Post by Preston Reese on Oct 16, 2024 19:22:17 GMT -5
At a gleaming conference table sat the American Icon, Preston Andre Reese. Beside him frowning sat the brute known as Warrick. Reese tugged at his tie, loosening it as he leaned back with a creak of leather. And the man across from him, shuffled some paper before he adjusted his glasses. A shrug.
Lawyer: Preston–
Reese: Whoa, call me Mister Reese. I know we went to school together, but fuck all I am paying you.
The man sighed, rolling his eyes before he shook his head.
Lawyer: I think maybe it might be easier for you to just change the name of your move.
Reese blinked, looking stunned as though he had been slapped. His hand pressed against the chest of his suit, and he turned to Warrick before looking back to the lawyer. Then he slapped a hand on the table, and gestured angrily.
Reese: Are you fucking serious? I have to change the name of my move! Seriously?
The lawyer held up an oddly cut sheet of plastic which was red, but clear with a number of wild looking cryptic sigils on it.
Lawyer: I have no idea what this even is!
He produced another stack of papers, and he smacked them on the table as he continued.
Lawyer: These are just the papers from the British Court, where I literally have no license.
Another stack of papers hit the table, and he tapped them.
Lawyer: These are American.
He pulled out a rolled up scroll of paper which was sealed by a huge blob of wax, and there were a number of blinking lights submerged in it. A number of ribbons hung from it, and he sat it down with a shake of his head.
Reese stared at it, and Warrick blinked.
Lawyer: This is a holy writ from the throne world of Shakar, and I am not even sure what that means.
Reese leaned back, shaking his head.
Reese: I am going to fucking kill them! I am going to get them in the Battle of Britain, and I am going to fucking kill them! This is the stupidest shit I have ever seen!
Warrick shrugged, and rubbed his nose.
Warrick: Boss, I think they are in a number one contender match.
Reese snorted, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the pitcher of water from the table to pour himself a glass.
Reese: For what? Star Wars?
Warrick: The WUK Tag Team Championships.
Reese sprayed water. Hacking and coughing as the lawyer rose in alarm. Warrick smacked at his back, and Reese sputtered. Then all of a sudden, the rolled up scroll’s lights flashed red before long robotic legs erupted from the seal as it scurried backwards and away from the water.
Everyone gaped, and then it settled back down.
Warrick: What?
Reese: Are you shitting me? Those two idiots have a shot at my title? This as bad as when those two Mississippi inbreds had a title shot! Charlton and Carl!
He paused.
Reese: Chuckton and Carlos?
Warrick shrugged.
Warrick: Carlton and Chapps.
Reese blinked, and stared.
Reese: That can’t be right, those are the dumbest fucking names I ever heard.
His hand hit the table.
Reese: Fuck them! Biggest losers since those three Brits, or the three Brit guys in chaps. Who the fuck are they wrestling?
Warrick grunted.
Warrick: Tilted Cartridges?
Reese rolled his eyes, and shrugged.
Reese: Loser vs loser. Love it.
He waved his hand, and frowned. Warrick just shrugged, the big man not really caring much one way or the other. Reese tapped his fingers on the table, and shrugged.
Reese: One of them has to be in the Battle of Britain?
Warrick: Fury.
Reese snorted, shaking his head.
Reese: The twin of the Jannetty. Perfect. I am about to clean sweep the Dark Stars on my way to securing that the WUK Championship comes home to the High Roller’s Club.
Warrick: What about everyone else? Ryan Young? Seth Dillinger? Jason Long? Doc Holiday?
Reese rolled his eyes, and poured himself more water.
Reese: If I knew who the fuck those people were I’d be scared.
Warrick: Black Phillip? Arvind Shakar?
Reese: The Goat guy, and the Cornwall guy? Come on. I am not sweating that.
Warrick frowned.
Warrick: Slam Three?
Reese: That is two slams too many, my old man was kicking the shit out of Slams since before I was born. They are the fucking losers of the wrestling world, man. That guy’s grand daddy was Juggalo! Can you imagine that!
I ever tell you about my dad?
The lawyer blinked, and he looked up from cleaning his glasses. He frowned, shaking his head before he shrugged.
Lawyer: You have.
Warrick smirked.
Reese: Listen, it doesn’t matter! I am going to kick the shit out of all of these losers! It is going to be Starkiller and–
The lawyer coughed into his hand, shaking his head before he looked at Reese. Reese frowned, and he hit the table before he leaned back in his seat again. He ran a hand through his pale blonde hair, and muttered.
Reese: I am going to kick Fury’s ass!
Lawyer: Preston–
Reese: Whoa, call me Mister Reese. I know we went to school together, but fuck all I am paying you.
The man sighed, rolling his eyes before he shook his head.
Lawyer: I think maybe it might be easier for you to just change the name of your move.
Reese blinked, looking stunned as though he had been slapped. His hand pressed against the chest of his suit, and he turned to Warrick before looking back to the lawyer. Then he slapped a hand on the table, and gestured angrily.
Reese: Are you fucking serious? I have to change the name of my move! Seriously?
The lawyer held up an oddly cut sheet of plastic which was red, but clear with a number of wild looking cryptic sigils on it.
Lawyer: I have no idea what this even is!
He produced another stack of papers, and he smacked them on the table as he continued.
Lawyer: These are just the papers from the British Court, where I literally have no license.
Another stack of papers hit the table, and he tapped them.
Lawyer: These are American.
He pulled out a rolled up scroll of paper which was sealed by a huge blob of wax, and there were a number of blinking lights submerged in it. A number of ribbons hung from it, and he sat it down with a shake of his head.
Reese stared at it, and Warrick blinked.
Lawyer: This is a holy writ from the throne world of Shakar, and I am not even sure what that means.
Reese leaned back, shaking his head.
Reese: I am going to fucking kill them! I am going to get them in the Battle of Britain, and I am going to fucking kill them! This is the stupidest shit I have ever seen!
Warrick shrugged, and rubbed his nose.
Warrick: Boss, I think they are in a number one contender match.
Reese snorted, rolling his eyes as he grabbed the pitcher of water from the table to pour himself a glass.
Reese: For what? Star Wars?
Warrick: The WUK Tag Team Championships.
Reese sprayed water. Hacking and coughing as the lawyer rose in alarm. Warrick smacked at his back, and Reese sputtered. Then all of a sudden, the rolled up scroll’s lights flashed red before long robotic legs erupted from the seal as it scurried backwards and away from the water.
Everyone gaped, and then it settled back down.
Warrick: What?
Reese: Are you shitting me? Those two idiots have a shot at my title? This as bad as when those two Mississippi inbreds had a title shot! Charlton and Carl!
He paused.
Reese: Chuckton and Carlos?
Warrick shrugged.
Warrick: Carlton and Chapps.
Reese blinked, and stared.
Reese: That can’t be right, those are the dumbest fucking names I ever heard.
His hand hit the table.
Reese: Fuck them! Biggest losers since those three Brits, or the three Brit guys in chaps. Who the fuck are they wrestling?
Warrick grunted.
Warrick: Tilted Cartridges?
Reese rolled his eyes, and shrugged.
Reese: Loser vs loser. Love it.
He waved his hand, and frowned. Warrick just shrugged, the big man not really caring much one way or the other. Reese tapped his fingers on the table, and shrugged.
Reese: One of them has to be in the Battle of Britain?
Warrick: Fury.
Reese snorted, shaking his head.
Reese: The twin of the Jannetty. Perfect. I am about to clean sweep the Dark Stars on my way to securing that the WUK Championship comes home to the High Roller’s Club.
Warrick: What about everyone else? Ryan Young? Seth Dillinger? Jason Long? Doc Holiday?
Reese rolled his eyes, and poured himself more water.
Reese: If I knew who the fuck those people were I’d be scared.
Warrick: Black Phillip? Arvind Shakar?
Reese: The Goat guy, and the Cornwall guy? Come on. I am not sweating that.
Warrick frowned.
Warrick: Slam Three?
Reese: That is two slams too many, my old man was kicking the shit out of Slams since before I was born. They are the fucking losers of the wrestling world, man. That guy’s grand daddy was Juggalo! Can you imagine that!
I ever tell you about my dad?
The lawyer blinked, and he looked up from cleaning his glasses. He frowned, shaking his head before he shrugged.
Lawyer: You have.
Warrick smirked.
Reese: Listen, it doesn’t matter! I am going to kick the shit out of all of these losers! It is going to be Starkiller and–
The lawyer coughed into his hand, shaking his head before he looked at Reese. Reese frowned, and he hit the table before he leaned back in his seat again. He ran a hand through his pale blonde hair, and muttered.
Reese: I am going to kick Fury’s ass!
