Post by The Hard Core Society on Sept 9, 2016 6:27:35 GMT
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CAMERA OFF – Wicked Live Ep-1 – After the Show
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The cameras were off and most of us were heading home. The police made sure that me and Calvin stayed a good fifty to one hundred feet apart at all times. All the rapes and murders they could be preventing and they keep me from doing what could be the one good deed I do all fucking year. From the moment I met Calvin Harris, I hated his fucking guts. A weak, lying, sniveling, self-serving snake who's only merits were that he was somehow good enough in the bedroom to keep a woman like Nova Wonder at least mildly amused. Either he was once a hell of a man and lost his way or she has piss poor taste in men. I'm sure the truth lie somewhere in between the two extremes.
My thoughts were interrupted by the songbird to my left as we entered the parking lot. I take her in, a rather beautiful woman with dark chocolate hair and dressed in pvc leather and fishnets that covered just enough to keep PAW out of being too adult for children staying up at night to watch. Her body said perfect but her eyes said damaged goods. Her name? Becky Mercy. To my right was her constant companion, Tracy Sin, wearing more plain gear, but thankfully better covered. Heavyset women don't exactly spark my interest.
“So we helped you out, but don't think we're just hench bitches who will blindly do your bidding,” Becky said with her arms crossed over her ample chest.
I stopped her right there, turning with an arm before her. I contemplated slapping the shit out of her, but realized that would ultimately be pointless and sow seeds for a later retribution. Instead, I remind her exactly what is at the core of my little group...
“Becky, all three of us have played servants to the unworthy, people who claim superiority but without our help, they would have never gained what they had. No, you do not 'serve' me. We serve ourselves. We are a Society and while I am the chairman of this society, I only give us a direction. You are not my lackeys. You are not my followers. We are the foundation for something....more.”
I look between the two of them and read their wariness like an open book. They've been wronged and tricked so many times. No, I wouldn't dare bullshit these two and not because of the threat they pose, but because I know exactly how they feel. I'm just better at managing it than they are.
“Well we've buried everyone that ever screwed with us, Jack, so bare in mind that we'd have no problem burying you,” Said little miss Becky with a smile on her face that screamed the sexiest scream of danger. No denying the temptation here. Tracy growled ominously at me and I merely smirked back at the two.
“Ladies, if that time ever comes, just remember what I've done and what I will continue to do. Even Press was left lying at my feet once and if memory serves, he and his boy Youth, punked the both of you out.”
The memories of that event simmered on Becky's brain as if they were in a heated saute pan, her thoughts easily ascertained by the scowl on her face. Tracy stepped up to me and looked on with murder in her eyes. The memory and humiliation were still fresh. That's a good thing.
“You're insulting us and you want us to work with YOU?!” Tracy spoke through her grit teeth, jamming her finger into my chest. I ignored it and tilted my head back to match her gaze ever so slightly.
“I'm reminding you of why you're here,” I replied flatly, “You both are in sore need of smartening the fuck up. You want to be more than just a punchline for the jokes that are The French Mime Assassins? Talk to me, otherwise, break out your shovel and fucking end it now.”
I shove Tracy back and if not for the slender arm of Becky moving across her mid section, the big dumb bitch would have tried something. She was definitely not my fan at this moment. Becky, however, listened to reason somewhat at least.
“That is the only reason we're here,” The slim Goth said, “We see things in a lot of the same ways and it's oh so totes obvious that we lack something crucial because we're getting beaten by a pair of no good, dirty as fuck MIMES! MIMES, JACKIE! MMMMIIIIMMMMEEESSS! Who gets beaten by Mimes and taken seriously by the world at all?” Becky wiped at the moisture building in her eyes, “It's enough to make a girl contemplate suicide, alright?”
And there's the crack in the armor I've been waiting for. Even Tracy turned and looked at Becky with an arched brow, as if hearing something she's never heard before.
“Exactly, Becky,” I start, “It's humiliating, isn't it? Getting beaten by someone who can't hold a candle to the potential you possess because you haven't reached it yet.”
“YOU'RE FUCKING RIGHT IT IS!!” She fires back, quivering with rage. Becky's fists were so tight that her already pale hands sported the whitest knuckles I had ever seen. Her face, however, had a great shade of red to it.
“Hold on to that feeling, anchor yourself to that rage and the next time they see you, don't fuck around with language and play dumb jokes that are funny only to you. Fucking own this place, own your time, and own the motherfuckers who laugh and spit in your face because the only way you're going to get anywhere is by not fucking around and killing bitches left and right in that ring.”
Tracy seemed to understand, nodding her head very slowly. Becky's hands rubbed together as she choked back that rage inside of her, storing it away for future use. She then took a deep breath.
“You know, you're the only person we've met that ever said anything constructive to either of us,” Becky began, “The only place we're accepted is inside the ring and even then, people like the Presses & Youths of the world attack us. The Mikaels mock us. The Mimes laugh at us. We are freaks. Nobody loves or wants us....”
No sympathy for the Devil here, I couldn't hide how I felt for one second hearing that, “It's because you fucking care at all that they have a way to stab you in your fucking black little heart! Stop... caring. Stop being concerned at how you're perceived. Do you think I care if someone thinks I'm weak? No, because I know deep down that if they fuck with me, I will fucking end them. Don't go out there wanting love and respect because you're never going to get it.”
There is a bitterness inside of me as I dredge up old fucking memories, buried deep like a murder victim in the desert, “Yeah you're freaks and so the fuck am I and you want to know something? I DON'T FUCKING CARE. Stop... caring... PERIOD. It's like sex, it only hurts when you make it about love and passion. The fans are just horny bitches spreading their legs and screaming fuck me. They don't care about your feelings, they just want to get off. The other wrestlers in the ring? This goes without saying, but I'm going to say it anyways; Same...fucking...thing. All they want is their own satisfaction and do not give one fuck about you. So if there's anything you learn out of me, ladies, it's that fact.”
I've been told that the perception is that if you say you don't care, you care enough to make it a point not to care. Fucked up logic, am I right? However, I stated the intent not for my benefit, but theirs. We're all broken souls standing in this parking lot, each for our own unique reasons. So much alike and yet so fundamentally different in the ways we think.
With that brief moment, I reviewed my appraisal of these two who stood before me.
Tracy Sin projected rage, but I could see the insecurity and awkwardness in her. She's fought hard against it and probably overcame many an issue, but that fat bitch has a long ways to go yet. At least she has no problem fighting in the ring, otherwise I'd have a lot more to work on than just those issues. May be a fucking cannibal, but I don't see someone completely bat shit out of control as others perceive her. Sure, she ate some teenage bitch's face at one point but other than that and some unexplained shit about her mother, she's just an angry, plus-sized bitch.
Becky Mercy was a fucking train wreck hiding behind a sexy smile and false optimism. If anything, she's the more broken of the two. I get the impression of a girl with major daddy issues and perhaps some sexual problem as she loved wearing sexy attire that showed off a lot of skin while doing her damnedest to tease guys as they walked by her. Apparently she accidentally pushed some kid off a pier to his death, did some time in an asylum, came out, burned her father alive and was arrested and charged with manslaughter on the grounds of mental insanity. Must have been some damn good behavior to get out before she turned gray.
What a fine little crew I ride with, right?
“You're right, Jack,” Tracy spoke up first to my surprise, “Maybe we want just a little bit of what the normals have... but we're not normal.”
No shit Ms. Sherlock.
“Define Normal,” I said, “What is normal but a concept made up by a majority that shifts and changes throughout the times. Once upon a time, assault and murder were considered par for the course. Nobody batted an eye if you cleaved a motherfucker in half with a battle axe if he insulted you. Nowadays? That shit will land you right in the electric chair. In another place and time, you two would be considered heretic witches and they'd burn your asses at the stake. Normal is a disgusting term because there is no such thing.”
I scoffed at the thought of normalcy. Fucking bullshit ideals of a bullshit society. Part of me wondered why the fuck I even bothered with these two, but then my question is answered. I was just like them once. Altruism isn't intrinsically part of my nature. It goes against my grain to give anything freely. Maybe it's the Adrian side of me or maybe it's some sort of demented faucet of myself that I never realized. I don't fucking know. All I know is that I feel a need to do something about these two ignorant bitches.
“First things first, you two are going to have to learn some shit and I'll teach you what I know. You're going to listen to every word I say, do explicitly as I tell you while I teach you, and if you can't do that, then I'm kicking your fucking asses to the curb. Do we have an understanding?”
Tracy slowly nodded her head. First agreeable thing she's done since we met. Becky seemed more hesitant to acquiesce.
“You're not going to just trick us and use us, are you?”
I narrow my gaze to a withering stare, “Get this through your fucking skull. If I wanted you dead.... bitch, you'd be dead. Wise the fuck up, absorb the knowledge I will bestow upon you for the next few months, and maybe, just maybe, you'll beat the Mimes or whoever the fuck else has those motherfucking belts because when I'm through with you, nobody is going to ever look at you like a fucking joke again. They'll see two stone cold bitches who will rip their hearts out and make the motherfuckers watch with their dying breaths as you fucking eat that shit. Now, am I fucking crystal here?!”
My patience had worn just a bit thin with being questioned. Why fucking question me like a dumbass cunt? Jesus dropkicking motherfucking Christ!
“Yes,” She finally said.
“Good, now get in the fucking van and follow behind me. We're going to your new home for the next few days.”
With that, I turned and headed for my bike as they headed for their van.
CAMERA OFF – Wicked Live Ep-1 – After the Show
=============================================
The cameras were off and most of us were heading home. The police made sure that me and Calvin stayed a good fifty to one hundred feet apart at all times. All the rapes and murders they could be preventing and they keep me from doing what could be the one good deed I do all fucking year. From the moment I met Calvin Harris, I hated his fucking guts. A weak, lying, sniveling, self-serving snake who's only merits were that he was somehow good enough in the bedroom to keep a woman like Nova Wonder at least mildly amused. Either he was once a hell of a man and lost his way or she has piss poor taste in men. I'm sure the truth lie somewhere in between the two extremes.
My thoughts were interrupted by the songbird to my left as we entered the parking lot. I take her in, a rather beautiful woman with dark chocolate hair and dressed in pvc leather and fishnets that covered just enough to keep PAW out of being too adult for children staying up at night to watch. Her body said perfect but her eyes said damaged goods. Her name? Becky Mercy. To my right was her constant companion, Tracy Sin, wearing more plain gear, but thankfully better covered. Heavyset women don't exactly spark my interest.
“So we helped you out, but don't think we're just hench bitches who will blindly do your bidding,” Becky said with her arms crossed over her ample chest.
I stopped her right there, turning with an arm before her. I contemplated slapping the shit out of her, but realized that would ultimately be pointless and sow seeds for a later retribution. Instead, I remind her exactly what is at the core of my little group...
“Becky, all three of us have played servants to the unworthy, people who claim superiority but without our help, they would have never gained what they had. No, you do not 'serve' me. We serve ourselves. We are a Society and while I am the chairman of this society, I only give us a direction. You are not my lackeys. You are not my followers. We are the foundation for something....more.”
I look between the two of them and read their wariness like an open book. They've been wronged and tricked so many times. No, I wouldn't dare bullshit these two and not because of the threat they pose, but because I know exactly how they feel. I'm just better at managing it than they are.
“Well we've buried everyone that ever screwed with us, Jack, so bare in mind that we'd have no problem burying you,” Said little miss Becky with a smile on her face that screamed the sexiest scream of danger. No denying the temptation here. Tracy growled ominously at me and I merely smirked back at the two.
“Ladies, if that time ever comes, just remember what I've done and what I will continue to do. Even Press was left lying at my feet once and if memory serves, he and his boy Youth, punked the both of you out.”
The memories of that event simmered on Becky's brain as if they were in a heated saute pan, her thoughts easily ascertained by the scowl on her face. Tracy stepped up to me and looked on with murder in her eyes. The memory and humiliation were still fresh. That's a good thing.
“You're insulting us and you want us to work with YOU?!” Tracy spoke through her grit teeth, jamming her finger into my chest. I ignored it and tilted my head back to match her gaze ever so slightly.
“I'm reminding you of why you're here,” I replied flatly, “You both are in sore need of smartening the fuck up. You want to be more than just a punchline for the jokes that are The French Mime Assassins? Talk to me, otherwise, break out your shovel and fucking end it now.”
I shove Tracy back and if not for the slender arm of Becky moving across her mid section, the big dumb bitch would have tried something. She was definitely not my fan at this moment. Becky, however, listened to reason somewhat at least.
“That is the only reason we're here,” The slim Goth said, “We see things in a lot of the same ways and it's oh so totes obvious that we lack something crucial because we're getting beaten by a pair of no good, dirty as fuck MIMES! MIMES, JACKIE! MMMMIIIIMMMMEEESSS! Who gets beaten by Mimes and taken seriously by the world at all?” Becky wiped at the moisture building in her eyes, “It's enough to make a girl contemplate suicide, alright?”
And there's the crack in the armor I've been waiting for. Even Tracy turned and looked at Becky with an arched brow, as if hearing something she's never heard before.
“Exactly, Becky,” I start, “It's humiliating, isn't it? Getting beaten by someone who can't hold a candle to the potential you possess because you haven't reached it yet.”
“YOU'RE FUCKING RIGHT IT IS!!” She fires back, quivering with rage. Becky's fists were so tight that her already pale hands sported the whitest knuckles I had ever seen. Her face, however, had a great shade of red to it.
“Hold on to that feeling, anchor yourself to that rage and the next time they see you, don't fuck around with language and play dumb jokes that are funny only to you. Fucking own this place, own your time, and own the motherfuckers who laugh and spit in your face because the only way you're going to get anywhere is by not fucking around and killing bitches left and right in that ring.”
Tracy seemed to understand, nodding her head very slowly. Becky's hands rubbed together as she choked back that rage inside of her, storing it away for future use. She then took a deep breath.
“You know, you're the only person we've met that ever said anything constructive to either of us,” Becky began, “The only place we're accepted is inside the ring and even then, people like the Presses & Youths of the world attack us. The Mikaels mock us. The Mimes laugh at us. We are freaks. Nobody loves or wants us....”
No sympathy for the Devil here, I couldn't hide how I felt for one second hearing that, “It's because you fucking care at all that they have a way to stab you in your fucking black little heart! Stop... caring. Stop being concerned at how you're perceived. Do you think I care if someone thinks I'm weak? No, because I know deep down that if they fuck with me, I will fucking end them. Don't go out there wanting love and respect because you're never going to get it.”
There is a bitterness inside of me as I dredge up old fucking memories, buried deep like a murder victim in the desert, “Yeah you're freaks and so the fuck am I and you want to know something? I DON'T FUCKING CARE. Stop... caring... PERIOD. It's like sex, it only hurts when you make it about love and passion. The fans are just horny bitches spreading their legs and screaming fuck me. They don't care about your feelings, they just want to get off. The other wrestlers in the ring? This goes without saying, but I'm going to say it anyways; Same...fucking...thing. All they want is their own satisfaction and do not give one fuck about you. So if there's anything you learn out of me, ladies, it's that fact.”
I've been told that the perception is that if you say you don't care, you care enough to make it a point not to care. Fucked up logic, am I right? However, I stated the intent not for my benefit, but theirs. We're all broken souls standing in this parking lot, each for our own unique reasons. So much alike and yet so fundamentally different in the ways we think.
With that brief moment, I reviewed my appraisal of these two who stood before me.
Tracy Sin projected rage, but I could see the insecurity and awkwardness in her. She's fought hard against it and probably overcame many an issue, but that fat bitch has a long ways to go yet. At least she has no problem fighting in the ring, otherwise I'd have a lot more to work on than just those issues. May be a fucking cannibal, but I don't see someone completely bat shit out of control as others perceive her. Sure, she ate some teenage bitch's face at one point but other than that and some unexplained shit about her mother, she's just an angry, plus-sized bitch.
Becky Mercy was a fucking train wreck hiding behind a sexy smile and false optimism. If anything, she's the more broken of the two. I get the impression of a girl with major daddy issues and perhaps some sexual problem as she loved wearing sexy attire that showed off a lot of skin while doing her damnedest to tease guys as they walked by her. Apparently she accidentally pushed some kid off a pier to his death, did some time in an asylum, came out, burned her father alive and was arrested and charged with manslaughter on the grounds of mental insanity. Must have been some damn good behavior to get out before she turned gray.
What a fine little crew I ride with, right?
“You're right, Jack,” Tracy spoke up first to my surprise, “Maybe we want just a little bit of what the normals have... but we're not normal.”
No shit Ms. Sherlock.
“Define Normal,” I said, “What is normal but a concept made up by a majority that shifts and changes throughout the times. Once upon a time, assault and murder were considered par for the course. Nobody batted an eye if you cleaved a motherfucker in half with a battle axe if he insulted you. Nowadays? That shit will land you right in the electric chair. In another place and time, you two would be considered heretic witches and they'd burn your asses at the stake. Normal is a disgusting term because there is no such thing.”
I scoffed at the thought of normalcy. Fucking bullshit ideals of a bullshit society. Part of me wondered why the fuck I even bothered with these two, but then my question is answered. I was just like them once. Altruism isn't intrinsically part of my nature. It goes against my grain to give anything freely. Maybe it's the Adrian side of me or maybe it's some sort of demented faucet of myself that I never realized. I don't fucking know. All I know is that I feel a need to do something about these two ignorant bitches.
“First things first, you two are going to have to learn some shit and I'll teach you what I know. You're going to listen to every word I say, do explicitly as I tell you while I teach you, and if you can't do that, then I'm kicking your fucking asses to the curb. Do we have an understanding?”
Tracy slowly nodded her head. First agreeable thing she's done since we met. Becky seemed more hesitant to acquiesce.
“You're not going to just trick us and use us, are you?”
I narrow my gaze to a withering stare, “Get this through your fucking skull. If I wanted you dead.... bitch, you'd be dead. Wise the fuck up, absorb the knowledge I will bestow upon you for the next few months, and maybe, just maybe, you'll beat the Mimes or whoever the fuck else has those motherfucking belts because when I'm through with you, nobody is going to ever look at you like a fucking joke again. They'll see two stone cold bitches who will rip their hearts out and make the motherfuckers watch with their dying breaths as you fucking eat that shit. Now, am I fucking crystal here?!”
My patience had worn just a bit thin with being questioned. Why fucking question me like a dumbass cunt? Jesus dropkicking motherfucking Christ!
“Yes,” She finally said.
“Good, now get in the fucking van and follow behind me. We're going to your new home for the next few days.”
With that, I turned and headed for my bike as they headed for their van.