BLOODY CREATURE. POSTER GIRL - Printable Version

BLOODY CREATURE. POSTER GIRL - Printable Version

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BLOODY CREATURE. POSTER GIRL - Jenny Myst - 12-26-2020

Las Vegas Strip, 6 Years Ago

It was roughly an hour before the gentleman's club opened, and a young, fresh-faced Jennifer Sambuca sat in the back of the taxi breathing heavily. Her anxiety was kicking in. This was a big opportunity for her, and she knew the allure that strippers had. Hell, the average stripper in Vegas earns more than most of the households in Nevada, and in her current situation, lord knew she needed money.

Understatement.

She handed the taxi driver a folded bill, and sighed as she pressed the button to open the van's sliding door.

"Have a good night, miss" he said in a raspy, been-smoking-for-too-long voice. In her current situation, she really didn't trust men. She certainly wasn't used to them being nice to her, but if she could exploit their piggishness for money, she would. Lord knew she needed it.

Understatement.

Flipping her bag over her shoulder, she walked up to the side door she was told to come in and pulled it open.

The inside looked nice, even though it was only a hall way with doors. One of them said "Office". She figured that was the correct one? She knocked sheepishly at the door, and before her hand could even pull back she heard a voice.

"Come in."

"Here goes" she said out-loud, exhaling as she opened the door.

30 minutes later......

There was about 30 minutes left until the club opened, and she thought the "interview" went well. For the first time in her life a male thought she could be something. Sure, it was an object for men's entertainment--as she had been most of her teenage years--but this time he used the words like "star" and "best" and "money maker". Nobody had told her she could be anything in her life but an object. This time she was an object with a purpose.

Something is better than nothing.

She walked into the front door and immediately she felt comfortable. She felt like this place could be home.

There were a lot of looks from the other girls who already worked there. They looked at her like they hated her immediately. She was used to the hate, however, she did need friends in this period of her life. She needed friends badly. They would warm up over time, she was sure.

She hoped.

Trying not to look at anyone, she made her way to the locker room area and immediately set her bag down. She began to put on makeup and pretended she couldn't hear the whispers and the not-so-subtle pointing that she could feel piercing into her back like a thousand knives at once.

It was time to go downstairs, but she wasn't sure she enjoyed walking in these heels. What she would give to throw a pair of Converse on right now. She had never been fancy, never been materialistic, never really thought all the highly about what she wore. Here was was now in 8 inch, rhinestone covered stilettos. She just didn't feel like herself.

When she was here, she wasn't herself.

As she headed past the office to go out onto the main floor, trying not to fall over in these god forsaken heels, she heard that booming voice from the office.

"Hey, blondie, come here".

Her natural reaction was to brace herself, but she realized he was in his chair and didn't plan to hit her.

That's a relief.

Maybe he would yell though.

Still a relief.

"You still haven't picked a name."

She looked at the poster on the wall behind his head, trying not to make eye contact. She had trouble making eye contact with men after what she had just been through.

"I have a name, it's Jen" she said more confidently than she thought she would have, and it took her aback a little.

"No, no no sugar tits, that's not how this works. You don't use your actual name here. You need to pick a stage name. You need to pick something to go by while you are in the building. Something for the customers to know you by. I told you this when we spoke before. Have you thought of something?"

Just as he finished his sentence, the air freshener behind him sprayed some mist into the air. She was instantly brought back to a room, a much darker room, a painful room. She remembered the only light in the entire room coming from the door. She was reminded instantly of the only relief she ever had.......shifting on the bed to get out of the wet spot from the sweat and other fluids,, the chains pulling on her wrists......she used to welcome the spray. When he came in and sprayed the room down with a Lysol spray, it meant she was done, at least for that time, and could rest. It was the only relief she had, the only thing she looked forward to...............the only time she still felt alive. Even when she wished she wasn't.

"Mist" she said quietly, looking down.

"Love it! Spell it with a Y to make it sexy. Let's do it. Myst. Good god, beauty and creativity! You are going to make me a lot of money baby girl!

She smiled, but it wasn't a real smile.

He shooed her away with his hand as she turned and walked out the door and onto the main floor, jumping a little as a hand grabbed her shoulder.

The servers were the first to leave the dressing room as they did every night to get the bar ready and clean seats. As for the dancers, they were stay in the back until the first song came on and slowly go out onto the floor in groups. The first group of three were heading to the poles while the rest of them started to walk around, finding their desired tables for the night as the early customers piled in. While the group dancing was on the poles the rest of the girls were instructed to make the men (and sometimes women, but not very often) feel at home by starting up conversations and giving them a taste of what they could get if they paid for a little more than just their drinks. The only rule that everyone had to follow was that genitals never touched while in the club a rule that everyone gladly followed. Anything that would normally be covered by a bikini is off limits. Standards? Sure.

She had heard from the chatter of the other girls in the changing room that this particular group of men (apparently, a lot of the same guys came in on Saturday Nights), had an affinity for blondes. Well, that helped her, she thought to herself. Always nice to have an advantage.

Jenny was thinking to herself about how she would introduce herself to what she had heard were pretty high dollar clients....what would she say? Why would they want her? What was her appeal besides the color of her roots? She damn near jumped out of her body when the hand came down onto her shoulder.

"Myst.....I was hoping I would catch you before you got out there. I am going to show you to a table, introduce you to our top earner, she should be able to show you the ropes and help you get settled in."

Jenny instantly felt a little better. A new friend could be nice, and maybe if she had a buddy at the club, this wouldn't feel quite as foreign to her. Though, what about her life was normal?

He put an arm around her waist and ushered her out onto the floor. About 15 feet from the table, she knew who he was talking about. A blonde, like her, with a resting bitch face and a balcony you could do Shakespeare from, sat at one of the round tables with the leather chairs that were placed strategically around the club. She was nursing a martini.

They arrived at the resting-bitch-martini table. "Tonight I need you at this table. If you have any questions you can as, don't hesitate. Take the edge off, I'll let the bartender know. Tonight we've got Dawn behind the bar."

The owner was about to walk away when resting-martini bitch started to blurt out a sentence.

"Wait no, this is my table."

"Well I need you to show her the ropes so you'll have to share."

"Why do I have to babysit? Besides, you always make us start on the counter before we ever see a table!"

"Stop complaining or I'll put you on the counter. This group is going to be bigger tonight and you can't take it on your own so be glad you have some help."

"But-"

"Play nice."

The owner walked off leaving Jenny with this girl who obviously had reservations about her being here. Jenny slid into the booth and sat next to her.

"I'm-"

"I don't care who you are."

She pulled her drink up and took a sip of it while looking away from Jen. Not long after, the big bills walked in were they escorted to the table. Neither of them had said a word to each other. Jenny, who was feeling lonely again and like maybe this was all a mistake, started to perk up after they sat down but still kept that shy girl act up. Throughout the night, she could tell the martini girl, who still hadn't told her her name, was taking mental notes.

The end of the night was upon them, and she couldn't be more relieved. Her feet and back were killing her! The girls were all counting their money when the owner walked in. He immediately made a bee line for martini girl.

"How did sharing your table with the new girl go?"

She rolled her eyes and stopped counting her money to look up at another one of the girls. She said nothing, however.

"I saw her go back in the purple room with one of the guys that normally takes you back there."

"She's a fresh face and it's been months since anyone here has seen a new face. Her fame here will pass believe me. It won’t be long till she either leaves because she can’t take it or she’s fired because she can’t make it."

"I don't know, he had a pretty big smile on his face when they came out and she had some major cash sticking out of her-"

"She's really not that great, like at all."

"Then why do you sound jealous? I haven't seen you this bothered in a loooong time."

She rolled her eyes again before stuffing her money into a sheer black laundry bag. She stood up from the rest of the girls and dropped the bag on a bench near the lockers before making her way over to Jen.

"Hey, sorry about earlier tonight I just wasn't expecting any help."

Jenny smiled at her, happy that at least this girl was speaking to her for once.

"Oh, it's fine."

"I'm Sarina."

She held out her hand and Jenny took it.

"Jenny."

She pulled Jenny up and into what seemed like a friendly hug from far away but was quite the opposite up close.

"Listen, bitch, step on my toes again and you won't have a job here for long. And one more thing."

She grabbed the cash Jenny had in her other hand.

"Don't steal from me. Keep your mouth shut or I'll knock your pretty white teeth down your throat."

She pushed away from the hug, causing Jenny to hit the lockers with her back before the owner walked in to post the groups for the next week. She smiled at her before motioning a key locking a lock over her lips before going to check the schedule.

Myst stood there for a moment, dumbfounded. She didn't expect to make friends this quickly, if at all, but to make an enemy on her first night? And this girl was nothing but a certified bully........Myst stood there feeling like a kid who just got her lunch money taken on the playground and her face rubbed into the dirt.

All of her instincts told her to walk right the fuck over there and grab this little bitch by her ponytail and slam her face into the schedule board until the back of her skull touched her lips........

........but she couldn't. Not now. Not so soon. Instead, she felt the bile rise in her throat. She felt her stomach begin to pulsate. She was going to throw up. Tears began to well up in here eyes. She left the room without saying a word and ran towards the bathroom.

When she relieved herself, she stormed back into the room, not even looking at bully girl, and grabbed her bag. Her hands were shaking, even though she wasn't trying. She grabbed her bag with a shaky hand as a few of the girls gave her a smug look, expecting her to quit and for their competition to be gone.

Myst went back into the bathroom and set her bag down. Locking the door, hands still shaking, she dug through her bag with a frantic tempo. When she found what she was looking for she pulled it out and held it up in the florescent light of the bathroom.

A razor blade.

She felt her mascara running as she brought a shaky hand down onto her wrist. She had to steady her hand to cut. But each one was rougher than the previous, moving in unison with her voice.

"FUCKIN"

"CUNT"

"BITCH"

"WHORE"

"YOU ARE SUCH AN IDIOT JEN! NOBODY LIKES YOU! NOBODY LOVES YOU! YOU WILL ALWAYS BE SHIT! ALWAYS BE NOTHING!"

She knew she was yelling, she didn't care. Before long there was a knock on the door as her blood stained the tile floor.

"I'm fine! I'm on the phone!" She assumed the person walked away. Truly, she didn't care if they did or didn't.

“It's so trendy, almost bleeding to death. All the cool girls are doing it.”
― Francine Pascal, Fearless

Jenny woke up some time later, she wasn't sure how long. She had dried blood up and down her arms, and was laying in a puddle on the floor. She felt weak and light headed. It was quiet outside the door, whoever was banging before had stopped. She didn't hear any talking.

Looking down at her arms--which she could barely move--she realized her situation was worse than she thought. Her arms were torn up, one worse than the other. She got her her feet with a soft groan and began to frantically pull paper towels from the dispenser. She wrapped her arms up as best she could, taking a rubber band from her bag and tying it around them to keep them right. Stumbling out of the bathroom, she noticed the lights were off.

They had left her here.

She could have died on that bathroom floor and they didn't care, they left her.

Cunts.

She shuffled out the door and headed towards the parking lot. There was a shape in the shadows. A light mist was in the air, like it had been raining. She took it as a sign. The shape she saw looked almost human. Immediately her thoughts went dark.

They had found her, they had come for her, she was in danger!

Everything in her told her to run, but her body was far too weak from the blood loss. At this point, she was ready to accept whatever happened..........

When she saw blonde hair.

Sarina.

She was coming around the corner. Jenny felt a rage boiling up in her that she hadn't felt in some time.

She felt a burst of energy and before she knew it she had her forearm against the throat of the girl who had embarrassed her, her blood soaked paper towel bandages staining the bully's neck. Pressed against the wall, Jenny pushed tighter, restricting air flow. Her nostrils were flaring, and Sarina seemed to be caught by surprise. Her eyes were wide.

Jenny scared herself with the gravel in her voice.

"Don't you EVER do something like that again, got it? I get it, you don't like me, and I don't like you either, but you don't fuck with my money."

Sarina was speechless, but mostly because she was struggling to breathe.

"I will keep my distance, and you keep yours. You don't know me, don't know what I have been through, what I have had to fight out of. I have nothing left to lose, but this club has everything to lose.......you. I have no problems with killing you...I've had to kill before...........I am fucking crazy. You picked the wrong one sister..."

Sarina's face was going purple, but in a weird, sick kind of way, she cracked a smile.

Jenny let her down and Sarina gasped a bit. Jenny walked away, not even caring if she was attacked from behind.

She was ready to fight.

She was ready to lose.

She was ready to die.

FLASHBACK

The chains rubbed her wrist raw. Her eyes were adapted to the dark at this point, she actually felt like she could see better in the darkness. Her entire body hurt, especially her nether region. She could still hear him, his breaths, light groans, she could still feel his calloused hands on her waist, his member.........yeah........

His breath smelled like liquor and cigarettes.

His voice was.......deep.

She shifted positions on the bed, on the wet spot that she was certain was a mix of sweat and......other fluids.

She put her head down on her mascara stained pillow. She had to get out of here. She didn't even know how long she had been in here....hell a full day felt like forever in this hell. How old was she now? What world events had she missed? Was anyone even looking for her anymore?

She wasn't even aware of time anymore. The door would open, the light would sting her eyes, and then would slam shut and she'd be alone with him.....them......and then they'd leave. She had no idea how long in between...she barely knew her name anymore.

Putting her head down on the pillow she didn't even move when the door opened again. Within a few seconds, the hands here on her hips again pulling them up.......

This was her life now.

FAST FORWARD TO THE END OF "CHECK MATE" (Check Mate):

She crossed her arms, sitting back with a huff. Her eyes shot around the room and landed on the man who had just been on the stand. The one who was staring at her. He was still staring, and his expression hadn't changed. The DA was getting ready to begin his questioning again when the man smiled. A big, toothy smile. He then looked over at the man at the other end of the table, then back at her........for a moment these two felt like they had a genuine connection........

"You know, I was off my medication for a while and I did black out a lot. But now that I think about it, I think I do recognize a man here....."

"Can you point him out?"

She sat on the stand, looking out into a crowd of people that had mixed feelings. Have of them had sympathetic eyes, the other half stared daggers. Some of the people in the court were dressed casual, some had on business apparel. The men who sat to her left had on suits, and they stared THROUGH her. None of them said a word.

"Ms. Sambuca, are the men you kidnapped you and imprisoned you, sexually assaulted and mentally and emotionally abused you in this courtroom today?"

The DA's voice was shrill, piercing. Not as piercing as their eyes were, though. She felt herself sweating. Time seemed to move in a slow motion vortex as she looked around the room, it becoming more and more of a blur as she turned her head.

"Ms. Sambuca?"

She felt the hairs on her neck stand up as the men continued to stare.

"I----yee---I--uhh" her mouth couldn't form the words. She hated these men with every fiber of her being, but she couldn't get the words out she needed.

"May I be excused?!"she blurted out.

Before the judge could say anything, she was halfway down the isle and charging towards the door. Her hand was to her mouth, holding the vomit in. She made it into the hallway before she couldn't hold it anymore.

[Image: No9trWE.png]

"So this is where we are now. Losers get title shots now because a few little typed up words on a piece of printer paper say so? Is this really the bar we are at here, the high water mark, the precedence we are setting? Geri Vayden has been arguably the single biggest disappointment since her return that I can think of. All that hype, that build up, all that hoopla. For what? Hell, Ash Quinn has been more of a factor than Geri Vayden. What's that tell you about her level of suckage? It is a suckage level of nuclear proportions.

So Geri gets thrown around inside a steel cage against who anyone with an IQ over 70 could guess is the new number one contender, Becky Granger. Becky? Betsy? Does it matter? Geri gets tossed around like a Raggedy Ann doll and suddenly we are going to give her a title shot because we feel bad? I agreed to the match, sure, but I thought that perhaps management would have, you know, eyes, and grant the champion a chance to fight someone who isn't the human equivalent of a heavy bag. I just got done with a boxing match, been there, done that.

So now Geri has to get her hopes up like someone promised her another fix, only to have them crushed again when she realizes that its baking soda instead. You have been chosen to be the sacrificial lamb that is thrown to slaughter before the Beckster and I do battle at Snow Job, the buffer, if you will, and you think that you're being rewarded. How adorable. You see, you aren't being rewarded with anything other than the fact that your name isn't glanced over on the card for once because it is sitting there next to mine. Sure call me cocky, tell me I am tooting my own horn, tell me I am being overly arrogant......"

*Jenny lifts the belt up onto the screen, showing it to the camera*

".....but I have earned that right. Atara's claim to fame here is that this belt was hers because it was handed to her. I have earned it, and it wasn't a one off. I have beaten everyone in my path for months, I have defended this title with honor and grace, and when we step into the ring on Warfare there isn't a damn thing that's gonna change. I have some members of the staff apologizing to me, telling me its contractual and that they would change it if they could but they are legally bound. I told them to kick rocks. I WANT this match, because unlike some champions here, I don't sit back and let the world crumble around me, just to pick up off the scraps. I take a foundation, and I burn it to the fucking ground myself. I am a go-getter, a fighting champion, and if someone is feeling froggy well then they are more than welcome to leap.

Geri you think that this hand print and creepy music makes you bulletproof, but you're too dumb--or too high--to understand that it actually makes you vulnerable. Baphomet doesn't care about you, he is in this for himself. It is about power and control, not about success. Why do you think he has went after the rosters lower end talent? One, because no self respecting superstar on this roster would give him a second look, but also because he knows he can control you. He can pull your strings like a fucked up marionette. Your a puppet designed for his amusement, nothing more, nothing less. What he gives you is the same thing that drew Ash to him...he gives you that sense of security. Strength in numbers. The pack mentality. He knows you aren't good enough to be successful here on your own, so he starts spewing about a "bigger picture" and an XWF "takeover", he makes you feel like you are part of something bigger. Even got you to change your name to "Corrupt" Geri Vayden, like sounding more badass will suddenly make you suck a little less. What he is, Geri, is a crossing guard. A large, goat-headed crossing guard. He is extending his hand, helping you to cross the street because you aren't able to do it on your own....but best believe once you get to that other side he'll leave you to fend for yourself. This is not a two way street.

You know what gives you purpose, Geri? Winning. Being the best, being successful. Overcoming the odds and proving everyone wrong. You? You took the easy way out. You took the cowardly way. You let this snake oil salesman convince you that you'd be something your not, and Geri now you're even more of a nobody than you were before. I could have respected you if you stuck to your guns, if you stayed true to who are you and just weren't that good. I would have understood...not everyone is on my level. But you completely changed your image, your philosophy, you're outlook on life. And you still suck just as badly as before. Maybe even more. I just want to know what the end game is.....going from "try try try" to "die die die" is only impactful in a cheesy B-rate Lifetime movie during October. But then again, you should be familiar at this point with B-rate.

All this makeup now. It's not you, Geri. I can't tell if you need acne meds, or a shave. But it looks like your male hormone therapy is going well. No wonder you're a goth now, if I looked like you I would hate life too.

I mean, for real. Your face looks like a deformed loaf of bread. Baphomet wants you, if I can be frank, because you're expendable. You're the fragile front line before you get to the real defenses, if he want to call them that. Someone like you is easily replaceable. He doesn't want you as the champion, because championships are beneath him. He is playing a game that the only one understands is him. He calls it strategy, I call it delusional. He doesn't want you as Shooting Star Champion, he just doesn't want me as it.

Welcome To The Club.

You've had two opportunities to knock me off now, and you've failed twice. This is the circle you're stuck in Geri. A vortex. You can't, haven't and won't beat me. There are levels to this shit, and I am the boss while you're still stuck on beginner. There is nothing you can say about me that has any validity. Nothing you can say that anyone will take seriously or that I can't rip to shreds. I have an autograph signing to go to--what happens when you're a major star--so I'll give ya some reprieve on this one. If I were you, I wouldn't even bother responding, but hey, it's your funeral. Which, ironically, is seemingly right up your alley these days.

You disgust me.

You'll tap out to me and when you do, you'll earn something for once in your miserable life. You'll learn your place in the pecking order, and you'll earn the honor of submitting to the Queen. You wanted this, you got this, but I can't guarantee you'll like it after you get it.

Sorry, no returns, you're stuck with this ass whoopin'.

Congratulations Geri. You win the lottery but you won't like the prize. Trust me."