NOLA, the Wrestleplex

More specifically the training facility. The enormous gymnasium complete with three practice rings and all the fitness trimmings one could imagine. The man who built the facility, Edward White, relied on his good friend and sometimes tag team partner the Bombastic Bronson Box to outfit the gym and build it out into the superstar factory that it is today. This morning we see a smattering of BRAZEN and DEFIANCE talent utilizing the machines and rows of weights. Some perhaps looking forward to matches held over the ACTS pay per view weekend. Some simply looking forward to proving themselves worthy of such a spot.

Over beside one of the practice rings we see the statuesque older woman with shoulder length salt and pepper hair in a red business suit. Doris Hilton’s family has been promoting events in Texas almost as long as Texas has been a state. In the last few years, looking to create her own legacy as a business woman apart from that of her father, she got her managers license and found herself some charges worthy of her years of insight and business experience.

Gordy Lovett:
Tarnation Ms. Hilton, y’all know how appreciative ah am fer gettin’ me a job here, it’s just…

The massive Gordy Lovett was an American football player that rode his natural athletic talent as far as it would take him through schooling before his… well, let's just say very basic… level of natural intellect caught up with him. Sporting a tight pair of jeans, a big belt buckle, green snakeskin roach kickers and a crop top Lynyrd Skynyrd shirt he nervously fumbles with his beat up old cowboy hat in his huge bearpaw looking hands as he approaches his manager. 

Doris Hilton:
It’s just that I chose Felton to represent us in the tag tournament.

Lovett:
I’da loved to show you that ah can hang in there with anybody, Ms. Hilton. Ah just need the opportunity to… 

Hilton:
Just watch for a second, my boy. Watch your tag team partner with HIS tag team partner for a moment.

Both cast their eyes over to the ring where “Texas Strong” Felton Bigsby is locking up with none other than his partner for the upcoming tag party, the Bombastic Bronson Box. The Hall of Famer and former two time FIST of DEFIANCE is dressed in sweats and his boots, by the looks of he and Bigsby they’ve been at this for a while. The two men grapple for a few moments and jockey for the upper hand, Felton eventually hooks behind the Scotsman and trips him down onto the mat, looping his massive arm around Boxer’s neck and flexing his massive shoulder, his dense muscle tissue clamping down around Bronson’s neck like a vice. He smiles as he taps, Felton releasing the hold.

Bronson Box:
Guess you haven’t forgotten everything I taught ye’, ye’ fookin’ cocky little prick.

The huge former University of Texas football player towers over the squat Scot.

Felton Bigsby:
Little? Motherfucker, don’t make me pop that bald-ass head clean off.

Bigsby with a half grin, mean mugging the Original DEFIANT.

Bigsby:
Besides, learned just as much from Troy as from you, brah.

The Wargod shoot bristles as that, he mean mugs right back.

Bigsby:
Calm your old ass down, Box. I ain't lookin’ to fight you. I’m lookin’ to win this tag party bullshit and get my ass on the main roster. I’ve told you, I’ve told Ms. Hilton, I told y’alls friend with the beard and the entourage and the checkbook that I’m done waiting! I’m done bein’ stuck here in BRAZEN doin’ jack-shit when I SHOULD be breakin’ backs and winnin’ championships! Yeah, I been trained by the best in the goddamn world, man. Two former FIST’s personally took me under their wings and showed me how shit WORKS… 

The Original DEFIANT places a hand on Felton’s massive shoulder.

Box:
I hear ya’, son. Believe me I hear ya’... you figure with all I got goin’ on I’d be doin’ this for anyone else, do ya’, boy’o? Now come on, we got another hour of sparrin’ before we hit the weights.

Bigsby:
I want this, Bronson. I need to win this shit more than I’ve needed anything in my whole damn life.

Without another word Boxer simply nods and lunges towards Bigsby. As the two men sprawl and grapple back and forth up in the ring we’re now back down at ringside with Gordy and Doris.

Hilton:
Gordy, you're young. Both in age and experience. Felton has been at this for a very long time. Back when DEFIANCE started their developmental efforts they tapped Mr. Box there to train the initial slap dash roster. Felton, Levi Cole, JJ Dixon, Flex Kruger, Roosevelt Owens, Butcher Victorious, and the list goes on and on. They all have Bronson’s fingerprints on them. He was a bit of an absentee father, making sporadic appearances after the initial “camp” he held before BRAZEN debuted. But the fact remains.

Doris finally looks over at Gordy.

Hilton:
You want to prove yourself. Felton NEEDS to prove himself. You want to show the world who you are. Felton NEEDS to show the world he’s more than just another warm body taking up space in BRAZEN.

She turns her attention back to the ring.

Hilton:
That’s all to say, you’ll do exactly what I say or you’ll be out on your keister faster than I can look for a replacement, are we clear Mr. Lovett? Remember Gordy… I own your dear old east Texas home. I’d hate to put your dear old grandfather out in the blistering heat. How many generations of your family live on that particular sad little parcel of land? Four? Five? Now shoo.

The cold, passive way she dangles the threat makes it that much worse. She’s threatening his whole life and it’s secondary to her attention. She smiles and claps as Felton takes Bronson down yet again with a strong side headlock takeover. 

Lovett:
Yes ma’am. I’ll just get goin’.

Over her shoulder.

Hilton:
You will be in Felton and Bronson’s corner with me. You will do your job, Gordy. We’ve got too much riding on this for it to go sideways. You’ll get your opportunity when I SAY you do. Understand?

“The Texas Stampede” nods his head dejectedly.

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