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The camera turns on - where the audience is immediately shown 'THE MOST ENTERTAINING' and 'ORIGINAL' tag team since sliced bread was invented as Archie Jones & Sir Marmaduke Whistle a.k.a. The High Command entered the shot and cut a promo ahead of their highly anticipated contest in San Antonio.
..:: Sir Marmaduke Whistle ::..
Well pip pip and good morning to all you sleep fuckers on this side the wretched Atlantic Ocean, here I am yours truly Sir Marmaduke Whistle surrounded by by some of the smelliest, ugliest and most revolting people I have ever set my eyes upon. If this is what the American Dream is - then I am so very glad that we gave up on this failed experiment so many centuries ago - because all of your people absolutely suck. S-U-C-K! Each minute I have to spend outside the comfort of my own home in jolly old England or outside of the walls of the compound in the fatherland of The Kommander is another day I am left feeling sick to my stomach you people make me want to stick my finger down my throat and bring up the rotten food some diner wench served me for breakfast. Archie perhaps you can address these monsters - whilst I take a moment to recompose myself.
..:: Archie Jones ::..
I think my good friend Sir Whistle needs a real cup of tea - and none of this Ice tea nonsense that all you yankee doodle fucks have been pushing down our throats since we got here - but I think what really need to focus on today is our opponents this week. Although, I am still not sure if The Bordeauxs are a couple, if they are siblings or whether they are both - and honestly I don’t think it really matters because they are a both a pair of dumb blondes with as much personality as a shrimp being roasted on the barbie - get the fuck outta here!
..:: Sir Marmaduke Whistle ::..
Actually Mr. Jones - as a learned and scholarly man you will actually be pleased to hear that I actually did some research this week - and it turns out that our opponents this week are legitimate orphans. So raise your lighters in the air, and allow your eyes to water for a candle in the wind.
..:: Archie Jones ::..
Oh boo fuck hoo. Mummy and Daddy faked their own deaths - so they wouldn’t have to look after us. Wah Wah Wah baby is sad, baby is crying, wah wah wah.
..:: Sir Marmaduke Whistle ::..
Crikey Archie - you’ve really got a bee in your bonnet about these two absolute nerds.
..:: Archie Jones ::..
I have every right to as well. These two punk ass kids are getting opportunities handed to them, that they surely do not deserve. Did you know these are same duo that got themselves slapped around like a set of stripper in the back of a cheap nightclub by The Northern Touch - and if I know anything about those two Maple Leaf smoking chodes is isn’t they first time Hairy or Skinny have beaten their meat to less than satisfactory orphans with Daddy issues to get cheap thrills.
..:: Sir Marmaduke Whistle ::..
Exclamation! You really are going all out in your banter this evening aren’t you Archie.
..:: Archie Jones ::..
I mean do these two peasants deserve any better? The only source of calcium they had in their orphanage growing up, was milking the teats of an overgrown feral rat - and you know that surely isn’t going to lead to healthy lifestyles in your adult life. Do you have any closing comments Marmaduke?
..:: Sir Marmaduke Whistle ::..
Suck a pair of battered sausages - you absolute nerds!
The scene opens up to the sight of hard work, dedication, narcissism, and, most predominantly, sweat…like, if any viewer is watching this video with Smell-O-Vision, their nose would shrivel up and fall off their face under the heavy bombardment from the smell of body odour. We’re greeted with the sight of many aspiring boxers, fitness models, bodybuilders and, most importantly, professional wrestlers who struggle to get through their respective workouts.
As the man behind the camera escorts us past weight sets, punching bags and sweaty sacks of meat and muscle of various sizes, two very distinctive and identical objects begin to take up more of our vision as we move ever closer; those two objects being a pair of professional wrestling rings. As the cameraman wanders through this den of perspiration, some bold white text fades onto the screen that reads…
15th June 2022
New Orleans, Louisiana, U.S.A
A few moments later, the text fades as the camera catches sight of two very familiar people…those two people being Bret Bordeaux, and his quirky younger sister Bellatrix.
Wearing his usual and incredibly generic gym attire, consisting of a black sleeveless shirt, black shorts and black wrestling boots, and a perturbed expression on his face. Despite his laboured movements and occasional wincing face, both of which are a result of a couple of out-of-match assaults and an in-match beating delivered at the hands of Don Marshall and Jean-Louis Gagnon of The Northern Touch, Bret’s eyes have a fiery look about them as he drills his fists into the heavy bag. After every couple of punches, he grumpily mutters a word that, combined with the several others that he’s grunted in the past 15 seconds or so, reads…
“Fucking. Pussy ass. Maple leaf loving. Cheap shotting. Fucking. Dickwads…”
Among others. As he continues the physical and verbal barrage aimed at a punching bag that Bret seemingly wishes was either of the arrogant Canadian tag team, an audible “ping” resonates from the workout bench beside him, causing him to pause his workout and step a couple of feet away from the bag, reaching down to grab his phone that was resting there beforehand. The camera pans over his shoulder as he stares at his mobile device, revealing the reason for the interruption.
Breathing heavily from the workout and massaging his neck with his free hand, trying to ease the pain caused by his strenuous AMA career, Bret stares down at the text message with a face that reeks of disappointment and annoyance. He lets out a frustration-filled sigh before turning his head to face his sister.
“Trixie! C’mere!”
Dressed in one of her many patterned ring attires, consisting of a sports bra with the name “TRIX” in big white letters with a black outline, a pair of wrestling tights with “Hitwoman” written on the belt line and several hundred standard greetings, such as “Hello”, “Hey” and “Hi” filling the rest of the tights, black knee-pads and black and white Nike sneakers, Bellatrix, whose usual bubbly demeanour has seemingly taken a few days off, has a dejected look about her as she looks over towards her brother. Having spent the last half an hour as a human shoelace, being folded into knots as she half-heartedly tries to get to grips with chain wrestling with the help of a middle-aged wrestling trainer, Trixie lifts herself to her feet with a great deal of effort and physical anguish. She begins the arduous journey towards Bret, her eyes refusing to meet his as she responds with a weary and downhearted voice.
“Whatchu want?”
With his sister having finally reached his location, Bret, for a brief moment, looks upon Trixie with pitiful eyes as she just stands there, eyes aimed at the floor and her body language reeking of depression, before he responds.
“I got a text from Bryce, the AMA Booker dude. Figured you'd want to know who we're fighting next?”
Bret pauses momentarily, hoping to see some semblance of interest from his tag partner, but when Trixie shows none, he continues in a frustrated voice.
"Personally, I was hoping for the trilogy against those fucking dipshits, Gagnon and Marshall, since they got a rematch when we beat them fair and square. But apparently, in AMA logic, when we get blindsided before the match even starts and they try to, ya know, FUCKING DROWN YOU!...we don’t get a shot at revenge. Isn't that great? They're so fair!"
Trixie murmurs under her breath. Bret gives himself a second or two to look over his sister before continuing.
"Look, we may not have those two next, but we'll get even in the future, okay? For now, though, remember those two dudes who interrupted our interview last show? Looked like rejected McDonald's mascots?"
His sister shrugs her shoulders dejectedly, causing Bret to sigh. He runs the bridge of his nose between his thumb and pointer finger for a second while trying to concoct a plan to get through to his sister. With an idea having popped in his head, Bret nods twice before going behind his sister and placing his hands on her shoulders. Trixie looks up rather shocked as she has now begun being gently guided back toward the ring by her brother.
"Bret, what are you doing?"
"We're gonna do a little exercise."
They near the ring and Bret winces slightly as he grabs his sister around her stomach and lifts her onto the apron, pushing her under the bottom rope and into the ring. Trixie rolls with the momentum and rises to her knees, a look of utter bewilderment on her face as she watches her brother climb the apron and enter the ring through the top and middle ropes, before lifting herself to her feet. She struggles to look at his face as he walks the small distance toward her.
Bret crosses his arms and takes a breath.
"Back bump."
Trixie looks at him, mainly at his shoulder, to avoid eye contact.
"What?"
"Back. Bump."
She stands firm, seemingly questioning whether or not she can do as asked. Three seconds of silence go by before being interrupted by a loud THUMP! She looks down to see that Bret has hit the mat back first. Quickly rising back to his feet, wincing slightly from his mild injuries.
"Back bump. C'mon."
Trixie hesitates a response before watching her brother perform the act again, this time producing a louder thump. Once again he rises back to face her. Her eyes never gazing at his. Bret looks at her and takes a breath as if struggling to decide the next step of action. Trixie opens her mouth to speak before her brother executes a perfect heel-to-knee shoot-in, picking her up in a double leg takedown and planting her onto the mat in one quick motion. She loses her breath for a moment in shock, and her back shoots spasms through it as it's not one hundred percent healed from the last match she was in.
"Roll through. Pick the leg."
He quickly does as he calls out and grabs her right leg before rolling over her, placing her onto his shoulders into a fireman's carry.
"Bret, stop! I'm not- that hurt!"
He uses the momentum to rise to his knees.
"Yeah, it hurt me too, but we gotta work through it if we want to be better."
He tosses her off his shoulder and onto her back. She shoots up in pain into a sitting position, her hand going to hold her back when Bret puts her in a half-strength headlock.
"Bret, I'm serio-"
"I am too…I'm not having you pout like you have since we lost to The Northern Sux."
Bret transitions the both of them down on the mat, putting her on her back while he works the headlock.
"Bret, let go of me!"
She starts to struggle against him, trying to undo the hold, but to no avail.
"Not gonna happen. You want out? Then get out.”
As Trixie continues to struggle, Bret, being the far superior grappler, forces Trixie onto her stomach with ease, before trapping her arm between his legs and applying a cross-face. Not wanting to severely hurt his sister, he only utilizes half his strength, enough to discomfort her, but not to potentially injure her. Trixie, all the while, claws at Bret’s clasped hands with her free hand, trying to break the lock, but again, to no avail, causing a wave of frustration to build within her.
“C’mon, Trix! Escape! Don’t lay here feeling sorry for yourself. Fight! Fight to get out! C’mon!”
“GET OFF!”
Trixie yells, all the while failing to escape the hold. She attempts to roll onto her back, but Bret just rolls with the momentum and lands her in the exact same position, before responding to Trixie’s yell.
“Alright, let's try something different."
Bret lets off his weight on Trixie, allowing her to struggle to a half-standing position, as if allowing her to feel like she is making progress until he decides to lock in a move she may actually encounter in their future match, a cross-face chicken wing straight out of Marmaduke Whistle’s playbook … except better executed, even at half speed. The elder Bordeaux locks it in and Trixie’s frustration at being a human-weight bag is at a boiling point. She struggles more, using her free hand to try and pull her brother’s arm from her jawline. Bret effortlessly shakes his sister side to side to simulate what her opponent might do to avoid the hold being broken.
"Cmon Trix, you gotta try harder than th-"
WHACK! Trixie’s right elbow connects with her brother in the ribs causing the hold to loosen before swinging that hand up in a fist that lands flush with her brother’s nose and mouth area with a very fleshy sound that seems to echo throughout the gym. This quick one-two combo causes her brother to let go of the hold, with Trixie quickly sliding a few steps away from her brother, trying to create some distance before he tries to lock in another hold.
As she turns to face her brother, however, her face almost immediately shifts from pure frustration and rage to one filled with shock, panic and overwhelming regret and sorrow as she stares at the person she cares about most, as he clutches his mouth with his right hand, with blood dripping through his fingers. Trixie, seeing the blood dripping from Bret’s mouth and knowing that she’s the one that hurt him, looks as though she’s about to burst into tears as she speaks, her voice shaky and panic-filled.
“I didn't mean-. I didn’t mean to…I’m sorry!...I didn’t mean it…”
After a couple of moments, Bret lowers his hand from his mouth and spits some blood from his mouth, which, despite the blood, doesn’t look to be all that damaged, probably just a cut gum. After spitting out a little blood, Bret looks up to see his sister sitting on the ring floor, shaking with emotion and muttering apologies, all the while tears fill her eyes as she stares back at her brother. Upon seeing this, Bret slides himself closer to her and puts his hands on her shoulders, causing her to flinch, before he speaks in a consoling manner.
Bret puts on a goofy-looking, blood-stained toothy smile, hoping to put Trixie’s mind at ease. Trixie responds, sniffling all the while.
“Bu-...but, I hurt you…you’r-...you’re not mad?”
Bret chuckles, before responding.
"Nah, you got out of it, didn't you?"
Bret touches the inside of his mouth with his right index finger, checking on the wound. He removes his finger and swishes it around in his mouth before spitting a mixture of blood and saliva out onto the canvas.
“Look, Trix…the reason I pushed you into this ring…the reason I took you down and tried to get you to fight your way back up, is because…”
Bret pauses a moment, trying to think of the right words to use to help her understand, before continuing yet again.
“Because when you’re coming off a loss like we are, you’ve basically got two options. You either work to improve and get better, or…you do what you’ve been doing since we lost, and that’s given up. Right now, we’re on the ground. Gagnon and Marshall put us here. They beat us up, sure, maybe even badly. So, what’re we gonna do about it, huh? Are we gonna just sit here, on the floor, where they left us? Let High Command come in the next show and whip the number one tag team in AMA? Feel sorry for ourselves and call it quits after one loss? Is that us now? More importantly, is that you now?”
As Bret cuts his impassioned promo, Trixie, listening intently to her brother, wipes the tears from her eyes and stiffens her upper lip.
“Bellatrix Bordeaux, the girl that, in her FIRST EVER wrestling match, took an ass-kicking that would’ve kept most seasoned vets down AND STILL managed to find a way to win…is she a quitter?”
With Bret’s words filling her wonderfully unique mind, Trixie shakes her head, as if to say “no!”.
“Bellatrix Bordeaux, the girl that was damn near drowned to death, and yet, KEPT FIGHTING, despite the fact that the odds were stacked against her and her handsome ass brother …does she give up?”
Once again, Trixie shakes her head “no!”, with a fire in her eyes. Bret, his words unintentionally pumping himself up, lifts himself to his feet, before continuing…
“Well, I sure as shit don’t, so you’d better not.”
With his Rocky speech finished, Bret offers his hand to his newly-motivated sister, who grasps it, and with Bret’s help, is pulled to her feet…and they both just stare at each other awkwardly, not really knowing what to do with themselves…
before Bret remembers something…
“Oh, yeah…Now, since we’re focused, let's get back to what I was trying to say before we got you out of your slump. You remember who I said we’re facing earlier, right? The two dudes who came in during our interview? Smelled like ass and said a bunch of nothing?"
Scrunching her face, trying to dig through all of the random shit that enters her brain on any given second like pop-up viruses, she responds.
“Uhhhhhhmmmm, Ooo! YEAH! I remember them! They were talking funny and I didn’t know what they said, and then you called them “stinky”!”
Bret, a look on his face a mix of shock and pride as Trixie actually remembered something, responds.
“Yeah, those guys. Gold star for Trixie...well, AMA decided that we get to…”
Bret pauses momentarily, an idea forming in his mind, before a devious smirk forms on his face as he continues.
“Actually, remember high school?”
Trixie sadly nods as unhappy memories come flooding back.
“Remember Josh Carver? What did he do to you when I was gone for a baseball game one time?”
Trixie dejectedly responds.
“He…put me in the garbage bin.”
“Yeah, for three hours.”
Bret nods understandingly, kind of ashamed that he couldn't help stop it, before continuing.
“Well, those “stinky” motherfuckers that interrupted us…they wanna put our ass in the trash at the next show! In front of thousands of people! People who will laugh at us. Make fun of us. Hell, they’ll probably even make t-shirts about how we’re nothing but trash!. Do you want that to happen? You want these guys to try to bully and humiliate us like Josh Carver did to you in school?”
As Bret tells Trixie what The High Command has planned for them, and with the memories of being thrown in the trash in school flooding her highly suggestible brain, Trixie’s face shifts from one emotion to another within seconds of each other, from fear of being bullied and humiliated in front of thousands of people, to anger at The High Command for wanting to bully her and Bret, to hatred towards everyone that has ever been mean to her, and when Bret finishes telling Trixie The High Command’s plans, she has a look that contains all of the above, along with a hefty dose of determination as she responds.
"NO!”
Bret, seeing the fire building within her and knowing full well what a pissed-off Trixie is capable of, begins adding fuel to her fire.
“Oh, I’m sorry, what? I can’t hear you, sis. It sounds like you WANT us to be thrown in a dumpster at the next show, is that right? What, you enjoyed it when that douche Josh threw you in the dumpster and locked it shut, huh? You gonna let them do that to you? TO ME!?”
Trixie responds furiously.
“NO! I won’t let them!
Bret, a smirk forming on his face, asks.
"Oh yeah? Well, how’re you gonna stop them? You couldn’t stop Josh Carver. Carver kicked your ass…”
Before he can continue, Trixie snaps back.
“I WAS LITTLE THEN!”
Bret, not fazed by Trixie’s yelling, simply smiles faintly as he looks her up and down, before responding.
“You’re little now, Trix. What can little itty-bitty Trixie do to stop two skinny-fat, ugly, and downright disgusting men from beating her up and throwing her in the trash, huh?”
Looking as though she wants to punch someone, and mean it this time, Trixie again, responds aggressively.
“I…I’M GONNA...PUNCH THEM IN THE PEE-PEE!”
Bret, without missing a beat, quips.
“They haven’t got pee-pees…they’re dickless as fuck. So, if that’s you’re only plan, then I guess we’re heading for the trash…”
Trixie, trying to figure her game plan out, attempts to answer back.
“Well, then…I’m gonna…uh…I’m…gonna…”
As Trixie fails to think of a plan, Bret, feigning disappointment and resignation, shrugs his shoulders.
“Oh well. I guess that’s that, then. I must say, Trix…you must’ve LOVED being thrown in the trash by Josh Carver! I bet you can’t wait to watch it happen to me…hell, who knows, I may enjoy it.”
Knowing full well that Bret wouldn’t enjoy being thrown in the trash, Trixie’s brain goes into overdrive, trying her hardest to think of a game plan to save her brother from the grim fate that she once suffered. Many ideas run through her head and pass by over several seconds before a lightbulb finally goes off and Trixie responds excitedly.
“Ooo! Ooo! I’VE GOT IT! Okay, okay, listen…Remember how we got beaten up by those nasty Canadians? And they attacked us from behind and nearly killed me?"
Bret quickly interrupts, holding his hand up in front of his chest.
"I love the enthusiasm but we don't roll that way. We're better than Northern Sux. We don't need to go dirty. No, we wanna beat High Command clean. Really get over the fact that we're that much better than those mouth breathers."
He drops his hand back down to his side.
"Instead here's what we do, okay, we go in an-"
Bret pauses and looks to his left, directly at the camera. He eyes whoever is behind it up and down before looking around and then back towards them.
"Hey, you mind? Kinda don't wanna broadcast this part. Don't need everyone knowing the game plan."
"Uhhh."
"Thanks, bro, glad you understand."
He winks playfully and reaches his hand out, placing it over the lens of the camera to cause the shot to darken.
