Volume 2: Miss Understood
Jan 26, 2017 11:25:54 GMT -6
Spencer Adams, Bonnie Blue, and 1 more like this
Post by Malice on Jan 26, 2017 11:25:54 GMT -6
Things don’t always go as planned. For Cordelia Malice she never thought that while smuggling drugs up her vagina as a young lass growing up in the mean streets of Cleveland, Ohio, that she would end up in a professional wrestling organization doing undercover work for the CIA (or at least she thought it was the CIA.) But life has a funny way of turning your world upside down.
As long as she could remember the world always seemed to be backwards. People preach that if you do the right thing that good things will happen to you. But the more she followed the rules the harder life got. It was so easy to make a cool hundred grand sneaking ammunition over the border that it seemed fruitless to work at McDonalds for even fifteen dollars an hour and take about 10 years to make what you could make in a weekend trafficking illegal substances or goods.
But as she helped her 8 year old niece with some common core math she had to live the hypocrisy that their mother had instilled in them along with her sister, Becky as they struggled to google how to fucking “Interpret products of whole numbers…” or “Use the repeated addition principle to do 5x3.”
Cordelia: This is a load of cr…
Becky: Cordy…
Cordelia: Remember when we were kids and we just used our fingers and toes.
Becky: The Chinese do it this way and they’re brilliant at math. It makes more sense than we think.
Cordelia: Yea…
January 2013
Malice: Do I really have to wear this, it’s so uncomfortable.
Mack: Feel free to take it off any time, baby.
Cordelia shrugged at her navy blue pant suit as she crouch hidden in a crate labeled 有价值的商品 that was being shipped to god-knows-where. They were placed as a Trojan Horse to infiltrate the Triads and to simply get video recording of their intentions. Nothing more. However, neither Mack nor Malice knew a word of Chinese. So they had to sit in that crate with this recording device implanted in her ear and hope that she heard something meaningful.
Malice: Patience is a virtue.
She reminded herself as the track seemed to become more beaten and the crate rocked on its edges. She feared that it was going to break open and she and Mack would have nowhere to go and when the Triads opened the back of the truck they had commandeered that they would find 2 under-armed and under reinforced people waiting there. Then she remembered the final thing the dude in charge said as they placed the lid on the crate.
Dude in Charge: If you get caught, the entire mission will be disavowed and we will claim no alliance or knowledge of your existence.
Comforting.
So the lid came down and they’ve been shrouded in darkness ever since. Knowing that one slip could be the end of them, or even worse, if the Triads simply didn’t speak about what they needed them to speak about it could be their last mission as well. So as the truck stopped and the backup siren blazed, echoing throughout the relatively empty container, their heartbeats quickened, their breaths shallowed and they became deathly silent.
And they listened.
The Chinese henchmen spoke as they unloaded the crates. They didn’t recognize any of the voices they were trained on. As stereotypical as it sounded, they all sounded the same to her. She felt ignorant and out of touch. She felt in way over her head and as the crate began to move she felt like she was going to vomit. Apparently the Chinese writing on the outside didn’t read ‘Fragile’ because they were being rocked around like a pinball.
They were unloaded and the talking continued for another half an hour or so before it became silent on the outside. She was thankful that no one had decided to open the crate and after 10 minutes of silence they decided to make their break. There was no way to get out silently. They had to break out and hope that no one was close enough to hear. She mouthed the words,
Malice: One…two…three!
And she and Mack kicked up simultaneously and popped the lid off the crate and quickly dove out and looked around at the empty warehouse. Then it clicked. She turned on her GPS and found out where she was. No fucking where near where she thought she was going to be. But a simple flick of the wrist once she got onto the streets and within moments a car would be in her vicinity.
She hoped.
She put a finger to her lips for Mack to stay silent and he peered over and saw 2 guards standing at the exit. She pointed at Mack and pointed at the centuries. They were focused and keeping stark watch of the door and the surrounding areas. Fortunately, they weren’t watching behind them where they stood. They weren’t expecting people to come from the inside.
Trojan Horse.
She looked at her partner and began to silently mouth the plan when Mack pulled out a piano wire, stretched it out and leapt behind one of the guards and wrapped it around his neck. He pulled tight piercing skin and beginning to pull through the trachea. The gunman fired an errant shot and alerted the rest of the guards in the facility, another 6 in total.
Malice: Fuccin’ guinea bastard.
She mumbled to herself as she took two expert shots at oncoming assailant and a third one sent another one diving for cover then retaliating with shots of his own. Mack finished the job and dive behind the crate where Cordelia was and breathed heavy from the excitement.
Mack: How many are left?
Malice: What the fuck were you thinking, these are the fucking Triads not the Corleone family, you retard. These guys are organized and deadly.
Mack: Alright with the fuccin’ lecture, mom. How many are left?
Malice: 4.
She pointed in the direction of the one crouched behind a large metal storage container where she had taken out two already and then pointed in the opposite direction where there were three spread along the way and creeping their way forwards.
Mack: What’s the plan?
The stupid fuck attacked on his own volition and now was retreating back to her lead. She explained the plan and he listened. These plans always went astray so it was important to think on your feet in situations like this. She explained to him what their agenda was going to be and a tried and true Triad attack plan so he could counteract it.
Malice: NOW!
She whisper yelled.
She pointed and gave the go ahead sign and with two swift shots two more men were down and it was finally and even playing field. This was the most dangerous situation, it’s easy to feel complacent after dismissing 75% of the playing field, but the remaining 25 were the most deadly, and this tended to lead to hand-to-hand combat. She was confident in her skills, but not so much Mack’s. He was a strong guy, a good fighter, but the Triads were a different beast.
She knew the fight was upon her and she tore off her pant suit top and bottom revealing the white a shirt underneath and the spandex shorts covering her full sleeved inked up legs. If she was going to di she wasn’t going to look like a fucking narc doing it. Mack couldn’t help but stare, and she would be lying if she said she didn’t like it a little bit. She smacked him in the face and pointed at his guy. He snapped right back into focus as he realized the fight was coming to him.
His fight was quick. He had broken off a piece of the crate and drove it into the stomach of the man coming at him like a stake through the heart sending him down convulsing blood. Malice had a bit more of a fight on her hands, but was fortunate enough to have a second set of hands to knock him out with another block of wood.
Malice: Thanks.
Mack: I’m always there to help a damsel in distr…
Malice dove on top of Mack sending him down hard to the ground as a bullet flew past where they both were standing, followed by a couple of errant clicks as the man he stabbed lay on the ground on his stomach pointing an empty pistol in their direction.
Malice: Rule one, Mack… no survivors.
She kicked the gun out of the man’s hand before stomping on his head into the concrete with her boot.
Cordelia: Yes… the Chinese are great at math.
She stopped helping for the moment and allowed Becky and Ronnie to finish the 2nd grade homework that had two adult women stumped. She kept all of these memories with her. They made her stronger. She remembered that moment because it was the first time she had to rely on another person in a fight. She understood the importance of a team, and the importance of working as a cohesive unit. She thought about this because she had received her next mission dossier.
She sat in her room with the door locked knowing that once again she was going to have to fight for her life with a person she didn’t know. This time a woman and she knew more than anyone how difficult it could be to fight alongside another stubborn and strong woman, being one herself. The text Message she received from an unknown number confirmed her hesitancy.
So later that week she went to the 5-star restaurant that Gwen Gates insisted on meeting her at. Cordelia was never comfortable in joints like this, she preferred to eat alone on her couch watching Netflix, or possibly off the body of a young Hispanic boy she had decided to bed and discard. But she knew how to fake it to make it in these types of places.
She wore a long black gown with a white top and long sleeves, to hide her ink. She put her hair up in a bun and walked proudly and upright to her table, sat down, allowed the Maître’ d to assist her in sitting down as Gwen shooed away the waiter offering them the restaurants finest wine.
Her bright red hair was out of place in the swanky black tie affair, but her dress was cut perfectly short, and swooped perfectly between her breasts so the bus boy had to struggle to see anything worthwhile, and would ultimately become embarrassed once his gaze met the devil red eyes staring back at him. She smiled as she manipulated the young man with nothing but a stare as she sipped her Perrier.
Gwen: I hope this place is satisfactory.
She said with disgust in her voice.
Malice: Actually…
========================>
Gwen: You’re right, this is much better.
They found themselves in a McDonalds off of the highway, still wearing their evening ware they elicited stares from everyone, man and woman alike as they quickly entered and left the restaurant, including the group of teenage boys that sat with only empty cups a few tables back.
Malice: So I suppose you called me here for a reason.
Gwen swallowed her quarter pounder with cheese and dipped a fry in ketchup.
Gwen: Crown the King or whatever it’s called…
Malice: Watch the Throne.
Gwen: Whateva. It’s a shit show and we’re facing two shits and are expected to make a name for ourselves. I know you ain’t in this for the same reasons as me. I found myself hungering for the fight and thriving on competition and you were put here by your government buddies to narc on the rest of us.
Malice: How does everyone know about the government connection?
Gwen: But we are two strong and independent women. We’re facing two masochists that think that just because we’re little ladies that we ain’t know how to fight.
Malice: I don’t think that’s true.
Gwen: I don’t give a shit if you’re here to make money or find a secret society hidden within the ranks of UCI that plans to take over the world or what, but what I do know is that I’m here to become the fucking Champion and I’m not gonna let you stand in my way as you peddle on your way aimlessly from match to match just hoping to not have your identity discovered…
Cordelia puts her Orange Hi-C down and patiently addresses Gwen.
Malice: I think you may want to watch your tone, Gwen.
Gwen: … because the sky’s the limit for me, bitch and you and your motley crew of second rate gangsters ain’t gonna stop me from doing what I gotta do to get where I want to get here.
Cordelia slams her fists on the table.
Malice: ALRIGHT STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE, listen up. You don’t know me and I don’t know you, but I DO know that I don’t fucking like you as far as I can throw you. So you shut that cock holder you call a mouth for a second and listen to the real HBIC at this table. I may not have the inherent passion to ‘wrestle’ that you do, but you know what I do have. I’ve got the will to fucking win, bitch. I do everything I do with a fiery passion. I strive to succeed… no. Fuck that… I strive to EXCEED everyone’s expectations in everything I do. So just because I didn’t stumble into a school gymnasium one night while diddling some douchebag’s dongle trying to find a place we can fuck because his mom and ad were still awake and it was raining so the box that I live in was a little damp, and found a whole host of dudes that would stick their solid 4s in me and SUDDENLY decided that I wanted to be a professional wrestler, doesn’t mean that my intentions are any different than yours.
We’ve got a common background; a common enemy and a common goal, so this week we can team up and next week we can kick the shit out of each other, it doesn’t fucking matter to me.
Cordelia stands up and takes the bun out of her hair and begins to roll up her sleeves
Malice: Unless you want to kick the shit out of each other right now, because I’m down with that too.
Gwen takes a final sip out of her soda and smirks.
Gwen: Nah, we’re good babe. Just bring that fire on Sunday, ya hear?
She gets up and doesn’t take a second look back as she leaves, enters a car that pulled up at that exact moment and drives off in the distance. Cordelia looks around at the teenage boys staring at her as well as the employees behind the counter who are all standing dumbfounded as two intimidating women nearly tore the place down. She smiles coyly and puts all the garbage on the tray to throw it out before exiting herself, heading to her car never looking back at the stares drilling holes into the back of her head.
Location: UCI House Show
The small arena held about 1000 people and it was jammed pack. The UCI Faithful had just witnessed one of their favorites easily dispatching of a local talent as awaited the debut of Cordelia Malice in their small town. The buzz around the dirt sheets was that she was a bad ass bitch with a chip on her shoulder. They weren’t wrong.
Her chip came along with the fact that she didn’t want to be doing something as seemingly frivolous as discussing her intentions with a bunch of strangers that come to watch her. As “Freak Like Me” by Halestorm began to play she started to make her way out when a stage hand stopped her.
Stagehand: Wait for it…
He made her wait a solid 10 seconds before the rhythm guitar came in before he let her through. The theatrics and the choreography seemed beneath her, but then she remembered that as much as it’s a competition that it’s entertainment. She thought of fighters like Floyd Mayweather and how he made money in just as much talking shit as much as he did by knocking the shit out of people. She thought of Rona Rousey and how her lack of sportsmanship gave her outlandish amounts of publicity and how her fights were some of the most watched in MMA history because of it.
So as she entered the ring and looked around at the cheering 1K she sucked up her inhibitions and raised the microphone to her mouth as the music faded out. She spoke the only way she knew how. Calmly, quietly and intensely.
Malice: You have to back it up as much as you speak it. I can come out here all I want like the others and tell you all how I am better than them and how I’m definitely going to win this week at Watch the Throne. But the truth of the matter is that I don’t have any fucking idea what the outcome is going to be on Sunday.
I DO know that I’m stepping into the ring with a guy who embraces the name Spider Balls, and there’s something to be said for that. This mother fucker went under the pseudonym before he knew what it meant and when he finally decided to hit Google Translate on his internet and realized what it meant he didn’t stray from it. He thought about the tiniest balls in the wild and decided ‘yea, that’s me.’
She didn’t intend it but the crowd laughed and she couldn’t help but let off a smile too.
Malice: There’s something to be said about a man who embraces the gimmick given to him and becomes it. There’s something remarkable about him in that he kept what was given to respect and honor those who came before him. It would be easy to hassle him about being a sexual deviant. It would be simple to call him out for his perverted nature, but I’m not here to say the things that he does, but why he does the things he does.
You see, a wise man once said that Great Minds think alike, but I disagree. Because great minds think for themselves. Great men have broken the mold and thought outside the box to achieve great things. Bolas de Arana is just like every other frat boy wrestler wannabe that I’ve ever encountered. He’s just like any porn star dreamer except that he doesn’t get that the good paying jobs are in getting fucked in the ass.
Another giggle from the crowd motivates her to keep going.
Malice: Or maybe he does know that, because he accepted a match with me and Gwen Gates this week. He knows that he stands no chance and that the two of us are gonna strap on two massive dildoes and ram them so far up his backside that he’ll be spitting up latex… metaphorically speaking of course. And that’s probably what he wants. He wants to know that he’s on the right track but he’s not quite there yet. So that’s what I’ll do.
She pauses, thinking she went too far with the analogy so backtracks.
Malice: He may say that he not just embraced the gimmick but made it his own. And if that’s the case it’s commendable. It’s far better than what his partner next week seems to be doing. His partner Albion Enigma can’t seem to get out of his way enough to be able to comprehend whether he’s supposed to be a professional wrestler or if he’s supposed to be a circus attraction wearing oversized boots and being one of 30 assholes coming out of a tiny car.
But isn’t that what this all is anyway, a fucking circus attraction. A hundred years ago wrestling originated in travelling carnivals where strong men would beat up locals and if somehow the locals could best the big man they would get a prize of a hundred dollars, which at that time was deemed to be a lot of money. Well the people are just bigger now and the fighters are better, and now those locals are being paid just to fight with these monsters of the ring who step foot into the arena every night.
What the fuck happened right before I stepped into the ring, you watched as Whathisface McGee destroyed the local talent of Whosit Jones. And you cheered because deep down inside you want to see the underdog win but love to see him get his ass kicked. It makes you all wet in areas that confuse you to see these men fight.
Well, this week you get the glorious opportunity to watch two WOMEN fight. I’m not here to say that you underestimate us because we’re women, because strong chicks like Celeste Mallory have already paved the way of success for people like us. Men no longer underestimate women because of what SHE did.
She may have paved the way, but I plan on coating it with gold, and not making it an exception to the rule, but making it THE rule that no matter who you are, or how big you are or what your background is, as long as you have the drive and determination to do so, you can get to the top of any mountain that you fucking deem fit.
Gwen Gates and I went out on a little date the other night, and before any of you pervs get any ideas, No, it didn’t end with those strap-ons I mentioned before. We’re saving those for our opponents at Watch the Throne. We broke a lot of ground with each other, but tensions are a little tight. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I trust her for the match, but I’m certain our paths will cross as opponents another day.
But all we need is 10 minutes of trust. All we need is 10 minutes of cohesiveness in order to get three seconds towards glory. This week, at Watch the Throne the first ever UCI World Champion will be watching and he will see the two new faces of UCI step into the ring and dismantle two up and coming stars. He will bring that information to the people who matter and you will see where it takes us.
She puts her arms down and stares at the crowd who has gone on this roller coaster of emotions with her. She hated being in the spotlight like this. She preferred to remain in the shadows but something about this experience brought something out of her she didn’t expect. She was exhilarated and most importantly she was beginning to understand that passion that drove Enigma, and bolas and Gates to this business. It was an undeniable change to her capacity to fight. She didn’t just want to complete a mission; she wanted to rule the UCI with an iron fist.
Malice: The world is not enough for me…
She started…
Malice: I WANT THE UNIVERSE!
