Post by distortia on Mar 21, 2014 21:13:20 GMT -5
=/= Nothing ever prepares you for a hangover. Years of practice means nothing when you wake up with body and alcohol at war within the confines of one’s stomach acids and the agonizingly constant headache and accompanying dizziness as if either of those ailments were afraid to strike alone.
Amber's mind wanders as the rhythmic throbbing in the back of her head lessens, eyes closed trying to avoid the daylight invading through the crack in the bedroom curtain. Eyes flutter open, throbbing amplifies. Steady. Methodical. As if a person trapped within the confines of her skull thought it would make a cool drum beat for another generic pop track, destined to be lip-synced by under-dressed jailbait worldwide.
The idea of returning to sleep was quickly becoming more fantasy than fact, Amber briefly drags the white, generic hotel room sheet over her head as some vain form of protest before realizing how pointless the endeavor is as the creeping light shines through her makeshift shelter.
A frustrated groan acts as the final remnants of resistance as the sheet is tossed across the queen size bed, crumpling in a heap on the unoccupied side. Minutes pass as Amber searches the cracks in the plaster ceiling for an solution to this god forsaken hangover, instead she convinces herself to move- immediately regretting the decision as the throbbing grows louder, thundering through her brain like a frantic stampede, the nausea rearing its bile-like head.
Bare feet touch down on the coarse carpet, scratching exposed skin as she slowly drags herself from the comfort of the bed, pale green shorts hang loose against her legs as her white racer back singlet does little to hide the scars tracing across her upper back and shoulders like the favorite rag-doll of a careless child, sown up only to appease until its usefulness ceases. Unfocused eyes glare at the curtain, an unrelenting nemesis determined to make her hangover that much more unbearable- shuffling across, she takes a deep breath knowing full well the torture she’s about to inflict upon herself, a necessary evil among many others
Exhaling, she flings the curtains open and allows the sunlight to flood through the previously darkened room, Amber immediately recoils trying desperately to shield her sensitive eyes from the sunny assault.
Expletives tumble from her dry lips as the last thoughts of sleep are forcefully ripped from her system.
Slowly but surely the pain lessens to a degree enough to allow movement, feet dragging across the carpet as the energy to lift them appears to be absent, without much thought she reaches for the metal door knob- a static shock causes her to stumble back as more colourful language falls from her mouth.
Second time becomes the charm as Amber gets the door open without being provoked any further only to find her teenage ‘protégé’ of sorts Becky lazing on the ugly floral sofa waiting expectantly with a mischievous eye glint and wicked smile. =/=
“You look like hell”
“… Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“Nope”
=/= Becky shakes her head, her raven locks swaying. =/=
“You’ll never learn”
“Don’t intend to”
“I don’t see the point in it”
“Don’t need to, I did what I wanted to”
“I don’t consider your current state to be an achievement”
“If I didn’t feel so shit, I’d smack that silly little smile off your dial”
“Of course”
=/= Amber opens her mouth to speak but finds herself interrupted by a rather demanding knock on the door- she looks to Becky, who shrugs before turning back towards the door. Without much thought Amber calls out, not bothering to move any closer. =/=
“I’m not buying anything”
“Not even what I’m offering?”
=/= The familiar voice brings about a groan as Amber trudges to the door, Becky watching- her smirk now a cross between disgust and annoyance. Amber opens the door, totally unimpressed to find her tag team partner standing around with a stupid sneer on his face upon noticing the state Amber is in. =/=
“You look like hell”
“That's what I was going for”
=/= Danny doesn’t bother waiting for an invitation, strolling in as if he owns the place. Becky stares daggers through Danny, face screwed up and practically straining as if he might just drop dead if she stares hard enough, however- much to her disappointment he doesn’t appear to notice. =/=
“I thought you had higher standards”
=/= Danny looks about the room with a mildly offended look, not approving of Amber’s choice of economy accommodation. =/=
“I didn’t realize I needed gold plated sheets and a butler to wipe my ass”
“Cheapskate”
“Narcissist”
“… Cunt”
=/= Becky pipes up, still Danny pays her no heed. Amber shoots her a scathing look as it appears Danny is preoccupied with scrutinizing. =/=
“You alright?”
“You mean aside from the fact I’m dying?”
=/= Danny goes to speak as if to change the question but instead gives Amber a cheesy smile. =/=
“You’ve got to agree it was a good night…”
“Agreeing with you makes me feel more nauseous than I already do”
****************************** 8 hours earlier ***********************
=/= So easily, one can lose track of time in the Hard Rock Casino in Florida, day can turn to night and one would never know- instead surrounded by bright lights and high stakes.
Chatter fills the air pierced by squeals of delight and groans of agony, the latter more so than the former in this case as eyes remain glued to spinning wheels and neon glare, ears assaulted by the constant ringing, arms worn beyond good with repetitive motion.
Amid the crowds dressed to impress and the inebriated beyond caring wanders a familiar face- blonde locks pulled back into a low pony tail and clad in black as if mourning the loss of dollars and common sense, Danny B wanders across alcohol stained carpets as his eyes scan for another familiar face.
Among the sea of green felt and smartly dressed employees mercilessly taking money thrown at them by masses, masses that normally would know better and yet are consumed by their own greed and vanity, a crimson mane pulled up into a messy updo catches his attention- the female croupier is dressed in a slightly large uniform that seems to hang off her frame, hands busy shuffling a pack of ornately decorated cards as a shiny name badge glints in the flashing lights as the table stands empty, a stark contrast to the ones surrounding it.
Danny approaches, the croupiers’ attention not wavering from the cards gliding between her hands. A smile creeps across his face as his suspicions are confirmed, casually taking a seat at the table directly across from the croupier- his eyes travel down to the name badge on her chest, lingering a few moments more than necessary. =/=
“Eyes up here”
=/= She senses his gaze without looking up, the strangely familiar voice of the croupier forces Danny’s eyes back to her face. =/=
“What are you doing?”
“Fighting your mom, what does it look like”
“Very bloody funny… Matt? I always suspected you were a man, Amber”
=/= Amber stops shuffling for a moment, laying the deck face down onto the soft green felt. =/=
“We have always known that I’ve got a bigger pair than you so I don’t see why your suddenly surprised.”
=/= Danny gives her a shocked sarcastically offended look, dismissing the insult as if it never happened. =/=
“Seriously, where did you get the uniform…”
“It’s really quite amazing how far a flutter of eyes and $200 gets you”
=/= Danny shakes his head with a smirk in disbelief. Without waiting for a response Amber picks up the cards to give them another quick shuffle before removing the top card and laying it face down on the table. =/=
“I’ve always had an affinity for card games… You could have the best strategy but if the numbers don’t fall right…”
“… You’re up shit creek without a paddle”
=/= Danny cuts in to finish her sentence, Amber sits stunned for a moment before continuing. =/=
“That’s certainly one way to put it. Would you kindly turn over the card for me?”
=/= Danny obliges, leaving the 5 of clubs face up on the table. =/=
“Five, five times the Danger Boiz have been tag team champions. Their bond runs through their veins and the supposed longest reigning CWF tag team champions.
Yet they still don’t remember who I am…
As five time champions it means they have lost those titles five times, five times their bond as brothers meant nothing as they failed to defend their titles.
Not their favourite viewpoint I’m sure.
A connection that should trump all others and yet they continue to fall to teams bound only by greed and a superiority complex- I suppose we can ask the question why?
I have a theory- a theory that their special connection has been tainted by materialism, they continue to team not because they are brothers but because they know that their brother in arms won’t judge them for their growing conceit.
The desire to compete and share glory as brothers has become a lie, propaganda spouted in desperation.
Oh, but they are the longest reigning CWF Tag Team Champion… Forgive me for not being impressed but this was at a time when the biggest name in the company was my beloved tag team partner.
What a bitch of a perspective…
By the time they strolled into the company, anyone who was half of a name had jumped off the sinking ship. Only the rats and scourge remained, taking up the scraps left behind by those who could see where the downward spiral was leading.
Who did they beat exactly on that record setting run- Blue Scorpion? The washed up old has been frantic for someone to remember his name… Ataxia? A guy wearing a gimp mask who could barely make his way to the ring without trying to fuck an inanimate object… Danny B? Well that one is self-explanatory...”
“Fuck you too”
“I’m feeling the love…
Do you think I should remind them of who I am? Maybe I should be insulted that they don’t but honestly I just don’t care…
My point is- the only reason they held those titles was because the only talent they had to face was literally scraped off the bottom of the barrel.
If that’s what they base their reputation on, well their reputation is more worthless than I first thought.”
=/= Amber slides the next card off the deck- the surrounding noisy disorder overshadowing their lonely table. Gently, she places the next card face up beside the 5 of clubs. This time the face shows the 2 of hearts. =/=
“Two of hearts. Seems appropriate does it not? Two hearts beating as one under the guise of matrimony.
I do wonder though if the ‘Power Couple’ actually researched what the term means before proclaiming themselves so- perhaps if they did they would have realized how ridiculous it is when it refers to them.
A power couple is deemed as individuals with significant influence when paired in a romantic fashion… When the hell has that ever applied to them? Did I happen to blink and miss the moment of brilliance that earned them the designation?
Besides being woefully underwhelming, they have done little in the way of actually making any kind of power play. Especially considering the fact that everyone seems to want to get in on being a financier and having a special trinket named after their preferred region…
Yet the ‘Power Couple’ simply strolls on by, lost in their romantic delusions of grandeur and world domination
Here’s my titbit of advice to them- keep that fairy tale romance alive cause that’s the only one that’ll ever come true.”
“Nothing wrong with a good fairy tale”
“Says the 16 thousand time world champ of a company no one cares about besides you.”
“… And here I was thinking we were getting along so well”
=/= Danny rises from the table expressing his own form of mock hurt, leaving Amber with the deck in order to find the closest bar. Amber just shrugs nonchalantly before returning to her thoughts and turning over the next card- 8 of clubs. =/=
"Eight matches. 4 wins between two men… The first of two half measure teams. Between “Mr Whitebread” Drew Stevenson and “Mr Most Clichéd Nickname In Professional Wrestling” Damien Payne we have a team that could barely fight their way out of a wet paper bag before punching each other in the gob.
People think myself and Danny are volatile? At least we know when the time to fight each other is versus when to be fighting the vultures circling for gold.
I’ll be surprised if they make it to the ring without a black eye or bloody lip.
Bad blood? More like macho pride- neither man willing to take a loss lying down, instead of taking it upon themselves to improve they simply blame the other… Everyone is going to let them keep passing the buck back and forth, maybe if we’re all lucky they’ll just eliminate each other and save the rest of us the effort.
Instead of wrestling- they should get into reality trash tv, everyone loves watching grown men bitch about each other for petty things before threatening to deck the other, only to end in some terribly anti-climactic stand-off, just because neither has what it takes to throw the first punch.”
=/= Danny finally returns as Ambers thoughts tumble from her mouth, holding a short glass in each hand, amber fluid mingling with a couple cubes of ice that clink against the glass. =/=
“Alcoholic”
=/= Danny replies by trying to hand her one of the glasses, she eyes it warily as Danny raises his eyebrow. =/=
“Why would I tamper with good stuff?”
=/= Amber takes the glass cautiously, still on her guard at the sign of civility from her long-time rival. She holds the glass firmly as Danny drinks from his, still watching even as the fluid drains into his mouth- he gives her a look as if to declare his honest intentions while insisting she should drink.
Giving in, Amber shrewdly raises the glass to her lips and allows a small amount of the fluid to seep into her mouth before putting the glass down on the edge of the table. =/=
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
=/= Amber ignores him, instead turning over her next card on the deck revealing an ace of spades. =/=
“An ace can be played high or low, unpredictable yet generic in its play.
High side we have Jason X… Oh how I wish he were simply a bad parody of the movie, instead it’s much more banal, the same tired shtick about respect that comes with every new bright face looking to make an impression.
On the low side? Craig Adams, just like the high side but at least his counterpart has managed to do more than just show up so far.
Jason wants to talk about respect and yet he’s only won a single match against a guy who we aren’t even sure can tie his own laces. Why would I respect someone just because they claim to respect me…Perhaps when he earns it, things may become a different story. Simple as that, maybe then he’ll get further than being another fresh faced little broken record.
As for Adams- until he actually shows up in that ring, I’m not even going to be sure that he’s any more than a crappy hallucination.”
=/= Amber takes up the short glass, draining the rest of her drink before setting it down again. Danny reaches for the glass, perhaps in attempt to refill it but Amber gives him a stinger on the back of his hand. =/=
“… The hell!?”
“Sit your ass down. Next time you may not be so lucky as to keep your hand.”
=/= Danny reluctantly sits down, making a protest of having to wait by swirling the remaining ice in his glass, making sure to pay no heed to his partner. Amber in the meantime deals the next card in the sequence- 10 of diamonds. =/=
“Ten of diamonds, diamonds are forever. Significant of wealth, influence and class- the last of which does not apply to the last of our half measure teams.
Ten matches and between two men who claim to be immortalized in multiple halls of fames, they’ve only managed to win half of those matches between them. You would think that with the amount of god awful trash these two men speak that their records would be a little more impressive than mediocre…
Needless to say I’m actually flattered that TGO would consider me the biggest threat to his supposed guaranteed win with his newest pet Noah and the bitch that seems attracted to his scent.
I wonder if they have puppies, will TGO keep them or sell them to China as food stuffs… Food for thought indeed.
Although despite being this threat TGO claims he will deal with me ‘accordingly’, I guess that means he’ll give me a stern talking to just so he can use all the big words he usually can’t cause it’s never the right context, until my brain turns to mush and I literally keel over out of boredom.
I think I’d find it more productive to simply sit in a corner and punch myself in the face for half an hour than listen to TGO talk the amount of bullshit he does…
As for Noah? Despite his messiah complex- I think God stopped listening to him when he decided that ‘douchebag’ was an excellent look for himself.
Best thing he can do is keep sniffing TGO’s ass because it’s much less offensive on the nose than what spews from between his lips.”
=/= Danny waits until Amber is distracted, taking the next card from the deck before he quickly reaches over and steals the glass. Amber gives him a glare as he disappears within the crowds again. A quick smile follows the reveal of the next card- Jack of Clubs. =/=
“What can I say about my beloved tag team partner- aside from the fact he’s a total egomaniacal, narcissistic, delusional jackass.
However despite all his flaws, he makes a damn good tag team partner.
People question why we choose to work as a team despite our strong dislike- fact is, that vitriol we harbour for each other brings out the best. Determined to outshine the other in every way possible, we can set our differences aside, albeit briefly, to achieve something greater or at least to make sure that others can’t.
“The Ripper” Danny B may be a manipulative, self-centred bastard but at least he’s honest about it. There is no question as to who will be standing beside me in that ring, I don’t need to wonder whether he’s going to stab me in the spine then twist the knife for good measure because I know what his priorities are.
Why is he the ‘Jack’? Quite simply because he will always be one step behind…”
=/= Amber trails off as she turns the next card over, pre-empting what will be revealed as the Queen of Spades. =/=
“Seemed obvious didn’t it. Despite all the ‘Jack’ does- he will always play second fiddle to the Queen. Just like Danny will always fall short of me…
It’s not that I’m being cocky, it’s all in the numbers and whether he will admit it or not- Danny has never beaten me in a one on one match.
Until the day comes that he proves himself worthy, he will always be outranked by yours truly.
Although there are already a lot of ‘queens’ in this company- queen of epicness, whatever epicness is supposed to be. Some say Brianna is the uncrowned queen of OCW, her little buddy Alice- the queen of the hobos…
I’m sure the list goes on…
I don’t need to make a declaration that I’m good at what I do, I don’t need a fancy nickname or league of minions to fight my battles for me.
Call me all the names you want, it’s like water of a ducks back- whatever takes the fancy but after Black Out, the OCW locker room will have no choice but to call me tag team champion.”
=/= Danny returns, two more glasses in hand. Handing one off to Amber he quickly scans the cards, working out what he’s missed. =/=
“Did I miss anything?”
“Just dragging your good name through the dirt some more”
“I wouldn't expect anything less of you, my dear”
=/= Amber smiles, taking a card off the top of the deck and then one off the bottom- placing them side by side above the rest before turning them over. King Of Diamonds and a Joker. =/=
“Only one team can be crowned king while the rest simply go back to whatever it is they usually do… There is no other option, no other way the numbers can play out.
While the wild card king rises, the rest remain but numbers…”
=/= Danny raises his glass for a toast, giving off a certain mock regal air. Amber raises her glass in a similar manner, only without the regal nonsense. =/=
“To the wild cards in a pack of jokers!”
“You know what? I think I can drink to that”
=/= The two gently touch glasses before downing their drinks in a single hit, the casino possibly for the first time fades to black. =/=
Amber's mind wanders as the rhythmic throbbing in the back of her head lessens, eyes closed trying to avoid the daylight invading through the crack in the bedroom curtain. Eyes flutter open, throbbing amplifies. Steady. Methodical. As if a person trapped within the confines of her skull thought it would make a cool drum beat for another generic pop track, destined to be lip-synced by under-dressed jailbait worldwide.
The idea of returning to sleep was quickly becoming more fantasy than fact, Amber briefly drags the white, generic hotel room sheet over her head as some vain form of protest before realizing how pointless the endeavor is as the creeping light shines through her makeshift shelter.
A frustrated groan acts as the final remnants of resistance as the sheet is tossed across the queen size bed, crumpling in a heap on the unoccupied side. Minutes pass as Amber searches the cracks in the plaster ceiling for an solution to this god forsaken hangover, instead she convinces herself to move- immediately regretting the decision as the throbbing grows louder, thundering through her brain like a frantic stampede, the nausea rearing its bile-like head.
Bare feet touch down on the coarse carpet, scratching exposed skin as she slowly drags herself from the comfort of the bed, pale green shorts hang loose against her legs as her white racer back singlet does little to hide the scars tracing across her upper back and shoulders like the favorite rag-doll of a careless child, sown up only to appease until its usefulness ceases. Unfocused eyes glare at the curtain, an unrelenting nemesis determined to make her hangover that much more unbearable- shuffling across, she takes a deep breath knowing full well the torture she’s about to inflict upon herself, a necessary evil among many others
Exhaling, she flings the curtains open and allows the sunlight to flood through the previously darkened room, Amber immediately recoils trying desperately to shield her sensitive eyes from the sunny assault.
Expletives tumble from her dry lips as the last thoughts of sleep are forcefully ripped from her system.
Slowly but surely the pain lessens to a degree enough to allow movement, feet dragging across the carpet as the energy to lift them appears to be absent, without much thought she reaches for the metal door knob- a static shock causes her to stumble back as more colourful language falls from her mouth.
Second time becomes the charm as Amber gets the door open without being provoked any further only to find her teenage ‘protégé’ of sorts Becky lazing on the ugly floral sofa waiting expectantly with a mischievous eye glint and wicked smile. =/=
“You look like hell”
“… Don’t you have somewhere else to be?”
“Nope”
=/= Becky shakes her head, her raven locks swaying. =/=
“You’ll never learn”
“Don’t intend to”
“I don’t see the point in it”
“Don’t need to, I did what I wanted to”
“I don’t consider your current state to be an achievement”
“If I didn’t feel so shit, I’d smack that silly little smile off your dial”
“Of course”
=/= Amber opens her mouth to speak but finds herself interrupted by a rather demanding knock on the door- she looks to Becky, who shrugs before turning back towards the door. Without much thought Amber calls out, not bothering to move any closer. =/=
“I’m not buying anything”
“Not even what I’m offering?”
=/= The familiar voice brings about a groan as Amber trudges to the door, Becky watching- her smirk now a cross between disgust and annoyance. Amber opens the door, totally unimpressed to find her tag team partner standing around with a stupid sneer on his face upon noticing the state Amber is in. =/=
“You look like hell”
“That's what I was going for”
=/= Danny doesn’t bother waiting for an invitation, strolling in as if he owns the place. Becky stares daggers through Danny, face screwed up and practically straining as if he might just drop dead if she stares hard enough, however- much to her disappointment he doesn’t appear to notice. =/=
“I thought you had higher standards”
=/= Danny looks about the room with a mildly offended look, not approving of Amber’s choice of economy accommodation. =/=
“I didn’t realize I needed gold plated sheets and a butler to wipe my ass”
“Cheapskate”
“Narcissist”
“… Cunt”
=/= Becky pipes up, still Danny pays her no heed. Amber shoots her a scathing look as it appears Danny is preoccupied with scrutinizing. =/=
“You alright?”
“You mean aside from the fact I’m dying?”
=/= Danny goes to speak as if to change the question but instead gives Amber a cheesy smile. =/=
“You’ve got to agree it was a good night…”
“Agreeing with you makes me feel more nauseous than I already do”
****************************** 8 hours earlier ***********************
=/= So easily, one can lose track of time in the Hard Rock Casino in Florida, day can turn to night and one would never know- instead surrounded by bright lights and high stakes.
Chatter fills the air pierced by squeals of delight and groans of agony, the latter more so than the former in this case as eyes remain glued to spinning wheels and neon glare, ears assaulted by the constant ringing, arms worn beyond good with repetitive motion.
Amid the crowds dressed to impress and the inebriated beyond caring wanders a familiar face- blonde locks pulled back into a low pony tail and clad in black as if mourning the loss of dollars and common sense, Danny B wanders across alcohol stained carpets as his eyes scan for another familiar face.
Among the sea of green felt and smartly dressed employees mercilessly taking money thrown at them by masses, masses that normally would know better and yet are consumed by their own greed and vanity, a crimson mane pulled up into a messy updo catches his attention- the female croupier is dressed in a slightly large uniform that seems to hang off her frame, hands busy shuffling a pack of ornately decorated cards as a shiny name badge glints in the flashing lights as the table stands empty, a stark contrast to the ones surrounding it.
Danny approaches, the croupiers’ attention not wavering from the cards gliding between her hands. A smile creeps across his face as his suspicions are confirmed, casually taking a seat at the table directly across from the croupier- his eyes travel down to the name badge on her chest, lingering a few moments more than necessary. =/=
“Eyes up here”
=/= She senses his gaze without looking up, the strangely familiar voice of the croupier forces Danny’s eyes back to her face. =/=
“What are you doing?”
“Fighting your mom, what does it look like”
“Very bloody funny… Matt? I always suspected you were a man, Amber”
=/= Amber stops shuffling for a moment, laying the deck face down onto the soft green felt. =/=
“We have always known that I’ve got a bigger pair than you so I don’t see why your suddenly surprised.”
=/= Danny gives her a shocked sarcastically offended look, dismissing the insult as if it never happened. =/=
“Seriously, where did you get the uniform…”
“It’s really quite amazing how far a flutter of eyes and $200 gets you”
=/= Danny shakes his head with a smirk in disbelief. Without waiting for a response Amber picks up the cards to give them another quick shuffle before removing the top card and laying it face down on the table. =/=
“I’ve always had an affinity for card games… You could have the best strategy but if the numbers don’t fall right…”
“… You’re up shit creek without a paddle”
=/= Danny cuts in to finish her sentence, Amber sits stunned for a moment before continuing. =/=
“That’s certainly one way to put it. Would you kindly turn over the card for me?”
=/= Danny obliges, leaving the 5 of clubs face up on the table. =/=
“Five, five times the Danger Boiz have been tag team champions. Their bond runs through their veins and the supposed longest reigning CWF tag team champions.
Yet they still don’t remember who I am…
As five time champions it means they have lost those titles five times, five times their bond as brothers meant nothing as they failed to defend their titles.
Not their favourite viewpoint I’m sure.
A connection that should trump all others and yet they continue to fall to teams bound only by greed and a superiority complex- I suppose we can ask the question why?
I have a theory- a theory that their special connection has been tainted by materialism, they continue to team not because they are brothers but because they know that their brother in arms won’t judge them for their growing conceit.
The desire to compete and share glory as brothers has become a lie, propaganda spouted in desperation.
Oh, but they are the longest reigning CWF Tag Team Champion… Forgive me for not being impressed but this was at a time when the biggest name in the company was my beloved tag team partner.
What a bitch of a perspective…
By the time they strolled into the company, anyone who was half of a name had jumped off the sinking ship. Only the rats and scourge remained, taking up the scraps left behind by those who could see where the downward spiral was leading.
Who did they beat exactly on that record setting run- Blue Scorpion? The washed up old has been frantic for someone to remember his name… Ataxia? A guy wearing a gimp mask who could barely make his way to the ring without trying to fuck an inanimate object… Danny B? Well that one is self-explanatory...”
“Fuck you too”
“I’m feeling the love…
Do you think I should remind them of who I am? Maybe I should be insulted that they don’t but honestly I just don’t care…
My point is- the only reason they held those titles was because the only talent they had to face was literally scraped off the bottom of the barrel.
If that’s what they base their reputation on, well their reputation is more worthless than I first thought.”
=/= Amber slides the next card off the deck- the surrounding noisy disorder overshadowing their lonely table. Gently, she places the next card face up beside the 5 of clubs. This time the face shows the 2 of hearts. =/=
“Two of hearts. Seems appropriate does it not? Two hearts beating as one under the guise of matrimony.
I do wonder though if the ‘Power Couple’ actually researched what the term means before proclaiming themselves so- perhaps if they did they would have realized how ridiculous it is when it refers to them.
A power couple is deemed as individuals with significant influence when paired in a romantic fashion… When the hell has that ever applied to them? Did I happen to blink and miss the moment of brilliance that earned them the designation?
Besides being woefully underwhelming, they have done little in the way of actually making any kind of power play. Especially considering the fact that everyone seems to want to get in on being a financier and having a special trinket named after their preferred region…
Yet the ‘Power Couple’ simply strolls on by, lost in their romantic delusions of grandeur and world domination
Here’s my titbit of advice to them- keep that fairy tale romance alive cause that’s the only one that’ll ever come true.”
“Nothing wrong with a good fairy tale”
“Says the 16 thousand time world champ of a company no one cares about besides you.”
“… And here I was thinking we were getting along so well”
=/= Danny rises from the table expressing his own form of mock hurt, leaving Amber with the deck in order to find the closest bar. Amber just shrugs nonchalantly before returning to her thoughts and turning over the next card- 8 of clubs. =/=
"Eight matches. 4 wins between two men… The first of two half measure teams. Between “Mr Whitebread” Drew Stevenson and “Mr Most Clichéd Nickname In Professional Wrestling” Damien Payne we have a team that could barely fight their way out of a wet paper bag before punching each other in the gob.
People think myself and Danny are volatile? At least we know when the time to fight each other is versus when to be fighting the vultures circling for gold.
I’ll be surprised if they make it to the ring without a black eye or bloody lip.
Bad blood? More like macho pride- neither man willing to take a loss lying down, instead of taking it upon themselves to improve they simply blame the other… Everyone is going to let them keep passing the buck back and forth, maybe if we’re all lucky they’ll just eliminate each other and save the rest of us the effort.
Instead of wrestling- they should get into reality trash tv, everyone loves watching grown men bitch about each other for petty things before threatening to deck the other, only to end in some terribly anti-climactic stand-off, just because neither has what it takes to throw the first punch.”
=/= Danny finally returns as Ambers thoughts tumble from her mouth, holding a short glass in each hand, amber fluid mingling with a couple cubes of ice that clink against the glass. =/=
“Alcoholic”
=/= Danny replies by trying to hand her one of the glasses, she eyes it warily as Danny raises his eyebrow. =/=
“Why would I tamper with good stuff?”
=/= Amber takes the glass cautiously, still on her guard at the sign of civility from her long-time rival. She holds the glass firmly as Danny drinks from his, still watching even as the fluid drains into his mouth- he gives her a look as if to declare his honest intentions while insisting she should drink.
Giving in, Amber shrewdly raises the glass to her lips and allows a small amount of the fluid to seep into her mouth before putting the glass down on the edge of the table. =/=
“That wasn’t so bad, was it?”
=/= Amber ignores him, instead turning over her next card on the deck revealing an ace of spades. =/=
“An ace can be played high or low, unpredictable yet generic in its play.
High side we have Jason X… Oh how I wish he were simply a bad parody of the movie, instead it’s much more banal, the same tired shtick about respect that comes with every new bright face looking to make an impression.
On the low side? Craig Adams, just like the high side but at least his counterpart has managed to do more than just show up so far.
Jason wants to talk about respect and yet he’s only won a single match against a guy who we aren’t even sure can tie his own laces. Why would I respect someone just because they claim to respect me…Perhaps when he earns it, things may become a different story. Simple as that, maybe then he’ll get further than being another fresh faced little broken record.
As for Adams- until he actually shows up in that ring, I’m not even going to be sure that he’s any more than a crappy hallucination.”
=/= Amber takes up the short glass, draining the rest of her drink before setting it down again. Danny reaches for the glass, perhaps in attempt to refill it but Amber gives him a stinger on the back of his hand. =/=
“… The hell!?”
“Sit your ass down. Next time you may not be so lucky as to keep your hand.”
=/= Danny reluctantly sits down, making a protest of having to wait by swirling the remaining ice in his glass, making sure to pay no heed to his partner. Amber in the meantime deals the next card in the sequence- 10 of diamonds. =/=
“Ten of diamonds, diamonds are forever. Significant of wealth, influence and class- the last of which does not apply to the last of our half measure teams.
Ten matches and between two men who claim to be immortalized in multiple halls of fames, they’ve only managed to win half of those matches between them. You would think that with the amount of god awful trash these two men speak that their records would be a little more impressive than mediocre…
Needless to say I’m actually flattered that TGO would consider me the biggest threat to his supposed guaranteed win with his newest pet Noah and the bitch that seems attracted to his scent.
I wonder if they have puppies, will TGO keep them or sell them to China as food stuffs… Food for thought indeed.
Although despite being this threat TGO claims he will deal with me ‘accordingly’, I guess that means he’ll give me a stern talking to just so he can use all the big words he usually can’t cause it’s never the right context, until my brain turns to mush and I literally keel over out of boredom.
I think I’d find it more productive to simply sit in a corner and punch myself in the face for half an hour than listen to TGO talk the amount of bullshit he does…
As for Noah? Despite his messiah complex- I think God stopped listening to him when he decided that ‘douchebag’ was an excellent look for himself.
Best thing he can do is keep sniffing TGO’s ass because it’s much less offensive on the nose than what spews from between his lips.”
=/= Danny waits until Amber is distracted, taking the next card from the deck before he quickly reaches over and steals the glass. Amber gives him a glare as he disappears within the crowds again. A quick smile follows the reveal of the next card- Jack of Clubs. =/=
“What can I say about my beloved tag team partner- aside from the fact he’s a total egomaniacal, narcissistic, delusional jackass.
However despite all his flaws, he makes a damn good tag team partner.
People question why we choose to work as a team despite our strong dislike- fact is, that vitriol we harbour for each other brings out the best. Determined to outshine the other in every way possible, we can set our differences aside, albeit briefly, to achieve something greater or at least to make sure that others can’t.
“The Ripper” Danny B may be a manipulative, self-centred bastard but at least he’s honest about it. There is no question as to who will be standing beside me in that ring, I don’t need to wonder whether he’s going to stab me in the spine then twist the knife for good measure because I know what his priorities are.
Why is he the ‘Jack’? Quite simply because he will always be one step behind…”
=/= Amber trails off as she turns the next card over, pre-empting what will be revealed as the Queen of Spades. =/=
“Seemed obvious didn’t it. Despite all the ‘Jack’ does- he will always play second fiddle to the Queen. Just like Danny will always fall short of me…
It’s not that I’m being cocky, it’s all in the numbers and whether he will admit it or not- Danny has never beaten me in a one on one match.
Until the day comes that he proves himself worthy, he will always be outranked by yours truly.
Although there are already a lot of ‘queens’ in this company- queen of epicness, whatever epicness is supposed to be. Some say Brianna is the uncrowned queen of OCW, her little buddy Alice- the queen of the hobos…
I’m sure the list goes on…
I don’t need to make a declaration that I’m good at what I do, I don’t need a fancy nickname or league of minions to fight my battles for me.
Call me all the names you want, it’s like water of a ducks back- whatever takes the fancy but after Black Out, the OCW locker room will have no choice but to call me tag team champion.”
=/= Danny returns, two more glasses in hand. Handing one off to Amber he quickly scans the cards, working out what he’s missed. =/=
“Did I miss anything?”
“Just dragging your good name through the dirt some more”
“I wouldn't expect anything less of you, my dear”
=/= Amber smiles, taking a card off the top of the deck and then one off the bottom- placing them side by side above the rest before turning them over. King Of Diamonds and a Joker. =/=
“Only one team can be crowned king while the rest simply go back to whatever it is they usually do… There is no other option, no other way the numbers can play out.
While the wild card king rises, the rest remain but numbers…”
=/= Danny raises his glass for a toast, giving off a certain mock regal air. Amber raises her glass in a similar manner, only without the regal nonsense. =/=
“To the wild cards in a pack of jokers!”
“You know what? I think I can drink to that”
=/= The two gently touch glasses before downing their drinks in a single hit, the casino possibly for the first time fades to black. =/=
