Post by Lord Blake on Sept 17, 2016 23:41:48 GMT
Lord Blake paces across his living room. Behind him, a bank of corded black telephones sit on tables, one row slightly elevated behind the other, with volunteers waiting behind each. Hailey Banks yawns behind one, while Lord’s cook, Cook, and Mr. John, the film school student who shadows Sammi Myers (and has kindly donated his time to Lord) are both eagerly waiting for their next call. Occasionally a phone will cut the tense air with the high-pitched ring that has rarely been heard since 1999. The whole thing is reminiscent of a bad eighties telethon.
This is the call center that Lord has set up to aid in the search for his RSW Supreme Championship.
A bored Hailey gets up from her seat and begins arranging a stack of red Solo cups into a triangle on the living room table, but Lord shakes his head.
“I don’t think I’m in the mood right now, Hails. Once my belt comes back in we can hold another Fraternity Invitational, promise.”
Instead, Hailey pours rumcola into two of those cups and hands one over to Lord.
“I haven’t seen you drink all day and I’m getting worried.”
Lord downs the drink in one gulp and throws the empty cup against the wall. Almost immediately his shoulders sink and his breathing slows.
“Better?”
“Better. Listen, thanks for everything the last week, Hails. You and Hoff both. I mean, you were out there papering - ugh - Oakland with flyers which couldn’t have been easy. And Hoff went out looking for Archer in all those weird fetish clubs that freak probably hangs out in which, again - ugh - couldn't have been easy.”
Hailey stifles a laugh - she’d be surprised if Aiden even thought to look for the belt.
“You’ll get the Supreme title back, buddy. Even if you have to wait until Thursday night, it’ll be at ringside during the main event.”
Lord stomps his foot on the ground.
“I shouldn’t have to wait until Thursday though because it never should have been taken in the first place. Archer went on and on about not needing titles, but the second I pin his shoulders to the mat to win the big one, he can’t get his disgusting blood hands on it fast enough. It’s confusing.”
Hailey sips of her drink, moving past Lord’s childish outburst.
“Just focus on this triple threat match. It’ll be your first opportunity to team with Raven since you guys came to RSW and it’ll be her first match in a month since before Decep -"
Lord cuts her off.
“I know what her last match was.”
Touchy subject.
“Well anyway, you know what she’s been doing every free second she has. She will not disappoint anyone next week, believe me. Not only are you two the most cohesive team in this match, but you also compliment each other better than the other two teams.”
“I mean, she is beautiful. I’m not saying it to be complimentary.”
“No, no. What I mean is: with Jace and Mondae, where one is strong, the other is also strong - technique, grappling, things like that. The same goes for Archer and Emma, in that where one is weak, the other is as well - high-flying ability, submissions, et cetera. It might seem like a good thing going into this match, but there’s no variety there. You know for a fact you can’t get into a technical battle with Mondae or Jace, you know for a fact you don’t have to worry about Archer or Emma jumping off the top at you. You can make blanket assumptions about either team while you’re in the ring with them. The same can’t be said for you. Where Raven isn’t the strongest and she won’t hit the hardest, you do. Where you won’t be flying across the ring and maybe don’t have the endurance to go in a long match, Raven will. You see?”
Lord smiles.
“Thanks, Hail. That was very complimentary of you.”
Hailey rolls her eyes. Behind them, her telephone begins to ring. She runs over and lifts the receiver to her ear. Her eyes widen and she begins scribbling information down on the notepad in front of her. She slows down quickly though and finally slams the receiver down in its cradle.
“Another prank call.”
Lord's just confused.
"Why would you prank call this line??"
