Post by Samantha on Sept 12, 2023 17:10:21 GMT -5
The camera opens up inside a classroom like most, brightly lit, with white walls adorned with different writing aids for young elementary students. There are four neat rows of desks, all lined up perfectly by this school's janitorial staff. One might even say the classroom is a bit sanitary, almost hospital-like in appearance.
The front wall of the classroom features a long whiteboard, and in the center of the room, but near that whiteboard, is a large wooden teacher's desk and chair. The classroom door is made as one would expect, dark brown wood with a large window, divided into nine sections on the top half.
The door opens, and in walks Samantha Tolson, dressed in a smart grey pencil skirt ending a couple of inches below her bottom, and a long-sleeved white button down shirt, her black heels clacking with every step. Her shirt is not buttoned all the way; in fact it is dangerously unbuttoned, her black bra easily visible and amplifying her cleavage…suffice it to say she's not had much training in dressing the part.
Tolson slides out the teacher's chair and sits, looking at the door. It's not long before a young man enters the classroom. His hair is fashionably unkempt and of a medium length, and he wears a pair of shorts that coordinate with his black leather jacket, an ace of spades card dangling from between his teeth. The boy slings his backpack onto the back of his chair, sitting down with a sigh. "Can we get this show on the road? My time is valuable."
Samantha blew a hair from a smartly styled pair of glasses, putting them on her face. "Yes, we can begin." She stands up, grabbing a dry erase marker from the tray at the whiteboard's base, pulling off the cap. "Are you ready to take notes?"
The boy sighs heavily, pulling a laptop from his bag and opening it. "Sure. Go ahead." He slinks in his chair, tapping a few things on his keyboard.
Tolson begins her lecture, writing I. PREPARATION toward the top of the board. "Now, as we look into this a bit deeper, it's obvious that from a physical standpoint, both Mr. Mears and myself will both be in peak physical condition when the match begins. Both of us are what we appear to be, world class ath…excuse me."
The boy is tapping the keys furiously, muttering under his breath. "Dang it. Gotta start the level over." He glances up to see Samantha standing in front of his desk, then smiles like a Cheshire cat. "Yes, preparation. You were saying?"
"Are you trying to stream online right now?" She turns the laptop toward herself with a quick spin, closing the boy's streaming setup. A spin in reverse puts the screen in front of him again. "You need to pay attention."
The boy nods, the sheepish grin still on his face. "Alright, alright. I get it, Teach. You’re upset because you’re on a teacher’s salary and I’m making money while learning."
Tolson bristles, taking a moment to compose herself. "Life, and wrestling, is about far more than money. Don't get me wrong, making that kind of money is ridiculously nice, but there's a satisfaction in winning a match with your skill, your wits, and your heart. It's about being proud of your effort, proud of what you accomplish when you do things right. Wrestling is about passion, the friendships you make. It's not just about money. I've watched passionless money grubbers come and go, and it's because they don't love the sport. They don't have the heart to keep pushing when things get hard, and when you have no heart or passion? No one wants to be your friend, and talent can only keep you interested for so long. You wind up manipulating people, using them to do what you yourself cannot."
Samantha steps back to the whiteboard and continues. "So…" She uses the marker to write A. Physical - Even in the manner of a formal outline. "...this is clearly a wash.
The boy opens his laptop again and then pulls out his phone from his pocket. He raises it into the air and points it at himself to admire his look. He snaps a picture while holding the Ace card in his free hand. He then proceeds to lift his shirt and take a picture of his bare chest. Finally, he pushes his chair back and begins snapping pictures of his legs and quads and the flash from the phone finally catches Samantha’s attention.
"But the mental preparation, that is very
different." B. Mental - goes onto the whiteboard next. "Kind of like you, snapping pictures when you should be learning. Put the phone away, and if I see it out again I'm taking it from you."
Samantha gives the kid a long, stern look, one which he mockingly returns before she continues. "Mr. Mears offers, as his evidence, the fact that he helped Serenity Holmes defeat me months ago. That was a point easily debunked. I helped train Serenity for the ring. I am, in part, responsible for everything she knows about this sport, however…the old adage is true. I've never shown any opponent everything I know, much less one I may face again in bigger matches. That means the Mr. Mears may believe he has a plan."
The boy rolls his eyes and mimics Samantha talking with one of his hands. He lets out a long drawn out yawn before groaning. "Anything to discredit a true genius. Its okay to be outsmarted by someone else. You were never going to be the smartest person in this business."
The boy leans back in his seat and rests his legs on top of his desk. "The older generation like you always nag about working hard and passion for your job. Its a JOB and its got nothing to do with passion. The money is the only thing that matters and if you intelligent enough. Then you can get by working smarter not harder. That is what an Ace does but you're just some lowly Queen trying to act superior."
"Smarter, not harder, hmm?" Samantha walks to her desk, grabbing her chair and putting it in front of the boy's desk, sitting in it backwards, leaning on the back of the chair with a smirk. "Do you know what an Ace truly is in our sport?"
"The absolute best, obviously." The boy answers confident."The person that is the face of the company. When you the biggest star, you get the biggest checks and get to make all the demands that you want."
Samantha looks him up and down, taking off her glasses and resting the end of the stem on her lip. "What is it that you want? What are your demands?"
The boy just sits there blinking with a blank expression on his face. His eyes aren't focused on Samantha's face. His line of vision points south to the bounty hanging over the back of the chair. "Huh? Were you talking? I couldn't hear you over the sound of that bodacious rack of yours."
"Like my boobs, do you? Know what people have to have to get these?" Samantha motions to her breasts. "To get me to show them every single little inch of these breasts? Can you imagine what it takes?"
"Lots of cheap merchandise that I can sell overpriced and a snap of my fingers." The boy smirks while trying to snap his fingers but fails miserably.
Tolson chuckles. "I've had men and women both, demanding my time, begging me to spend just a matter of a few minutes with them. I've been promised the world so many times over I've lost count. Yet none of them were worth a second of my personal time because all they wanted was to use my body for their own whims, and they never got so much a single watch tick. No, I need passion, because I want to feel like more than a sex toy. I need heart, because I am nearly insatiable when the setting and the feeling is mutual. And, I need pride, because I need someone who is proud to have me in their life."
Samantha quickly stands, turning the chair around and sitting properly, crossing her legs and basically ruining the boy's fantasy. "I do not jump at money, I do not answer like a pet on a leash, and I will never, ever, be used as a prop to make someone else look good. I've watched my niece suffer two different men, both of them using her for their own means, their own reasons and advancement. She is little more than a pawn to be discarded when she's no longer of use. Cheap merch and a finger snap do nothing for me, and they would get you absolutely nowhere."
“You don’t know that!” The boy protests. “An Ace gets all the ladies and why wouldn’t he? Who needs male friends when you can surround yourself with the hottest bitches imaginable? You’re just mad that you can’t be a side piece for an Ace. Aunt and niece content could make a lot of money.”
The boy reaches into his pocket and pulls something out before sliding it over toward Samantha. It happened to be a crumpled up piece of paper that look like it’s been used for finger painting. It has the boy’s phone number on it crudely written in finger paint. The boy winks at Samantha. “Give me a call when you get bored of this whole wrestling and teaching thing. I can get your hot ass real dough in your bank account.”
Tolson picks up the piece of paper, grinning as she sees the numbers that are barely legible. "Cute. Let me show you something, though." She stands and goes to the desk for her phone, tapping away at it as she walks back to her chair. She sits, sliding the phone in front of him, her banking app open to her account balances. "I don't think you're able to do much for me, financially or any other way, that I haven't already done for myself."
She snaps her phone away from him, sitting back down in the chair. "As I suspected, you don't have the first clue what an Ace is in professional wrestling. An Ace isn't the one that sells the most, isn't the biggest star, and isn't anyone's side piece. An Ace is the person who makes everyone in the company better by being in the ring with them, by putting on fantastic matches every time out and drags others, sometimes kicking and screaming to their level."
She leans forward and sneers, her eyes locked on his. "You're no Ace. You're little more than a usurious child, looking for easy ways to get what you want. Every one of the Aces? To you, they're expendable. Women to use until they no longer meet your needs then cast aside like worthless trash. That's why I'll retain the World Championship, because there isn't one single member of The Kingdom that isn't family to me, and that is why I am and have always been UPRISING's Ace, because in me, the roster sees the level they'll need to scramble for. I am the high tide, raising all the ships in Brad Jackson's harbor."
She sits back, eyes still locked onto the boy's as he sits upright, swallowing hard and looking a bit frightened by her intensity. "I am worth far more than your cheap trinkets, I am stronger than your hunger for cash, and you can't beat me unless you're prepared to damn near kill me. And when the lights are the hottest, I've been battle tested and found more than up to those moments. When you faced your greatest challenge, you cut bait and made sure your girlfriend got the title you no longer cared about, another trinket to toss aside and another warm body to sucker into doing your bidding."
“You’re wrong!” The boy’s voice almost a whimper. “An Ace sets records for longer reigns with a title than anyone else! An Ace talks the talk and then walks the walk! That is… unless management decides to waste his talents or time but that’s not his fault. It’s not an Ace’s fault!”
The boy kicks his legs in full tantrum mode. “An Ace is the best and anyone that says different is lying!!! When you’re good at something you sell your services for way more than their worth! You think you’re hot stuff just because you hot and you have the title. An Ace will just get guaranteed title shot after guaranteed title shot. Someone like Brad Jackson won’t know what hit him with all the demands of an Ace. You’ll break eventually and even if it takes a thousand times the Ace always wins!”
"If it takes you a thousand tries to beat me, it will only confirm everything I've just told you. After all, even the worst of us luck into wins every now and again." Samantha's grin is prominent, if not evil as she speaks. "And, for the record, I'm hot because I did the work and paid the price to be this way. The title doesn't make me hot, child, but I can promise you it will always look hottest around my waist. So come for my title often as you wish, for I'm always ready and always prepared to deliver lesson after lesson…"
Tolson leans close to him, punctuating each word with a finger poke to the flustered boy's forehead. "...until…they…sink…in."
Tears begin to stream down the cheeks of the boy’s face. “I don’t need your lessons, I’m smart! I helped someone else pass your test! I’m an Ace and that makes me a genius! I know more than you because boys are better than girls!” The boy grabs the Ace card and shoves it into Samantha’s face. “This is the only thing that means something in this stupid business! I wanna be the best, I wanna make the most money! I want the title! If I don’t get what I want then I don’t want to play anymore!!!"
Samantha remains just as close as she was when the boy began his rant. "Hold out both hands, want in one, shit in the other, then tell me which gets filled first. I want this title, but it took me three years to earn it. I'll be damned if I'm losing it to a money-grubbing, full of demands child who only wants it for notoriety in just my second defense." She sits back, a wicked grin on her face as she straightens herself. "Class. Dismissed."
The boy begins to cry harder as he pushes out of his chair and runs out of the classroom. He leaves his Ace card sitting on the desk as Samantha picks it up, that same wicked grin on her face while she rips the card in half just before the camera fades.
The front wall of the classroom features a long whiteboard, and in the center of the room, but near that whiteboard, is a large wooden teacher's desk and chair. The classroom door is made as one would expect, dark brown wood with a large window, divided into nine sections on the top half.
The door opens, and in walks Samantha Tolson, dressed in a smart grey pencil skirt ending a couple of inches below her bottom, and a long-sleeved white button down shirt, her black heels clacking with every step. Her shirt is not buttoned all the way; in fact it is dangerously unbuttoned, her black bra easily visible and amplifying her cleavage…suffice it to say she's not had much training in dressing the part.
Tolson slides out the teacher's chair and sits, looking at the door. It's not long before a young man enters the classroom. His hair is fashionably unkempt and of a medium length, and he wears a pair of shorts that coordinate with his black leather jacket, an ace of spades card dangling from between his teeth. The boy slings his backpack onto the back of his chair, sitting down with a sigh. "Can we get this show on the road? My time is valuable."
Samantha blew a hair from a smartly styled pair of glasses, putting them on her face. "Yes, we can begin." She stands up, grabbing a dry erase marker from the tray at the whiteboard's base, pulling off the cap. "Are you ready to take notes?"
The boy sighs heavily, pulling a laptop from his bag and opening it. "Sure. Go ahead." He slinks in his chair, tapping a few things on his keyboard.
Tolson begins her lecture, writing I. PREPARATION toward the top of the board. "Now, as we look into this a bit deeper, it's obvious that from a physical standpoint, both Mr. Mears and myself will both be in peak physical condition when the match begins. Both of us are what we appear to be, world class ath…excuse me."
The boy is tapping the keys furiously, muttering under his breath. "Dang it. Gotta start the level over." He glances up to see Samantha standing in front of his desk, then smiles like a Cheshire cat. "Yes, preparation. You were saying?"
"Are you trying to stream online right now?" She turns the laptop toward herself with a quick spin, closing the boy's streaming setup. A spin in reverse puts the screen in front of him again. "You need to pay attention."
The boy nods, the sheepish grin still on his face. "Alright, alright. I get it, Teach. You’re upset because you’re on a teacher’s salary and I’m making money while learning."
Tolson bristles, taking a moment to compose herself. "Life, and wrestling, is about far more than money. Don't get me wrong, making that kind of money is ridiculously nice, but there's a satisfaction in winning a match with your skill, your wits, and your heart. It's about being proud of your effort, proud of what you accomplish when you do things right. Wrestling is about passion, the friendships you make. It's not just about money. I've watched passionless money grubbers come and go, and it's because they don't love the sport. They don't have the heart to keep pushing when things get hard, and when you have no heart or passion? No one wants to be your friend, and talent can only keep you interested for so long. You wind up manipulating people, using them to do what you yourself cannot."
Samantha steps back to the whiteboard and continues. "So…" She uses the marker to write A. Physical - Even in the manner of a formal outline. "...this is clearly a wash.
The boy opens his laptop again and then pulls out his phone from his pocket. He raises it into the air and points it at himself to admire his look. He snaps a picture while holding the Ace card in his free hand. He then proceeds to lift his shirt and take a picture of his bare chest. Finally, he pushes his chair back and begins snapping pictures of his legs and quads and the flash from the phone finally catches Samantha’s attention.
"But the mental preparation, that is very
different." B. Mental - goes onto the whiteboard next. "Kind of like you, snapping pictures when you should be learning. Put the phone away, and if I see it out again I'm taking it from you."
Samantha gives the kid a long, stern look, one which he mockingly returns before she continues. "Mr. Mears offers, as his evidence, the fact that he helped Serenity Holmes defeat me months ago. That was a point easily debunked. I helped train Serenity for the ring. I am, in part, responsible for everything she knows about this sport, however…the old adage is true. I've never shown any opponent everything I know, much less one I may face again in bigger matches. That means the Mr. Mears may believe he has a plan."
The boy rolls his eyes and mimics Samantha talking with one of his hands. He lets out a long drawn out yawn before groaning. "Anything to discredit a true genius. Its okay to be outsmarted by someone else. You were never going to be the smartest person in this business."
The boy leans back in his seat and rests his legs on top of his desk. "The older generation like you always nag about working hard and passion for your job. Its a JOB and its got nothing to do with passion. The money is the only thing that matters and if you intelligent enough. Then you can get by working smarter not harder. That is what an Ace does but you're just some lowly Queen trying to act superior."
"Smarter, not harder, hmm?" Samantha walks to her desk, grabbing her chair and putting it in front of the boy's desk, sitting in it backwards, leaning on the back of the chair with a smirk. "Do you know what an Ace truly is in our sport?"
"The absolute best, obviously." The boy answers confident."The person that is the face of the company. When you the biggest star, you get the biggest checks and get to make all the demands that you want."
Samantha looks him up and down, taking off her glasses and resting the end of the stem on her lip. "What is it that you want? What are your demands?"
The boy just sits there blinking with a blank expression on his face. His eyes aren't focused on Samantha's face. His line of vision points south to the bounty hanging over the back of the chair. "Huh? Were you talking? I couldn't hear you over the sound of that bodacious rack of yours."
"Like my boobs, do you? Know what people have to have to get these?" Samantha motions to her breasts. "To get me to show them every single little inch of these breasts? Can you imagine what it takes?"
"Lots of cheap merchandise that I can sell overpriced and a snap of my fingers." The boy smirks while trying to snap his fingers but fails miserably.
Tolson chuckles. "I've had men and women both, demanding my time, begging me to spend just a matter of a few minutes with them. I've been promised the world so many times over I've lost count. Yet none of them were worth a second of my personal time because all they wanted was to use my body for their own whims, and they never got so much a single watch tick. No, I need passion, because I want to feel like more than a sex toy. I need heart, because I am nearly insatiable when the setting and the feeling is mutual. And, I need pride, because I need someone who is proud to have me in their life."
Samantha quickly stands, turning the chair around and sitting properly, crossing her legs and basically ruining the boy's fantasy. "I do not jump at money, I do not answer like a pet on a leash, and I will never, ever, be used as a prop to make someone else look good. I've watched my niece suffer two different men, both of them using her for their own means, their own reasons and advancement. She is little more than a pawn to be discarded when she's no longer of use. Cheap merch and a finger snap do nothing for me, and they would get you absolutely nowhere."
“You don’t know that!” The boy protests. “An Ace gets all the ladies and why wouldn’t he? Who needs male friends when you can surround yourself with the hottest bitches imaginable? You’re just mad that you can’t be a side piece for an Ace. Aunt and niece content could make a lot of money.”
The boy reaches into his pocket and pulls something out before sliding it over toward Samantha. It happened to be a crumpled up piece of paper that look like it’s been used for finger painting. It has the boy’s phone number on it crudely written in finger paint. The boy winks at Samantha. “Give me a call when you get bored of this whole wrestling and teaching thing. I can get your hot ass real dough in your bank account.”
Tolson picks up the piece of paper, grinning as she sees the numbers that are barely legible. "Cute. Let me show you something, though." She stands and goes to the desk for her phone, tapping away at it as she walks back to her chair. She sits, sliding the phone in front of him, her banking app open to her account balances. "I don't think you're able to do much for me, financially or any other way, that I haven't already done for myself."
She snaps her phone away from him, sitting back down in the chair. "As I suspected, you don't have the first clue what an Ace is in professional wrestling. An Ace isn't the one that sells the most, isn't the biggest star, and isn't anyone's side piece. An Ace is the person who makes everyone in the company better by being in the ring with them, by putting on fantastic matches every time out and drags others, sometimes kicking and screaming to their level."
She leans forward and sneers, her eyes locked on his. "You're no Ace. You're little more than a usurious child, looking for easy ways to get what you want. Every one of the Aces? To you, they're expendable. Women to use until they no longer meet your needs then cast aside like worthless trash. That's why I'll retain the World Championship, because there isn't one single member of The Kingdom that isn't family to me, and that is why I am and have always been UPRISING's Ace, because in me, the roster sees the level they'll need to scramble for. I am the high tide, raising all the ships in Brad Jackson's harbor."
She sits back, eyes still locked onto the boy's as he sits upright, swallowing hard and looking a bit frightened by her intensity. "I am worth far more than your cheap trinkets, I am stronger than your hunger for cash, and you can't beat me unless you're prepared to damn near kill me. And when the lights are the hottest, I've been battle tested and found more than up to those moments. When you faced your greatest challenge, you cut bait and made sure your girlfriend got the title you no longer cared about, another trinket to toss aside and another warm body to sucker into doing your bidding."
“You’re wrong!” The boy’s voice almost a whimper. “An Ace sets records for longer reigns with a title than anyone else! An Ace talks the talk and then walks the walk! That is… unless management decides to waste his talents or time but that’s not his fault. It’s not an Ace’s fault!”
The boy kicks his legs in full tantrum mode. “An Ace is the best and anyone that says different is lying!!! When you’re good at something you sell your services for way more than their worth! You think you’re hot stuff just because you hot and you have the title. An Ace will just get guaranteed title shot after guaranteed title shot. Someone like Brad Jackson won’t know what hit him with all the demands of an Ace. You’ll break eventually and even if it takes a thousand times the Ace always wins!”
"If it takes you a thousand tries to beat me, it will only confirm everything I've just told you. After all, even the worst of us luck into wins every now and again." Samantha's grin is prominent, if not evil as she speaks. "And, for the record, I'm hot because I did the work and paid the price to be this way. The title doesn't make me hot, child, but I can promise you it will always look hottest around my waist. So come for my title often as you wish, for I'm always ready and always prepared to deliver lesson after lesson…"
Tolson leans close to him, punctuating each word with a finger poke to the flustered boy's forehead. "...until…they…sink…in."
Tears begin to stream down the cheeks of the boy’s face. “I don’t need your lessons, I’m smart! I helped someone else pass your test! I’m an Ace and that makes me a genius! I know more than you because boys are better than girls!” The boy grabs the Ace card and shoves it into Samantha’s face. “This is the only thing that means something in this stupid business! I wanna be the best, I wanna make the most money! I want the title! If I don’t get what I want then I don’t want to play anymore!!!"
Samantha remains just as close as she was when the boy began his rant. "Hold out both hands, want in one, shit in the other, then tell me which gets filled first. I want this title, but it took me three years to earn it. I'll be damned if I'm losing it to a money-grubbing, full of demands child who only wants it for notoriety in just my second defense." She sits back, a wicked grin on her face as she straightens herself. "Class. Dismissed."
The boy begins to cry harder as he pushes out of his chair and runs out of the classroom. He leaves his Ace card sitting on the desk as Samantha picks it up, that same wicked grin on her face while she rips the card in half just before the camera fades.