Post by Deleted on Jun 30, 2023 3:57:41 GMT -5
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Regina’s secluded gym
{Off Camera}
Regina, Sonya’s doppelganger, fired off the ending salvo of punches on the bag as the closing of her match with Kim at War Games ran through her mind. With one more blast, fist met bag and sounded like a gunshot.
“WE NEED TO TALK!”
Regina's eyes rolled.
“Great, what now cupcakes?” She replied, unwrapping her hands.
Sonya stormed up and pointed to a bench.
“Sit!”
“Uh, better take the base out of your voice.” Regina advised. “Or do you need Kim’s permission first?” She added.
Benson’s jaw clenched. Regina remained upright, arms folded.
“Just… we need to talk ok? Please?”
Regina liked the begging, so she popped a squat. Norris moved around and sat adjacent, giving Regina the thumbs up. Amid all the butting of the heads between Sonya and Regina, Norris had remained the doppelganger's ally. He’d been the one who found her smashing dudes and bitches to bits across mid cards, where the winning prize was often a stale fish sandwich in a brown paper bag. It was Norris who’d saved her from a life of fighting for scraps both in the literal and figurative terms. They were kindred spirits in a way, as Sonya had saved Norris when every bridge he’d traveled was burned.
“Firstly, what the hell was that horsepucky at War Games? You were supposed to beat Kim. It was supposed to be a Pearl Harbor thing.”
Regina darted a look to Norris that said “really”?
“Maybe if your dumbfuck bodyguard had pulled the distraction sooner instead of pussing out at the sight of Kat fucking Jones it would have worked. Maybe if fancy jacket here *jokingly points to Norris and his shiny red jacket* had been quicker on the trigger with the chair it would’ve gone fine.”
Norris frowned and squirmed. Regina reassured him with a playful wink.
“MAYBE if you’d let me fight matches for you months ago I wouldn’t have had so much ring rust. It was Kim Pain for fuck sakes. It was like being thrown into a lion’s den.”
“Also, If I may..” Norris interjected with a raised hand. “Regina went twenty-six minutes and forty-nine seconds against a motivated Kim Pain. Only the War Games match went longer. It took Kim that long to catch Regina in a compromise, and like she said, there was a buttload of ring rust.”
“Exactly! Thanks, Norris. Your jacket is still shitty tho.”
Norris frowned again.
“Whatever!” Sonya paced back and forth. “I can’t even deal..” She waved a dismissive gesture and sipped delicately from the praline mocha latte she brought along as comfort.
“We need to discuss more pressing matters, Sonya.”
Sonya huffed and kept pacing.
“Right. Regina, I can’t do anything to stop you from fighting my matches for me, and part of me is relieved despite the loss of control over our deal, but things have changed. I’m allied with J Mont now, so I need to at least be there for him outside of matches while in the arena, so w-”
“Glad you brought that up. I think I’m gonna go ahead and take control of that too.”
Sonya gasped, spilling her drink. Norris dove in to clean up.
“J Mont is soooooo fucking hot! Oh that body! It’s every female wrestler’s dream to get split in half and have their back broken with those backshots by a stud champ superstar. Can’t wait to ride that Mont rocket to the moon.”
Sonya shook her head.
“You can’t! He’s engaged!”
“Mia isn’t his wife. She’s an obstacle.”
Benson’s mouth gaped.
“He’s my J Mont! Not yours!”
“But I am you, remember? I’m Sonya Benson.”
Sonya’s eyes grew larger.
“But he’s my friend!”
Regina studied her for a moment. It was refreshing to see Sonya showing some level of compassion for someone.
“I was just joshing you. The look on your face. Ha.”
Sonya drew a huge sigh of relief.
“Oh thank god. That’s actually one of the things I wanted to talk to you about. Nothing changes about how we do things ok? You show up disguised as one of my hirelings and then bathroom break before the match we do the switch-a-roo. Just like we did at War Games.”
Regina sighed.
“Yes, mother.” She remarked sarcastically.
“Good.”
An awkward silence fell between them.
“Well, since we got that out of the way, did you get the shipments I sent you?”
“Yeah. I opened them but I have no idea what those things are.”
Regina led Sonya and Norris to the back of the gym.
“In terms you’d understand, they’re wrestlebots.”
“I used them when I didn’t have a trainer and even after. I’d download all the matches of my opponent into their database and have the bots formulate the most probable avenue my opponent would take against me, what move sets, what set ups, etcetera. I was able to have sparring sessions with opponents before facing them.”
“Holy shit!” Regina marveled.
“Yep. I’d increase the speed in some sessions to really work my butt off. They’re decent trainers too but nothing beats a Duncan Ryder.”
Sonya couldn’t help smiling.
“I bet. I’ve seen you on TV blushing when mentioning him. Have ya slobbed his knob yet?”
Sonya no-sold the remark and gestured at the machines.
“They’re all yours now since it’s your show in the ring. I’ll show you how to use them. Pretty simple actually. I already downloaded Wilma’s stuff into them, because there really wasn’t much to download.”
“This is some Tony Stark shit. Who built them?”
“I did, with help from some of my engineer friends.”
Regina roared with laughter.
“It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”
“You? Bullshit. You don’t seem like the type after what I’ve seen from you on Twitter.”
Sonya scoffed.
“Has it ever occurred to you that my Twitter persona is me dumbing down to make people think I’m less of a threat?”
It was a fair point. Regina watched, brows raised, as Benson busied herself pressing buttons, adjusting things, and speaking commands that the wrestlebots obeyed.
”Why? What is it about Goth and Atara that stirs you so much into wanting to avenge them? Goth hid behind a mask and stalked Lexi until he tried to turn her into his real life doll, undoubtedly to rape and… “
Sonya shudders, fighting back the bile churning.
”I don’t want to even think about anything else. People should be giving J Mont awards for putting a sexual predator out of commision. And what did I even do to him that warrants such a response from you? I made a meme or two making fun of him being injured, as any sane person would do when a horrible man like him uses Twitter to remain relevant.”
A genuinely befuddled expression sweeps the Rich Bitch’s flawless features as she anchors back into the medieval chair all too familiar to Wilma.
“And avenge Atara? LOLWUT? The woman was pawing her daughter off so she could shove her bowel tract and uterus into millions of peoples faces, and when I exposed her for it she ran off and quasi-retired. I should be given awards for making that yogurt-brained bimbo see the light, even if I did have to use her precious daughter to accomplish it. This is WGWF, Wilma. It’s where you have to do horrible things to prove a point. I don’t like it, but I thrive in it. This isn’t one of those woke wonderlands, little girl.”
Benson sheds the Television Championship from her sensational body and showcases it, as though dangling a carrot before a rabbit.
“You don’t need to avenge a damn thing, Wilma. You don’t owe any of these sorry troglodytes on the roster a damn thing. You got your title shot by doing exactly what I did. You showed up, fought your heart out, and won. That’s all you need, Wilma. But??”
She flings the championship upon one of her burden carriers.
“The fact you’re deep rooted with vengeance for those who don’t need it tells me you’re not prepared for what’s coming at Brawl in SUCKALO, New York. I’ll give you a hint though; you’re the beachouse and I’m the tsunami. These wrestling journalists are trying to stack all the favor in your corner though, yapping about Kim and Mac being in the building and blah blah yippity yap. Look, Willie, may I call you Willie? Kim’s not gonna help you win. She can howl at the moon all she wants about not wanting this title but I know she’s full of crap. She wants it because I along with Norris and J Mont have made a fool out of her and Brittle Bones Jones twice now, and she knows taking it would devastate me. She’s gonna stay put. Mac, being the loving incestuous brother, will stay put out of respect for her.”
She shrugs.
“Ragnarok may try to show up, but I’ve got a J Mont to keep him at bay, and who knows? Maybe I’ll have someone else up my sleeve? This begs a question, do you have an ace up your sleeve? You might need one because as great as it was seeing you win a contender match, I did it before too and did it against far tougher competition, and Willie this isn’t a chaos match with a bunch of people involved. It’s me versus you, and the only time you’ve been in one of these you got trounced by John Blade’s daughter who has since become more famous for posting Twitter pics of her buttermilk biscuit butt than her wrestling acumen.”
A nasally scoff exits the sniffer of the haughty champion. She turns in the chair, facing the legendary mirror that supposedly holds so much magic and wisdom.
“You know something else? Overloading yourself with other people's burdens tells me you lack direction. You’re always reciting poetry in the middle of matches. No focus. You just amble around like a blind woman in a rock quarry. Why are you even a wrestler? We know you’re a cosplay tragedy, so that’s a start. Let me guess, you flamed out in Hollywood and couldn’t cut it in stage plays? Not musically inclined so you picked the lowest fruit which is undoubtedly this god awful sport of pro wrestling? I bet you’ve spent your life trying to convince your own shadow you’re someone worth following.”
Another shrug, so matter-of-fact.
“Let’s ask the mirror. I always wondered how this thing worked anyway. Too bad you’re out patching humpty dumpty together or fetching water from a well or whatever it is weirdos like you do. I sure could use your hand in showing me.”
Sonya waves a hand. Nothing. She snaps her fingers. Nada. The Rich Bitch grumbles and smacks it a few times. Still nothing.
“Open sesame. Abracadabra. Mohammad jihad. Olly Olly Oxen Free. Hmm. Mirror Mirror on the wall will you talk to me at all?”
The surface shimmers and the word yes appears. Sonya gasps and clutches her chest.
“Mr. Mirror, why is Wilma a wrestler?”
Nothing.
“Does she know why she’s a wrestler?”
Nada.
“Wow Wilma, it’s worse than I thought for you.”
Taps chin.
“This Monday on Brawl, between Wilma and I, who will fall?”
An image emerges depicting Sonya humiliated by Wilma via porn-stack-pin, earning the Bitchmaker name.
”LIAR MOUTH!”
Benson bolts up and throws the mirror to the ground hoping to shatter it but it doesn’t work. She stomps a mudhole and walks it dry. A laughing troll face surfaces on the indestructible mirror, mocking her and J Mont.
Norris and Smith barge in with gas-cans and before long we see smoke billowing from the castle, giving Wilma something worth avenging.