Post by JaceParkerDavidson on Mar 29, 2023 13:50:23 GMT -5
It was bright and early in Reno, Nevada and we opened to the inside of Brad Jackson’s office. The man himself can be seen sitting behind his desk. His left hand pressed against his temple while supported by the elbow on the desk. Jax looks like he’s suffering from the beginnings of a severe migraine as he puts his focus on the piled-up work in front of him.
Jax lets out a small sigh and tries to power through with the Equinox II event quickly approaching. Suddenly, the door to his office opens up. Jax remains locked in on the work on his desk until the door is slammed shut. Jax raises his eyes from the desk over toward the source of the rude entrance.
“If you wanted to hang out with me, I gotta tell you, Jacksy boy, this is a very odd way to make it happen.” Exclaimed the rude guest.
The voice and the sarcasm belonged to UPRISING superstar Jace Parker Davidson who marches his way over to the front of the desk. He placed his hands down firmly on the rich, polished wood of the desk with a rather annoyed look on his face. His one good eye has a laser focus on the man who has tried to punish him in recent weeks.
“IF I wanted to hang out with you,” Jackson echoes, heavy scorn in his tone. “Yeah. That ship sailed a long-ass time ago. We’re not friends and despite what you and the rest of the dipshits on social media think, I’m certainly not your biggest fan.”
Jace leans back and places his hand over his heart. He pretends to be hurt by the words but eventually flips his middle finger up at Jackson before taking a seat.
“There’s a long fucking line for the haters too. I would hate for you to be stuck at the back of it.” Jace rolled his one good eye. “Enough with the fucking pleasantries, why the fuck did you call me out here now? What do you have to bitch about that couldn’t have been done in a tweet, text, or email?”
“Fuckin’ tweets. I’m so sick of all this electronic bullshit.” He glared at Jace a moment longer before shuffling through the debris on his desk. “Not everything needs to be broadcast to the whole goddamned world… as much as it’d kill some of you to realize. At least here, I know we’re safe from all the eyes and ears.”
As if he realized how much he sounded like a paranoid lunatic, Jackson shoved the paper toward Jace.
“This is the run sheet that’s already been submitted and okayed by the Japanese officials at Korakuen.” His finger tapped something at the bottom, trying to draw Jace’s attention there. “See, I didn’t add this little caveat here. The One Percent and Marisol specifically banned from ringside? I never signed off on that.”
“Realllllllly?” Jace feigned like he had no idea what Jackson was talking about. “That’s really big news, huh? Marisol and the rest of The One Percent were banned from ringside during the main event. Shocking, I can imagine being the HUGE Marisol fan that you are, that doesn’t make you a happy camper at all.”
“Don’t you start.” Jackson snapped. “Was bad enough that Gorgo got Lyv all riled up, thinking I’m down here bending Vilaro over the desk. If I needed some extra outlet for getting my dick wet, I could find a less conspicuous place than that, don’t you think?”
He’d known Jace long enough to tell that his suspicions hadn’t been unfounded – the guy clearly knew something about what was going on around here.
“Level with me. Did you or Choi have anything to do with this?”
“To do with you bending Marisol over a desk and giving her the happy fun time ending that she so DESPERATELY needs?” Jace waves his arms back and forth. “Absolutely fucking not. If, and that’s a big IF I had anything to do with that situation you can fire me on the spot. I think you’d realize by now that I would have enough respect for you as a human being to suggest a nice hooker down at the Bunny Ranch or maybe a lovely trip to one of the Velvet Rabbit locations.”
The look on the CEO’s face makes it perfectly clear that he’s getting close to his boiling point.
“Someone’s been deliberately fucking with things for months. Cards. Contracts. This has nothing to do with who is or isn’t…” he sputters. “Y’know what? Forget it. Clearly, this was a mistake. Don’t forget to check with security on the way out. They’ll have your parking validated.”
Jace raised his eyebrow and leaned forward in his seat.
“You demanded I come all the way out here just to ask me who is tinkering with your best-laid plans? Seriously? Look, I know that I’m very good at what I do but you don’t pay me to do your job for you, Bradley.” Jace rose to his feet and hovered over the desk. “I don’t know who is messing with you behind the scenes here. But thank fuck that whoever it is, actually knows what they are doing. Banning Marisol and her goon squad from ringside is exactly the kind of thing that is needed when you’re hosting a World Championship match in Korakuen Hall.”
“Maybe so but was still…” he makes a frustrated noise. “Micromanaging bullshit. I’m sick of it.”
“Sounds like you should resign and allow this mystery entity to take over.” The shit-eating grin on Jace’s face could be seen from space. “I’m sure with you no longer in UPRISING, Marisol would pack up her freak show and follow you wherever you’d land. And honestly? That would just be best for all of us.”
“Get the fuck out of my office.” Jackson looked like he wanted to punch him in his face.
“Oh, you got a scary look on your face right now,” Jace said in a serious tone before leaning over the desk and getting in Jackson’s face. “You feeling froggy, old man? I’ve been itching for another go around with you and I don’t give two fucks whether you’re collecting Social Security or not at your age. I. WILL. NOT. HOLD. BACK.”
“I…” Jackson’s eyes cut towards the doorway as if he was looking for security to save him. When nobody intervened, he was forced to take action, pushing up to his feet so he was nose to nose with Jace. For a moment, he simply stood there, breathing heavily, trying like hell to pull back the anger even as his fingers curled into fists.
Suddenly, he reared back as though he was going to throw a punch and instead drove his fist down into the desktop. Papers scattered. The landline phone clattered to the floor.
“Awwww.” Jace leaned back and tilted his head. “What did that desk ever do to you? You know what? Don’t even answer that since clearly, you’ve yet to retrieve your balls from Marisol’s purse. I bet Lyv must love that about you.”
“About as much as your mom does.” Jackson snapped back, the insult the lowest hanging fruit possible. He couldn’t focus past the anger and the pain in that hand that could very well be broken. “Think I’m going to add something else to the card. When in Japan… think we’ll make your little dance with Third Eye Sky a Japanese Deathmatch. How’s that sound, chief?”
“Japanese Deathmatch…” Jace allowed the words to linger in the air for a bit. “Is this supposed to be more genius punishment on your part? Am I supposed to walk the straight and narrow because the great Bradley Jackson put his foot down?”
Jace began to pace a bit back and forth in front of the desk. He stops in place and then points at the eyepatch.
“You see this here, you son of a bitch?” There was venom in his voice. “I’ve been through a hell of a lot worse than a Japanese Deathmatch against a man that hasn’t hit puberty yet. So, you bet your ass I’m down for a Japan Deathmatch. I just want you to know that what happens to Ace Sky in Korakuen Hall is going to be on your hands, not mine.”
Jace punctuates his point by swiping the rest of the items off of Jackson’s desk. The items hit the floor as Jace turns around and storms out of the office. Jackson shakes his head before the sound of the door once again slamming shut echoes off the walls.
Jax lets out a small sigh and tries to power through with the Equinox II event quickly approaching. Suddenly, the door to his office opens up. Jax remains locked in on the work on his desk until the door is slammed shut. Jax raises his eyes from the desk over toward the source of the rude entrance.
“If you wanted to hang out with me, I gotta tell you, Jacksy boy, this is a very odd way to make it happen.” Exclaimed the rude guest.
The voice and the sarcasm belonged to UPRISING superstar Jace Parker Davidson who marches his way over to the front of the desk. He placed his hands down firmly on the rich, polished wood of the desk with a rather annoyed look on his face. His one good eye has a laser focus on the man who has tried to punish him in recent weeks.
“IF I wanted to hang out with you,” Jackson echoes, heavy scorn in his tone. “Yeah. That ship sailed a long-ass time ago. We’re not friends and despite what you and the rest of the dipshits on social media think, I’m certainly not your biggest fan.”
Jace leans back and places his hand over his heart. He pretends to be hurt by the words but eventually flips his middle finger up at Jackson before taking a seat.
“There’s a long fucking line for the haters too. I would hate for you to be stuck at the back of it.” Jace rolled his one good eye. “Enough with the fucking pleasantries, why the fuck did you call me out here now? What do you have to bitch about that couldn’t have been done in a tweet, text, or email?”
“Fuckin’ tweets. I’m so sick of all this electronic bullshit.” He glared at Jace a moment longer before shuffling through the debris on his desk. “Not everything needs to be broadcast to the whole goddamned world… as much as it’d kill some of you to realize. At least here, I know we’re safe from all the eyes and ears.”
As if he realized how much he sounded like a paranoid lunatic, Jackson shoved the paper toward Jace.
“This is the run sheet that’s already been submitted and okayed by the Japanese officials at Korakuen.” His finger tapped something at the bottom, trying to draw Jace’s attention there. “See, I didn’t add this little caveat here. The One Percent and Marisol specifically banned from ringside? I never signed off on that.”
“Realllllllly?” Jace feigned like he had no idea what Jackson was talking about. “That’s really big news, huh? Marisol and the rest of The One Percent were banned from ringside during the main event. Shocking, I can imagine being the HUGE Marisol fan that you are, that doesn’t make you a happy camper at all.”
“Don’t you start.” Jackson snapped. “Was bad enough that Gorgo got Lyv all riled up, thinking I’m down here bending Vilaro over the desk. If I needed some extra outlet for getting my dick wet, I could find a less conspicuous place than that, don’t you think?”
He’d known Jace long enough to tell that his suspicions hadn’t been unfounded – the guy clearly knew something about what was going on around here.
“Level with me. Did you or Choi have anything to do with this?”
“To do with you bending Marisol over a desk and giving her the happy fun time ending that she so DESPERATELY needs?” Jace waves his arms back and forth. “Absolutely fucking not. If, and that’s a big IF I had anything to do with that situation you can fire me on the spot. I think you’d realize by now that I would have enough respect for you as a human being to suggest a nice hooker down at the Bunny Ranch or maybe a lovely trip to one of the Velvet Rabbit locations.”
The look on the CEO’s face makes it perfectly clear that he’s getting close to his boiling point.
“Someone’s been deliberately fucking with things for months. Cards. Contracts. This has nothing to do with who is or isn’t…” he sputters. “Y’know what? Forget it. Clearly, this was a mistake. Don’t forget to check with security on the way out. They’ll have your parking validated.”
Jace raised his eyebrow and leaned forward in his seat.
“You demanded I come all the way out here just to ask me who is tinkering with your best-laid plans? Seriously? Look, I know that I’m very good at what I do but you don’t pay me to do your job for you, Bradley.” Jace rose to his feet and hovered over the desk. “I don’t know who is messing with you behind the scenes here. But thank fuck that whoever it is, actually knows what they are doing. Banning Marisol and her goon squad from ringside is exactly the kind of thing that is needed when you’re hosting a World Championship match in Korakuen Hall.”
“Maybe so but was still…” he makes a frustrated noise. “Micromanaging bullshit. I’m sick of it.”
“Sounds like you should resign and allow this mystery entity to take over.” The shit-eating grin on Jace’s face could be seen from space. “I’m sure with you no longer in UPRISING, Marisol would pack up her freak show and follow you wherever you’d land. And honestly? That would just be best for all of us.”
“Get the fuck out of my office.” Jackson looked like he wanted to punch him in his face.
“Oh, you got a scary look on your face right now,” Jace said in a serious tone before leaning over the desk and getting in Jackson’s face. “You feeling froggy, old man? I’ve been itching for another go around with you and I don’t give two fucks whether you’re collecting Social Security or not at your age. I. WILL. NOT. HOLD. BACK.”
“I…” Jackson’s eyes cut towards the doorway as if he was looking for security to save him. When nobody intervened, he was forced to take action, pushing up to his feet so he was nose to nose with Jace. For a moment, he simply stood there, breathing heavily, trying like hell to pull back the anger even as his fingers curled into fists.
Suddenly, he reared back as though he was going to throw a punch and instead drove his fist down into the desktop. Papers scattered. The landline phone clattered to the floor.
“Awwww.” Jace leaned back and tilted his head. “What did that desk ever do to you? You know what? Don’t even answer that since clearly, you’ve yet to retrieve your balls from Marisol’s purse. I bet Lyv must love that about you.”
“About as much as your mom does.” Jackson snapped back, the insult the lowest hanging fruit possible. He couldn’t focus past the anger and the pain in that hand that could very well be broken. “Think I’m going to add something else to the card. When in Japan… think we’ll make your little dance with Third Eye Sky a Japanese Deathmatch. How’s that sound, chief?”
“Japanese Deathmatch…” Jace allowed the words to linger in the air for a bit. “Is this supposed to be more genius punishment on your part? Am I supposed to walk the straight and narrow because the great Bradley Jackson put his foot down?”
Jace began to pace a bit back and forth in front of the desk. He stops in place and then points at the eyepatch.
“You see this here, you son of a bitch?” There was venom in his voice. “I’ve been through a hell of a lot worse than a Japanese Deathmatch against a man that hasn’t hit puberty yet. So, you bet your ass I’m down for a Japan Deathmatch. I just want you to know that what happens to Ace Sky in Korakuen Hall is going to be on your hands, not mine.”
Jace punctuates his point by swiping the rest of the items off of Jackson’s desk. The items hit the floor as Jace turns around and storms out of the office. Jackson shakes his head before the sound of the door once again slamming shut echoes off the walls.