Post by Preston Reese on May 15, 2023 21:10:57 GMT -5
Nameless Intern: Have you seen this?
The intern stepped from a small knot of film crew, offering a tablet to Preston Andre Reese. Reese was dressed in a suit draped with a lab coat, and he rolled his eyes as he stepped from the set which was the hallway of a hospital. He muttered, and took it before he watched it with a roll of his eyes.
Reese: Bro, this is the worst Fake Taxi I have ever seen. That chick looks like Fowler! Is this what you’re into?
Random Bird: You said we didn’t kinkshame at Secret Hospital!
Reese: That rule is for me, not for some kind of pervert on the crew!
He turned his attention back to the tablet, rolling his eyes as he watched it. Someone handed him a coffee,nodding absently as he sipped at it. Then he shook his head, waving the tablet.
Reese: Big Emo Daddy out here calling me Sub-PAR like I don’t measure up to the traditional standards. Listen Bill, if you and the Bastards are the traditional standard here in WUK? I guess maybe I don’t.
I am young, handsome, not over-rated. I can actually carry a match without dressing like a clown, or talking about how I trained in Japan, and I don’t need to be seven foot tall with a tiny dick to be over.
The interns scattered, and Reese tore off his lab coat before he flung it aside. He undid his tie, and smirked.
Reese: You know what I think? I think you, Bill? Are UNDER PAR. Which is to say worse than expected, not very good.
Under par as a father, under par as a champion, and under par as a challenger to an athlete of my caliber. You want this match to go down straight? That’s fine by me, because the way I see it? All I have to do is beat the great and powerful Billy Fowler, all I have to do is beat the former longest reigning WUK World Champion and I am a made man!
Even sweeter? All I have to do is jack you up bad enough that you walk into Legacy hurt. You better watch out for those famously bad knees of yours.
Reese winked, and he dropped down on a director’s chair with his name emblazoned across the back. He sipped at his coffee, nodding as a pretty blonde sauntered off to hand him some papers. He flipped through them, nodding before he handed them back.
Reese: You going to play me like a fiddle, Bill? The way I see it? Crane has been playing the WUK and the Bastards since day one. He had you and Long go toe to toe at last Legacy, two of his competitors beating the shit out of each other before he faces both of them?
That’s pretty slick.
Hook, line, and sinker.
He brought Marty Donovan in here to have his back how many times? Pretty slick, a man who is not invested in Wrestle: UK, a man with nothing at stake here. He suckered you into a match at Battle of Los Angeles didn’t he? In his home country, in front of a hostile crowd, and inside of a match that took away half of your strengths. You’re playing us, man?
Bro, even now instead of going after Crane? Instead of going after the High Roller’s Club? Everyone in this company is chomping at the bit to go after the Bastards. And then when they are done dealing with the three of you?
Bam! We put them right down.
Reese shook his head, leaning forward to wink those blue eyes.
Reese: You built this place, Bill? Your blood, sweat, and tears? I believe that. I have enough respect for you to admit that you were the heart and soul of what WUK was. You were a man who had been overlooked, a man who was kept in the shadows by those other two, and you came to WUK and you showed everyone what you could do!
But now?
Reese leaned back, and he lifted his coffee in a mocking toast before he took a drink.
Reese: Let’s just say the guy who went toe to toe with Eddie D, the man who defended the honor of WUK against Morrissey? I am not sure I see that guy anywhere now. What I see is a broken down old man who let his Silver Sneakers friends talk him into pissing all over his legacy. Who let Frank and Rob talk him into supporting some bullshit game with a fake belt to tarnish the championships that he made great.
In fact, Bill?
My old man, Sheldon Reese used to run with a guy. And that man was cold as ice, he was a killer. My pops was not scared of shit, the Superstar Sheldon Reese was not scared of a goddamned thing! But this guy?
My pops kept a tight hold on that leash.
Now one day, back in say 2006 or it may have been 07? My old man was getting tired, he was getting run ragged, injuries and defending his belt were taking their toll, and this man who was like a brother to him? He kept my father on top, he would do anything to keep that belt the CWA World fucking title with my pops, him, and Timmy Draven!
But as he was facing Croc in a retirement match and shit was going sideways?
Reese shrugged, and finished his coffee. He tossed the cup across his shoulder, and looked around the set before he smiled.
Reese: My father’s friend was nowhere to be seen, he was not there. Croc kicked my father in the face and pinned his ass.
Nowhere.
And when my pops said to him, why? Where were you?
This dude looked at my father, the man who turned him from a fucking jobber into a god and said:
I was putting you out of your misery.
The intern stepped from a small knot of film crew, offering a tablet to Preston Andre Reese. Reese was dressed in a suit draped with a lab coat, and he rolled his eyes as he stepped from the set which was the hallway of a hospital. He muttered, and took it before he watched it with a roll of his eyes.
Reese: Bro, this is the worst Fake Taxi I have ever seen. That chick looks like Fowler! Is this what you’re into?
Random Bird: You said we didn’t kinkshame at Secret Hospital!
Reese: That rule is for me, not for some kind of pervert on the crew!
He turned his attention back to the tablet, rolling his eyes as he watched it. Someone handed him a coffee,nodding absently as he sipped at it. Then he shook his head, waving the tablet.
Reese: Big Emo Daddy out here calling me Sub-PAR like I don’t measure up to the traditional standards. Listen Bill, if you and the Bastards are the traditional standard here in WUK? I guess maybe I don’t.
I am young, handsome, not over-rated. I can actually carry a match without dressing like a clown, or talking about how I trained in Japan, and I don’t need to be seven foot tall with a tiny dick to be over.
The interns scattered, and Reese tore off his lab coat before he flung it aside. He undid his tie, and smirked.
Reese: You know what I think? I think you, Bill? Are UNDER PAR. Which is to say worse than expected, not very good.
Under par as a father, under par as a champion, and under par as a challenger to an athlete of my caliber. You want this match to go down straight? That’s fine by me, because the way I see it? All I have to do is beat the great and powerful Billy Fowler, all I have to do is beat the former longest reigning WUK World Champion and I am a made man!
Even sweeter? All I have to do is jack you up bad enough that you walk into Legacy hurt. You better watch out for those famously bad knees of yours.
Reese winked, and he dropped down on a director’s chair with his name emblazoned across the back. He sipped at his coffee, nodding as a pretty blonde sauntered off to hand him some papers. He flipped through them, nodding before he handed them back.
Reese: You going to play me like a fiddle, Bill? The way I see it? Crane has been playing the WUK and the Bastards since day one. He had you and Long go toe to toe at last Legacy, two of his competitors beating the shit out of each other before he faces both of them?
That’s pretty slick.
Hook, line, and sinker.
He brought Marty Donovan in here to have his back how many times? Pretty slick, a man who is not invested in Wrestle: UK, a man with nothing at stake here. He suckered you into a match at Battle of Los Angeles didn’t he? In his home country, in front of a hostile crowd, and inside of a match that took away half of your strengths. You’re playing us, man?
Bro, even now instead of going after Crane? Instead of going after the High Roller’s Club? Everyone in this company is chomping at the bit to go after the Bastards. And then when they are done dealing with the three of you?
Bam! We put them right down.
Reese shook his head, leaning forward to wink those blue eyes.
Reese: You built this place, Bill? Your blood, sweat, and tears? I believe that. I have enough respect for you to admit that you were the heart and soul of what WUK was. You were a man who had been overlooked, a man who was kept in the shadows by those other two, and you came to WUK and you showed everyone what you could do!
But now?
Reese leaned back, and he lifted his coffee in a mocking toast before he took a drink.
Reese: Let’s just say the guy who went toe to toe with Eddie D, the man who defended the honor of WUK against Morrissey? I am not sure I see that guy anywhere now. What I see is a broken down old man who let his Silver Sneakers friends talk him into pissing all over his legacy. Who let Frank and Rob talk him into supporting some bullshit game with a fake belt to tarnish the championships that he made great.
In fact, Bill?
My old man, Sheldon Reese used to run with a guy. And that man was cold as ice, he was a killer. My pops was not scared of shit, the Superstar Sheldon Reese was not scared of a goddamned thing! But this guy?
My pops kept a tight hold on that leash.
Now one day, back in say 2006 or it may have been 07? My old man was getting tired, he was getting run ragged, injuries and defending his belt were taking their toll, and this man who was like a brother to him? He kept my father on top, he would do anything to keep that belt the CWA World fucking title with my pops, him, and Timmy Draven!
But as he was facing Croc in a retirement match and shit was going sideways?
Reese shrugged, and finished his coffee. He tossed the cup across his shoulder, and looked around the set before he smiled.
Reese: My father’s friend was nowhere to be seen, he was not there. Croc kicked my father in the face and pinned his ass.
Nowhere.
And when my pops said to him, why? Where were you?
This dude looked at my father, the man who turned him from a fucking jobber into a god and said:
I was putting you out of your misery.
