchel, a knowing smile on her face.
Alicia: I have the paperwork right here. But don’t you think you and Aurora should talk this over first? I mean, especially if you two are going to be business partners….
Damon: We’ve already talked about it. Well, glossed over it, really. I think she still thinks of it as sort of a pipe dream.
Alicia: Well, if you show her this place, maybe she’ll realize just how serious you are about your future. That’ll score some serious brownie points… not that you need them. Aurora had one hell of a wall put up, but you broke through like a linebacker through paper.
Damon’s phone goes off, prompting him to reach for his back pocket. A picture of Aurora appears on the screen.
Damon: She must’ve known we were talking about her. I gotta take this…
Alicia: Don’t let me stop you.
Damon: I’ll put it on speaker.
He taps the screen as Alicia stands as if to get a better view.
Damon: How go the travel arrangements, Harley?
Aurora: Well, we’ve got the hotel reserved, but there’s a problem with getting a plane.
Damon: What kind of problem?
Aurora: None of the flights I’ve been able to find with available seats will let the cats ride in the cabin.
Damon: Fuck! What are we going to do? We need to get to Atlanta, but the only other way is to drive. That could take days!
Alicia: Hold up, you two. I have a solution to your little problem. You can take my jet. We’re not using it right now, so it’s just sitting in the hangar at LAX.
Damon: You sure it’s no trouble?
Alicia: No trouble at all! In fact, you’re welcome to use our jet whenever you need it. Just don’t let Jason catch you in one of his robes.
Damon: You mean those thick-ass monogrammed deals Gray kept talking about?
Aurora laughs over the phone.
Aurora: Now there’s a mental image… he was probably swimming in the damn thing! Anyway, if you’re really sure about letting us use the jet, we really appreciate it, Alicia.
Damon: Yeah… you’re a lifesaver. If I didn’t think Jason would snap my neck, I’d kiss you…
Aurora: He’s not the only one you have to worry about…
He chuckles sheepishly as he looks at the screen of his phone.
Damon: Message received… I’ll see you at home, Harley. Do I need to stop anywhere on the way?
Aurora: I really don’t feel like cooking tonight. You think you can pick up some takeout?
Damon: Sure… what do you have a craving for?
Alicia opens her mouth, smirking as if she’s about to crack a joke, but when Damon shoots her a side-eye, she changes her mind.
Aurora: I could REALLY go for some orange chicken….
Damon: Chinese, it is, then. I’ll see you in a bit… love you, Harley!
Aurora: Love you too, Puddin’!
Alicia giggles.
Damon ends the phone call, stuffing his phone back into his pocket. He turns back to Alicia, who is still giggling at the exchange between her charges.
Damon: What’s so funny?
Alicia: “Puddin’…”
Damon just rolls his eyes, then slaps his hands together.
Damon: So… where were we?
Alicia: Right… the paperwork that will seal the deal on this place. You’re one signature away from owning your first piece of commercial real estate.
Damon: Good thing I brought a pen…
They walk over toward the counter. Alicia pulls the paperwork out of the satchel as the scene fades out.
Scene cuts back to the condo in Long Beach that Damon and Aurora call home. More specifically, the balcony of said condo, where anyone standing there would get a magnificent view of the Pacific Ocean. We see Damon leaning on the railing, his eyes closed. After enjoying the ocean breeze for a bit, he sighs and opens his eyes.
Damon: And now, on to the newest piece of GRIME… Little Miss “Pay Attention to ME,” Ass-leigh Grimes. So, let me get this straight… is the Five Lakes Championship not enough for you? I mean, you had one defense against a stumbling drunk, underage lush, and suddenly you’re all that and a bag of chips. And you say OUR road to a championship was an easy one! You beat a Z-grade scream queen with more tits than talent for your title. Wow, that’s something for the old highlight reel, huh? No, you won’t be content until every last bit of attention is focused solely on you. About the only way I can tell the difference between you and Persephone… AKA your buddy Bitch Slap Barbie… is your hair color and the fact that she’s not still wearing a training bra. Hell, you both even have a castrated champion at your beck and call.
Those voices you hear inside your head? That’s just pride fucking with you, and it’ll use whatever tactic it needs in order to satisfy itself. Whether or not it’s to your benefit is entirely beside the point. If your pride can be fulfilled by marching your ass off the side of a cliff, it’ll convince you to run headlong into oblivion without a second thought! So you fucked up, and you fucked up ROYALLY. Just to have the last word, you made sure that your bombshell was the moment that closed out City of Sin. With a few poorly chosen words, you drove a stake right into the heart of your relationship with the hubby, both professionally AND personally! You may not be able to see it, but the rest of the world can see it on lover boy’s face; he can’t trust you. As much as he tries to hide it, that little kernel of doubt has taken root in his mind, and it’s going to keep growing. I just hope that I’m there when you choke on the fruit it’ll bear.
The camera catches Damon reaching down near his feet to open up a small refrigerator made to look like a wooden cabinet. He pulls out a bottle of water and pops the top to take a healthy pull.
Damon: News flash, Ass…. I don’t give a fraction of a fuck about you or your spotless record. I don’t even care that I’m the number one contender to your Five Lakes Championship. None of the belts are on the line, and that suits me just fine. I’d just as soon defend against REAL contenders than add another trophy to your vanity case. You think that you and Gabbin’ could just snap your fingers and take our belts… if it were that easy, why didn’t you do so before we came along? Simple… it’s because you’d have to share the glory with somebody else, even if it’s your own husband. That thought is revolting to you, isn’t it? Yeah, you’ll tag with him now and then, but there’s no way you’d team with him on a more permanent basis. After all, there’s only room enough for ONE person in the spotlight, right?
Damon finishes his beverage and crumples up the empty bottle before tossing it in a wastebasket.
Damon: Well, you’re just going to have to share… share in the fact that Aurora Knight and Damon Graves aren’t a couple of flashes in the pan; we’re here, we’re in your face, and we’re 100% legitimate. Once Vendetta has come and gone, both of you will still hold your respective belts, because right now, I’d much rather concentrate on making the NGW Tag Team Championships something that people respect again. A victory over the two top singles champs will light a fire under the rest of the NGW roster. Some people may see that we are the real deal and WANT to come after our titles, which is the whole reason we agreed to compete for them, not because we saw them as a quick road to a championship. So for you Grimy Cunts to try and take a shit on what we’ve done here in NGW, it just makes us want to knock you down a notch or fifty. This is precisely why Aurora and I joined the Angelz of Destruction, because of arrogant twats like you. In every single promotion I’ve ever competed in, people took one look at me and dismissed me out of hand. I wasn’t the biggest or strongest, so I did what I did best: I fought. If anybody could understand this, it would be you, Gabs. But no, you and Ass want to be King and Queen Shit of Turd Mountain, looking down your noses at all of us “peons”. Well, while you’re looking down, Aurora and I will be looking up… not because we find anything about you to admire, but because we’re looking for the perfect place to plant our fists.
If you were thinking that Vendetta was going to be anything but an all-out war, then I suggest that both of you grab your ears and try to pull your heads out of your asses. It’s not a title match, it’s not a friendly little scientific match, but it’s an opportunity for the Angelz to beat some respect into those thick heads of yours. You don’t like us, we sure as shit don’t like you, so frankly, any concern for your health or safety is gonna take a flying fucking leap out of the nearest window….
When Aurora and I are done with you and our hands are raised in victory, I wonder how the “Power Couple” is going to handle losing. Should be interesting, because neither of you have even let the possibility for defeat to enter your minds. You really should, but knowing you, you won’t. You’ll just waltz into Vendetta thinking that it’ll be a cakewalk, and I for one am going to relish the moment when you realize that you haven’t, because there are few things in life I enjoy more than proving people wrong.
I AM the Angel of Chaos, Grimys, make no mistake about that, and at Vendetta, you’ll both find out that the hard way…..
Aurora steps out onto the balcony with Bruce on her shoulder.
Aurora: Cutting a promo?
Damon: Yeah, don’t want those two dipshits to think that they’ve got us rattled….
Aurora looks at Damon incredulously.
Aurora: Those two? Rattle us? Not even on their best day. How can anyone find either of them intimidating? I was better developed physically than Ashleigh when I was 12 years old…. Did you see that picture that Gavin posted of her on Twitter for #NationalBootyDay? She could lie on her stomach so he could set his drink on that flat ass!
Damon chuckles as he recalls that particular Twitter post.
Damon: Yeah, and that anatomically correct Ken doll wants to play at being a tough guy. If he thinks those chicken scratches he calls tattoos makes him look like a man, he’s fucking delusional. I could strap my tattoo machine to my foot and bang out a tougher looking piece than anything that pansy has inked on him. Yeah, I may have a few pieces on me that were spur-of-the-moment deals, but most of my ink has some meaning behind it.
Aurora: You COULD give those two some new ink after Vendetta….
Damon arches an eyebrow.
Damon: Why the hell would I even WANT to?
Aurora: You could tattoo the words “We Lost to the AoD” on their foreheads….
Damon: Lovely thought, but I wouldn’t waste good ink on either of them.
Aurora steps next to Damon at the railing, cradling Bruce in her arms so that he doesn’t get loose.
Aurora: I see your point. So, when were you going to tell me about buying a business property?
Scene fades out as Damon begins to explain some of his idea for the business.