Post by Deleted on Oct 7, 2023 19:13:58 GMT -5
The police officer jabs his pen into the notepad.
” You want us to enforce a restraining order on mister and missus Ramsey and Mr. Chapman? Because, and let's get this correct, they are hired hitmen for Mister and Missus Page?”
The man blots out a few lines on the pad and shakes his head. He doesn’t get paid enough for this shit.
” Yes! Stop looking at me like that.”
Artemis gulps her Ivana water while the clean-cut cop drums his pen on the desk.
” What evidence do you have?”
Artemis, ever the dramatic one, gasps and palms her modest chest.
“How dare you officer! How dare you speak down to me and treat me with such disregard. The proof is right there. Everyone sees it. Donatello!”
Her dearest muse fans her with a handheld fanning device.
It must be nice for you three huh? You get to face a team so far removed from each other that this is little more than a sparring match for you. That’s if my partners even show up. If they did, It would be a tough fight with no guarantee of a victory for us, anyway. There’s merit in what I’ve said though; you three are hired drones to do the Pages bidding. Collect your win and celebrate like it meant something you trio of dysfunctional neer-dwellers.
The officer looks around, almost mocking her.
“Am I part of this ‘everyone’ you speak of, because I don’t see any evidence that warrants a restraining order, ma’am.”
Artemis’s jaw sags so low and profound that Donatello has to gently close it shut for her.
“You blind pig!”
The cop’s eyes shoot open and he leans forward, now very interested.
“Wait, no, I’m sorry! I held a protest against the General Manager of WGWF and her husband. It was a huge success so they’ve put me in the ring against three of their main CCPE members. It’s a 1 versus 3 encounter. See?”
The officer isn’t moved by her reasoning and the pitiful little face she is trying to trick him with.
“Ma’am, I’m a fan of WGWF. I watch the product. I listen to the podcasts. I know you have two partners, so you just lied to me. That’s a charge if I wanted to push it.”
Her washboard tummy wretches at his threat.
Sam Chatman, congrats on finally being in a match where the biggest story surrounding you in the match isn’t whether or not you will gate-keep it. You don’t have an identity other than that, and what’s worse is, you’re okay with it. You’re the type of guy who shows up to work 15 minutes early and is first in line to clock in and last in line to clock out. You’re the type of lunk who would get passed over for promotions and raises in favor of less skilled employees, and you’d know it but also be okay with it. You’re a big, buff, handsome young man with testicles the size of two little pimples. You’re in the match because you’re an expendable resource to dispense punishment for the offended owners of WGWF. You’re an object, a tool, a gun, a hammer. You’re not a human being to them. Good job, drone.
Artemis rubs her forehead and dabs at the sweat surfacing on her face. The attempt to get the restraining order has gone horribly awry. Donatello gives her a gentle squeeze of the hand to comfort her then speaks in her stead.
“I am so sorry mister officer sir. She is the leader of the Renaissance so she has a lot of pressure on her and isn’t quite herself right now. Please put yourself in her shoes and marvel at your pretty feet and know what she knows. The management at WGWF gave her Enchantra as a partner. This Enchantra woman hasn’t been seen or heard from since PETA said they are putting a bounty on her. She might be dead for all we know. If she were available she would hardly be a worthy partner for my Artemis, because she is an Artiste, not a babysitter for some weirdo who thinks every day is Halloween. And this Joulee woman has already been bested by the precious Artemis. She did not measure up to any worth as an opponent and verily will not measure up as a partner."
The cop rolls his eyes.
Todrick and Austin, you two aren’t too dissimilar from Sam Chatman in this glorified assassination attempt on my fledging career in WGWF. You are two idiot tools used to strike me down. They are sending you and your dim-witted son/brother/cousin/whatever convoluted family tree nonsense he is, after me. A team of your caliber belongs on TV, not the dark show that won’t even be televised. That should be sufficient evidence that the bosses want my assassination to be quick and unseen by the larger viewing masses, but visible enough they can be present and watch it unfold in front of them. They’re sick people in power. Truly the most awful of people who lack the gallantry I have in every pulse, every breath, every step I take, otherwise they would take their issue up with me personally. Donatello and I peacefully protested at the Velvet Rabbit and our General Manager, Candice Page, who is full of February face, so full of frost, of storm and cloudiness, hath decided on this buggery! Bravo, drones. Bravo you tools!
The officer scans his notes again, holding a hand up to stave off another remark from Donatello.
“Look, ma’am. I guess I can see where you’re coming from. Okay? But giving you a restraining order will prevent you from competing against them and I know that’s the game you’re playing here. You want to so you can get in that ring and wave it around, basically making you immune to them striking or wrestling you.”
He rips the paper out from his notepad and wads it up. The action sends Artmeis’s shoulders into a slump.
“You’ve overlooked the fact that your opponents will just simply take out one of your partners, or both, and win anyway. You said Miss Encantra is useless and Joule has been a bust, right? My advice would be to just not show up. Spare yourself the embarrassment.”
Artemis stands up sharply and slams a fist upon the desk.
“An artiste never no shows a job! An artiste never does such a cowardly thing!”
She shakes a fist defiantly in the air.
“If you won’t help me then I’ll do it myself, like Thanos! Goodbye, sir, and good day, pig!”
He hollers something at her but she storms off with Donatello sprinting to catch up.