. A Bet .

Easy.

That was the perfect word to sum up the way Bea Priestley had masterfully pressed the right buttons and turned the right dials to take her girl Jamie from agitated to raging fury. Of course, there was no malice in her intentions. Bea was simply performing the course corrections she deemed were necessary to get the powerhouse Brit back to the proper state of mind.

One where everyone gets their asses stomped by Top Fuckin’ Gaijin.

As she looks at herself in a mirror, carefully applying a black streak of eyeliner, the raven-haired woman admits to herself that she had a part to play in how things fell of the tracks.

 Blair Fuckin’ Davenport…

She said the name with pure bile and disgust as she looked at herself carefully.

 The things a girl does for a heap o’ cash and be able ta work from home for a while.

But no matter. Both girls had got their money and now they good get back to basics.

 Fuck all that rah-rah smilin’ babyface bullshite.

Speaking of easy? It hadn’t taken much to convince Drake Maverick that Jamie needed proper backup.

Get the sawed off (and sod off) runt to squeak and squawk in Mick Foley’s ear? Cake. Get a contract offered and signed? Done and done.

Then all she had to do was let the little knob get distracted by his shampoo cumsplatter clusterfuck.

While Drake was in Japan, Bea was in Jamie’s ear. How it was all bollocks. That Jamie had been gotten soft to allow Momo and Starlight to screw her out of what was rightfully hers.

And at Vengeance?

Well Mick Foley gift wrapped the whole thing by shoving Hikari Noa ahead in line for title shots. Providing the flashfire spark for the inferno that was Hayter’s rage.

*BANG-BANG-BANG*

 Bea?! Ya fuckin’ ready o’ what?!

 For fucks sake calm ya tits, ya slaggy wankah!

Sighing heavily, Bea slammed the makeup case and stencil into her small handbag before clinging it over her shoulder. That was the one downside of stoking the inferno of Jamie Hayter’s rage.

Once it started? It didn’t stop for a damn long time.

Stepping out to the main part of their shared hotel room, Bea found her fellow Brit alternating between pacing like a caged tigress and stopping to jackhammer indentations of her foot into the floor with her rapid tapping.

 Not all o’ us want to waste the fuckin’ day away jillin’ off!

 *mutters*

Might do ya vag some good, ya salty cunt.

 What was that?

 Nothin’!

Rolling her eyes, Hayter brushed past her companion, making sure to give a hard shoulder nudge in the process before exiting the room. Bea’s eyes glowered, but she just shook her head and gave pursuit.

 What the fuck are ya all wound up about? We got this. First, I shit on wee little Hikari’s parade and send ‘er off in a fuckin’ meat wagon. Then? We fuckin’ find Momo and Starlight and stomp their fuckin’ skulls in until the brain matter squishes out. We’ll let that tiny bitch boy o’ yours…

 HEY! He’s just my business manager!

 *eyerolls* Same fuckin’ deal. Either way, we let ‘im deal with that geriatric wanker Sonny. And after that? Well…

Bea shrugs her shoulders as both waited before the steel doors of the elevator in front of them. Their reflections in nearly perfect clarity in the polished, silvery surface.

 …we just keep stompin’ the shite out of any daft cow, slag, and minger that gets in our fuckin’ way.

The sharp ping of the elevator’s arrival caught their attention and revealed two male fans dressed in a mix of Detroit Lions gear… and Hikari Noa t-shirts. Tilting their heads with an immediate “WTF?!” look on their expressions before they look at each other… and back to the fans…

 The fuck is this?!

Jamie snaps and bull rushes in, bunching a bit of the shirt’s material in her fist as she drives the poor man against the elevator’s back wall.

 Hikari Fuckin’ Noa gets a t-shirt?!

Bea give the fan’s companion a hard jumping pump kick that sends him flying back, splattering against the elevator’s wall as well. The entire conveyance loudly clangs, rattles, and booms from the force of impact as the poor fellow crumples in a heap.

*WHAM!*

The first victim’s head snapped back against the stainless steel walls as Jamie wrung him like a ragdoll.

 Who the fuck gave Noa Fuckin’ Hikari… Hikari Fuckin’ Noa… JOSHI MCFUCKFACE A FUCKIN’ T-SHIRT?!

Hayter repeatedly slams the fan against the back wall while Bea just eggs her on.

 See what I’m sayin’? That rah-rah cheerleader shite got ya nowhere! Didn’t Drake promise ya big endorsement deals? Yet who’s the one in Jap Jizzfest Commercials?!

Hayter and Bea immediately blanche at that thought.

 Okay… bad example. But point still remains! Where’s the fancy commercials, movie deals, and big pay days eh? Ya don’t even get yer own private locker room like Ronda an’ Britt! So what’s the point of bein’ a “good girl” baby face? Are ya any closer to the gold he promised?!

Hayter screams in frustration as she batters the fan more before finally releasing the fan. Bea smirks, then realizes, they need to get the hell out of there!

 C’mon! We’ll use the stairs!

She yells while snatching Hayter’s arm and leading her back and out of the elevator. As the pair dash down the hallway and out of sight, the steel doors close, leaving the victims to be found later.

 Maybe I went too far?

 Fuck’em! If they’re stupid enough to buy Hikari’s shite that’s on them! Besides, shouldn’t you be pissed off at the fact Hikari’s gotten more shine than ya? Who the fuck is she ta be takin’ yer spotlight?!

As they make their down the maintenance stairs and exit out a back door onto the street, Jamie’s fists clench as she seethes in rage. Making it that much easier for Bea to get in her ear.

 Leave it to ya gal, Bea. I’ll smash that little muppet’s face in, and then we find Mick Foley and drag ‘is sorry ass to the ring and make him give us… err… you, what’s due!

At this, Hayter’s rage seems to falter for a moment.

 Ya sure? I mean, Drake did say it’d be best ta play nice wit’ Foley and…

 And get shat on? Just stand by while every run o’ the mill Joshi gets the opportunities ya deserve? Ya really want ta just stand by and let Slaggy Kaggy and her Joshi cult fuck us over?

Hayter looks increasingly torn though one point makes her pause and look at Bea with raised eyebrow.

 Slaggy Kaggy?

 *shrugs* I’d call her Saggy Tits Kaggy, but she’d have ta have tits in the first place.

Shaking her head, Hayter just storms off, walking with purpose… to well, nowhere really. She’s just riled up and frustrated while Bea keeps harping in her ear.

 How about ya just sit back and watch the show on Saturday? Since the little rat in a suit’s got ya all bollocksed in the head? You watch me beat the shite out of Hikari while making sure our ol’ pal Kags keeps her pounded dough face outta our affairs eh?

Hayter looks unconvinced, but also too exhausted now that the steam is dissipating from her rampage. Making their way down the street, eventually the pair wind up in front of a coffee shop. Pausing, Hayter paces back and forth, clearly struggling with her maelstrom of emotions.

 Look. We been down this road before. Done the mean girl act?

 …act?

Fine been our bitchy fuckin’ natural selves! Either way, it ain’t amounted to dog’s piss. So while you’re in my ear nonstop about Drake’s idiotic ways… and he is a fuckin’ daft idiot… I mean, -maybe- he’s got a point this time?

Bea looks at Jamie like she’s a drug addict in denial as she rolls her eyes.

 He’s really got ya mind all bollocksed don’t he? Alright. Fine, we got a bet. If I stomp Hikari’s guts out and put ‘er on a stretcher? We do things my way. If somehow that tart beats me?

Bea’s face grimaced at the mere thought.

 I’ll listen to what the midget has ta say.

Jamie blinks in shock at that admission from Bea and just nods. For her part, Bea quickly recovers and gets her cagey grin again.

 But it ain’t gonna happen cuz ya know why?

Goofily she throws her arm around Hayter’s shoulders.

 Because we’re Top Fuckin’ Gaijin!

Fade.

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