Post by glitch on Feb 17, 2021 11:37:39 GMT -8
As we open, Glitch can be seen, sitting on an equipment chest backstage. She has her arms folded against her chest, and her head is shaking, it was difficult to tell with the mask, but she was fuming. A moment passes, and she's approached by Jason Hardwick.
Jason: Glitch, mind if I grab a quick sound byte, for your upcoming Aftershock match?
Glitch chuckles, uncrosses her arms, and looks at Jason for a moment. Glitch pulls herself off of the crate, and starts to pace back and forth, in front of Jason, muttering under her breath.
Jason: Uh, Glitch?
Glitch: A sound byte, huh?
Glitch stops in her tracks, and turns herself towards the interviewer. She begins to trudge forward, forcing Jason further and further back, until he was pressed up against the wall. Glitch grabs him by the collar, and leans in, her face right next to his.
Glitch: You want a sound byte? What for, exactly?
Jason: A...Aftershock, where you'll be facing…
Glitch: Let me go ahead, and cut you off, right there.
The metal clad Superstar releases Jason, her head once again shaking in anger.
Glitch: Won't be a match, not on Aftershock.
Jason looks visibly confused, giving Glitch a perplexed glance. He pulls a note card from his breast pocket, and gives it a quick once over.
Jason: B...but it says here, that…
Glitch: Wrong, Hardwick! It can say I'm fighting the Queen of England on Aftershock for all I care. It's misinformed. I may be scheduled to appear, doesn't mean I will. Santiago, she said she was going to take care of me, my fault for thinking she intended to. Now, here's the real question, who makes the sandwich for who, here?
Jason: I'm sorry, what?
Glitch: Who gets the sandwich, Jason? It's a straight forward question, and I'd like an answer.
Jason: Is...is that code for something or…
Glitch: Oh come on, Jason. You get it, when there's some fucking going on, someone gets them a sandwich after. I just want to know if it's me, or Santiago. Because she's definitely fucking me right now!
Glitch slams a fist against a nearby wall with a thud. Jason recoils, scrambling away, putting some distance between himself, and Glitch.
Glitch: I'll take care of you, she says. Don't worry about it, we have a plan. Ha, yeah, plan to stick me in the dark, and hide me like some fucking freak! Look, Issy, if I wanted a match, nobody was going to see...I'd be in your office right now. Do you know when I signed my contract, Jason?
Jason: W…
Glitch: December, Jason. Now how many Trauma matches do you think I've wrestles on? Hmm, well.
Jason: I…
Glitch: Not a one, Jason. Frankly, it's horse shit. Now, let's see here, take a look at the people who signed after me. Eavan, hmm booked. Cornbread Mafia, booked. Faye, booked...against The Soz. The Soz, Jason! Because nothing puts asses in seats, like that goofy looking mother fucker, am I right!?
Glitch goes back to pacing, and swears loudly, causing Jason to put more and more distance between himself, and Glitch until he was eventually off screen.
Glitch: What about your precious sound byte, Jason!? Thought so. Now, Santiago, open your ears, and hear this. I'm not stepping foot into an NFW ring, until I get my Trauma match. Not Aftershock, not a pay-per-view, not collision. Call it, a little act of rebellion if you must, but I am sick to death, of you dicking me around. Oh, and bitch, you better give me my sandwich!
EoT
Jason: Glitch, mind if I grab a quick sound byte, for your upcoming Aftershock match?
Glitch chuckles, uncrosses her arms, and looks at Jason for a moment. Glitch pulls herself off of the crate, and starts to pace back and forth, in front of Jason, muttering under her breath.
Jason: Uh, Glitch?
Glitch: A sound byte, huh?
Glitch stops in her tracks, and turns herself towards the interviewer. She begins to trudge forward, forcing Jason further and further back, until he was pressed up against the wall. Glitch grabs him by the collar, and leans in, her face right next to his.
Glitch: You want a sound byte? What for, exactly?
Jason: A...Aftershock, where you'll be facing…
Glitch: Let me go ahead, and cut you off, right there.
The metal clad Superstar releases Jason, her head once again shaking in anger.
Glitch: Won't be a match, not on Aftershock.
Jason looks visibly confused, giving Glitch a perplexed glance. He pulls a note card from his breast pocket, and gives it a quick once over.
Jason: B...but it says here, that…
Glitch: Wrong, Hardwick! It can say I'm fighting the Queen of England on Aftershock for all I care. It's misinformed. I may be scheduled to appear, doesn't mean I will. Santiago, she said she was going to take care of me, my fault for thinking she intended to. Now, here's the real question, who makes the sandwich for who, here?
Jason: I'm sorry, what?
Glitch: Who gets the sandwich, Jason? It's a straight forward question, and I'd like an answer.
Jason: Is...is that code for something or…
Glitch: Oh come on, Jason. You get it, when there's some fucking going on, someone gets them a sandwich after. I just want to know if it's me, or Santiago. Because she's definitely fucking me right now!
Glitch slams a fist against a nearby wall with a thud. Jason recoils, scrambling away, putting some distance between himself, and Glitch.
Glitch: I'll take care of you, she says. Don't worry about it, we have a plan. Ha, yeah, plan to stick me in the dark, and hide me like some fucking freak! Look, Issy, if I wanted a match, nobody was going to see...I'd be in your office right now. Do you know when I signed my contract, Jason?
Jason: W…
Glitch: December, Jason. Now how many Trauma matches do you think I've wrestles on? Hmm, well.
Jason: I…
Glitch: Not a one, Jason. Frankly, it's horse shit. Now, let's see here, take a look at the people who signed after me. Eavan, hmm booked. Cornbread Mafia, booked. Faye, booked...against The Soz. The Soz, Jason! Because nothing puts asses in seats, like that goofy looking mother fucker, am I right!?
Glitch goes back to pacing, and swears loudly, causing Jason to put more and more distance between himself, and Glitch until he was eventually off screen.
Glitch: What about your precious sound byte, Jason!? Thought so. Now, Santiago, open your ears, and hear this. I'm not stepping foot into an NFW ring, until I get my Trauma match. Not Aftershock, not a pay-per-view, not collision. Call it, a little act of rebellion if you must, but I am sick to death, of you dicking me around. Oh, and bitch, you better give me my sandwich!
EoT
