Post by Bonnie Blue on Nov 19, 2017 14:38:36 GMT -6
Monday Afternoon
November 20th 2017
November 20th 2017
Backstage, two Guardians stride with purposeful determination through the corridors of Tupelo's BancorpSouth Arena, still clad in street clothes, each carrying a Tag Team title over a shoulder. A figure waits for them, leaning against a wall with exaggerated casualness; touseled bleach-blond hair, mirrored aviators, black UCI t-shirt under a classic motorcycle jacket. Bonnie draws up short, breath caught in her throat -- until she realizes the man confronting them is United Championship Infinite's own senior interviewer, Frank Patrick Venable -- and assuredly not him; though the two are so close in appearance as to be nearly indistinguishable. Frank can't help but smirk a little at her sigh of relief. At Bonnie's side, Alex Richards scowls at FPV as the interviewer moves to block their progress, a microphone in hand.
FPV: Alex Richards and Bonnie Blue -- just the Guardians I was looking for! Let's not waste any... heh, time. How do you justify your actions last week -- not only confronting, but outright threatening -- the man who signs all our paychecks, Spencer Adams?
AR: Now, Frank, you know that never have the Guardians ever stepped out of line without good reason. I think we pretty well covered those reasons when we had our little chat with Spence -- and I think we've gotten our reply, if tonight's booking is any indication.
FPV: How so?
BB: After ol' Z failed to destroy Damian Kaine in a no-disqualification match last week, it looks like the boss is determined to try again. Only this time it's a street fight, but I gotta ask -- where in the hell is ZMAC? Huh? How's he gonna take part in Overload tonight if he's still crawlin' around the bowels of the earth like last week's Taco Bell?
AR: Then there's the Hypermedia Gauntlet match. Spencer Adams is forcing L Verez to defend the Hypermedia Title she just won back from WCF's legendary King of All Wrestlers, Corey Black himself -- against three small-time chumps who just showed up out of nowhere... and true to form, Spencer gives these undeserving nobodies a title shot right out the gate.
FPV: And she didn't even have anything to do with that scene in Spencer's office. So the three of you basically got your partners in trouble with the boss. Nice going. I guess you're gonna complain about having to defend your Tag Titles, too?
Alex and Bonnie shake their heads, chuckling softly at Frank's candor.
BB: Far from it, Franky. Me an' Alex, here, we been itchin' to get back in the ring ever since we showed the entire Dub-See-Eff that we ain't to be trifled with in that Hellimination match! What good's a champion who don't defend their title, anyhow?
FPV: Well, that is a fair point. Looks like the long-simmering feud between Bonnie Blue and Kevin Bishop is again being brought to a boil. Are you two tired of each other yet?
The Time Witch's lips quirk in a knowing half-smile.
BB: Me an' ol' Kevy B, we ain't never gonna quite be done feudin', I don't think. We just have too damn much fun. Although comin' on the heels of Killin' Floor, more or less, the timin' coulda been better. On the other hand, ain't like I'm gonna run outta grievances where the Creepin' Plague is concerned -- not the least of which is that he's still got that parasite livin' in his head; he's still host to a weakened, phantom version of the crazed death god that tried to kill me. He may be convinced he's got it safely under lock an' key, but these things have a way of resurfacin' when ya least expect 'em. Either way, though, I don't trust the man -- an' I'm damn sure gonna be lookin' for some payback after the way he disrespected me last week.
FPV: You mean when he used your Timestopper to get a submission victory for the Harbingers?
BB: That's precisely what I mean, Franky, my boi. If this were the first time, I mighta been willin' to overlook it -- imitation bein' the sincerest form of flattery, an' all that. But this is the second time, now; ain't gonna let this go unanswered. It feels like you're tryin' to send me a message, Kevin. What message is that, exactly? 'Cause from where I'm standin', I see a man tryin' to get back up a mountain he already fell from -- twice. Yeah, yeah, you won that World Championship back from me... at a time when my attention was preoccupied with the fact that my oldest, closest friend was slaughterin' innocent people left an' right; helpin' to pursue an agenda that you, yourself, Kevin, pushed from its very inception. You may as well have had a hand in creating the Society; at the least, you paved the way for them to have a public platform. So in a way, you're as guilty, as complicit in the actions of Andre Holmes as Spencer Adams himself is. Maybe more.
But the fact remains, Kev, you did defeat me. Once. That shit you pulled at Killin' Floor don't even count, an' I reckon gettin' choked out with ol' Z's innards was a whole lot more humiliatin' than your two hundred an' forty pound ass jumpin' on me from above -- after I'd already endured a drawn-out fight with Andre Holmes and got attacked by a bunch of hockey-mask wearin' hooligans. Aside from ZMAC, I took the worse of it all, an' still stayed standin' until you decided to take that swan dive off the top of the cage. When it comes to one-on-one, though, I've still got you beat; what's more, I've made you submit. I put you in a position that forced you to tap out, to surrender to me.
Yes, you've beaten me -- and for that coveted World Title, no less. And you know as well as I do that if things had been different, if Andre Holmes hadn't chosen the week before that to lose his damn mind, that gold would still be around my waist. You wouldn't be struttin' around, braggin' about bein' the only two-time World Champion; conveniently ignorin' the fact that your second reign was cut short when Zombie McMorris made you his bitch less than a month later. Maybe think about that, 'fore you go runnin' your damn mouth, Kev.
FPV: All right, and your thoughts, Alex?
Richards snatches the mic from Frank's hand and looks up, addressing the camera -- and the viewing audience.
AR: Yeah. Kevin Bishop is one dumb son of a bitch. He's been on the wrong end of the ring from my partner half a dozen times -- and on the same side almost as many. The man knows full well what she's capable of --
BB: -- what we're capable of!
With a nod of agreement, Alex shoots his partner a grin.
AR: Exactly! He knows, yet he chooses to antagonize a woman who has consistently put his shoulders on the mat, or made him tap out, time and time again. Throw the King of Mass Confusion into the mix, and it just gets worse for Kevin Bishop. Gotta be that Creeping Death in his head, whispering delusional rantings, making Kevin think he's THEE MAN, man. See, I know about voices. I know about demons. The ones inside, the ones that drive a man to do crazy shit in and out of the ring; that drive a man to see how much alcohol he can put away before he has to have his stomach pumped, just to shut them out for a little while.
But Kevin, what's under your skin doesn't heal, doesn't go away. It just festers and grows and eats away at you a little at a time, until there is no Bishop... only Zuul. It's no wonder Corey Bull was drawn to you -- a sad, awkward moth to a sputtering flame. And tonight, Harbingers, that flame burns out.
BB: Well said, partner! And while we're on the subject, Corey Bull -- I've been waitin' a while to get my hands on you. That triple threat back in October, when you pinned Chuckles the Clown, that's like your only decisive victory here in the You-See-Eye; funny, for a man supposedly a champion seventeen times over. An' since I was in that match, I guess you technically have one in the W column over a former World Champion. Good for you, Sugar. Bask in the warm glow of that one small triumph while ya can, Mr. Bull. It ain't gonna last.
Now, I don't want you thinkin' I'm the bad guy in all this, Corey. Gotta lot of respect for what ya tried to do for your friend -- but ya done stepped into the middle of somethin' you don't understand. Bolas was in over his head, Corey. He finally realized it an' did the only intelligent thing he could; he walked away.
You should, too. I'm tellin' you this for your own good, Mr. Bull. Kevin Bishop can't be trusted. He turned his back on people he called friends, left them to be murdered at the hands of his wife and her lover. He systematically turned on each an' every member of his old Brotherhood, cast them out, or worse. Only one still standin' is our boy Damian Kaine. Memories are short in this business. People forget the kind of monster Bishop has been: reluctant, always hiding in the shadow of greater beasts, waiting to strike and then fade away again.... so that when the inevitable fallout comes, he can just shrug and go "Wasn't my fault! I was possessed!"
See, I could use that excuse, too. #beachkrew for example. Everyone knows John Rabid's reputation. It would be so easy for me to simply pass it off as a mild case of brainwashing. He made me do the naughty things, but I'm all better now, so it's ok. Right? But I'm not a lying asshole. I did what I did at Lazarus 'cause I wanted to. Because I had a vision, an' I was tryin' to make it a reality. Just like I did what I did last week, of my own free will, 'cause there is a glarin' wrong here that needs to be made right!
#WrestlingGenocide didn't stop just 'cause #beachkrew fell apart, or John Rabid suddenly turned his back on everythin' we were workin' toward; became the very thing we were tryin' to eradicate, just 'cause Seth Lerch finally gave him the big shiny. Now he's a company man through an' through. An' Corey, y'know what the Dub's World Champ decided his first priority was? Went outta his way to make goddamn sure I knew there wasn't a place for Bonnie Blue in his Dubya-See-Eff. Which, I know you're askin' yourself, has what to do with you? Well, as it turns out, John's sudden but inevitable betrayal is a blessin' in disguise. Now, instead of havin' to split my focus between You-See-Eye an' that backward, archaic institution outta Reading, you an' Bishop get the benefit of my full attention.
Well... I say "benefit." For me, yeah. For y'all two, not so much. I mean, think about this. The World Champion of another company has to go to great lengths to preemtively tell me to back off -- because he's concerned I might come after his precious. He'll never admit it, but deep down inside, the Serpent is afraid of Bonnie Blue. An' when a man like that fears a woman like me, Mr. Bull, you gotta start askin' yourself some hard questions. What is it I got that makes a millenia-old entity, who has created empires an' razed entire civilizations for his own amusement, think twice about gettin' in the ring with little ol' me?
The rhetorical nature of her question is belied by the suggestive lift of a delicate brow, and the playful smile teasing at the corners of her mouth. Frank snatches the microphone back.
FPV: That's an... interesting perspective. Thanks, Bonnie. But about the Tag Titles themselves... as you pointed out, Kevin Bishop has deprived you of gold before. What's to stop him -- or his partner -- from doing it tonight?
BB: There you go, askin' them fuccboi questions. This is that GQ interview all over again. What's gonna stop Kevin Bishop an' Corey Bull from takin' mine an' Alex's tag titles? The Guardians, that's fuckin' who! Me an' my partner, as a team, are two-time Tag Champs for a reason -- an' that reason is that we're the best damn tag team on the planet, period.
FPV: What if the Society interferes, or this "15" decides to get involved?
AR: I can field this one, Franky. The Guardians have made arrangements to deal with security issues that Spencer Adams continues to ignore -- much to the peril of not only ourselves, but the entire locker room, and the thousands of fans in attendance!
BB: Why, it could be just a matter of time before these assaults find their way up the corporate ladder an' right into Spencer's own office! An' what would Mr. Adams do without us Guardians constantly watchin' out for his safety?
Straight, white teeth show in a menacing grin. Then, without further comment, Bonnie Blue and Alex Richards push past Franky and walk away. Frank shakes his head in evident disappointment.
FPV: Ladies and gentlemen, your Tag Team Champions -- the Guardians. Tonight, they face the challenge of the Harbingers; Kevin Bishop and Corey Bull. Who walks away with the UCI Tag Team Titles? Can L Verez withstand a three-man assault on her own Hypermedia Championship? How will Damian Kaine cope with a revived, refocused Zombie McMorris? And what further threat does "15" have in store for UCI's most dominant faction? Tune in to Overload tonight, starting at Eight -- Seven, Central -- only on SyFy!
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(Earlier that week...)
(Earlier that week...)
Eleven-fifteen on a Wednesday morning, and the Drunken Dragon was packed. Individuals and families; men, women, children, all crowded into booths or sat on chairs and barstools. Ever since Killing Floor, and Bonnie's defeat of Andre Holmes, the Society had vanished underground with barely a trace. In the absence of an organization constantly whipping the populace into a frenzy of terror at the existence of metahumans, the country's mood shifted from resentment to cautious tolerance. People were, at last, free to come out about their powers without fear of persecution.
Rescuing the innocents detained by Andre Holmes and the Society was a more complex issue. For every black site discovered, there was always another, and another; in dizzyingly endless array of metahuman prisons dotted all over the globe. There were so many, so thoroughly secured, that the only conclusion any of them could draw was that someone had expected this. Someone had known that ordinary humans would develop extraordinary powers, and had prepared accordingly. On the other hand, there had to be a finite number of these facilities, and soon enough, the Guardians would find them all. A process aided and enhanced by the invaluable assistance of the artificially intelligent supercomputer, Ripper-Seven; and all the more reason Bonnie was reluctant to uninstall it -- assuming she even could.
There were other, smaller concerns that she could deal with at street level. This collective inside the Dragon was one of them. Bonnie Blue stood at the bar, flanked on either side by Alex Richards and Damian Kaine, and beaming at the assemblage.
"I wanna thank every one of y'all for comin' here today," Bonnie told them. "I know things are gettin' better for folks like us out there, but it still required a singular act of bravery to make it here. Now, today's session is just an informal orientation kinda thing. Anybody feels like it can introduce yourselves, talk a little about your powers, and share ways you've found to cope with them."
Hands shot into the air across the room, and she pointed to someone near the back; a twenty-something punk with magenta hair, a vintage leather jacket, and a spiked stud in her nose. She called herself Cassandra and demonstrated her ability to create vivid illusions by inexplicably turning the bar into a vast redwood forest, complete with the earthy scents of pine and cedar, birdsong, and breeze. It faded away quickly, and the girl slumped into her seat, exhausted. Uncertain what else to do, the crowd applauded in appreciation of her effort.
"That," she concluded, "is where I run into a problem, though. The more people I have to include in the illusion, the greater the strain. And since I don't really have a practical reason to use this, it's... y'know basically just an ice-breaker at parties."
"Practice," Damian Kaine replied sagely. "You have to keep working at it, build your endurance. That's how it was for me, early on, too. The real-world application comes later."
"He's right," Richards agreed. "I mean, I can turn invisible. That was all I knew about my abilities at first, and that was good enough. But the more I did it, the more I learned about what I could do, like this."
Alex held out a hand toward a boot sitting on top of the bar, just beyond his grasp. It trembled a little. Brow furrowed in concentration, the King of Mass Confusion tried again; the boot shot into his hand, and Alex lifted it to his lips, taking a deep chug of Zim-Quila. Then, setting it down again, he grinned at the crowd.
"Ok, so maybe I should practice a little more, myself," he said, and everybody laughed.
Encouraged, others rose and told their tales -- some funny, some sad, some bittersweet, some embarassing -- but one by one, they told them all. And the Guardians heard each story, listening without judgment, only offering advice when asked. The event had run a little over schedule, but Bonnie had decided it was important to let the people have their say, after being repressed for so long. And once the last of their guests had taken their turn, the Daughter of Time brought their attention back to the present with a clap of her hands.
"All right, well... that was one hell of a first day of -- whatever this is. Y'know, our original intention had been something like a support group, but after havin' this community meetin' today, I think we wanna broaden our scope. We need somethin', not quite a school, but more than a weekly get together. Like a dojo, but for people with abilities, where we can all help each other learn to control an' utilize our powers for the greatest good."
"Or, at the very least, so nobody accidentally blows up half of Chicago with a sneeze!" Alex added, to another appreciative chuckle.
"Haha... or that," Bonnie said. "So, we'll see y'all next week, same time. We're gonna talk more about how to control the powers you got before we start experimentin' with secondary ones. Sound good?"
And with that, a murmur of assent rippled through the crowd. Several filtered through the doors and back to the drudgery of their daily lives. Others remained behind to socialize, and now that the Dragon was officially open for business, to indulge in a drink or two. Trusting in the staff to handle things, the Guardians vanished behind an old grandfather clock set into one wall, and down an old bootlegging tunnel that led -- eventually -- into the gym in the basement of what had once been St. Teresa's Chinese Catholic Church. The place was cold, given to drafts, and a thick layer of dust coated canvas tarps draped over the equipment. Bonnie and Alex began pulling covers off, though Kaine hesitated, raising one arm to shield his face from the dust now flying through the air.
"Doesn't this feel a little... I dunno, intrusive? Without Preecha here, and since Armand -- " Kaine began, but stopped at the look of hurt in Bonnie's sea-blue eyes.
"Preecha said he don't care if we use the space. He ain't been here since... Killin' Floor. An' he ain't likely to be. Not for a while, anyway," Bonnie told him. "Kinda amazin' how quickly I got used to havin' both of them back in town, after how long they'd been gone. Now it's just weird, knowin' we'll never see Armand again..."
The young woman looked away, wiping at something that had gotten into her eye -- probably all that dust they'd been flinging around -- even as her partner laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. Taking a moment to compose herself, Bonnie forced a sad smile and soldiered on.
"Anyway, he paid up the lease on this place for the next five years, an' ain't no point lettin' it go to waste."
"Hey," Alex interjected, with a tone of dawning realization, "this might be it! The solution to our metahuman dojo problem."
Damian and Bonnie looked at Alex curiously, eyes widening in comprehension as they caught on to what he was suggesting.
"You may be right," Kaine said, glancing to the ceiling as he pictured the interior of the church. "I can almost see it now."
"That a premonition, DK?" Bonnie teased.
"Maybe. I dunno. But wouldn't it be cool? We could turn that whole church above us into a metahuman resource center. A safe haven for the persecuted. Somewhere private to practice their powers without bothering anyone."
"I feel ya, bruh," Bonnie said, as a grin spread across her face. "Yeah, it's just ...perfect."