Post by brianharris on Oct 29, 2011 12:28:35 GMT -5
Holiday INN, Jackson, MI
Thursday Morning
::The voice was soft, softer than usually was captured on ACW cameras from this particular individual. But then, it was 4 A.M., not the usual time that those roving intrepids would be out unless they were called out. This then, was not an official shoot - this was some 'lucky' fan who happened to catch ACW United States Champion Brian Harris in an unguarded moment. He was dressed in loose sweats, either dark gray or black, it was hard to tell at the distance the holder of the cameraphone was at and a t-shirt - one of his ubiquitous "King of America" shirts. His feet were bare despite the slight chill in the air, though standing next to the Pepsi machine as he was it was likely he was getting hot air blown over them from the compressor under the machine. Red locks were out of the signature braids and just brushed down...his hair was longer than most people realized, when free. His bright blue eyes had a sleepy look to them, and his tongue was wiggling the ring in his lip while he talked to the smartphone in his hand.::
Brian: "...no Tracie. Hon. Shhh... it's gonna be fine. No matter what, I promise. Yeah, Kyle's is done. They didn't renew options now he's free. No I don't understand it, but what the f**k, right?"
::He was seen to sigh, lifting his free hand up to rake through his hair and then he leaned his head back against the brick wall behind him.::
Brian: "Look calm down. I'll take you out to my Uncle's firing range...right, baby. The one with the mortars. He built a bowling ball cannon after he saw it on Pawn Stars..." ::He busted out laughing at something the woman on the other end said.:: "Yes, yes I promise you can fire the tank gun. Holy shit, babe. Yeah. Miss you."
::With a swipe of his thumb he ended the call. His hand squeezed the phone and he sighed before sliding it into the pocket of his sweats.::
Brian: "F**cking hell."
::Digging out a dollar he slid it into the slot of the Pepsi machine and got one. Twisting off the top he chuckled a little as it foamed up, dancing back so not to get any on his bare feet. He turned back to head toward his hotel room and proved he'd been aware that he was being filmed by firing off a One Gun Salute to the camera phone owner before turning a corner.::
Farish Street, Jackson MI
Friday Afternoon
::Brian was found exiting Record Mart, a bag of goodies and touristy crap in hand. He had been expecting the crew this time, that was clear because along with leather jacket sewn with Pepsi patches and the Church of Anarchy logo on the back, jeans and hiking boots, and his latest King of America shirt he had the United States title belt around his waist. Sitting his shopping bag down as he stepped out of the path of the door, he leveled an intense stare at the camera.::
Brian: "You're f**king late. Again. I mean seriously, if I had a buck for every time I had to wait on... you know what? F**k it, never mind. It's just a symptom of the disease that's eating ACW alive, and you assholes are just too blind to see it. Here it is, time for some shit talking right?
Wrong. Go f**k yourselves.
Look, I like Xavier Laroux. He's one funny f**ker, he's a damn decent wrestler even if he is no Darien Hacaga or Brian Harris. Hell yes I said it. If I didn't like him, he damn sure wouldn't have gotten an invitation to the Church of Anarchy.
And let me clear some shit up shall I? I've heard the rumors from time to time and usually it makes me laugh. But you know, its time to pull back the veil, pull back the curtain and expose the wizard, right? People think that Mike and I are in some sort of f**king power struggle over who runs the Church. They think because they see the goddamn surface that they know what goes on. Well let me break it to you morons, you're all wrong.
Mike they think runs the Church because he's usually the most vocal spokesman, or they think I do because I hold a prestigious title and I made sure we stayed relevant even while we were f**king suspended. Well guess what f**kers?
You're all wrong.
There's only one leader in the Church, the same leader its had since day one. She doesn't give a shit if you know or not, but I thought it was high time to give some credit where it was mother f**king due.
Megan Harris is and has always been in charge of the Church of Anarchy.
Surprise, f**kers."
::Brian grinned, pinging his fingertips off of his Championship belt.::
Brian: "You'd have to be f**king blind in my opinion not to have seen that from the starting blocks but then hey. Maybe my not so broski Devon Mayhem is right, and the majority of you assholes are morons! Could be, could be.
But I've heard other rumors and hell, what I say to those is don't worry about shit you can't control. I'm the United States Champion, I'm the goddamn King of America. So Xavier, you bring it. Let's see if that Drug your peddling can hook the Wild Child, right?
Didja like that you lowlife? I betcha did. I betcha that you're laughing your balls off right now. That's what I really like about you, you don't take yourself too seriously but on the same point you pay attention to what the -ACW forced Censored- is going on around you. That is something that I wish other people did.
Now if you'll excuse me, Tee is waiting and we both know that keeping her waiting is bad for your health."
::Brian flipped the camera the bird and stalked off, leaving the camera man wondering and muttering...::
"What the f**k just happened?"
Somewhere in Downtown Jackson MI,
Saturday - midday?
::There was a press conference group waiting, in the other room. The sounds of them muttering among themselves like a pack of ravenous hyenas or jackals waiting for the lions to get off a kill filtered into the hallway. As the ACW cameras warmed up they caught a movement, a bare hint of shadows and swung that way, only to catch Brian Harris and Tee Voland in a full on make out session. Tee had one leg up around Brian's waist, he had a hand up her t-shirt and the pair had locked lips in a way that suggested she was biting his lip ring but it was hard to tell. When the kiss broke Tee was the first to realize that they were being watched, her almost soft and sexy look at Brian suddenly turned vicious as she disengaged from him and snarled at the camera.::
Tee: "WHAT THE F**K IS YOUR PROBLEM? Can't we get a little privacy here? Get out and hope I don't tell him to beat your ass!"
::Brian was seen roaring with laughter as the camera swung around and hustled down the hall toward the conference room.::
Brian: "Don't kill them babe, though I think you made that sound guy pee a little."
::He snickered and then dug into his jeans for his wallet, pulling out his Platinum AMEX card.::
Brian: "Go get us some stuff."
Tee: "Stuff?"
Brian: "Yeah, stuff. Get whatever you want, and meet me back at the hotel later."
::Tee got a weirdly happy gleam in her vivid eyes and whirled to leave, but then stopped, turned back and kissed his cheek before taking off. Knowing her, "stuff" would involve things bought at a pawn shop that she could rig to explode, but right now that wasn't a concern for Brian Harris. With a deep breath taken as he watched her leave, he 'got serious'. Straightening his clothing and wiping his lips on the sleeve of his black shirt just in case she'd left a trace of her black lipstick, he then stiff-armed the swinging doors of the conference room before entering.
There was an eruption of sound, and dozens of flashes from digital cameras going off as he entered, the last speaker had left the podium and now it was Brian's turn. He strutted on up to the front of the room, got his United States title belt out of a waiting case and strapped it around his waist. He didn't go for that over the shoulder shit after all. He nodded out to the crowd, reporters, internet bloggers, smarks, and all. They all clamored for his attention at once and he grinned at them, they were roiling around like sharks in the water after a hint of blood but he wasn't the one bleeding out.::
Brian: "All right, I'm only gonna answer a few questions so make them good."
::A woman at the front got the nod, and she stepped forward. A red head like Brian, she stood out in a crowd and it was likely why she'd been picked.::
Karen: "Hello Brian, I'm Karen Kelly of ProWrestling InTouch Magazine and I was wondering - are the rumors true, that you're in contract negotiations with the ACW board and that the negotiations have...stalled...or outright broken down?"
Brian: "Well f**k me, I saw that one coming. Look Karen? It's a process. Things haven't been as expected, and I'll break the news that Kyle Harris has ended all association with ACW at this point. That doesn't mean that we can't come to an accord, but the clock is ticking."
Karen: "But you're a champion, what happens if..."
Brian: "Let me stop you there, Karen. Hell who knows if I'll have the belt after Hallow-Havok? Laroux is pretty f**king good, right? Sure I have a habit of winning when the gold is on the line, and I am the guy that holds the record for both longest United States Title reign and well longest to hold gold in ACW...period. But Sunday could be Laroux' night, and if it is? I ain't gonna begrudge him or try and piss and moan about it on Monday. Hell, either way the gold stays with the Church, and that's our mother-f**king goal."
::The next up was a slightly balding mid-twenties man with a bad combover, that got him some snickers from the rest of the crowd.::
Albert: "Hi Brian, I'm Albert Cox, and we wanted to know at..."
::Brian busted up laughing.::
Brian: "Wait, wait. Your last name is Coc...oh I get it. Ah man, could be worse. Go on, sorry."
::Weirdly enough, Albert seemed to dig the fact he was getting picked on by Brian Harris.::
Albert: "Is it true that Jack Marrow is fining the Church of Anarchy for its actions last ShockWave, involving the Mexican restaurant and the squid cream pie?"
Brian: "ARRIBA!"
::The crowd of reporters laughed, but Brian got serious despite the infamous Harris family smirk.::
Brian: "It is true that there have been some fines laid down, and hell its likely that the issues we've been having with the contract negotiations weren't helped by that. But hey, I gotta be me. So I ain't sweating it."
::He paused, and shook his head.::
Brian: "Look, listen up. You guys want to see a f**king amazing match at Hallow-Havok? Watch what Laroux and I do. We're going to WRESTLE. We're not going to get in there and play up some violent maniac's idea of a cage match to prove...something. We're not putting each other through tables, or any of that shit. We are going to wrestle. I suggest you all watch, and see how it's done. So, screw this I'm out."
::There was a chorus of 'wait, wait Brian!' and other variations thereof, but Harris picked up the bag he carried the belt in and walked away from the podium - and didn't look back as he passed through the swinging doors.::
Brian: "Adios, amigos."
::When the cameras rushed to follow him out into the hall, they discovered that he was gone.::
Thursday Morning
::The voice was soft, softer than usually was captured on ACW cameras from this particular individual. But then, it was 4 A.M., not the usual time that those roving intrepids would be out unless they were called out. This then, was not an official shoot - this was some 'lucky' fan who happened to catch ACW United States Champion Brian Harris in an unguarded moment. He was dressed in loose sweats, either dark gray or black, it was hard to tell at the distance the holder of the cameraphone was at and a t-shirt - one of his ubiquitous "King of America" shirts. His feet were bare despite the slight chill in the air, though standing next to the Pepsi machine as he was it was likely he was getting hot air blown over them from the compressor under the machine. Red locks were out of the signature braids and just brushed down...his hair was longer than most people realized, when free. His bright blue eyes had a sleepy look to them, and his tongue was wiggling the ring in his lip while he talked to the smartphone in his hand.::
Brian: "...no Tracie. Hon. Shhh... it's gonna be fine. No matter what, I promise. Yeah, Kyle's is done. They didn't renew options now he's free. No I don't understand it, but what the f**k, right?"
::He was seen to sigh, lifting his free hand up to rake through his hair and then he leaned his head back against the brick wall behind him.::
Brian: "Look calm down. I'll take you out to my Uncle's firing range...right, baby. The one with the mortars. He built a bowling ball cannon after he saw it on Pawn Stars..." ::He busted out laughing at something the woman on the other end said.:: "Yes, yes I promise you can fire the tank gun. Holy shit, babe. Yeah. Miss you."
::With a swipe of his thumb he ended the call. His hand squeezed the phone and he sighed before sliding it into the pocket of his sweats.::
Brian: "F**cking hell."
::Digging out a dollar he slid it into the slot of the Pepsi machine and got one. Twisting off the top he chuckled a little as it foamed up, dancing back so not to get any on his bare feet. He turned back to head toward his hotel room and proved he'd been aware that he was being filmed by firing off a One Gun Salute to the camera phone owner before turning a corner.::
Farish Street, Jackson MI
Friday Afternoon
::Brian was found exiting Record Mart, a bag of goodies and touristy crap in hand. He had been expecting the crew this time, that was clear because along with leather jacket sewn with Pepsi patches and the Church of Anarchy logo on the back, jeans and hiking boots, and his latest King of America shirt he had the United States title belt around his waist. Sitting his shopping bag down as he stepped out of the path of the door, he leveled an intense stare at the camera.::
Brian: "You're f**king late. Again. I mean seriously, if I had a buck for every time I had to wait on... you know what? F**k it, never mind. It's just a symptom of the disease that's eating ACW alive, and you assholes are just too blind to see it. Here it is, time for some shit talking right?
Wrong. Go f**k yourselves.
Look, I like Xavier Laroux. He's one funny f**ker, he's a damn decent wrestler even if he is no Darien Hacaga or Brian Harris. Hell yes I said it. If I didn't like him, he damn sure wouldn't have gotten an invitation to the Church of Anarchy.
And let me clear some shit up shall I? I've heard the rumors from time to time and usually it makes me laugh. But you know, its time to pull back the veil, pull back the curtain and expose the wizard, right? People think that Mike and I are in some sort of f**king power struggle over who runs the Church. They think because they see the goddamn surface that they know what goes on. Well let me break it to you morons, you're all wrong.
Mike they think runs the Church because he's usually the most vocal spokesman, or they think I do because I hold a prestigious title and I made sure we stayed relevant even while we were f**king suspended. Well guess what f**kers?
You're all wrong.
There's only one leader in the Church, the same leader its had since day one. She doesn't give a shit if you know or not, but I thought it was high time to give some credit where it was mother f**king due.
Megan Harris is and has always been in charge of the Church of Anarchy.
Surprise, f**kers."
::Brian grinned, pinging his fingertips off of his Championship belt.::
Brian: "You'd have to be f**king blind in my opinion not to have seen that from the starting blocks but then hey. Maybe my not so broski Devon Mayhem is right, and the majority of you assholes are morons! Could be, could be.
But I've heard other rumors and hell, what I say to those is don't worry about shit you can't control. I'm the United States Champion, I'm the goddamn King of America. So Xavier, you bring it. Let's see if that Drug your peddling can hook the Wild Child, right?
Didja like that you lowlife? I betcha did. I betcha that you're laughing your balls off right now. That's what I really like about you, you don't take yourself too seriously but on the same point you pay attention to what the -ACW forced Censored- is going on around you. That is something that I wish other people did.
Now if you'll excuse me, Tee is waiting and we both know that keeping her waiting is bad for your health."
::Brian flipped the camera the bird and stalked off, leaving the camera man wondering and muttering...::
"What the f**k just happened?"
Somewhere in Downtown Jackson MI,
Saturday - midday?
::There was a press conference group waiting, in the other room. The sounds of them muttering among themselves like a pack of ravenous hyenas or jackals waiting for the lions to get off a kill filtered into the hallway. As the ACW cameras warmed up they caught a movement, a bare hint of shadows and swung that way, only to catch Brian Harris and Tee Voland in a full on make out session. Tee had one leg up around Brian's waist, he had a hand up her t-shirt and the pair had locked lips in a way that suggested she was biting his lip ring but it was hard to tell. When the kiss broke Tee was the first to realize that they were being watched, her almost soft and sexy look at Brian suddenly turned vicious as she disengaged from him and snarled at the camera.::
Tee: "WHAT THE F**K IS YOUR PROBLEM? Can't we get a little privacy here? Get out and hope I don't tell him to beat your ass!"
::Brian was seen roaring with laughter as the camera swung around and hustled down the hall toward the conference room.::
Brian: "Don't kill them babe, though I think you made that sound guy pee a little."
::He snickered and then dug into his jeans for his wallet, pulling out his Platinum AMEX card.::
Brian: "Go get us some stuff."
Tee: "Stuff?"
Brian: "Yeah, stuff. Get whatever you want, and meet me back at the hotel later."
::Tee got a weirdly happy gleam in her vivid eyes and whirled to leave, but then stopped, turned back and kissed his cheek before taking off. Knowing her, "stuff" would involve things bought at a pawn shop that she could rig to explode, but right now that wasn't a concern for Brian Harris. With a deep breath taken as he watched her leave, he 'got serious'. Straightening his clothing and wiping his lips on the sleeve of his black shirt just in case she'd left a trace of her black lipstick, he then stiff-armed the swinging doors of the conference room before entering.
There was an eruption of sound, and dozens of flashes from digital cameras going off as he entered, the last speaker had left the podium and now it was Brian's turn. He strutted on up to the front of the room, got his United States title belt out of a waiting case and strapped it around his waist. He didn't go for that over the shoulder shit after all. He nodded out to the crowd, reporters, internet bloggers, smarks, and all. They all clamored for his attention at once and he grinned at them, they were roiling around like sharks in the water after a hint of blood but he wasn't the one bleeding out.::
Brian: "All right, I'm only gonna answer a few questions so make them good."
::A woman at the front got the nod, and she stepped forward. A red head like Brian, she stood out in a crowd and it was likely why she'd been picked.::
Karen: "Hello Brian, I'm Karen Kelly of ProWrestling InTouch Magazine and I was wondering - are the rumors true, that you're in contract negotiations with the ACW board and that the negotiations have...stalled...or outright broken down?"
Brian: "Well f**k me, I saw that one coming. Look Karen? It's a process. Things haven't been as expected, and I'll break the news that Kyle Harris has ended all association with ACW at this point. That doesn't mean that we can't come to an accord, but the clock is ticking."
Karen: "But you're a champion, what happens if..."
Brian: "Let me stop you there, Karen. Hell who knows if I'll have the belt after Hallow-Havok? Laroux is pretty f**king good, right? Sure I have a habit of winning when the gold is on the line, and I am the guy that holds the record for both longest United States Title reign and well longest to hold gold in ACW...period. But Sunday could be Laroux' night, and if it is? I ain't gonna begrudge him or try and piss and moan about it on Monday. Hell, either way the gold stays with the Church, and that's our mother-f**king goal."
::The next up was a slightly balding mid-twenties man with a bad combover, that got him some snickers from the rest of the crowd.::
Albert: "Hi Brian, I'm Albert Cox, and we wanted to know at..."
::Brian busted up laughing.::
Brian: "Wait, wait. Your last name is Coc...oh I get it. Ah man, could be worse. Go on, sorry."
::Weirdly enough, Albert seemed to dig the fact he was getting picked on by Brian Harris.::
Albert: "Is it true that Jack Marrow is fining the Church of Anarchy for its actions last ShockWave, involving the Mexican restaurant and the squid cream pie?"
Brian: "ARRIBA!"
::The crowd of reporters laughed, but Brian got serious despite the infamous Harris family smirk.::
Brian: "It is true that there have been some fines laid down, and hell its likely that the issues we've been having with the contract negotiations weren't helped by that. But hey, I gotta be me. So I ain't sweating it."
::He paused, and shook his head.::
Brian: "Look, listen up. You guys want to see a f**king amazing match at Hallow-Havok? Watch what Laroux and I do. We're going to WRESTLE. We're not going to get in there and play up some violent maniac's idea of a cage match to prove...something. We're not putting each other through tables, or any of that shit. We are going to wrestle. I suggest you all watch, and see how it's done. So, screw this I'm out."
::There was a chorus of 'wait, wait Brian!' and other variations thereof, but Harris picked up the bag he carried the belt in and walked away from the podium - and didn't look back as he passed through the swinging doors.::
Brian: "Adios, amigos."
::When the cameras rushed to follow him out into the hall, they discovered that he was gone.::