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X-treme Wrestling Federation BOARDS » XWF PPV Boards » War Games 2020 PPV Board
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Cocaine.
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Jenny Myst Offline
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Post: #1
05-22-2020 01:03 PM


They say 2020 is a movie.

That's the term everyone wants to use, right?

My life has been a movie. It has all the makings of a blockbuster film. It's been emotional, happy, funny, sad, dramatic, scary, you name the trope, I've lived it. I have done more in my 26 years than most people have in their life time. I've seen more, done more, experienced more.....and truly, it made me who I am.

So 2020 is a movie......let me take you back to my movie......2014.


[Image: CxL0V50.gif]

Jennifer Sambuca stood in front of the large table in the center of the room. Her natural blonde hair was tied back into a ponytail and she had on just a grey sports bra and a pair of athletic shorts. The grey bra was even darker now due to the layer of sweat over her body. The room was almost 80 degrees as the AC unit was broken, and the sink was filled near to the top with dishes.

Smoking a cigarette, her hands were working feverishly to back up the white powder on the table, breaking up big squares and measuring the results before bagging. Her phone sat on the end of the table as well, a white sheen of "dust" covering it, and her nails were all broken and chipped.

A former stripper who had gotten herself in a jam, this is how she was making enough money to reach her goal. Wiping the sweat off her brow again, she finished her cigarette and smushed it out in the ash tray. The curtains, which were an obscenely thin material, were drawn closed but the light from the North Vegas afternoon still lit the room. The heat, too, was fiendish. A neat stack of bricks sat on the left side of the table. A pile of little circular bags sat on the right.

The floor looked as though there was a dusting of snow on it, an early winters frost of sorts, and her bare feet were covered with a mixture of powder and black ash and dirt.

Lighting up another cigarette, striking a match and tossing the book, she grabbed the clicker and flipped on the TV in the corner of the room. There wasn't much on the tube this time of day but the news. The anchors voice sounded almost as if it she was shouting in the silent room.

"Drugs have had a stranglehold over Las Vegas Metro for years, but a new strand of cocaine cut with fentanyl has been a catastrophe for the area. There was a string of 21 overdoses in 2 days, and the source of this new batch has produced no new leads."


Jennifer snickered to herself. The source? Fuck, she was looking at the source in the mirror. The man who simply went by "Trevor", was never seen or heard, only communicated through text message and always used a different number.

Jennifer felt a bead of sweat run down her back, and watched as one fell off her chin and hit the table below.


"Any leads about where this deadly new strain is coming from, you are urged to give us a call at KSNV Las Vegas. (702) 876-1313."

As though it was all planned, her phone rang just as the KSNV anchor gave out the number to the station.

Jennifer looked at it, not wanting to answer, knowing the horror that was on the other end.


She knew it would be a lot worse for her, however, if she didn't answer. Looking at the scar on her hand, she waited until the last possible ring and pressed accept.

"Did anyone watch you enter?"

"No."

"You weren't followed?"

"No."

"I assume the job is almost done?"

She hesitated, looking at the Sierra Mountains amount of cocaine in front of her.......her eyes went narrow.

"Trevor never told me that this is cut with fucking fentanyl. We're----I'm--literally killing people."

There was a hesitancy again.

"I assume the job is almost done?"

A sigh.

"Yes....it's almost fucking done."

"Bastard" she said under her breath.

"Good. Someone will be by very soon to pick it up. Back door."

"Whatever."

There was a click on the line. Jennifer wasn't a bad person but she had made some bad choices. She was doing what she had to do.

When the last of the bags was done, she tied it off, and took a deep breath. Her exhale was a shudder. She wouldn't allow herself to cry.


Gathering her things, she walked to the sink. Running her feet under the water, washing them off, he dried them off with a towel. Her sneakers sat by the door. Her phone in one hand, her keys on the lanyard around her neck and her grey sports bra almost black from sweat, she gave one final look back to the table where it sat. Turning back she opened the door and walked out.

Shutting it behind her, the small room became a large gym. Workout machines, drum-bells, squat bars, benches, treadmills, everything. This was a full on gym. The sign on the door she walked out of said "Handicapped Bathroom". Everyone just assumed she didn't like to pee with others around. Nobody thought about the horrors that lie behind.

The door was locked from the inside, so any gym patron who tried to enter would notice it locked and would be told it was out of order.


She walked to the front door, grabbing a towel.

REAL RESULTS Fitness. If only the knew.

The front desk staff smiled at her as she walked out into the Vegas inferno. Walking to the car she saw the black SUV rolling towards the back of the building. Full tint.

Putting the key in the door, she unlocked it. The lock creaked. The door squeaked open. Getting in she shut it behind her, and rolled down the window. She rolled out of the parking lot, the old shitty Suzuki Esteem huffing and puffing down the road. About 2 agonizing and constantly looking in the rearview behind her miles, she clicked her blinker on and pulled into a pizza shop. It was closed for the evening. Rolling to the back of the lot she pulled in next to her pink GTR. Getting out, she shut the door of the Suzuki and walked towards the trunk. Popping it, she cringed as she gazed upon the hogtied junkie in her trunk. She must have been planted there while she was in the hell room.

But how? Without someone noticing.........

Oh god, had she been there since the morning?!

With a small grunt she lifted the girl out. Dragging her to the front she opened the door again. Sitting the junkie in the driver seat, she put her hands on the wheel and buckled her seat belt. Jennifer was appalled and horrified as to how similar to herself she looked....

The girls head slumped forward onto the wheel. Her eyes were sunken. Her nose was blue. Her underwear visible as her skirt rode up.

This girl OD'd on the same product Jennifer was just packaging.

She shut the Suzuki door and walked towards her. Getting in, she sighed with relief. It felt so good to be in her luxury sports car again..........

But at what cost? People were dying, families were being torn apart, holidays ruined............

But at least she had a full tank of gas.

Rolling out of the lot, a single tear down her face.


Then another. Then another.

Halfway down the road she was full on sobbing. After a few moments she closed her eyes, sniffling, and when she opened them, she smiled. Her hands hit the radio button, playing the Bluetooth Audio.

A tear rolled down her face and over her lip, hitting her teeth as her smiling face reflected back in the window.


[Image: R6l4vYq.jpg]

She licked it. The salt taste on her lips. She liked it almost as much as the taste of blood. Her PINK GTR rolled through the desert as the radio played.

If you want to hang out,
You've gotta take her out,
Cocaine...
If you want to get down,
Get down on the ground,
Cocaine...
She don't lie, she don't lie, she don't lie,




Cocaine...


[Image: eOjIgTZ.jpg]

"The Queen's Court, Episode One, is in the books. Chalk it up as a success. Now, I get to put that on hold and focus on getting back into an XWF ring in a different way.....a competitive way.....the way I made my name here. War Games. A Pay Per View I haven't had the pleasure of being a part of to this point, but I have to admit, I am excited!

I get to flex my muscle and show my skills in the ring, but above all else, I get to do my favorite thing here......

ROAST.

Yes, I get to verbally tear people the shreds, and I cannot stress enough how much I've been missing that.

Some names are new, some names are very, very familiar. I have come too far, and accomplished too much, to let this opportunity slip away. And Atara, Ms. Captain, I just wanted to tell you that you made a great decision drafting me. One, because now I don't have to kick your ass pillar to post, but two because I give us the best chance to win this little shindig. Consider this a scouting report. You get to see what I can do in the ring before we inevitably do battle down the road. You had a tough go against Raven, so sit back, rest....I got this!

Now, where to begin? Who to start with? Gosh there are just so many......but when I close my eyes, I only see one.

Chris Chaos. My boyfriend. Babe, I am sorry about this, but it needs to be said, and nobody here knows you better than me. I mean, how could they, you've been inside me. They can't say that! But what happens when we get home, away from here, in that sweeeeet condo you have on the beach, that's one thing. But here, Chris, inside this ring, lets face it. You fuck up everything you touch. When we first met, you were the man among boys. You dominated. But you let that Universal Title get to your head, you let Robert Main punk you out, and you've been on a downward spiral ever since. You're not stable. You aren't in a good place right now. You've become a bigger punchline here than Peter Gilmour. Do you know how hard that is to do?! Centurion drafted you, but look where, and look who instead of? You were the best of a bad situation. You're a liability here because you're just such a headcase. You could come out and you could dominate, or you could come out and trip over yourself like a retarded kid playing soccer. That's your issue, you just never know which Chris Chaos is going to show up.

It's extremely frustrating.

But, all of that can be forgiven. All of that can be swept under the rug. All of that is gravy. You're a big boy, you do you boo, but what can't be forgiven is what your derailment has done to me. I have stuck by you, through thick and thin, and I have been there as your support through all of this. I have been guilty by association. I have lived in your shadow and I've never been able to make my own. Jenny Myst has failed because she has been the A+ essay trapped under the rusty paperweight that's been sitting on a desk for years. Withering away.

I finally have buzz about ME, Chris. I have a top rated show, I have people talking about ME and not us, and I finally have an identity other than being Chris Chaos's pocket pussy. When I had Robert and Chris on the show, I did that for ME. When I win War Games, I am going to do that for ME. I am in my prime and I am going to make the most of it. We are still Chaotic Inc, we are still dating, and I still love you......but if it comes down to the two of us I am going to drop you where you stand. I am Pink Perfection, you're the great white failure.

Now that that tough love is over with, I can move on to our first opponents at War Games. Team Chalupa. Hanari, you came into my life through your affliation with Chris, but let me tell you I am not ordering the combo meal. One of you is enough. So, you're comprising a team of two people you already beat to boost your own ego, a mask wearing pedophile and a dark match curtain jerker who looks like he tried to take his own life in Hot Topic because My Chemical Romance called and they want their eyeliner back.

Really Carnes?

Mastermind, the Webster's dictionary definition of disappointment. The man with all that size, all that skill, all that intelligence, and he can't even get a win on Anarchy. Can't even be successful in the TV Title division. The man who is followed around by two carneys to fight his battles for him because his own team captain came into his second ever match and made Mastermind's self esteem hang lower than Robbie Bourbon's fupa. The man who be a whole lot scarier if he was just honest. You look like your pacifier was made of asbestos, so play the crazy card and we make actually respect your ramblings.

Michael Graves, we go way back don't we? Shit, you change appearance more than Robert Main. Neither of you have really figured out what looks good on you....or looks good at all. You've never been anything, Graves. You've changed appearances to stay relevant because you've never quite been able to hack it on the Main Event level. You've been jumping from character to character to validate the fact that in the back of your mind you know what we all have known since day one: nobody truly cares about Michael Graves.

Zane? Psssht, puuhleeze. He could have been anything in the world his delusional mind wanted to be, but ZOMBIE? How unoriginal and boring. I mean shit man, you could have been anything....but you've seen the movies.....you know how easy it is to kill a zombie? Boom, headshot, done. They are like the weakest horror movie antagonist. You know why they are successful at all? Because there is so goddamn many of them. You're a lone zombie in skinny jeans. You don't stand a chance.

Liam? What species of frog are you? I mean jesus any thot at Arizona State would kill for those lips! You are the fresh blood around here, you have a chance to prove yourself with the elites. Can you hack it? I doubt it. But I'll guess we'll see.

The rest of the captains......

I mean....Warstein? Centurion? Main? I guess that's what we got, that is the "cream of the crop" right now. The top guys here, which aren't even really top guys just top guys on this JV roster we have right now, are just so.......blech.

I mean, Centurion? There’s nothing I can really point to as hideous, or even noteworthy. You’re just there. You’re rice pudding, and you don’t even have any raisins. You aren't a born leader, you're just there. Your team doesn't respect you, they just attach to the name and the inflated win loss record and think they have security behind the term "legend". They don't.

Warstein, your gonna be kicking yourself when Atara and I demasculate you and send you packing. You may be the best we have right now, but you're far from the best. I've seen some of the best this business has to offer and I have sat back and watched Chris battle some of the best in Universal Title matches......you just aren't one of them. I am sorry. Say what you want, puff your chest, but your team will let you down and leave you questioning why the self proclaimed god isn't as nobel as he claims.

Shane.....to be honest, I don't even know you anymore. You've always been a little off, but this is too much. You've surrounded yourself with lunatics, hoping to intimidate the rest of the teams. Your Arkham Asylum team of misfits is going to fail, and Shane.....I can't help but be honest.....I'm gonna love every second of it.

XWF is my cocaine, and when someone asks me if I want to "party", I'm gonna say oh hell yea. It's not easy being queen, but for War Games I am gonna roll up my sleeves and get down in the trenches with the troops. You're welcome in advance.

[Image: 8T581Rf.gif]
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[-] The following 4 users Like Jenny Myst's post:
Felix Jones (05-22-2020), Peter Fn Gilmour (05-22-2020), Robert "The Omega" Main (05-22-2020), Zane Norrison (05-22-2020)
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