Post by Preston Reese on Feb 11, 2023 18:50:25 GMT -5
Warren Webber the Third walked out onto the highly manicured roof top, a sparkling pool dominated it. Neatly trimmed hedges lined the edges, and the bright Nevada sun bathed the whole thing in light. A small bar sheltered beneath a canopy stood nearby, and lounging around the pool where a pack of girls.
Beautiful scantily clad women who lounged in the sun, or splashed absently in the pool. A few of them sat around a figure reclining with a drink in his hand.
Preston. Andre. Reese.
The man looked up, frowning slightly before he sat up. A pretty redhead withdrawing slightly, and the lovely blonde who sat his side taking his glass as she stared down her nose at Webber. Reese pulled off his sunglasses.
The girls shrugged, and it was quiet before Webber spoke up.
Reese stared, and then he blinked before a fake smile dawned on his face.
Webber frowned.
The girls giggled, and then shut up as Reese looked over at them. He snapped his fingers, and they slid to their feet to slink off with a few wiggles that Webber watched before he stepped around the table to sit down beside Reese who had sat up to watch him.
Webber stammered.
Reese shook his head, smirking.
Webber nodded, and was cut off as Reese swung his feet back into the lounge chair and leaned back. He placed his sunglasses back on his nose, and snapped his fingers. The girls started back over, one of them with a new glass in her hand. Reese tilted his blonde head, and his arm reached out to wrap around one of their waists.
Then he looked back to Webber.
Beautiful scantily clad women who lounged in the sun, or splashed absently in the pool. A few of them sat around a figure reclining with a drink in his hand.
Preston. Andre. Reese.
The man looked up, frowning slightly before he sat up. A pretty redhead withdrawing slightly, and the lovely blonde who sat his side taking his glass as she stared down her nose at Webber. Reese pulled off his sunglasses.
Reese:
Who is this? Who in the fuck is this guy? I have told maintenance a hundred times to keep their guys out of here when I am in a meeting.
The girls shrugged, and it was quiet before Webber spoke up.
Webber:
Uh, I am Warren Webber the Third? We have an interview scheduled for W:UK?
Reese stared, and then he blinked before a fake smile dawned on his face.
Reese:
Oh, shit. I thought they’d send the hot blonde, but I guess she is off with my boy Wesley Crane! So I get this guy who looks like he answers phones for my dad’s accountant. Fucking cool, I guess. Whatever, if this is how W:UK treats the greatest prospect in the world of wrestling today? I guess I will be out of there as soon as the checks clear.
Webber frowned.
Webber:
I am an esteemed journalist, I am a respected name in this business.
Reese:
Whatever, man. I have never heard of you.
The girls giggled, and then shut up as Reese looked over at them. He snapped his fingers, and they slid to their feet to slink off with a few wiggles that Webber watched before he stepped around the table to sit down beside Reese who had sat up to watch him.
Webber:
You asked for this time?
Reese:
Yes, yes, I did. I generously took time out of my busy shooting schedule for my show, Secret Hospital to appear on this program. And that is because I wanted to congratulate W:UK for finally having a real champion.
A champion we can all be proud of. A company who represents the best of the WUK, and the best of WUK is in fact?
American.
Webber stammered.
Reese:
Wesley Crane is a real champion, he is not some seven foot tall guy who looks like a shaved Bigfoot from the UK! He is not some biker guy wannabe from Essex, how is anyone in the world, anyone in this industry supposed to be afraid of a man from Essex?
Come on, man. Come on. These are the dregs of British Wrestling, this can’t be the best you all have.
Webber:
Hard words for the former W:UK Champions.
Reese shook his head, smirking.
Reese:
The truth hurts, William. Facts are? The Bastards have had free reign over the W:UK because there is a lack of talent to oppose them. They think they are all that because they reign over a division of losers? My boys, Rage and Cage? They are taking those belts.
You see The High Roller’s Club has me! They have me! Preston Andre Reese! My father was one of the biggest stars in wrestling, in the media, and in Hollywood! And all the Bastards have is a washed up old fraud like Sean Bean! And we all saw what I did to Sean Bean, baby.
Fuck, it’s good that Sean Bean has so much experience dying in his movies because that is what will happen if he gets in my face.
Webber:
The Bastards are –
Reese:
Washed up? Old? Done?
Listen, I know for a fact that they are probably sitting around the back with the brain they share between the three of them scheming to fuck over Wesley Crane at Legacy. But that isn’t going to help them, baby. Because right here and now? I am telling all of you that Preston Andre Reese will be in the corner of Wesley Crane.
Webber:
That is major news.
Reese nodded.
Reese:
Damn right it is. So Fowler? Former champ, the guy who needed a small army to keep his belt the first time?
Done.
Havok? The Biker from Essex? The Grim Products guy? He can’t even beat Fowler half of the time.
Done.
Armand Von Krauss? Guy looks like he would chase kids through a sewer, and drool on them! Fucking weirdo, and his little weird circus crew?
Done.
Psychotic Goth? Listen, get some help, man. Get some help, you need lithium, and maybe a new side piece. That vampire girl shit? That’s played out, bro. Bro, please. You need to be worried about that scarecrow mummy man, bro. You’re not big enough to try and step to the High Roller’s Club.
Done.
Webber nodded, and was cut off as Reese swung his feet back into the lounge chair and leaned back. He placed his sunglasses back on his nose, and snapped his fingers. The girls started back over, one of them with a new glass in her hand. Reese tilted his blonde head, and his arm reached out to wrap around one of their waists.
Then he looked back to Webber.
Reese:
You still here?
