NICE TRY, JIM JONES
It has not been a great start to the UV go-home for our beloved SuPRIME Overlord.
The cameras catch Lindsay Troy returning to her office after breaking the bad news to Hayes Hanlon about Impulse’s departure from the company. While she promised the Event Horizon that she’d make sure he still had a match at UltraViolence, the whole ordeal in and of itself has proven to be a massive headache, and the Queen of the Ring’s mood has taken a sharp nosedive.
Troy opens the door to her office and only makes it two steps before discovering she’s not alone. Her expression sours as she slams the door behind her and folds her arms over her chest, not pleased with the presence of her “guest.”
Lindsay Troy: Whatever you want, the answer is no.
Bruce “Violence Jack” Shanahan slumps in a chair before the desk, eyes dour. The eyes of a man pursuing sleep for weeks now and rarely finding it for long.
Bruce Shanahan: I’ve come to make a plea. I won’t take much of your time. I have my hands full these days.
His approach strikes Troy as uncharacteristically passive. Bruce is usually a boastful figure, seeking to dominate a room with his ghoulish personality. Every interaction the two of them have ever had has resulted in flared tempers and bared teeth.
Lindsay walks past him and sets herself down behind her desk, watching the grim guru keenly.
Lindsay Troy: Well?
Bruce Shanahan: Fire Julian Bathory immediately. Cut off his platform now before he gets more dangerous, more-
Lindsay Troy: More what? More of an asshole? My entire promotion is filled with them. I have one sitting in front of me right now. If I fired everyone for being an asshole, I’d be left with maybe three people and GREAT BEAR.
She leans forward, scrutinizing him.
Lindsay Troy: What’s this about, Jackie? You look like shit, and as much as watching you grovel tickles me pink I’ve never known you to do it.
He stays silent, shifts his eyes to avoid hers. A long silence draws out.
Lindsay Troy: Oh…I get it now. You want me to kick him to the curb for committing the cardinal sin of snapping the collar you put on him and cutting the strings so he can’t dance to your music. Nice try, Jim Jones, but he’s not going anywhere. Losing control of your puppets isn’t my concern.
The once feared Violence Jack seems almost panicked, adamant in the face of Troy’s dismissal.
Bruce Shanahan: You don’t get it! Something is terribly wrong and Julian is unhinged. If he finds what he’s after and achieves his goals then-
Lindsay Troy: This sounds like a problem you created and that you need to fix, not me. I have a company to run and my interest in your occult gobbledygook is at ze—
She trails off, shooting him an awkward look. The look in her eye is almost…pity?
Lindsay Troy: Are you drunk? You smell like a wino’s piss-soaked bed.
More silence. Bruce stands up and can’t hide a stumble: PRIME’s matriarch is right. The dispirited founder of MESSIAH turns to her again, scratching an unkempt and scraggly beard that’s usually kept well-trimmed. His face has become noticeably gaunt and pallid.
Bruce Shanahan: As long as he remains under contract to PRIME, I am obliged to be his second and act in his interests. His seneschal. It’s part of the oath. The essence of the brotherhood we keep and that everyone else loathes. Ignore my counsel but trust me when I say I take no pride in what he wants anymore.
Lindsay Troy: I’ve never trusted you before. Why would I start now?
Shanahan’s nod is nearly imperceptible. He turns to leave, ambling to the door and his hand gripping the doorknob.
Lindsay Troy: By the way…is this why you keep harassing Caesar? And why you and Julian wouldn’t take the hint with Shweta and the Foundation?
Shanahan tenses. Blinks. He turns his head and fixes his eyes on the Lady of the Hour.
Bruce Shanahan: MESSIAH has business interests that Caesar is threatening. Fighting For Nora insulted us. I don’t know what more you want. And I sure in the blackest of hells don’t like what you’re inferring. We’ll tend to matters as we see fit. I…politely request that you don’t interfere.
He exits the room. Lindsay Troy peers at the door through narrowed eyes, resting her chin on a propped up palm.
Lindsay Troy: (murmuring) Never known you to be polite either…
Cut to ringside.