You Tugged On Supergirl's Cape (tv title vs Pun)
Mar 25, 2023 19:57:50 GMT -5
Ragnarok and sirus like this
Post by Deleted on Mar 25, 2023 19:57:50 GMT -5
Benson Estate
Private wrestling Gym aka Sonya’s villainess lair
Ten days ago
“Pretty sharp, Sonya.”
Duncan Ryder rubbed his chin as Benson adjusted her specialized full-body lycra attire for Wrestle Wars 8.
“Mmhmm. It’s-” Sonya began..
He got lost pretty quickly in her scientific jargon about the attire’s properties. Not to mention it looked damn good on her. Normally she wore conservative business professional gear even when competing. This ensemble was tighter on her frame, accentuating her flawless femininity.
“Hey! Is that JMONT’s face airbrushed on?” He asked.
“It is. Everyone and their mother hates him almost as much as they hate me. He’s one of the few who has shown me respect and I to him. People hate seeing me with the TV Title and they hate his face, so I decided to really let WGWF have it by putting him on here.”
Ryder was gobsmacked.
“But anyway, you seemed lost for a moment there when I was explaining the outfit. The Devil’s in the details, Duncan. Punisher is the most resilient, unrelenting, cunning adversary I’ve encountered in my life but he’s still….. Punisher. He was so giddy about stating his match type and stipulation that he didn’t expound upon it. Page didn’t give him a chance either. My lawyer, Litigious Larry Livingstone, whom you’ve met, went over the written contract with a fine toothed comb and there’s nothing in it restricting attire.”
Duncan nodded. He already knew where it was going.
“Soooooo I got with Norris and the same engineers that forged my electrosuit that WGWF banned, and I made them forge me a different type.”
He sighed with relief.
“Thank God! I was worried when I heard Pun’s match type and stipulation. BDSM. Having you bound at the hands and feet, on all fours with a leash he controls and you without the ability to stand up or even defend yourself, it just sickened me.”
Sonya swooped her soul-black hair behind her left ear and grinned up at him genuinely from the corner of her mouth.
“Why Duncan Ryder, I do declare, it sounds like you care a little bit about the most reviled woman in all of wrestling.”
“You forgot to mention all of sports and entertainment too.”
He grinned after correcting her. An awkward silence fell between them for a moment.
“Touche.” Sonya finally said.
Duncan saw her give him a quick once-over. It was fleeting. Subtle. The same thing Emily Simms used to do.
”Unfortunately this suit won’t zap him with electricity when he hits me. What it will do instead is mitigate portions of the damage and disperse the rest. I’m still gonna get banged up some, but not anywhere near what Big Pun assumes will happen. So! Let’s test this bad-boy out.”
She backed away and dropped onto all fours, the position that lunatic will require her to be in come Wrestle Wars.
“Let me have it, Dunkie.”
His brows lifted. Her brows dipped.
“Mind out of the gutter. You know what I meant.”
For the next half hour he let her have it. He didn’t hold back either. No pulling kicks and punches. No pulling holds and throws. With stakes as high as vengeance for her simulated defilement, he couldn’t hold back. That maniac Punisher won’t hold back so why would he?
At the end he tried to help her up but she surged to a stand under her own power, sweaty, swaying, banged up but she shook herself out and marveled at her creation.
“It held up better than I thought!”
She slumped into a corner to convalesce.
“You’re lacking something though. You won’t be able to protect your face and head.”
Benson corrected him with a head bob to Norris who was seated outside the ring. In his lap was headgear with a face shield, which he patted and thumbs upped.
“Got it covered.” Norris boasted.
Duncan was impressed. He nodded to both of them but then scratched his chin.
“This is great, Sonya, but how do you plan on winning the fall? You can’t do anything. It’s stated in the rules he rattled off.”
She agreed with a frown and a tongue click.
“I’m gonna have to concede it. I hate it but he’s got me. That son of a bitch Chris Page screwed me on that one! Pun’s match type is happening first, so the plan is to absorb as much as I can with this suit to drain his energy. He’s big. He’s strong. But it takes a lot of oxygen and energy to keep up the pace on me, and he’s so enraged by me he’ll blow his load quickly.”
She immediately dry-heaved upon her poor choice of wording.
“And then when my match type happens, he’ll be spent, if not completely he’ll be breathing heavy.”
Ryder put a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re thinking and strategizing like a wrestler now. Welcome to the club.”
She IMMEDIATELY brushed his hand away and shot him a warning look.
“Sorry. Hey! About your match type? Norris is a genius. I haven't seen the Freebird Rule used in ages. Who have you managed to get to fight for you in it?”
Sonya pushed herself out of the corner.
“Yeeeeah, about that. Do you remember when I did you the favor of being my valentine so you wouldn’t be alone?”
Duncan wagged his finger in objection. She was leaving out a lot of specifics about that. She no-sold it and kept yammering.
“Well..”
She suddenly ran the ropes to his left.
“Will you..”
She passed by in front of him and hit the ropes to his right.
“Be my..”
She caught him off guard with a Lou Thesz Press that had just enough oomph to knock him over.
“Champion for the match?”
She remained mounted on him and pinned his arms down at the elbows. He could’ve easily bucked her off or swept her, but he reigned in the urge.
“You didn’t have to be dramatic about it. I was actually going to volunteer if you hadn’t found someone. What he did to you went beyond hatred for you. That psychopath violated you in the most vulgar way. Not just you, he did it to every woman watching, and he also did it to victims of the horrendous act he emulated at your expense. It'd be my pleasure to kick his ass.”
Her face morphed into equal parts relief and surprise.
“Thank you so much Duncan! I thought I was gonna have to bribe you or something. It’s really sweet that you’re willing to fight for my honor. Nobody else has.”
He repaid her expression with a resolute countenance.
“It’s what friends are for.”
Benson’s cheeks turned a deeper hue of red.
”Friends? I’ve been promoted from student, employer, business partner?”
He nodded.
”Affirmative.”
Still mounted on him, she leaned in close.
”Are there any…”
She paused for suspense sake then leaned in closer.
”Benefits… with this friendship?”
She leaned in even closer, way too close. He fidgeted, unsure of what was happening or how to go about this exchange.
”No it’s just friendship. Good ole fashioned type. No strings attached.”
Her captivating sea-blue orbs widened at the innuendo.
”Not that kind of NSA.”
He tensed up as she breached the point of no return and bopped him on the nose with hers. She rubbed her nose back and forth on his in the classic Eskimo Kiss. Ryder was at a loss of what to do, so he eased her off of him and quickly bolted to a stand.
She followed suit and ran a hand through her dark tresses, stressing the roots of her follicles.
”I’m sorry Duncan. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m just so FUCKING frustrated with Punisher and his non stop shit at every turn. I’m trying to find things to take my mind off it all.”
The Level Up Final Boss Champion waved off her apology.
”No need for apologies. I’ve been there. Trust me. It’ll all be over soon though, and then we’ll work out the details on our friendship and any perks that might come with it. Now, let’s get back to kicking that gutter trash’s ass. We’ve got the first fall covered. Can’t do anything about that one. He wins automatically but he’ll expend a lot of energy. Second fall I will dismantle his ass. I’m gonna beat him like a Cheeokee drum.”
He flopped his hands upon her shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.
”I’m gonna punish the Punisher so badly he’ll be easy pickins for you in the third fall.”
She gave his hands a gentle squeeze while pinning those hypnotic blue soul windows on him in the vintage ‘I’m a damsel in distress please save me’ way.
”Not good enough. You need to injure him. You need to put him down for good. He should never wrestle again.”
Duncan pulled her in with a platonic friendship hug.
”Eh, I'd normally draw a line there but, under the circumstances, I’ll see what I can do. Speaking of that third fall, if Punisher survives me to see it, please tell me you have something planned for it.”
She sunk into the hug, looking over at Norris and sharing a nod.
”We have something in the works. Even if it falls through, I should be able to adapt and overcome it. I’ve been doing it in every unfair booking and cockamamie scheme Page and Raven have thrown my way since day one. If there’s a silver lining in this is it’s Cokehead Chris’s disdain for Punisher too. If that pill head doesn’t get in the way, I’ll have a good chance.”
[ OFF CAMERA ] .. JUST KIDDING… [ ON CAMERA ]
If there’s one thing almost as big as the Wrestle Wars extravaganza itself it’s the All Access fan events in the days leading up to the Granddaddy of them All. It’s where wrestlers and celebrities unite and give the fans their undivided attention and fanfare. Obviously this event isn’t any different.
Even Spiderman has dropped in.
Concerts from bands new and old have entertained the fans and now we zoom into the endless lines at various WGWF superstars booths. Pictures are taken. Squeals are heard. Jubilant crying erupts. Interactions that will last a lifetime, stretching across oceans, are being born.
And just like that, in the midst of the happiness roundabout all, a dark cloud encroaches in the form of a Dodge Charger limousine with the famous Benson insignia adorning it.
Despite their love for the WGWF stars currently engaging with them, the fans desert them and flock to the limo like a Biblical insect plague. The people commence the time honored tradition of hurling plastic bottles and verbal heat at the harlot whom the chariot houses.
The windows roll down, revealing “No Scrubs” by TLC playing inside. The sweet ass doors open and out steps Sonya’s personal bodyguard, the humongous Smith, followed by a squad of beefy security guards. The competent kind of guards, not the rent-a-cops Raven hires for Brawl shows. They disperse the crowd, allowing Norris to exit followed by Litigious Larry Livingstone and finally, the most polarizing woman in WGWF.
The Hero of the First World is dressed to the nines as always, putting all to shame with her exquisite attire. She’s greeted with the deafening hatred she’s accustomed to and she reciprocates with the most New Jersey of all “up yours” gestures. She doesn’t look pleased to be here, probably because she’s being forced to attend by her dad or Page or Raven or Punisher.
She wears that renowned Benson bitch-face as she’s rushed into the event room and taken to her high security booth, where she yells at the crowd who’ve now neglected the other booths and are lined up at hers.
” I know why you trashlings are lining up here. You’re gonna get my autograph and sell it on Ebay. I’m not gonna get a dime off you lazy bums! So hurry up. Get up here so I can get the hell out of here.”
The Rich Bitch angrily grabs the marker and pictures of herself off the stack next to her. Up first is a kid maybe about 10 years old, fear in his eyes despite his parents being with him.
”Name?”
”Eddie.” He replies sheepishly.
Sonya scoffs and scribbles the following on his autograph:
”Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
A face like yours,
Belongs in a zoo.”
She rudely tosses it at him and he walks away crying, with his parents shooting her the stink eye. Up next is a heavyset teen all by his lonesome.
”You got something on your chin.”
He instinctively wipes at his chin.
”No. The third chin down.”
He frowns. She scribbles down a very wordy step by step instruction on how to lose weight on the autograph, even writing across her own face in the picture, making it basically unsellable. His frown deepens as she tosses the autograph at him with a repulsed expression on her ridiculously pretty face.
She continues to do this to every grease pellet that steps to her booth. Some walk away crying. Others walk away hurling vulgarity. A few instances see her security getting involved to prevent physical hostility.
Finally the last fan remains. A woman in her late 20s. Sonya recognizes her from being in the line several times earlier, but the lady had never committed to approaching her, always retreating to the back and restarting the process.
”Hurry up. Let’s go. Let’s go!” Sonya chirps, snapping her fingers rapidly to put some pep in the woman’s steps.
Sonya grabs one of her pictures from the stack.
”I don’t want your autograph.” The fan states with melancholy.
The Rich Bitch eyes the woman suspiciously now, taking note of the lady’s slumped shoulders, folded arms, and baggy clothes over what’s likely an attractive body. The sunken eyes also give Sonya pause.
Benson’s security detail picks up on it also and intercedes, frisking her for weapons. The woman's body language closes further but nothing harmful is found. More at ease now, Benson motions her forward.
”I think I’m the only fan rooting for you. I just wanted to meet you and tell you that you have at least one girl supporting you.”
The woman refuses to make eye contact as she continues.
”Punisher mock raped you. I was raped for real.”
Sonya immediately protests this conversation.
”Whooooa no. No no no. Nope. I’m not your therapist.”
”Mine never got caught but you have a chance to get Punisher back. Please beat him. PLEASE!”
Benson’s bulwark of black shirts surround the woman and begin herding her away.
”Wait.” Sonya orders with measured hesitance.
They bring her back to stand before the scourge of wrestling. Emotions swirl within the Rich Bitch but she can’t pin down the right ones. She leans down to where the woman is forced to make eye contact with her at last, and she sees the pain in them. Sonya nods and says something she’s never said to a wrestling fan.
”Thank you.”
It’s genuine and the woman recognizes it. The remark nets a brief smile from her, the first one in likely a long time.
”Name?”
”Cassasndra.”
Sonya jots a message down on one of her autograph pictures.
I’ll beat the Punisher for me and for you. Thank you for the support, Cassandra.
Ever forward,
Sonya Benson!
Sonya retrieves one of her extra Platinum cards she gives to constituents to splurge on, with many thousands of dollars credited to it, and gives it to Cassandra.
”Go wild. Get a VIP package and ringside seat.”
Cassandra is left speechless but grateful.
WGWF HQ Building
The scene opens to the inside of Punisher’s WGWF office, where we find his door busted off the hinges and a platoon of Sonya’s entourage milling about, taking leisure of desecrating his memorabilia.
The camera pans over to Sonya, who’s clad in her patented Sherbrooke pantsuit with Television Title around her wondrous waist. She sports a stern countenance as she looks upon a picture on the wall featuring Pun and his mentor Mr. Money.
”Isn’t it ironic that the man who mentored you from childhood is now set to deliver you into Three Stages of Hell that will render everything you’ve put your hatred into null and void? Imagine his dismay when you turned on me after our victory over Bully Gloves and Emily Simms. I’m sure he would’ve never advised you to do that. Things were going too well for you. Riding my coattails put you in the main event. Betting everything you had on me to win the TV Title at West Coast Rumble netted you .3% ownership of this wretched company. One of the few wins on your record came at my expense, and it took Raven screwing me over to do it.”
She spins on her heels, giving her full attention to the camera.
”Mr. Money had too much time and cash tied up in you though; he couldn’t just abandon you when you went rouge but I assure you, he’s in panic mode deep inside. He knows without me involved in your life and career, there’s no more clout, no more main events, no more shine. He understands, win or lose, after Three Stages of Hell the joyride is over. You’ll be stripped of your ownership. Raven will book you against his Whoville faced wife for the title and he’ll make sure you lose it like he did to me. And Pun? That’s the BEST case scenario for you. If I win, it’s worse. You’ll look like a fool and you’ll be tossed under the pile, never getting another shot at the title nor me again. You’ll be shifted to the dung pile Dark show run by that sentient powdered donut. Mr. Money is intelligent. He’s taking this all into account. And Big Pun?”
She taps her temple.
”That should worry you. Maybe I’m talking to him on the side? Perhaps I pull a shocker and bribe him into being the stand in for my Freebird Rules stage in our match? Maybe I’m holding him as an ace up my sleeve for the third fall? What if I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse? After all, he did say everyone has a price. That includes him. And sometimes a person’s price isn’t tied to money. It could be power or a host of other things. Stuff I can give him that you can’t. See, he and I are cut from the same cloth. We use broken people like yourself as pawns to move across the board at our whim, so we don’t have to sacrifice other pieces. While you were growing up broken on the streets, being groomed for manipulation by the Mr. Money types, I was growing up learning how to work with people like Mr. Money. Think about that, Big Scum!”
Sonya retrieves the picture off the wall and carries it with her over to his desk. She scoots her plump rump onto the edge of his desk and tosses the picture onto the surface. A model of the globe catches her attention and she scoops it up.
”Figures you’d have one of these. You think you have the world in your hands. I doubt you can point out your home state though.”
She spins the globe in her hand and lets it twirl.
”You should actually take a lesson from world history. In 1813 the Sixth Coalition, virtually all of Europe, battled the villainess Napoleon at Leipzig and sent him into full retreat back to France. It was a stunning blow and the Sixth Coalition pursued him nearly all the way to Paris. They, like you, thought their surprising victory meant the coup de gras was a guarantee. Their army outnumbered his 4 to 1. They had every tactical advantage in spades over him. It was a given, just like the first stage in our match, the Bitch on a Leash.”
The Rich Bitch stops the globe and taps it on Paris.
”In less than a week, the Sixth Coalition was in full retreat across the Reine, having suffered four times the casualties they’d inflicted on Napoleon’s army. It took French politics siding with the coalition to thwart him. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Big Scum, you’re the Sixth Coalition in this scenario, and your only hope is Page himself screwing me over. I learn from history though. I know Page could pull something shady on me so I’ve put contingencies in place to circumvent that possibility. He has a lot of enemies. Raven has a lot of enemies. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I’ve already said I’d give up all those wins I’ve attained in my 25 win quota just to insure I beat you, so you better believe I’d shake hands with the devil to get it done. I’ll work a deal with Bully Gloves and SAGA if I have to.”
Norris pops a squat into Punisher’s chair and huffs.
”Look at this facking shit!”
He spins Punisher’s computer screen around to show her. Sonya sneers at his animated wallpaper. Her greatest humiliation at his hands.
She almost loses her composure, body tensed and jaw clenched. Instead of a rant as expected, she thinks about Cassandra and relents.
”The moment you simulated my defilement to be played on social media for all eternity is the moment you sealed your fate. The first stage of hell will be yours to own, but the second stage, that’s all me. You won’t be able to take advantage of your pummeling of me in the first stage because you’ll be facing someone more dangerous and gifted than you’ll ever dream of being. It could be Mr. Money. It could be JMONT. It could be anyone you’ve pissed off. They’ll leave you ripped to shreds for me and the schemes I’ve made for the final stage. Just remember, you wanted this, not me. I never wanted to be the face of WGWF. It happened on its own due to lack of competency of others like Peter, who’s a grease monkey that loses matches in other promotions while sporting the WGWF world title, or the impending International champion Bully who beats up Emily and gives her concussions nightly or Cholo who appropriates black culture with his stupid afro and swag. Mark Cross looks like one of those creeps on Chris Hansen’s Dateline NBC specials. I’m the best WGWF has. How ironic! Just remember Pun..”
She shatters the globe across the wall, a symbolic gesture of what’s to come for Punisher.
”I’ve defeated you before. I knocked you clean out. At Wrestle Wars VIII, you’re gonna find out why you shouldn’t tug on Supergirl’s cape.”
In an audacious act, they destroy Pun’s prized sanctuary, leaving nothing unbroken save for his desk. Sonya gives a parting directive to Smith then leaves the room. The camera turns away for 30 seconds before turning back to showing a gift left by the gargantuan bodyguard.
It’s a gigantic pile of shit, not figurative shit, literal fecal excrement from his massive rectal orifice.
// Had Pun’s permission. 3,935 words.
Private wrestling Gym aka Sonya’s villainess lair
Ten days ago
“Pretty sharp, Sonya.”
Duncan Ryder rubbed his chin as Benson adjusted her specialized full-body lycra attire for Wrestle Wars 8.
“Mmhmm. It’s-” Sonya began..
He got lost pretty quickly in her scientific jargon about the attire’s properties. Not to mention it looked damn good on her. Normally she wore conservative business professional gear even when competing. This ensemble was tighter on her frame, accentuating her flawless femininity.
“Hey! Is that JMONT’s face airbrushed on?” He asked.
“It is. Everyone and their mother hates him almost as much as they hate me. He’s one of the few who has shown me respect and I to him. People hate seeing me with the TV Title and they hate his face, so I decided to really let WGWF have it by putting him on here.”
Ryder was gobsmacked.
“But anyway, you seemed lost for a moment there when I was explaining the outfit. The Devil’s in the details, Duncan. Punisher is the most resilient, unrelenting, cunning adversary I’ve encountered in my life but he’s still….. Punisher. He was so giddy about stating his match type and stipulation that he didn’t expound upon it. Page didn’t give him a chance either. My lawyer, Litigious Larry Livingstone, whom you’ve met, went over the written contract with a fine toothed comb and there’s nothing in it restricting attire.”
Duncan nodded. He already knew where it was going.
“Soooooo I got with Norris and the same engineers that forged my electrosuit that WGWF banned, and I made them forge me a different type.”
He sighed with relief.
“Thank God! I was worried when I heard Pun’s match type and stipulation. BDSM. Having you bound at the hands and feet, on all fours with a leash he controls and you without the ability to stand up or even defend yourself, it just sickened me.”
Sonya swooped her soul-black hair behind her left ear and grinned up at him genuinely from the corner of her mouth.
“Why Duncan Ryder, I do declare, it sounds like you care a little bit about the most reviled woman in all of wrestling.”
“You forgot to mention all of sports and entertainment too.”
He grinned after correcting her. An awkward silence fell between them for a moment.
“Touche.” Sonya finally said.
Duncan saw her give him a quick once-over. It was fleeting. Subtle. The same thing Emily Simms used to do.
”Unfortunately this suit won’t zap him with electricity when he hits me. What it will do instead is mitigate portions of the damage and disperse the rest. I’m still gonna get banged up some, but not anywhere near what Big Pun assumes will happen. So! Let’s test this bad-boy out.”
She backed away and dropped onto all fours, the position that lunatic will require her to be in come Wrestle Wars.
“Let me have it, Dunkie.”
His brows lifted. Her brows dipped.
“Mind out of the gutter. You know what I meant.”
For the next half hour he let her have it. He didn’t hold back either. No pulling kicks and punches. No pulling holds and throws. With stakes as high as vengeance for her simulated defilement, he couldn’t hold back. That maniac Punisher won’t hold back so why would he?
At the end he tried to help her up but she surged to a stand under her own power, sweaty, swaying, banged up but she shook herself out and marveled at her creation.
“It held up better than I thought!”
She slumped into a corner to convalesce.
“You’re lacking something though. You won’t be able to protect your face and head.”
Benson corrected him with a head bob to Norris who was seated outside the ring. In his lap was headgear with a face shield, which he patted and thumbs upped.
“Got it covered.” Norris boasted.
Duncan was impressed. He nodded to both of them but then scratched his chin.
“This is great, Sonya, but how do you plan on winning the fall? You can’t do anything. It’s stated in the rules he rattled off.”
She agreed with a frown and a tongue click.
“I’m gonna have to concede it. I hate it but he’s got me. That son of a bitch Chris Page screwed me on that one! Pun’s match type is happening first, so the plan is to absorb as much as I can with this suit to drain his energy. He’s big. He’s strong. But it takes a lot of oxygen and energy to keep up the pace on me, and he’s so enraged by me he’ll blow his load quickly.”
She immediately dry-heaved upon her poor choice of wording.
“And then when my match type happens, he’ll be spent, if not completely he’ll be breathing heavy.”
Ryder put a hand on her shoulder.
“You’re thinking and strategizing like a wrestler now. Welcome to the club.”
She IMMEDIATELY brushed his hand away and shot him a warning look.
“Sorry. Hey! About your match type? Norris is a genius. I haven't seen the Freebird Rule used in ages. Who have you managed to get to fight for you in it?”
Sonya pushed herself out of the corner.
“Yeeeeah, about that. Do you remember when I did you the favor of being my valentine so you wouldn’t be alone?”
Duncan wagged his finger in objection. She was leaving out a lot of specifics about that. She no-sold it and kept yammering.
“Well..”
She suddenly ran the ropes to his left.
“Will you..”
She passed by in front of him and hit the ropes to his right.
“Be my..”
She caught him off guard with a Lou Thesz Press that had just enough oomph to knock him over.
“Champion for the match?”
She remained mounted on him and pinned his arms down at the elbows. He could’ve easily bucked her off or swept her, but he reigned in the urge.
“You didn’t have to be dramatic about it. I was actually going to volunteer if you hadn’t found someone. What he did to you went beyond hatred for you. That psychopath violated you in the most vulgar way. Not just you, he did it to every woman watching, and he also did it to victims of the horrendous act he emulated at your expense. It'd be my pleasure to kick his ass.”
Her face morphed into equal parts relief and surprise.
“Thank you so much Duncan! I thought I was gonna have to bribe you or something. It’s really sweet that you’re willing to fight for my honor. Nobody else has.”
He repaid her expression with a resolute countenance.
“It’s what friends are for.”
Benson’s cheeks turned a deeper hue of red.
”Friends? I’ve been promoted from student, employer, business partner?”
He nodded.
”Affirmative.”
Still mounted on him, she leaned in close.
”Are there any…”
She paused for suspense sake then leaned in closer.
”Benefits… with this friendship?”
She leaned in even closer, way too close. He fidgeted, unsure of what was happening or how to go about this exchange.
”No it’s just friendship. Good ole fashioned type. No strings attached.”
Her captivating sea-blue orbs widened at the innuendo.
”Not that kind of NSA.”
He tensed up as she breached the point of no return and bopped him on the nose with hers. She rubbed her nose back and forth on his in the classic Eskimo Kiss. Ryder was at a loss of what to do, so he eased her off of him and quickly bolted to a stand.
She followed suit and ran a hand through her dark tresses, stressing the roots of her follicles.
”I’m sorry Duncan. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I’m just so FUCKING frustrated with Punisher and his non stop shit at every turn. I’m trying to find things to take my mind off it all.”
The Level Up Final Boss Champion waved off her apology.
”No need for apologies. I’ve been there. Trust me. It’ll all be over soon though, and then we’ll work out the details on our friendship and any perks that might come with it. Now, let’s get back to kicking that gutter trash’s ass. We’ve got the first fall covered. Can’t do anything about that one. He wins automatically but he’ll expend a lot of energy. Second fall I will dismantle his ass. I’m gonna beat him like a Cheeokee drum.”
He flopped his hands upon her shoulders and gave them a reassuring squeeze.
”I’m gonna punish the Punisher so badly he’ll be easy pickins for you in the third fall.”
She gave his hands a gentle squeeze while pinning those hypnotic blue soul windows on him in the vintage ‘I’m a damsel in distress please save me’ way.
”Not good enough. You need to injure him. You need to put him down for good. He should never wrestle again.”
Duncan pulled her in with a platonic friendship hug.
”Eh, I'd normally draw a line there but, under the circumstances, I’ll see what I can do. Speaking of that third fall, if Punisher survives me to see it, please tell me you have something planned for it.”
She sunk into the hug, looking over at Norris and sharing a nod.
”We have something in the works. Even if it falls through, I should be able to adapt and overcome it. I’ve been doing it in every unfair booking and cockamamie scheme Page and Raven have thrown my way since day one. If there’s a silver lining in this is it’s Cokehead Chris’s disdain for Punisher too. If that pill head doesn’t get in the way, I’ll have a good chance.”
[ OFF CAMERA ] .. JUST KIDDING… [ ON CAMERA ]
If there’s one thing almost as big as the Wrestle Wars extravaganza itself it’s the All Access fan events in the days leading up to the Granddaddy of them All. It’s where wrestlers and celebrities unite and give the fans their undivided attention and fanfare. Obviously this event isn’t any different.
Even Spiderman has dropped in.
Concerts from bands new and old have entertained the fans and now we zoom into the endless lines at various WGWF superstars booths. Pictures are taken. Squeals are heard. Jubilant crying erupts. Interactions that will last a lifetime, stretching across oceans, are being born.
And just like that, in the midst of the happiness roundabout all, a dark cloud encroaches in the form of a Dodge Charger limousine with the famous Benson insignia adorning it.
Despite their love for the WGWF stars currently engaging with them, the fans desert them and flock to the limo like a Biblical insect plague. The people commence the time honored tradition of hurling plastic bottles and verbal heat at the harlot whom the chariot houses.
The windows roll down, revealing “No Scrubs” by TLC playing inside. The sweet ass doors open and out steps Sonya’s personal bodyguard, the humongous Smith, followed by a squad of beefy security guards. The competent kind of guards, not the rent-a-cops Raven hires for Brawl shows. They disperse the crowd, allowing Norris to exit followed by Litigious Larry Livingstone and finally, the most polarizing woman in WGWF.
The Hero of the First World is dressed to the nines as always, putting all to shame with her exquisite attire. She’s greeted with the deafening hatred she’s accustomed to and she reciprocates with the most New Jersey of all “up yours” gestures. She doesn’t look pleased to be here, probably because she’s being forced to attend by her dad or Page or Raven or Punisher.
She wears that renowned Benson bitch-face as she’s rushed into the event room and taken to her high security booth, where she yells at the crowd who’ve now neglected the other booths and are lined up at hers.
” I know why you trashlings are lining up here. You’re gonna get my autograph and sell it on Ebay. I’m not gonna get a dime off you lazy bums! So hurry up. Get up here so I can get the hell out of here.”
The Rich Bitch angrily grabs the marker and pictures of herself off the stack next to her. Up first is a kid maybe about 10 years old, fear in his eyes despite his parents being with him.
”Name?”
”Eddie.” He replies sheepishly.
Sonya scoffs and scribbles the following on his autograph:
”Roses are red,
Violets are blue,
A face like yours,
Belongs in a zoo.”
She rudely tosses it at him and he walks away crying, with his parents shooting her the stink eye. Up next is a heavyset teen all by his lonesome.
”You got something on your chin.”
He instinctively wipes at his chin.
”No. The third chin down.”
He frowns. She scribbles down a very wordy step by step instruction on how to lose weight on the autograph, even writing across her own face in the picture, making it basically unsellable. His frown deepens as she tosses the autograph at him with a repulsed expression on her ridiculously pretty face.
She continues to do this to every grease pellet that steps to her booth. Some walk away crying. Others walk away hurling vulgarity. A few instances see her security getting involved to prevent physical hostility.
Finally the last fan remains. A woman in her late 20s. Sonya recognizes her from being in the line several times earlier, but the lady had never committed to approaching her, always retreating to the back and restarting the process.
”Hurry up. Let’s go. Let’s go!” Sonya chirps, snapping her fingers rapidly to put some pep in the woman’s steps.
Sonya grabs one of her pictures from the stack.
”I don’t want your autograph.” The fan states with melancholy.
The Rich Bitch eyes the woman suspiciously now, taking note of the lady’s slumped shoulders, folded arms, and baggy clothes over what’s likely an attractive body. The sunken eyes also give Sonya pause.
Benson’s security detail picks up on it also and intercedes, frisking her for weapons. The woman's body language closes further but nothing harmful is found. More at ease now, Benson motions her forward.
”I think I’m the only fan rooting for you. I just wanted to meet you and tell you that you have at least one girl supporting you.”
The woman refuses to make eye contact as she continues.
”Punisher mock raped you. I was raped for real.”
Sonya immediately protests this conversation.
”Whooooa no. No no no. Nope. I’m not your therapist.”
”Mine never got caught but you have a chance to get Punisher back. Please beat him. PLEASE!”
Benson’s bulwark of black shirts surround the woman and begin herding her away.
”Wait.” Sonya orders with measured hesitance.
They bring her back to stand before the scourge of wrestling. Emotions swirl within the Rich Bitch but she can’t pin down the right ones. She leans down to where the woman is forced to make eye contact with her at last, and she sees the pain in them. Sonya nods and says something she’s never said to a wrestling fan.
”Thank you.”
It’s genuine and the woman recognizes it. The remark nets a brief smile from her, the first one in likely a long time.
”Name?”
”Cassasndra.”
Sonya jots a message down on one of her autograph pictures.
I’ll beat the Punisher for me and for you. Thank you for the support, Cassandra.
Ever forward,
Sonya Benson!
Sonya retrieves one of her extra Platinum cards she gives to constituents to splurge on, with many thousands of dollars credited to it, and gives it to Cassandra.
”Go wild. Get a VIP package and ringside seat.”
Cassandra is left speechless but grateful.
WGWF HQ Building
The scene opens to the inside of Punisher’s WGWF office, where we find his door busted off the hinges and a platoon of Sonya’s entourage milling about, taking leisure of desecrating his memorabilia.
The camera pans over to Sonya, who’s clad in her patented Sherbrooke pantsuit with Television Title around her wondrous waist. She sports a stern countenance as she looks upon a picture on the wall featuring Pun and his mentor Mr. Money.
”Isn’t it ironic that the man who mentored you from childhood is now set to deliver you into Three Stages of Hell that will render everything you’ve put your hatred into null and void? Imagine his dismay when you turned on me after our victory over Bully Gloves and Emily Simms. I’m sure he would’ve never advised you to do that. Things were going too well for you. Riding my coattails put you in the main event. Betting everything you had on me to win the TV Title at West Coast Rumble netted you .3% ownership of this wretched company. One of the few wins on your record came at my expense, and it took Raven screwing me over to do it.”
She spins on her heels, giving her full attention to the camera.
”Mr. Money had too much time and cash tied up in you though; he couldn’t just abandon you when you went rouge but I assure you, he’s in panic mode deep inside. He knows without me involved in your life and career, there’s no more clout, no more main events, no more shine. He understands, win or lose, after Three Stages of Hell the joyride is over. You’ll be stripped of your ownership. Raven will book you against his Whoville faced wife for the title and he’ll make sure you lose it like he did to me. And Pun? That’s the BEST case scenario for you. If I win, it’s worse. You’ll look like a fool and you’ll be tossed under the pile, never getting another shot at the title nor me again. You’ll be shifted to the dung pile Dark show run by that sentient powdered donut. Mr. Money is intelligent. He’s taking this all into account. And Big Pun?”
She taps her temple.
”That should worry you. Maybe I’m talking to him on the side? Perhaps I pull a shocker and bribe him into being the stand in for my Freebird Rules stage in our match? Maybe I’m holding him as an ace up my sleeve for the third fall? What if I made him an offer he couldn’t refuse? After all, he did say everyone has a price. That includes him. And sometimes a person’s price isn’t tied to money. It could be power or a host of other things. Stuff I can give him that you can’t. See, he and I are cut from the same cloth. We use broken people like yourself as pawns to move across the board at our whim, so we don’t have to sacrifice other pieces. While you were growing up broken on the streets, being groomed for manipulation by the Mr. Money types, I was growing up learning how to work with people like Mr. Money. Think about that, Big Scum!”
Sonya retrieves the picture off the wall and carries it with her over to his desk. She scoots her plump rump onto the edge of his desk and tosses the picture onto the surface. A model of the globe catches her attention and she scoops it up.
”Figures you’d have one of these. You think you have the world in your hands. I doubt you can point out your home state though.”
She spins the globe in her hand and lets it twirl.
”You should actually take a lesson from world history. In 1813 the Sixth Coalition, virtually all of Europe, battled the villainess Napoleon at Leipzig and sent him into full retreat back to France. It was a stunning blow and the Sixth Coalition pursued him nearly all the way to Paris. They, like you, thought their surprising victory meant the coup de gras was a guarantee. Their army outnumbered his 4 to 1. They had every tactical advantage in spades over him. It was a given, just like the first stage in our match, the Bitch on a Leash.”
The Rich Bitch stops the globe and taps it on Paris.
”In less than a week, the Sixth Coalition was in full retreat across the Reine, having suffered four times the casualties they’d inflicted on Napoleon’s army. It took French politics siding with the coalition to thwart him. In case you haven’t figured it out yet, Big Scum, you’re the Sixth Coalition in this scenario, and your only hope is Page himself screwing me over. I learn from history though. I know Page could pull something shady on me so I’ve put contingencies in place to circumvent that possibility. He has a lot of enemies. Raven has a lot of enemies. The enemy of my enemy is my friend. I’ve already said I’d give up all those wins I’ve attained in my 25 win quota just to insure I beat you, so you better believe I’d shake hands with the devil to get it done. I’ll work a deal with Bully Gloves and SAGA if I have to.”
Norris pops a squat into Punisher’s chair and huffs.
”Look at this facking shit!”
He spins Punisher’s computer screen around to show her. Sonya sneers at his animated wallpaper. Her greatest humiliation at his hands.
She almost loses her composure, body tensed and jaw clenched. Instead of a rant as expected, she thinks about Cassandra and relents.
”The moment you simulated my defilement to be played on social media for all eternity is the moment you sealed your fate. The first stage of hell will be yours to own, but the second stage, that’s all me. You won’t be able to take advantage of your pummeling of me in the first stage because you’ll be facing someone more dangerous and gifted than you’ll ever dream of being. It could be Mr. Money. It could be JMONT. It could be anyone you’ve pissed off. They’ll leave you ripped to shreds for me and the schemes I’ve made for the final stage. Just remember, you wanted this, not me. I never wanted to be the face of WGWF. It happened on its own due to lack of competency of others like Peter, who’s a grease monkey that loses matches in other promotions while sporting the WGWF world title, or the impending International champion Bully who beats up Emily and gives her concussions nightly or Cholo who appropriates black culture with his stupid afro and swag. Mark Cross looks like one of those creeps on Chris Hansen’s Dateline NBC specials. I’m the best WGWF has. How ironic! Just remember Pun..”
She shatters the globe across the wall, a symbolic gesture of what’s to come for Punisher.
”I’ve defeated you before. I knocked you clean out. At Wrestle Wars VIII, you’re gonna find out why you shouldn’t tug on Supergirl’s cape.”
In an audacious act, they destroy Pun’s prized sanctuary, leaving nothing unbroken save for his desk. Sonya gives a parting directive to Smith then leaves the room. The camera turns away for 30 seconds before turning back to showing a gift left by the gargantuan bodyguard.
It’s a gigantic pile of shit, not figurative shit, literal fecal excrement from his massive rectal orifice.
// Had Pun’s permission. 3,935 words.