Post by Jace O'Brien on Nov 15, 2016 2:34:07 GMT
“ROYAL.”
“Fuckin’ nancy boy, again?” Jace O’Brien said hearing the news of his next match, versus the returning Dallas Blake. Jace sat in his apartment with Mondae Chaos walking through the kitchen and into the living room where Jace sat. The two champions of RSW probably just partook in an afternoon fuckathon, because Jace wears a pair of black boxer briefs and Mondae has a black mid-length robe wrapped around herself.
“His name is Dallas.” - “I know what his name is, love. But I don’t fuckin’ care. Tha’ bloke is a loser, plain and simple. He stepped up to me before and I knocked that fuckin’ stupid look off his face. You know the one. That stupid look he has when he’s full of arrogance. I hit him so fuckin’ hard, maybe Ari fuckin’ felt it.”
Mondae flinched slightly at the mention of her bestie. She would never tell the world, but they weren't quite getting along. “All it took was a few fuckin’ shots and Dally was done. He can’t recover from my strikes. No one can. I’m the fuckin’ king of strikers. Fuckin’ prat should be lucky that I didn’t break his jaw in our last match. But you never know what could happen in the next…” Jace said, smirking viciously.
“He may be a little more gifted than his fuckin’ sister, but he has no business in the ring - not with someone like me who has worked, trained and busted my fuckin’ ass to be here. I have years of experience over him, and it showed the last time we stepped into the ring. It showed in his last match in the company, before that twit Shawn DeLise rehired him. His fuckin’ arm was broken. Automatic bullseye for someone like me. One kick? His arm is fucked again. And with that composure the Blake’s are known for lacking? He’ll lose his fuckin’ head and end up getting knocked the fuck out. Again.”
Jace reaches forward, picking up the lit cigarette that was in an ashtray on the table, bringing it to his lips and taking a deep inhale. His eyes squinted through the smoke after his exhale. “His training may have given him solid technique, but it’s a fuckin’ moot point. I’ve beaten the muppet already, and the second he steps into the ring at Vendetta, his life is gonna’ flash in front of his eyes. It’s a bad fuckin’ dream that he’s not able to wake up from. Reliving what already happened. And love, believe me when I say, when I lay every kick on his body - when I hit every chop, punch and uppercut - Dallas fuckin’ Blake is going to regret coming back.”
She smiled, moving closer to him. But before anything more could happen, Jace continued. “In case he forgot, I’m the fuckin’ Bay Area Butcher. He hasn’t been around in awhile, maybe you ought’ to fill him in on what I’ve done and who I’ve put in the fuckin’ ground. Violet Van Zant? The slag hasn’t been heard of since. Hanalei Brightly hasn’t been the fuckin’ same since I broke her fuckin’ face at Deception. And they are a hundred times more of a fuckin’ challenge than Dallas Blake could ever dream of being.”
“I’m stronger than the fuckin’ prat, and I’m smarter. I have more experience and he has a glass jaw that won’t last against my strikes. Even on paper this is a no contest. And just like the last time we did this fuckin’ dance, it’s going to be a massacre. He shoulda’ stayed in fuckin’ Paris where you found him. Instead here he is, at my fuckin’ feet again. I have no problem showin’ him why I’m the fuckin’ king of the Bay Area and I’ll use him as a fuckin’ message to Bear, who I hope is watching me slaughter him.”
He flicked the ashes off the end and into the ashtray. “You, love, are the Queen. Arianny is the princess. I’m the fuckin’ King and Dallas? He’s the court fuckin’ Jester. He’s the laughing stock of us all, and above all else? He’s fuckin’ expendable. I’m afraid the joke has run it’s course, and his time is up at Vendetta.”
He smashed the cigarette into the ashtray, and turned back to look at Mondae with a smirk.
