[STEELE] A Setback (NoC 1)
Jul 10, 2018 16:37:56 GMT -5
Mongo the Destroyer, ForeverKuroi, and 1 more like this
Post by Steele on Jul 10, 2018 16:37:56 GMT -5
“Well what can I say? You win some, you lose some. I’ve got no excuses. Only *facts.* Shawn Rossdale only beat me because I had one eye on the X-Crown Championship match at Night Of Champions. No more, no less. My head wasn’t in the match and he took full advantage of that. Fair play to him, I say. I know that if the roles were reversed then *I’d* take advantage too. Difference is, I don’t find myself in that position very often because there are very, *very* few people who can claim to be the favorite heading into a match against Jackson Steele.”
Steele stood in front of a pair of large boards bearing the logo of a wrestling convention amid an array of sponsors’ logos. To his right stood a beaming blonde, clutching a microphone and watching Steele intently as she listened to his “facts” about the defeat to Rossdale.
“What you’ve gotta remember is, I’m a two-time Heavyweight Champion. Rossdale’s got the *starter* belt in AXW. The training wheels. I didn’t need to beat him to prove my worth, everybody already knows who I am. That result benefited him *way* more than it hurt me. V knows what I can do, which is why he put me into the match at Night Of Champions.”
The interviewer pulled the mic back over to herself, asking Steele a follow-up question.
“Jackson, a couple days ago some footage emerged online of you pretty much assaulting a YouTuber in his own home after an interview… can you… shed some light on just what the hell was going on there?”
Steele’s left eye twitched. He’d intended for that footage to never see the light of day - even going so far as to steal the SD card from the YouTuber’s camera - except here it was, out in the open. *That bastard must have had some kind of backup storage.* Jackson’s faithful henchman, Danny Boy Davis, stepped into the shot and placed a hand on the young lady’s shoulder.
“Alright love, interview’s over.” Danny stated flatly. She tried to protest but Danny was far stronger than she was and he managed to maneuver her out of the shot with ease. Steele remained on-camera, visibly seething, before turning and throwing a fist at the boards behind him. They toppled, and revealed a scene of a large convention hall with tables and stalls set up throughout the venue. The boards narrowly avoided hitting convention-goers as they clattered onto the hard floor, one or two shocked passersby having to duck out of their way.
Jackson began to shout and scream, turning his back on the camera and raving about perceived injustices as he stomped the advertising boards. Del Trevor’s huge frame emerged on-screen and he joined Jackson, stamping and jumping on the boards as Danny Boy returned to the scene to try and pull Jackson out of there.
The shot slowly panned back, and the frame of a YouTube video began to come into focus. Below the video was the damning title;
“AXW Star Jackson Steele MELTDOWN at GrappleCon!”
There was a click of a mouse and the video instantly froze in time, Jackson’s reddened face screaming silently into the camera. A puff of cigarette smoke wafted past the computer’s monitor, and a female voice was heard off-screen.
“What the hell *happened* to you?”
Steele burst through the double-doors of the convention centre’s main hall, flanked by Danny and Del. He was ostensibly being removed from the premises, but his personal security detail made sure that the official event security never made it to within four or five feet of him.
“Stupid fucking bitch, who does she think she is making me look stupid like that?” spat Steele. His face was still beet red and a particularly large vein was making itself apparent on his forehead.
“Just keep your head down and out of any cameras, Boss.” warned Danny.
Jackson pulled his shades out of the top pocket of his Armani jacket but before he could put them on, Danny had already removed his own jacket and he draped it over Jackson’s head to hide him from the prying lenses of any photographers.
“What the-” Jackson stuttered. “Wha-”
Danny kept a tight grip on Jackson as he guided him down a short flight of stairs into the centre’s main lobby. A pack of cameramen and photographers followed them, and Del Trevor stepped away from the group to impede their progress.
“Just stay under there until we get you in the car.” Danny said, forcefully.
The centre’s on-suite security team shadowed the trio right up to the front entrance, as Danny pushed one of the large glass double-doors open and they stepped out into the street.
The buildings around them towered above, a mix of everything from Georgian architecture to modern-day steel-and-glass skyscrapers. London.
Danny held out a hand and almost immediately a passing black cab flashed its blinker and pulled over to the curb. Before the driver could even get out to open the door for them, Danny was already in the process of letting himself in and packing Steele into the back seat. Steele fumbled with the jacket over his head as Danny and Del climbed into the middle seats of the vehicle, facing backwards towards Jackson.
“Pall Mall, mate. The Sofitel.” Danny said to the driver through the partition. The driver nodded, and pulled out into the flow of traffic.
“What was that for?” asked Jackson. “The jacket. What was that all about?”
Danny took the coat back from Jackson and started to re-dress himself. “Damage limitation. Your face is gonna be all over the internet again Boss, and not in a good way. Just stops ‘em taking any more embarrassing pictures.”
Jackson was taken aback. “What for? I just pushed a couple of hoardings over.”
Danny cast a sidewards glance at Del. “You punched the organiser in the face.”
Jackson just waved this off. “Oh, yeah. Well, he had it coming.”
Danny was slightly perturbed that Steele didn’t seem to be at all bothered by all of the negative attention that had been surrounding him of late. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the driver was eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Up.” hissed Danny, indicating the partition screen. The driver jumped, startled by Danny’s sudden command, and pressed a button to raise the screen.
“I’m concerned, Boss.” Danny confided. “You’ve been making headlines for a lot of the wrong reasons lately. You keep this up, and nobody’s gonna wanna touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
“No publicity is bad publicity.” Steele said, dismissively. “Besides, I’ve got a guaranteed contract at AXW. I can do whatever I want and I don’t have to answer to anybody.”
Steele suddenly shifted as a low buzzing sound filled the cab. He reached inside of his jacket and pulled out his phone. A sudden bump in the road jolted him, and the phone fell onto the floor of the vehicle. Danny picked it up, and glanced at the screen.
Incoming call: V
“I guess word travels fast” said Danny, as he handed Steele the phone. Jackson pressed the screen, and held the phone up to his ear. Danny and Del couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but they could guess that whatever V was saying, he wasn’t entirely pleased.
“Yes. Yes, I get that, but-” Steele’s sentences were cut short as V exercised his authority.
“Yes, I guess… yeah, I know you have Mongo to answer to but… alright. OK. Sure.”
Steele looked pale as the call was terminated by V, and he slipped his phone back into his jacket.
“Everything alright?” asked Danny. Steele thought for a second, and then nodded.
“Yeah, yeah, just… a setback, is all. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Danny could sense the giant dent in Steele’s pride. “Just keep your cool, Boss. It won’t do you any favours to keep losing your temper. Just look at this arsehole here.”
Danny nodded his head towards Del.
“He’s spent more time in chokey than you’ve been alive.”
Jackson stared out of the window as the city of London rushed past him.
“Don’t worry about me, Danny. I’ve got it all mapped out. When I said my head wasn’t in the game against Rossdale, I meant it - I’m gonna win that X-Crown title match, and bring those belts back to AXW. And when I do, *nobody* will be able to touch me. Not V, not Mongo… nobody.”
Jackson’s reddened face, contorted with rage, burned into the glass of the computer screen. An ashtray sat on the desk just below the monitor, crushed butts littering the inside. A manicured hand slowly came into view, clutching the remnants of yet another cigarette. The glowing cherry spewed smoke as it was lowered towards the glass, crunching and fizzing as its dying light was finally extinguished and twisted into ash.
The hand hovered over a mobile phone on the desk, before picking it up. The screen automatically came to life, the disembodied hand’s thumb effortlessly swiping to unlock it. A tap of the screen brought the contacts list to the fore, and the thumb scrolled through the list until it hovered above a name.
Jackson Steele.
Several long moments passed, and the thumb moved ever closer to touching the gorilla glass screen.
At the last second, the thumb diverted its course, clicking the home button on the phone. The hand turned the phone over, and placed it face-down on the desk.
Steele stood in front of a pair of large boards bearing the logo of a wrestling convention amid an array of sponsors’ logos. To his right stood a beaming blonde, clutching a microphone and watching Steele intently as she listened to his “facts” about the defeat to Rossdale.
“What you’ve gotta remember is, I’m a two-time Heavyweight Champion. Rossdale’s got the *starter* belt in AXW. The training wheels. I didn’t need to beat him to prove my worth, everybody already knows who I am. That result benefited him *way* more than it hurt me. V knows what I can do, which is why he put me into the match at Night Of Champions.”
The interviewer pulled the mic back over to herself, asking Steele a follow-up question.
“Jackson, a couple days ago some footage emerged online of you pretty much assaulting a YouTuber in his own home after an interview… can you… shed some light on just what the hell was going on there?”
Steele’s left eye twitched. He’d intended for that footage to never see the light of day - even going so far as to steal the SD card from the YouTuber’s camera - except here it was, out in the open. *That bastard must have had some kind of backup storage.* Jackson’s faithful henchman, Danny Boy Davis, stepped into the shot and placed a hand on the young lady’s shoulder.
“Alright love, interview’s over.” Danny stated flatly. She tried to protest but Danny was far stronger than she was and he managed to maneuver her out of the shot with ease. Steele remained on-camera, visibly seething, before turning and throwing a fist at the boards behind him. They toppled, and revealed a scene of a large convention hall with tables and stalls set up throughout the venue. The boards narrowly avoided hitting convention-goers as they clattered onto the hard floor, one or two shocked passersby having to duck out of their way.
Jackson began to shout and scream, turning his back on the camera and raving about perceived injustices as he stomped the advertising boards. Del Trevor’s huge frame emerged on-screen and he joined Jackson, stamping and jumping on the boards as Danny Boy returned to the scene to try and pull Jackson out of there.
The shot slowly panned back, and the frame of a YouTube video began to come into focus. Below the video was the damning title;
“AXW Star Jackson Steele MELTDOWN at GrappleCon!”
There was a click of a mouse and the video instantly froze in time, Jackson’s reddened face screaming silently into the camera. A puff of cigarette smoke wafted past the computer’s monitor, and a female voice was heard off-screen.
“What the hell *happened* to you?”
.::ONE HOUR AGO::.
Steele burst through the double-doors of the convention centre’s main hall, flanked by Danny and Del. He was ostensibly being removed from the premises, but his personal security detail made sure that the official event security never made it to within four or five feet of him.
“Stupid fucking bitch, who does she think she is making me look stupid like that?” spat Steele. His face was still beet red and a particularly large vein was making itself apparent on his forehead.
“Just keep your head down and out of any cameras, Boss.” warned Danny.
Jackson pulled his shades out of the top pocket of his Armani jacket but before he could put them on, Danny had already removed his own jacket and he draped it over Jackson’s head to hide him from the prying lenses of any photographers.
“What the-” Jackson stuttered. “Wha-”
Danny kept a tight grip on Jackson as he guided him down a short flight of stairs into the centre’s main lobby. A pack of cameramen and photographers followed them, and Del Trevor stepped away from the group to impede their progress.
“Just stay under there until we get you in the car.” Danny said, forcefully.
The centre’s on-suite security team shadowed the trio right up to the front entrance, as Danny pushed one of the large glass double-doors open and they stepped out into the street.
The buildings around them towered above, a mix of everything from Georgian architecture to modern-day steel-and-glass skyscrapers. London.
Danny held out a hand and almost immediately a passing black cab flashed its blinker and pulled over to the curb. Before the driver could even get out to open the door for them, Danny was already in the process of letting himself in and packing Steele into the back seat. Steele fumbled with the jacket over his head as Danny and Del climbed into the middle seats of the vehicle, facing backwards towards Jackson.
“Pall Mall, mate. The Sofitel.” Danny said to the driver through the partition. The driver nodded, and pulled out into the flow of traffic.
“What was that for?” asked Jackson. “The jacket. What was that all about?”
Danny took the coat back from Jackson and started to re-dress himself. “Damage limitation. Your face is gonna be all over the internet again Boss, and not in a good way. Just stops ‘em taking any more embarrassing pictures.”
Jackson was taken aback. “What for? I just pushed a couple of hoardings over.”
Danny cast a sidewards glance at Del. “You punched the organiser in the face.”
Jackson just waved this off. “Oh, yeah. Well, he had it coming.”
Danny was slightly perturbed that Steele didn’t seem to be at all bothered by all of the negative attention that had been surrounding him of late. Glancing over his shoulder, he noticed the driver was eavesdropping on their conversation.
“Up.” hissed Danny, indicating the partition screen. The driver jumped, startled by Danny’s sudden command, and pressed a button to raise the screen.
“I’m concerned, Boss.” Danny confided. “You’ve been making headlines for a lot of the wrong reasons lately. You keep this up, and nobody’s gonna wanna touch you with a ten-foot pole.”
“No publicity is bad publicity.” Steele said, dismissively. “Besides, I’ve got a guaranteed contract at AXW. I can do whatever I want and I don’t have to answer to anybody.”
Steele suddenly shifted as a low buzzing sound filled the cab. He reached inside of his jacket and pulled out his phone. A sudden bump in the road jolted him, and the phone fell onto the floor of the vehicle. Danny picked it up, and glanced at the screen.
Incoming call: V
“I guess word travels fast” said Danny, as he handed Steele the phone. Jackson pressed the screen, and held the phone up to his ear. Danny and Del couldn’t hear the other side of the conversation, but they could guess that whatever V was saying, he wasn’t entirely pleased.
“Yes. Yes, I get that, but-” Steele’s sentences were cut short as V exercised his authority.
“Yes, I guess… yeah, I know you have Mongo to answer to but… alright. OK. Sure.”
Steele looked pale as the call was terminated by V, and he slipped his phone back into his jacket.
“Everything alright?” asked Danny. Steele thought for a second, and then nodded.
“Yeah, yeah, just… a setback, is all. Nothing I can’t handle.”
Danny could sense the giant dent in Steele’s pride. “Just keep your cool, Boss. It won’t do you any favours to keep losing your temper. Just look at this arsehole here.”
Danny nodded his head towards Del.
“He’s spent more time in chokey than you’ve been alive.”
Jackson stared out of the window as the city of London rushed past him.
“Don’t worry about me, Danny. I’ve got it all mapped out. When I said my head wasn’t in the game against Rossdale, I meant it - I’m gonna win that X-Crown title match, and bring those belts back to AXW. And when I do, *nobody* will be able to touch me. Not V, not Mongo… nobody.”
.::BACK IN THE PRESENT::.
Jackson’s reddened face, contorted with rage, burned into the glass of the computer screen. An ashtray sat on the desk just below the monitor, crushed butts littering the inside. A manicured hand slowly came into view, clutching the remnants of yet another cigarette. The glowing cherry spewed smoke as it was lowered towards the glass, crunching and fizzing as its dying light was finally extinguished and twisted into ash.
The hand hovered over a mobile phone on the desk, before picking it up. The screen automatically came to life, the disembodied hand’s thumb effortlessly swiping to unlock it. A tap of the screen brought the contacts list to the fore, and the thumb scrolled through the list until it hovered above a name.
Jackson Steele.
Several long moments passed, and the thumb moved ever closer to touching the gorilla glass screen.
At the last second, the thumb diverted its course, clicking the home button on the phone. The hand turned the phone over, and placed it face-down on the desk.