Post by Deleted on Oct 13, 2023 4:44:57 GMT -5
We catch up to Beretta Blade at the main entrance to the Strader Estate Compound, where she’s rubbing her hands together excitedly. The security detail are not quite as enthusiastic though, and sift through paperwork.
Security: I’m sorry, Ms. Blade. You’re not on the list for today. We don’t even have you on the list for any day, minus your appearance against Jack Sullivan in the Night Two match.
Beretta scoffs at this.
Beretta Blade: Yeah, you better go on ahead and put me on that list right now, or call your supervisor 'cause I’m about to go Karen on your asses.
It’s a weird flex. If she was anyone of note or accolade they’d oblige, but -
Beretta Blade: It’s cause I’m John Blade’s daughter isn’t it? Wow. Just wow. I expected more integrity from the staff of the Straders. I didn’t elect to be his daughter. I had no control over that. I’ve had to deal with it my entire life and just when I think I’ve found a place that won’t discriminate against me because of my shitbag loser dad, you three totes just showed prejudice against me. I wonder what would have happened if I was a minority of color also.
The trio of clean-shaven, professional-looking men motion for her to stop her idiotic rant.
Security: Let us make a call. If we get the clear, we’ll hook you up.
Beretta folds her arms and turns away from them, adding a sassy hair whip to boot. Facing the camera properly now, she shakes her head.
Beretta Blade: Are you seeing this shit, Jack Sully? I’m gonna be burning the compound down with you in a few weeks and this is the treatment I get. I’m sorry if I’m making this all about me, but I kinda have to since your bio isn’t on the official site yet.
Before she can continue, a well-dressed man steps through the gate and motions her to approach.
Man: Ms. Blade, I’m Jeeves.
Beretta Blade: Ha! Jeeves! I love this place already. Great name.
The man nods politely.
Jeeves: I’m one of the tour guides or curator if you will, of the Strader Estate. We’ve been given special permission for you to tour the premises and presumably shoot a vignette seeing as you have a camera crew here.
She tosses a thumbs up at him.
Beretta Blade: Now we’re talking! Tour me, daddy-o.
The man pleasantly motions along a pathway and soon we come upon a tricked-out golf cart. Jeeves wipes the seat down and gestures for Beretta to sit.
Beretta Blade: This is it? A golf cart? Not like a mini-limo or cool SUV? I’ve seen the Straders roll in those.
The man cocks his head, his previous nice demeanor shifting a bit.
Jeeves: Are you a Strader, Ms. Blade?
Beretta rolls her eyes.
Beretta Blade: Alright. Alright. Ya got me. I guess this beats walking.
Beretta plops her ridiculously cute, thick, mouth-watering, world-renowned, and highly fapped-to booty into the cart and the production crew piles on too, before zipping off to their first landmark.
Jeeves: To the left here, we have Hannah Strader’s domicile. It-
He goes into a boring monologue about the history of the home, all the way back to when the first brick was laid. Beretta looks dead ass into the camera as if she’s being held hostage and mouths a silent “help me” and then butts in.
Beretta Blade: So, anyway, back to my promo. Jack, I don’t know lick about ya. You don’t seem to have a profile on the official site, which means you either don’t care about this match or you’re afraid I might sift through things and find holes in your game.
Jeeves: Or you could just search through other promotions Jack is in.
Blade throws her hands up in exasperation.
Beretta Blade: Dude, rude. Ignore him, Jack.
Jeeves shrugs and drives up to the “White House.” Now this gets Beretta’s attention. She dismounts and squeals.
Beretta Blade: Oh I can’t wait to see what’s inside!
Jeeves: Well, no. I’m sorry, Ms. Blade. Since this is a surprise visit of sorts, you have limited access to some of the areas. This isn’t a tour of a museum. This is actual living quarters and etcetera.
Blade’s face sours into a pretty little pout.
Beretta Blade: I bet if I wasn’t John Blade’s daughter you’d let me in.
Jeeves deflects the remark with a simple smile.
Beretta Blade: Welp, back to you, Jack.
She piles back into the golf cart and does a rally forward hand motion as if she’s really dictating to the tour guide where to go. Poor Jeeves endures this with the smile he’s paid handsomely to wear amid such antics.
Beretta Blade: As I was saying, Jack. I’m not sure why you’re being so secretive, but I kinda like it. Makes this even more challenging. Like, what am I getting in you? Are you a scrappy young rookie like me? Are you a second or third-generation talent? Are you already busting heads and winning titles in other promotions? Or are you some one trick pony like that meathead Sue Plecks, who was instrumental in my ouster from Team Pinnacle after I made her my bitch? Perhaps you’re somewhere in the middle, and are some over-rated, over-hyped shitter like that “Mary Sue” Super Tiger Risa Lemon, who was supposed to be the greatest thing since the egg white omelet until I made her my bitch also.
She leaves out the part about how she needed to cheat to win. They pull up to the Strader Training Facility (with ring) next.
Beretta Blade: Jeeves, can I at least go inside this place?
He gives the affirmative and we follow her into the venue where some folks are training. Beretta asks for some rounds, and in short order runs through the competition in the training stanzas, because Beretta needs to look strong as fuck going into her match with Jack Sullivan. Gotta sell those tickets, yo.
Beretta Blade: Let’s go, Jeeves. Let’s blow this popsicle stand. Take me to the next destination, pronto.
Again, Jeeves endures with a smile and obliges. As they travel, Jeeves perhaps has had enough of Blade and doesn’t give her the spiel about the Veronica and Outcasts Ranch as they drive by. Beretta is oblivious anyway, too busy running that mouth to the camera.
Beretta Blade: Enough guessing about you, Jackie-O. Let’s talk about me. Unlike you, I’ve put myself out there. You should know I’ve already cut my teeth in Japan, and defeated the dominant and iconic Zolothatch during my tour over there. I was the #1 Draft Pick in Zenith for Team Pinnacle until Sue ruined all that with her saltiness. Before that, I was beating up Milkmen and Shakespeare cosplay bitches in WGWF.
They emerge at the gate of the Ranch Barn and Cattle Field. Blade inexplicably discounts without alerting anyone of what she has planned. The camera follows her but Jeeves is far behind.
Beretta Blade: Something… else… you .. need to… know…
She delivers a Blackboot Blade (Yakuza Kick) to one of the cattle, knocking it over and out.
Beretta Blade: I have a mean kick.
Jeeves is no longer smiling and barks stuff into a radio, likely alerting security.
Beretta Blade: And I’m unpredictable.
She dashes back to the cart before Jeeves can close in. The camera crew barely gets in as she jams the gas and breaks the stench of smell barrier of 20 MPH. She zig zags all over the place as if being chased by the police, despite there being nobody chasing her. She tries to drift the cart in Tokyo-drift style but fails, and we wind up in the large field where the magic will happen in a few short weeks.
Beretta Blade: I think this might be the place, Jack. It’s big enough for a cage. Our rendezvous with destiny. I’m not sure why we’re being put into a burning cage where we have to light each other on fire. Or whatever. That seems like something for people with bad blood and are in a huge feud. It’s a match that should end the feud and possibly a career. Hell, maybe a life? This is most likely not the case though. It’s probably Hollywood fire that doesn’t actually hurt. Prop fire, yanno? I don’t see the logic in the boss lady having one of her peeps roasted like a marshmallow and possibly, um, die. Kinda, yanno, bad for business. Plus, I’m too cute to die. Come on, now.
She shrugs adorably. Boy howdy is she in for a rude awakening.
Beretta Blade: One more thing you need to know about me. I’m John Blade’s daughter. Because of this horrible fact, I’ve been mercilessly bullied my entire life. Kids at school would write horrible things on my belongings, my clothes, and even my face when they’d rough me up on the playground. And now? My damn dad is out there being a floor mat still. I’m only 20 years old but I’m 20 years behind. I’ve got a lot of making up to do, to clean the Blade name. That means by hook or crook, I gotta smoke you like a Philly blunt. And yes, sure, I could go across several promotions and pull up your exploits there and all that stuff, but I won’t, cause I shouldn’t have to and also because we’re fighting for the Grizzly Bear Title.
The man behind the camera tries to correct her about it being the Grizzly Beer championship, not the Grizzly Bear championship. The clueless cutie-pie with the daddy issues just keeps yapping like a dingus though.
Beretta Blade: And yanno something, I’m gonna keep within the spirit of the bear. They are nature’s slackers. They go out of their way to not do strenuous stuff. They’re in fact lazy. So, I’m gonna embody the soul of that bear championship and not go out of my way to research you. So, ha, take that!
Numerous SUVs roll up. It’s security. Beretta throws her hands up in surrender.
Beretta Blade: Ya caught me! Ya got the Blade’ster. You can take down those roadblocks now.
They don’t find her funny at all, and in quick succession toss her and the production crew off the Strader property.