We're inside the now very official looking office once known as the "Pleasure Dome" of DEFIANCE shot-caller Kelly Evans. The woman in question is sitting quietly at her desk pouring over a rather intimidating stack of paperwork, she's got some quiet music playing. It's at about this point you'd figure some big sweaty monster would come kicking through the door screaming demands... 

*knock knock*

Evans looks up at her office door, sort of surprised, and raises an eyebrow.

Kelly Evans:
Come in?

The look on the DEF head booker's usually unflappable mug when the knocker in question walks calmly into her office speaks volumes about how goddamn weird it is this particular person ISN'T screaming and yelling, as he's want to do more often than not. Kelly puts down her pen and leans back in her chair, crossing her arms.

Kelly Evans:
Can I help you Bronson?

The shows been over for a while, Bronson Box is dressed in his trademark brown and grey pinstripe three piece suit, blood red tie. He's limping, he's got marks and bruises on his already gnarled face... but other than that he looks every bit the dapper gentleman. The Wargod slowly leans over and rests his closed fists on the lip of Kelly's desk. His voice is low, it's OBVIOUS he's using every fiber of his being to stay as cool, calm and collected as he's possibly capable.

Bronson Box:
I want a bookin' on 68.

The "head bitch in charge" again raises an eyebrow.

Kelly Evans:
You're not getting Ryan again, and if you think you're getting your hands on Eugene before DEFCON you're shit out of...

The Original DEFIANT very politely raises a hand to stop Kelly before she really gets going.

Bronson Box:
I don't give a shite who it is... I got some, well... 

The obviously very frustrated former two time FIST quickly pops his neck.

Bronson Box:
... Lets say some fookin' pent up aggression I'd like te' work out before I do somethin' that'd make you and Jane rather CROSS with me after the fact, if'n you catch my meanin', lass.

Kelly takes a second to mull over Boxer's unusually reasonable request.

Kelly Evans:
You know what, Bronson... because you asked and because other than that little snag with Wayne Dewey the other night you've been pretty easy to work with the last year or so, I'm going to give you a match on 68. Against someone who, personally, I think could use quick brutal lesson that being a DEFIANCE superstar is about more than running around backstage acting like a little nitwit every week...

It's the Ace's turn to raise an inquisitive eyebrow now.

Kelly Evans:
How does the Bombastic Bronson Box versus JACK HUNTER sound to you, Hollis?

The Scottish Strongman can't help but smile a big sadistic mustachioed smile. The tension he was carrying in his tree trunk sized neck and shoulders is immediately and obviously lessened. 

Bronson Box:
Aye... that'll do just fine, lass. Not gunna' be much left of the lad when I'm done, you realize?

She just shrugs impassively.

Kelly Evans:
The act is wearing thin, I think it's time to really test the little fart. See if he's really DEFIANCE material... just don't kill him.

A little chuckle. He stands up straight, rapping his knuckles atop the glass desktop. Without another word Boxer gives a little half bow, turns on his heels and makes his way calmly from the office. Kelly sighs as she picks back up her pen and starts pouring over her paperwork once again.

Kelly Evans: [mumbling to herself]
L. Bruises my ass...


Cut.





 

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