Past Meets Present V: Brothers & Sisters Jun 3, 2023 22:44:32 GMT -5 Jim Caedus and Lycana like this
Post by dwwgwf on Jun 3, 2023 22:44:32 GMT -5
(OOC: Jim Caedus, Robert Main, Spencer Adams, Dolly Waters, Lycana)
The sound of the waves crashing on the shore was drowned out by the screaming of all the fans gathered within the walls of the Commune for May Day 2, their voices reaching a fever pitch as something exciting happened in that ring.
Dolly scowls as she hurries along behind the scenes to handle some kind of issue or another. Something about being short on the third eye chakra tea packages that she had promised the hoarde. More than likely, one of the hippies had swiped an extra for themself, and now she had to come up with extra of Dolly’s Divine Timing to make up for it. That was money out of her pocket!
Another wild bout of screaming has her grinding her teeth. She had wanted to be ringside for this match, especially given it was Corey in the ring, but with him facing Alias? She had especially wanted to. It had been something demanded for years, and...
Dolly slows her pace slightly, but shrugs it off, thinking she had been hearing things. Nobody would be in this part of Coreytopia except security staff, and they would just approach her.
This time she stops, looking around until something moves by a pillar, a familiar face peeking out from behind it. One that shocks the hell out of Dolly.
“Yer insane! What are you doing here?!”
“I had to talk to ya.”
“Here?! It’s bad enough that you’d show up to an XWF event, but HERE?! Lane hates you...”
“... but Corey hates you even more. Do you know what he would do if he knew you were at his home?!”
“It was worth the risk.”
“How did you even get in here Jim?”
“I have my ways.”
Jim Caedus sidles out from behind the column after a quick look around, revealing the most stereotypical of hippie attire. Bell bottom jeans, a loud flower printed shirt and fringed suede vest. He pulls out his bandana from a pocket, settling it on his head. He flashes the peace sign with a grin.
“I just bought a ticket Lil Sis.”
“You couldn’t have waited?”
“You think I woulda come here if it coulda? I had to ask a favor of you. I need you to be on my team at War Games in WGWF.”
“I... Why’d you pick me?”
“Who else? You’re my Lil Sis. Don't forget, our connection's rooted all the way back to Lethal Lottery 4 2017. The two of us teamin' in the 2nd Round to , you in the Buronan disguise, . We've been close behind the scenes ever since...but I don't have to tell you that. Don’t you remember what happened after War Games 2021?”
Dolly’s mind flashes back to that moment of tenderness in the middle of the ring.
“But I’m gonna be retiring.”
“We’ve always been able to count on each other. We have a connection, one that not even Corey can sever. There wasn’t a question when I was deciding who I wanted to draft that you’d be on the list. So what do you say? For old times' sake?”
A long pause before Dolly smiles.
“You got yer'self a teammate big bro.”
Dolly popped the last bite of her burger into her mouth, before crumpling the paper in her hand, sending it flying to land neatly in the garbage can, already full to overflowing of Hardee’s wrappers. She leans back in the armchair and dangles a leg over the side. The rest of the team are sprawled contentedly around the room, full stomachs having brought peace for a moment.
“So, what are we gonna to do about this situation?”
“Maybe we should just call the cops and tell them.”
“They’re in the pocket of the Violenzas.”
“Or you guys could just come and get Page, Raven, and Candice with me.”
Jim gets a bunch of withering looks.
“Seriously, what’s the big deal? I have a plan!”
“The big deal, is that it can get us into a load of shit bro!”
“I say we all just walk away.”
“They’ll hunt all of us down relentlessly.”
“I’m retired. I can travel.”
“With a newborn?”
“I’m about to retire.”
“I’m already on the run.”
“It doesn’t matter how far we run. These guys won't stop. They’ll track us down until they kill us.”
“Right Spence. A week. A month. A year. They won’t fuckin’ stop.”
“Whose side are you on?”
“I think we should hear Jim out, is all.”
“I think that’s insane."
They all erupt into disagreement, talking over one another. Jim throws up his hands to quiet the din.
“Maybe we should all have a few drinks, and try to relax.”
After a few moments, the rest reluctantly agree, and Jim rings for the staff, who arrive promptly, hustling off to obey his request for shots of their finest, bringing back an assortment of their most expensive liquors for the team to sample. The gloved server extols of the virtues of the thirty-year-old whisky, pouring out one and a half fingers in each of the four shot glasses. Dolly reaches for one, and the server pulls the tray out of her reach, looking aghast.
“We don’t serve minors here!”
He whips a glass of clear liquid off the tray, handing it to her. She gives it a suspicious sniff. It smelled.... fruity?
“The fuck is this?”
He looks affronted at her language, but keeps his voice sedate.
“All-natural tropical punch, no added sugar, and no red 40!”
“Is there vodka in it?”
“No.” Said with a sniff of displeasure. “And we can’t forget these!”
He produces a little paper umbrella and another bendy straw, this one green, and puts them on the glass.
“There, now you can have a ‘cocktail’ with the adults.”
The server turns his attention back to the shot glasses, starting to pass them out. Dolly cocks her arms back, ready to launch the juice at him. Or Jim, who had started all this shit, just to save a few bucks. Taking advantage of her moment of indecision, Spencer plucks it out of her hand, slipping her his own shot behind his back. She shoots it back, glaring at a completely oblivious Jim.
“I’m gonna kill him."
Seemed to be her mantra for the evening.
“Better do it before the mafia takes the opportunity away from you.”
“Or one of us does.”
“And leave the bottles!” Jim tells the server, blissfully unaware of his life being on the line yet again. The server exits the room, closing the door with a click behind him, leaving Team Caedus alone once more. Main pours out more alcohol into the shot glasses. Dolly dumps her glass out into the closest potted plant, and he sloshes some in to replace it for her. “So, about that kidnappin’...”
A round of groans from the trio of Main, Lycana and Dolly greet this.
“Let’s at least hear what he has to say.”
“Thanks again Spence. Anyway, let’s just do it. It will save our lives, and fulfill what they want. The Violenza’s arent going to kill em. Just extort them a little. They’re too valuable runnin’ the places.”
“Thats the plan?"
“That’s no different than anything else you’ve said.”
Jim looks to Spencer for support, but he shakes his head.
“Good way to get us fired and end our careers bro! We just got to the WGWF!”
“Can’t we just tell Page what's going on?”
“If we fake it, the mob will find out and end up killing us all anyway, especially if the authorities are involved.”
“Even if they get what they want?”
“They hate rats."
“I’m not drunk enough for this.”
Main pours them all another round.
AN HOUR LATER
“This ish goo shtuff.”
“I toljoo show.”
Dolly tilts her head back and chugs from the Evian bottle filled with moonshine Lycana had had to smuggle her. Damn Jim and his under eighteen years old bullshit. They all had evolved from shots, to drinking right from the bottles themselves. Empty liquor bottles are scattered around the bar area, the Caedus team having taken advantage of the near endless supply. And Jim’s bank account.
Dolly weaves her way over to the glass display case of old swords on the wall, her tongue poking out as she concentrates hard, managing to pop it open. She grabs the hilt of one.
“Look guysh, I gotsa shword!”
She swings it unsteadily into the air, the combiination of weight and gallon of moonshine throwing her off balance as she stumbles sideways, careening into a suit of arms with a crash!
“Whoopsh. Schuse me!”
“He wash in yer way.” Lycana slurs reassuringly.
Jim takes a last gulp of vodka before staggering over and putting the helmet on.
“Ya look beddar already.”
Unfazed, Jim continues to put the pieces on, until he hits a snag with the chest piece. He struggles with it, his build too thick compared to the ones of ye olden days. He finally gets it fastened, and puts his arms out in triumph.
“Shee? Ah knoo I cud do it!”
A low grating noise fills the room.
Main’s warning comes too late. A multitude of sharp PINGS fill the air as the hardware holding the two chest pieces give way, flying through the room like metal missiles. Dolly drops the sword and hits the deck, the others following suit. Lycana scrambles behind the couch as a screw buries itself into the soft fabric. A bolt careens through Main’s whiskey, shattering the bottle, coating him with the amber liquid.
Another ricochets off the wall, slamming into the ground by Spencer’s head.
Finally, things calm down and fall silent. Lycana peeps over the back of the couch as the others stagger to their feet.
“You shtarted it!”
“Washted sum damn good whishky.” Main mutters, swiping an unsteady hand through his hair.
“Dun even hafta wait fer the mafia. Ya gon’ kill us tuhnight.”
“Nah, I lovesh you guysh.”
“Or we’re gon’ kill you.”
Lycana flops down onto the couch she had been hiding behind.
“Hey! Dash na’ nice.”
Staff, alerted by the commotion rush in, looking around with horror at the shards of glass, wet spot on the Persian rug, open display case, and finally at Jim, part of the suit of arms just dangling from his shoulder.
“SIR! That is an ARTIFACT! Remove it at once!”
“Aww, but ish so cool.”
Jim abandons the suit of armor in disappointment, returning the pieces one by one to the fuming staff, before drunkenly plopping down onto the nearby couch beside Lycana with an 'oof', as they bustle out to restore the metallic antique to showroom display order elsewhere. Absently running his hand over the lavish couch material and down a crevice, Jim randomly fishes out a toothbrush, holding it up for all to see.
The others exchange looks, no claimants.
"No? ...Kay, mine now."
Jim pops the bristled end into his mouth, flinches, pulls it out, sniffs it...shrugs and pops it back in his mouth. The others grimace at their captain in disgust. Jim pulls it out again and offers it to Lycana, who swats at him, leaning away so far, she nearly tumbles off the couch. With a chuckle, he puts it back in his mouth, staring pensively into space. Dolly settles back down into the armchair accepting her bottle of moonshine from Lycana, as Main carefully picks his way to the bar to get a new bottle, teetering slightly. Spencer haphazardly flops into the wingback chair by the fireplace, making it tilt before settling back. Jim suddenly sits up.
“Guysh, I been thinkin’...”
“Thash never good.”
“Pleash dun do that.”
Jim sways slightly, but presses on as if they hadn’t said anything.
“Gang, I been thinkin’ bout da Mafia ting...”
"Howdy Team Vaughn!
What? Is there something on my face? Is it egg? No, it can't be......if there's any of us looking fleek in unfertilized chicken ovum it would have to be all of -you-.
Did I say chicken? I meant goose. As in yer' goose is cooked.
I get the feeling that as the lot of you see me on camera addressing one and all......Mark Flynn popping Vaughn's raw phallus from his mouth, "Cholo" Giovanni Santana easing up on Peter's nutsack as he slides his over greased finger out from "The Mechanic's" anus, Outcast releasing his own abundantly flogged old man member while turning his eyes away from the flat screen displaying any number of films and TV shows he so enjoys ripping his gritty action horror content off from and Mac Bane rising, giving his knees a much deserved rest to at long last relent from simultaneously blowing Jim, Robert and Spencer while finger-blasting me and Lycana.....that you're all dropping jaws in unison.
I've the nagging suspicion you're all extremely surprised to see me.
I apologize for breaking up yer' bizarre human centipede/creepy necro masturbatory/mmmff on Mac preemptive and presumed pre-victory fuckfest by showing up but hey, what else would I be doing?
I may suffer from the stigma as one who'll randomly vanish mid hype cycle, but I wasn't about to miss this.
I'm sure yer' shock at my participation completely revolves around that established tarnish to my name and nothing else.
Dolly's eyes twinkle, inviting a mischievous smile to tug at the corners of her lips.
"Hiya Flynn! Great to see you taking a break from taking a break here. The last time I saw you running for cover it was in the XWF. You'd vacated those precious Tag Titles you seemed so fond of. What happened? I mean besides Vita Valenteen and I needing to pick up the slack and gold you left behind to become two time Tag Champions ourselves? How is it that Dolly Waters retains the reputation of flake yet the "King of Here Today Gone Tomorrow" exists without it? I'll have to rectify that, break yer' legs and make sure you wind up in traction for a few months. Don't worry though, I'll do it right and leave you with a limp for life so if anyone ever tags you with the flakey thing, you can just blame Dolly Waters for why the ol' "rains coming" ache in your surgical steel inforced shins forces you to bow out from time to time....to time. As a bonus, I'll beat those loose wires in yer' head back to connection so you, the man who puts so much stock in convoluted hype material dealing with alternate dimensions, can finally understand how I could've competed in two promotions on the same day during the OCW Margarita Mix.
That's as good a place as any to slide my target over to Cholo. Remember me? Gosh I sure remember you......I remember partnering with Hector Malvados, carrying him actually, through that Tourney and whipping about ten gallons of lube off yer' far too overly oiled ass to win it all. You've never been very good at team sports have you Cholo? Or anything including more than a single opponent. Must be why whenever the ref counts three you get that glazed look in yer' eyes trying to fathom the concept of anything beyond numero dos. It isn't that you lost, which you experience about half the time in yer' career, it's surely the numbers. I pity you having to struggle with the notion of there being ten of us in this match but I know you won't let Team Caedus down; you'll let yer' team and yourself down as is the case in these situations with you. Then you can go back to what you know best, being Numero Dos around here. Until Spencer Adams takes that IC away.
Is that....you, Mac Bane!? I'm asking sincerely, is that you? I see so many utter failures come and go in XWF you all start looking the same to me. That was one hot minute you were there, huh? I understand, you couldn't hack it. Which raises the question, why are you still in the WGWF? Isn't it a bit too far above mediocre for yer' taste with yer' lack of, well, anything at all to show for yer' time here? Speaking of taste, how do our balls grab ya? Lycana and I are women and have none but how'd you know? You don't have any to compare or gain familiarity with. Anyway, I ask because as I peruse your history here, you have the dirty habit of fluffing yer' opponents so I safely assume you have yer' mouth around this team's various parts. Keep in mind, as Team Caedus savages yer' team to a quivering pile of vaginal discharge on our way to victory at War Games, it isn't because yer' no good at flattery it's just with us it gets you nowhere. Which is yer' permanent address as far as yer' WGWF career is concerned.
So, Outcast huh? You realize I was present for that sham of a success story you enjoyed in OCW right? Jim is 100% correct, you truly earned nothing without the involvement of yer' syphilitic penis and Strader's blown out fish pocket. You jumped the gun deciding on resurrection. The U-turn back to the grave you'll receive from us in that cage will make it all feel like such a waste of time. On the bright side, before you succumb in the ER you can rest assured the hospital staff will pump you full of as much heroin-esque morphine as you can stand. Cool huh? You'll be able to go out as you lived: perma stoned on illicit substances, loser.
Ummm......who the fuck is Peter Vaughn? No matter, we'll all treat whomever he is as if he's someone of consequence at War Games and smash his head out of his ass too."