Post by Union Jack on Feb 20, 2023 7:26:48 GMT -5
The camera shows the inside of a hotel room. Union Jack, one half of CWF’s international tag team sensation Bear-O-Dactyl, is sat in a chair. He’s precariously leaning back with his feet propped on the desk. Vanessa, the team’s manager, is sat on the bed nearest the door.
“I feel dirty!” Jack complained loudly, sounding like an insolent child.
“What do you mean?” She looked up from the W:UK Match Contract she was re-reading for the hundredth time.
“It’s like that time I knobbed Melisa Davis in Secondary School. All me mates said it were a good idea, said they’d had a go too… but when I ended up with a rash on lil Jack, it was me applying the cream all on me own.”
She shook her head with a sigh. “I know I’m going to regret asking you this Jack, but are you trying to say you have an STI?”
“No, I’m saying being back on XHF makes me wish I did…” He visibly shudders. “It’d feel less invasive.”
“How is being in the XHF invasive?!” She asked, exasperated.
“How is it not?!” Jack growled back. “I’ve never had to fight anyone that takes the ‘Short Bus’ before ‘Nessa, it aint the way I was raised! Me ol’ man always told me there’s a difference between pickin’ low hanging fruit and taking the rotten stuff off the ground, but people here in W:UK don’t seem to have those same qualms. They’re happy padding their record with wins over those poor, deluded souls.”
“What on earth are you talking about?!” She demanded in annoyance.
“FedEx and Darksharts!” Jack shook his head. “Two teams of simpletons that keep talking about our time in NPW – Time that amounted to one parade, a bounced check and a nasty case of athlete’s foot caused by their toxic backstage environment. Yet one of these teams really think they beat US?! Be honest with me, Nessa – Do these guys wrestle in padded helmets? Do they get given participation awards at the end of the night? Are we expected to pat ‘em on the back and tell them ‘Of course you’re champions, buddies!’? Do we have to give ‘em a round of applause for lacing their boots all by themselves? Do we-“
“I get it Jack!” Vanessa snapped back at the brash British LuchaBear. “Why did you agree to the match if you’re just gonna complain about it?”
“I’m British and it aint rained in weeks.” Jack shrugged. “Most say Football is our national sport, but our World Cup record disagrees. The real one’s know its actually complaining. Well, complaining and queuing.”
“Jack! What are you talking about?” She slams the contract down, even more annoyed now.
“Honestly? I dunno.” Jack chuckled nervously. “I’m a bit star struck. Us Brits don’t have many wrestling legends to look up too, but this match has two of ‘em. Well, one and his partner. Well, the shadow of one and his partner… Well, the artist formerly known as Riot and his also-ran tag partner representing Riot’s stable.”
“You mean Frank Windsor?” She sighed.
“Oh…” Jack paused and thought for a moment. “I thought it was the other Bastard. The more talented one.”
“You shouldn’t underestimate the Bastards.” Vanessa urged. “They’re hugely successful for a reason.”
“Longevity? Tenure?” Jack offered sarcastically. “I get it, they’re the big fish in this pond, but just because the 30-year-old in the kiddie pool doesn’t need armbands anymore doesn’t make him an Olympic swimmer, ‘Nessa. It just means he’s outgrown his environment. Same with the Rioters.”
“Bastards.” She corrected.
“Yea, I’m sure they are.” Jack laughed. “But if they were smarter, they’d have named themselves after their most marketable commodity instead of their abrasive personalities.”
“You seem to be missing what a great opportunity this is for us, Jack.”
“You seem to be missing what a contractual obligation it is for us, Nessa.” Jack laughed. “CWF is our home now. Laz, in his infinite wisdom, entered into a working agreement with Wrestle UK. We’re the sacrificial offering. Win or lose, it don’t matter. It’s a talent exchange, we do a show here, maybe someone does a show for us… If not? This little experiment will be chalked up as a failure; but maybe it means we launch the CWF Tag division with the Wrestle UK Championships.”
“So you want to win their titles and leave with them?” A hint of annoyance had crept into her voice.
“I didn’t say that, did I?” He smirked “But offering ‘em a chance to win the belts back at Guerrilla Warfare… That’s a guaranteed way to ensure they keep their side of the agreement, aye?”
“Jack, that’s…” Vanessa stumbled over her words, lost in shock. “…genius. That may be the most logical business idea I’ve ever heard you come up with! I’m… I’m impressed.”
“What can I say” Jack shrugged with a grin. “I’m third generation, Love… Somethin’ was bound to ‘ave rubbed off.”
“I’ll rub you off.” Vanessa said and chuckled as Jacks jaw practically hit the floor.
“Nessa! You made a dirty pun!” Jack’s voice had taken on a high, incredulous tone.
“Well…” She shrugged, still chuckling to herself. “I figured if you’re being the voice of reason and logic, I ought to do your job.”
“I’ll be honest… That made lil Jack stand to attention.” Jack laughs.
“Ugh, Jack. You had to go and ruin it!” Vanessa shakes her head. “I really don’t know why I spend time with you when Dinosaurio isn’t around.”
“Speaking of… Where is he? I thought we were…” Jack turns and stares at the camera for a moment. “’ere… Are you recording?”
“No.” The cameraman lies.
“You better not be… Dino already posted our promo, we agreed to play our cards close to our chest on this one.”
“Lil’ MC?” Vanessa calls as she climbs to her feet. “Can I see the phone?”
“Eh…” The cameraman hesitates and jostles the phone. “Wait… One moment… Let me jus-“
The feed cuts.
“I feel dirty!” Jack complained loudly, sounding like an insolent child.
“What do you mean?” She looked up from the W:UK Match Contract she was re-reading for the hundredth time.
“It’s like that time I knobbed Melisa Davis in Secondary School. All me mates said it were a good idea, said they’d had a go too… but when I ended up with a rash on lil Jack, it was me applying the cream all on me own.”
She shook her head with a sigh. “I know I’m going to regret asking you this Jack, but are you trying to say you have an STI?”
“No, I’m saying being back on XHF makes me wish I did…” He visibly shudders. “It’d feel less invasive.”
“How is being in the XHF invasive?!” She asked, exasperated.
“How is it not?!” Jack growled back. “I’ve never had to fight anyone that takes the ‘Short Bus’ before ‘Nessa, it aint the way I was raised! Me ol’ man always told me there’s a difference between pickin’ low hanging fruit and taking the rotten stuff off the ground, but people here in W:UK don’t seem to have those same qualms. They’re happy padding their record with wins over those poor, deluded souls.”
“What on earth are you talking about?!” She demanded in annoyance.
“FedEx and Darksharts!” Jack shook his head. “Two teams of simpletons that keep talking about our time in NPW – Time that amounted to one parade, a bounced check and a nasty case of athlete’s foot caused by their toxic backstage environment. Yet one of these teams really think they beat US?! Be honest with me, Nessa – Do these guys wrestle in padded helmets? Do they get given participation awards at the end of the night? Are we expected to pat ‘em on the back and tell them ‘Of course you’re champions, buddies!’? Do we have to give ‘em a round of applause for lacing their boots all by themselves? Do we-“
“I get it Jack!” Vanessa snapped back at the brash British LuchaBear. “Why did you agree to the match if you’re just gonna complain about it?”
“I’m British and it aint rained in weeks.” Jack shrugged. “Most say Football is our national sport, but our World Cup record disagrees. The real one’s know its actually complaining. Well, complaining and queuing.”
“Jack! What are you talking about?” She slams the contract down, even more annoyed now.
“Honestly? I dunno.” Jack chuckled nervously. “I’m a bit star struck. Us Brits don’t have many wrestling legends to look up too, but this match has two of ‘em. Well, one and his partner. Well, the shadow of one and his partner… Well, the artist formerly known as Riot and his also-ran tag partner representing Riot’s stable.”
“You mean Frank Windsor?” She sighed.
“Oh…” Jack paused and thought for a moment. “I thought it was the other Bastard. The more talented one.”
“You shouldn’t underestimate the Bastards.” Vanessa urged. “They’re hugely successful for a reason.”
“Longevity? Tenure?” Jack offered sarcastically. “I get it, they’re the big fish in this pond, but just because the 30-year-old in the kiddie pool doesn’t need armbands anymore doesn’t make him an Olympic swimmer, ‘Nessa. It just means he’s outgrown his environment. Same with the Rioters.”
“Bastards.” She corrected.
“Yea, I’m sure they are.” Jack laughed. “But if they were smarter, they’d have named themselves after their most marketable commodity instead of their abrasive personalities.”
“You seem to be missing what a great opportunity this is for us, Jack.”
“You seem to be missing what a contractual obligation it is for us, Nessa.” Jack laughed. “CWF is our home now. Laz, in his infinite wisdom, entered into a working agreement with Wrestle UK. We’re the sacrificial offering. Win or lose, it don’t matter. It’s a talent exchange, we do a show here, maybe someone does a show for us… If not? This little experiment will be chalked up as a failure; but maybe it means we launch the CWF Tag division with the Wrestle UK Championships.”
“So you want to win their titles and leave with them?” A hint of annoyance had crept into her voice.
“I didn’t say that, did I?” He smirked “But offering ‘em a chance to win the belts back at Guerrilla Warfare… That’s a guaranteed way to ensure they keep their side of the agreement, aye?”
“Jack, that’s…” Vanessa stumbled over her words, lost in shock. “…genius. That may be the most logical business idea I’ve ever heard you come up with! I’m… I’m impressed.”
“What can I say” Jack shrugged with a grin. “I’m third generation, Love… Somethin’ was bound to ‘ave rubbed off.”
“I’ll rub you off.” Vanessa said and chuckled as Jacks jaw practically hit the floor.
“Nessa! You made a dirty pun!” Jack’s voice had taken on a high, incredulous tone.
“Well…” She shrugged, still chuckling to herself. “I figured if you’re being the voice of reason and logic, I ought to do your job.”
“I’ll be honest… That made lil Jack stand to attention.” Jack laughs.
“Ugh, Jack. You had to go and ruin it!” Vanessa shakes her head. “I really don’t know why I spend time with you when Dinosaurio isn’t around.”
“Speaking of… Where is he? I thought we were…” Jack turns and stares at the camera for a moment. “’ere… Are you recording?”
“No.” The cameraman lies.
“You better not be… Dino already posted our promo, we agreed to play our cards close to our chest on this one.”
“Lil’ MC?” Vanessa calls as she climbs to her feet. “Can I see the phone?”
“Eh…” The cameraman hesitates and jostles the phone. “Wait… One moment… Let me jus-“
The feed cuts.
