(The setting is a local television studio with a ring and small audience and a commentary/interview area off to the side.)
ANNOUNCER: And coming to ringside here at the studio, to the cheers of the crowd we have our conquering hero, Miss Rowan Chance!
(A slightly taller than average fit woman strides into the camera frame, looking professional yet sexy in a men's button down black shirt, tight black leather pants and black boots. Her brown hair cascading down her back, past her shoulders and framing her face just perfectly. She looks casual, yet exudes confidence and a subtle edge that comes across very clearly to the audience and the fans watching at home.)
ANNOUNCER: Rowan, you've just returned from Philadelphia after a very brutal, yet very successful match against what many consider to be your toughest rival, Punky. Normally we would go ahead and show highlights to our fans at home, but the footage is just so shocking and so extreme that the only way you can see it is on the Crossing the Streams DVD co-produced by us and BSCW available at the merchandise stands at our live events and online at our website, the address of which is on your screen right now! *smiles and one tooth sparkles* Having taken Punky to her limit in one on one warfare, it would seem you have the upper hand on her going into your upcoming three way dance with her and the Red Enforcer from CCW at the Wrestlerock '14 PPV available soon from your local cable companies and streaming from our website! What do you have to say to that?
ROWAN: *she smiles, brightening the room with her easy mood, the in-studio crowd clapping and cheering as she pauses, waiting to interrupt their applause* Well, Bob, you never really can go into three way matches thinking you own one of your opponents or else... "
*suddenly, a crimson blur from the side away from the audience flashes past the announcer and slams right into Rowan, a stiff forearm slamming into her face and driving her back into the backdrop, collapsing it as she hits the concrete floor hard. Without pausing the almost 6 feet tall red mass grabs Rowan by her hair and picks her up, snagging her right arm and then launching her towards the ring where her back jams hard into the side of the apron. As Rowan struggles to compose herself, the red blur is on her again, driving a shoulder into her midsection, just barely above the waistband of her pants and again mashing her back into the edge of the apron. Rowan looks like she's going to collapse, but the mystery person grabs her by the front of her shirt and rolls her up into the ring. The audience is booing loudly now as their heroine is being viciously manhandled by someone they don't recognize. The blur gets in the ring and the camera focuses. It looks like the assailant is wearing black boots and black pants and red body paint from his waist up to his red hair*
ANNOUNCER: Fans! Fans! I'm not sure what's going on, but some mystery man has just surprise attacked Rowan and has her hurting in the ring. Can we get some security! We need some people in the back if you're listening to come out and help Rowan. Oh my gawd, what is he about to do now? Let her go you bastard!
*the mystery man has Rowan up on her wobbly feet and gives her a hard boot to her stomach. As she doubles over, he shoves her head between his legs and grabs her arms out from her body at the wrists. He then crosses her arms in front of her chest and hangs on as he lifts her up onto his own shoulders. He then drives her body down hard into the mat, his hands still on her wrists as he grunts and starts lifting her up again*
ANNOUNCER: Oh no. Oh no! Oh NO! That..that's the Straitjacket Powerbomb! That means, yes fans, without his mask, the Red Enforcer has invaded and he's attacking Rowan. He's lifting her up again!
*the Enforcer gets Rowan's limp body back up and she slumps forward, hair covering her face and the back of his head, his hands still on her crossed wrists as he bends his legs and throws his arms down and crashes Rowan's body into the mat one more time. He leans over her, still holding her arms and with a grunt (and a chorus of boos) hauls her up one more time...This time he tosses her down even faster and more intensely than before, releasing her wrists and transferring all that speed and momentum into power and plants Rowan into the mat with a loud THUD. He stands over her and says a few things before a group of referees and other wrestlers hit the ring, chasing him off and checking on Rowan. He makes his way to the interview area.*
ANNOUNCER: What! What's the meaning of this! You don't have the right....!
*The Enforcer snatches the mic from the announcer*
RED: Shut up Bob! And keep your mouth shut or I'll put a hole in the concrete just your size! Rowan! You think because you and Punky got "extreme" that you're just going to forget about me? I hear a lot of people talking. Talking about how I'm just an afterthought. How I'm just the first person to be gotten rid of so the "real" matchup can begin. Well let me tell you fans and you dirt sheet talking heads something. I haven't labored and toiled in the small arenas for longer than these two bitches have been alive to be written off. Look at her in the ring. She's completely helpless. You think I can't do that to her or to Punky at our three way dance? I may not have my mask any more, but you better believe the Enforcer is coming to fight. One last thing before I go. Punky! Rowan when you get able to watch this. Both of you, listen up. If you're thinking about showing up for our fight, think again. Here's a piece of advice. Walk away. Find something else to do. Because the life you save will be your own! *slams the mic down onto the desk and stalks off away from the ring...the camera goes back to the ring as the wrestlers and referees and medical staff are checking her out helping her get to her feet as the audience applauds*
*I walk in with my Fretlight FG-561 electric guitar....come up behind Red....and SLAM IT DOWN over his head as wood splinters fly in all directions and strings break and spring free like glistening rubber bands!!! I watch as he lurches forward and crumples to the floor in a tangled, twitching heap! I stand there...holding what remains of the shattered guitar...basically just the neck with a tangled mess of splintered wood and wire and strings flayed in all directions. I look at the announcer, tilt my head a bit to the side and shrug my shoulders......he shoves the microphone in my face and I look in the camera and say......
"Now THAT'S what I call a Close Encounter!"
....and walk away back behind the curtain...guitar in my right hand...dragging it along the floor behind me...as i raise my left arm and hand up before I disappear behind the curtain...extending the middle finger of that left hand in plain view ....as there is stunned silence in the crowd.
A little girl in blonde pig tails on the front row stands and leans over the railing in stunned silence..her mouth agape as she holds a double scoop Rocky Road ice cream cone.....and we watch as the top scoop ever so slowly begins to slide off to the side ....eventually beginning to pick up speed and glide effortlessly down the side of the first scoop under it...before gravity takes over and the top scoop falls like a rock (all puns intended) ....landing with a "SPLAT!"..... on the concrete floor at her feet!*
Epilogue:
"Honky Tonk Man will never die!"
INT. R. CHANCE'S HOME - DAY
(Rowan and the Interviewer sit in a sparse living room. Rowan sits on a chair, the Interviewer sits on a loveseat.)
INTERVIEWER: Ladies and gentlemen, we're here at the home of Rowan Chance, the woman who won the brutal Hardcore match against Punky not too long ago. Rowan, you were still recovering from that match when you were brutally attacked by the Red Enforcer. He attacked you unawares and delivered three incredible power bombs in the middle of the ring. If you don't mind, I'd like to show that video now.
ROWAN: (nodding) Go ahead.
(Video shows the attack.)
INTERVIEWER: Now, this attack has led many to speculate if you can compete in the upcoming three-way dance with Red Enforcer and Punky. In fact, some have said that doctors have told you that you shouldn't ever wrestle again. What's the real story?
ROWAN: The real story, Jim, is that when I was in the studio that day, I was recovering from a concussion, bruised ribs, a sprained wrist and torn back muscles. The power bombs didn't help those problems. Yes, I've had one doctor tell me I should never wrestle again. But if I lived my life based on what doctors told me, I would have stopped wrestling a long time ago. The fact of the matter is, this is a matter of revenge. Plain and simple bloody revenge.
(ROWAN turns to look at the camera.)
ROWAN: (Calm and collected) Enforcer... you tried to put me out of wrestling. You aren't the first one to try. And you aren't the first one to fail, either. You hurt me. Take credit for that because that's the only thing you're ever going to take credit for on my account.
(Anger building.) You think this changes anything, Red? Well, you're right. But not the way you're thinking. I didn't see you as a threat before, and I don't see you as a threat now. No, what I see is an opportunity. An opportunity to hurt you. An opportunity to break your yellow spine. And opportunity to crack your skull.
(Calm and collected again.) Red... wrestling you was... diversion. Something I did to kill the time. When I get you in that ring again, it won't be killing time. It'll be killing your career.
INTERVIEWER: Rowan, I'd like to thank you for your time.
ROWAN: No problem, Jim.
INTERVIEWER: Tickets are on sale for this three way dance, a legend in the making. Be sure you are there to see it!
(Damn Rowan, I got chills)
*scene opens with the camera zooming to a pair of red high heels,then going higher and higher, showing a pair of skinny legs,up to a red sexy mini dress and finally showing a feminine figure of a sexy blonde hair girl hanging a microphone in her right hand*
Interviewer: Welcome back in the FCF backstage ladies an gentlemen, its your Ashley here and we're waiting for one of our superstar Emily Layne to come here and talking about her plans for the next days! Here she is arriving!
* Camera moves to the corridor, Emily Layne appears wearing a casual outfit. Tight light blue jeans, white sneakers and a white tight shirt cut just over her abdomen,exposing the belly button with a black "Sexy Bitch" written across her chest. Sunglasses covering her eyes, dragging a small trolleywith her right hand as she walks toward the blonde girl.
Interviewer: hey Emily, welcome back from your trip in Japan!
Emily: thank you Ashley
* Emily smiles and stops, pulling the sunglasses over her forehead and looks into the camera
Interviewer: first of all, how are you doing?
Emily: I'm doing good now, I completely recovered by the injury to my back and leg. It was a long way but now everything is fine and I'm ready to get back in action
Interviewer: Good thing, I'm sure your fans were waiting for this news! Tell me, what happened in Japan?
(see ---------------> http://www.freecatfights.com/forums/index.php/topic,40071.0.html)
Emily: Well, as you saw it was a grudge. I was confident that the match could be good for me but things didn't go as I planned.
I had bad luck
Interviewer: For sure you did! Sadie caught you by surprise and she showed no mercy for you. We were worried you couldn't be able to step in the ring anymore!
Emily: No way! I'm planning to get in the ring as soon as possible, we have already something schedule and I won't miss that for anything in the world!
Interviewer : are you talking about the Elimination Three Way match against Sadie and Red?
Emily: of course I do! I can't wait to step in the ring with that blonde bimbo again, she will so pay for what she did!
Interviewer: wow, you look very determined!
Emily : As always!
Interviewer: though there will be also The Enforcer. Are you worried about that? He and Sadie had their differences but we know that in the past the two managed each other in a couple of matches, one with you involved, right?
Emily: I know right. Sadie was Red's manager in a match I had against him, though I beat him that time, and I'm planning to do it again in the three way
That match in Japan made me think about some mistakes I did. Now I'm stronger, a better wrestler and no one will stop me, not for sure those two clowns!
Interviewer: Wonderful! Last question for you Emily. How have you....
* the Interviewer eyes suddenly open wide as it looks like she sees a ghost in front of her before she runs away,throwing the microphone down on the floor
Emily: what the fuck??
CLLLLAAAAAAAAANNNNNGGGGGGGG
A loud noise of metal against bones fills the corridor.
Emily: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGHHH
* Emily falls down on all fours, her hand on her back, the sunglasses flies off and crush down into the concrete floor, the camera moves up and shows who nailed Emily from behind
To be continued
Who could it be? Hm...
Quote from: RedEnforcer on May 17, 2014, 12:45:27 AM
(Damn Rowan, I got chills)
I'm gonna give you more than chills, big guy.
Over the fallen Italian laying like a tower of Pisa that leaned too far steps the Hardcore Harlequin herself, Megan "Punky" Dow, hero of the unwashed masses, breaker of shackles, and voice for those who cannot speak because she punched them in the throat. She is wearing a skull patterned bandana tying her purple hair back, a black merch shirt featuring a chibi drawing of herself wearing a leg cast and flipping a middle finger that says I DON'T CALL 911 ($19.99 at prowrestlingtees.com!), and some sort of black denim shorts from the Lita collection that appear to be mostly made from zippers. She is holding what appears to be a STOP sign, possibly from the intersection outside the arena which might explain the sudden upswing in traffic accidents outside. The cameraman swings down to take in the groaning Emily Layne just as Punky swings the sign again - CLANG - at the back of her head, knocking her to the floor. The cameraman gets a good shot of Punky and then starts to swing back down the hall in pursuit of the fleeing interviewer.
PUNKY: ROLL CALL, CAMBOT!
There is another spectacular CLANG and the image jitters and shudders horribly, before the mic is overwhelmed with a horrific thumping and the camera skids to its side to show a dizzy horizontal shot of a man with a headset and a camera vest laying on the arena's cheap hallway linoleum in a small pool of blood, with Punky's custom blood-red Doc Martens on either side of him. His body jerks as there is another CLANG of the sign ringing off his skull before the camera is picked up to the operatic accompaniment of sotto voce grumbling. Punky apparently drags the unconscious man into a slump against the wall, and from the look of the swaying shot, sets the live camera on his lap, canted upwards for a worm's eye shot of the Purple Vixen. She grins, white teeth gleaming behind black lips, and then hears Emily starting to stir behind her, striking her with another blow that rings in the hall like a dinner bell of the damned, apparently dropping the Italian superstar to the hall floor in a daze. Punky turns, and drops to one knee, crossing her arms on the STOP sign with blood running down the shining reflective metal, and tilts her head at the camera.
PUNKY: It's so fucking hard to get screen time in this damn cathouse, y'know?
She gestures with one hand, the short squared nails each painted a different garish anime color, reflecting on life's foibles as she poses like a deer hunter in a hall with two unconscious bleeding people.
PUNKY: So ROWAN wants revenge on RED, and RED wants revenge on ME because I want revenge on RED because he spoiled my attack on ROWAN so I dropped him on his skull, and after RED attacked ROWAN I was sure he was going to attack ME so I was reading about his weaknesses on the Internet, but then I was sidetracked and reading this federation's wiki and it turns out that RED is also being revenged upon by SADIE and she used to manage RED but that was during a match against EMILY -
The Purple Vixen jerks a thumb behind her at the bludgeoned superstar.
- and now SADIE fought EMILY in Japan and they're both going to fight RED but I was going to fight RED and so was ROWAN and beware the JUB JUB BIRD and shun the FRUMIOUS BANDERSNATCH.
Her voice - normally a teasing silky thing like a young Kathleen Turner - picks up speed as she continues, rapping on the bloody STOP sign with her knuckles for emphasis, finishing at a snarl that is quite inappropriate for Carroll poetry or classic vaudeville comedy.
PUNKY: AND WHO IS ON FIRST, WHAT'S ON SECOND, AND I DUNNO.
... THIRD BASE.
Fucking HELL. These people all fight and bicker and plot and TALK and THREATEN and PLOT and it's as if they don't know that this is MY *FUCKING* SHOW.
The Hardcore Harlequin draws closer to the camera, leaning on the STOP sign. There is the faint sound of voices down the hallway. Angry voices. Panicked voices. That interviewer might have found help or maybe someone looked at a live feed and realized that the programming has become a bit unscheduled. Punky doesn't care, staring intently into the camera, dark eyes gleaming.
PUNKY: I got bloodied, oh yes. Bloodied in Viking Hall so bad that a valkyrie came for me. And now you all think I'm just going to lay back and let everyone settle their own affairs. Dear Punky. Invite her to the three-way. Get her a temporary contract here. She's just there to pop the merch sales and get us some iPPV buys while we settle our BLOOD FEUDS.
Dear dear Punky.
She leans closer still and takes the camera in both hands, snarling into it. There is a groan from Emily and the sound of running feet.
PUNKY: You don't even KNOW what you're dealing with, boys and girls. I'm hell in a fucking handbasket. I'm the Oncoming Storm. I'm a WAVE OF FUCKING MUTILATION -
- and each and every one of you is getting a taste.
But you, Rowan. You're going to be the first to drown.
Catch.
The mad girl turns and lightly tosses the bloodied STOP sign to someone just off camera, and then turns and lithely leaps over a diving Security officer, dropping two more with neat twists and shoulder throws to create a tangle of groaning men in yellow polo shirts and utility belts with big radios to block the hall as she skips away.
Someone enters the frame, holding the traffic sign which would be evidence of assault if modern federations didn't have everyone sign so many waivers.
(Backstage, Rowan Chance prepares for a pre-recorded interview. She's dressed in black slacks, black boots, a man's black button down collared shirt, a black suit coat with red interior. She also wears a belt with a black widow spider in the glass belt buckle. Her long, brown hair falls over her shoulders and she smiles with blood red lips.)
GORDON: Ladies and gentlemen, I have here with me a woman who, I believe, proved herself to be one of the most dangerous women in pro wrestling today, Ms. Rowan Chance.
ROWAN: (speaking slowly, calmly) Thank you, Gordon, for that tiny nod of respect. It's about time you and the other cretins around here began recognizing talent when it steps in front of you.
GORDON: Ms. Chance, I don't mean to be ingratiating, but after your Hardcore Match with Megan "Punky" Dow...
ROWAN: ... where I proved, once for all, who is the real Queen of the Death Match. Not some little '80's throwback with a bad dye job, but me. Rowan Chance. The Queen of the Death Match. And Punky, if you ever want to help me prove that again, you know where I am.
GORDON: Well, Ms. Chance, I don't think...
ROWAN: You don't get paid to think, Gordon. You get paid to hold that mic and listen to me talk. So do that.
(Rowan turns to look at the camera.)
ROWAN: You and I have our respective jobs, Gordon. I get paid to do two things, one of which I'm doing right now. I get paid to tell you and the other beer-guzzling hominids out there exactly what I do for a living. And that's hurt people. I hurt people so bad, they can't get back up. I hurt people so bad, they beg me to stop. I hurt people so bad, they go to the hospital. Which is exactly what happened to Punky, isn't it, Gordon?
GORDON: That may be true, Ms. Chance, but you too were admitted to the hospital after your match. Both of you were unconscious and required immediate medical attention.
ROWAN: Yes, but I wasn't the one who went down for the one, two and three, was I Gordon?
(She stares at Gordon.)
ROWAN: Was I?
GORDON: No, you were not.
ROWAN: That's right. I put Punky down and she couldn't get up. She was out cold.
(Rowan holds up three fingers.)
ROWAN: That's three times, Punky. Three times I dropped you on your soft head and pencil-thin neck. Three times you saw nothing but stars. And if you're lucky, I'm going to make it four.
GORDON: Ms. Chance, you have an opportunity to face Punky again in your upcoming three-way with her and Red Enforcer.
ROWAN: That's right. And this pip-squeak promotion is paying me a lot of money to not only hurt the Red Enforcer and Punky--or should I call her Puny?. Yeah, I like that. I'm getting paid a lot of money to step into the ring with those two. And after the...
(Rowan stops. She's looking at something happening behind the camera.)
ROWAN: Excuse me, Gordon. I may get my opportunity a little sooner than I expected.
(Rowan runs out of camera range. The camera turns and sees her on the main studio stage, creeping up behind Punky. Punky holds a large STOP sign but seems unaware Rowan is there. And, at the last moment, just as Rowan is about to pounce, Punky turns, sees her nemesis, and thinking quickly, tosses Rowan the stop sign.)
(Rowan catches it and smiles. A weapon to use. But then, just out of Rowan's sight, Emily begins to stir. She opens her eyes and all she sees is Rowan holding the STOP sign...)
*Pain is painted across Emily s face as she is on all fours, her hand on her back as she is about to stir and get up to look behind her and finds out who hit her in this sneak attack.
But *
CLANGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG
Emily : AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGHH
* A second metallic impact against her back and Emily is down flat on her chest and face, in agony. *
Emily thoughts: why that? Who the hell is here now? Shit this fucking hurts!
My back in pain, I recovered only few days ago from that match in Japan. I hear some freaking yells around me, a feminine voice but really don't care to realize who's yelling and freaking over here.
Someone needs to pay, that's for sure!
I'm sick and tired of what is happening lately.
The Pro Wrestling tournament where I was screwed up by the three latina s croods and beaten unfairly in that match.
The match against Red, a clear and simple win,ruined when Sadie joined that asshole in the ring and started a two on one,stripping me in front of anybody.
The match in Japan, I so hate Sadie for what she did, throwing that can filled of garbage over my body.
And now, I just came back and attacked once more from behind!
I swear that I will screw up the first one I see now!
I look up and see the cameraman outcold, in a sitting position with the camera on his lap.
Well, maybe not.
I stir up and turn, I see noone except a woman in black, elegant outfit with a STOP sign on her hands.
A STOP sign?
Rowan? Rowan with a STOP sign in her hands?
* Emily's eyes wide opened, her lips curl in a angry snarl.*
I thought that Rowan was one of the few with some brain in this place! Evidently I was wrong!
*without sayin anything, Emily takes a quick step forward and spins on her left side, driving up her right foot and hitting with a violent Super Kick the STOP sign which hardly impacts into Rowan's face, knocking her down*
Emily : screw you all!
* Emily grabs the trolley and the sunglasses and moves away toward the locker room *
*hearing about the carnage from Emily's interview I come out of the back and peek to see if I can understand what happened. Walks by what looks like a young fan having breathing issues of some kind. Leans in and hears the fan choking so I lift her up by her armpits and wrap my arms around her waist. I make a fist with one hand and cover it with the other and jerk back and up, trying to use the Heimlich maneuver to clear her airway*
Unngg *SQUEEZE* Come on, spit it out
*SQUEEZE* Shit, it's down there pretty good
*SQUEEZE*
*SQUEEZE*
hopefully this will pay off as well as the Y2J debut.
I'm impressed this guy/girl can count backwards, I can't even count forward.
Is this leading up to the debut of See No Evil 3?!
Quote from: ThePurpleVixen on May 27, 2014, 05:42:51 AM
Is this leading up to the debut of See No Evil 3?!
I assumed it was "Paranormal Activity 67"...or whatever one they're up to now...
Quote from: Countdown on May 28, 2014, 02:26:51 AM
45.....44.....43.....
She comes
42.....41.....40.....
or she cums?
Where's the Count Down music when you need one?
And Sadie, don't know if a pony would be available. But you can get a limited edition cat that flies leaving a rainbow trail!
Better hurry before the countdown finishes!
Ok, yes this count down promo needs some music...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9jK-NcRmVcw
I just pray it's the Gobbledygooker.
Quote from: sadie on May 28, 2014, 05:23:17 PM
Quote from: Countdown on May 28, 2014, 02:26:51 AM
45.....44.....43.....
She comes
42.....41.....40.....
As somebody who still expects to find a rainbow pony under the tree every Christmas morning, I'm giddy with excitement!
I heard the TV show "24" was coming back.....is this a promo for it?
Why do i get the feeling that Countdown is whispering...
"I hate it when the voices in my head go silent...then I never know what they are fucking planning"
Quote from: Countdown on May 29, 2014, 01:59:07 AM
33.....32.....31.....
A demon came to court you. A demon steed she rode. A hint in a glint of a smiling eye. Can you break the code?
30.....29.....28.....
The Leoniz Code? Binary? The Da Vinci Code?
*sneaks in....and lights the end of a long fuse that disappears around the house......watches it ignite.....then smiles as I walk away nonchalantly*
Quote from: Countdown on May 29, 2014, 06:58:04 AM
27.....26.....25.....
Quietly, quickly, she stalks through the tall grass, eluding the petty quarrels of the quiescent masses as she nears the object of her quest.
24.....23.....22.....
Maybe it is Jungle Grrl from WOW
This is going to be less impressive than Y2J debuting with Bieber hair and a light-up jacket.
Opinion Piece - Worst Wrestlemania Ever
29. WrestleMania XXVII – John Cena vs. The Miz
A WrestleMania main event used to build another match. SURE, OKAY.
It seemed cool to rank this higher based on the coolness of the entrances — Miz's Watchmen-flavored career retrospective set to 'Hate Me Now' by Nas and John Cena hugging children while DMX prayed and a gospel choir sang — but even that's not enough to excuse a horrible match that seemed to permanently damage Miz's brain (and career) and ended in a double count-out. Uh, the first time. After that, the WrestleMania guest host (who has general manager powers, I guess) declares that WrestleMania can't end that way, so he restarts the match only to ATTACK THEM BOTH. A guy who wasn't in the match put himself over the two that were, and a WrestleMania main event is used to set up some other WrestleMania main event. 100% garbage, and somehow even worse years later.
Best: This match was a major reason for the CM Punk "pipebomb" promo later in the year.
Worst: It is also responsible for two consecutive The Rock vs. John Cena WrestleMania main events, making it not only the worst Mania main ever, but the MOTHER of bad Mania mains.
Quote from: Michelle on May 30, 2014, 03:43:32 PM
Opinion Piece - Worst Wrestlemania Ever
29. WrestleMania XXVII – John Cena vs. The Miz
... that's kind of an odd number to start a promo on.
Quote from: ThePurpleVixen on May 30, 2014, 03:58:49 PM
Quote from: Michelle on May 30, 2014, 03:43:32 PM
Opinion Piece - Worst Wrestlemania Ever
29. WrestleMania XXVII – John Cena vs. The Miz
... that's kind of an odd number to start a promo on.
Scott Steiner Math!
hey Scott is a Wolverine, don't make jokes about him
Quote from: RedEnforcer on May 30, 2014, 08:08:27 PM
Quote from: ThePurpleVixen on May 30, 2014, 03:58:49 PM
Quote from: Michelle on May 30, 2014, 03:43:32 PM
Opinion Piece - Worst Wrestlemania Ever
29. WrestleMania XXVII – John Cena vs. The Miz
... that's kind of an odd number to start a promo on.
Scott Steiner Math!
it was an odd odd Wrestlemania...kinda reminds me of some tourneys around here
Quote from: Countdown on May 31, 2014, 06:05:49 AM
15.....14.....13.....
It's expected that you'll joke. It's how humans cope with a dark world full of terrifying secrets. And you're right to be afraid.
12.....11.....10.....
In Alcohol's defense...he has done some pretty dumb shit while completely sober to
OMG It's almost here!!!!
(https://s4ck.com/forums/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fmedia.giphy.com%2Fmedia%2FSa9UNLAAeGCo8%2Fgiphy.gif&hash=7136fef25daa4969d48b7e47fb4bfc672a45421e)
The lights go back on, and standing in the middle of the ring is Callista Quinn. Her hair has been cut short and dyed black. She's wearing a blue denim vest over a white tee shirt that clings tightly to her tall, slender frame. Matching blue jeans, and black, steel-toed combat boots complete the outfit. And she's got a microphone in her hand.
CALLISTA: I....have come. I have come to put each and every one of you in your rightful place. Yes. I mean you. I mean every one of you bikini-clad bimbos rolling around, tugging each other's hair. I mean every airbrushed airhead who uses the words "bitch", "skank", "whore", "slut", and "cxnt" more times combined than she mentions actual wrestling moves. I have come to represent WRESTLING in this place which so sorely needs more of it.
Callista scowls at the "Clique Wars" banner hung high in the rafters of the FCF arena.
CALLISTA: Wars? A bunch of wanna-be mean girls calling each other names. I'll show you a war. You "cliques" think you scored a win when you make someone cry. We know WE scored a win when someone calls 911. Oh, that's right. I said "we". Because I have come....and I am not alone.
Europe's "The Final Countdown" begins playing. Callista drops the mic and rolls out of the ring under the bottom rope, climbing the guardrail and making her way out through the crowd. At one of the landings halfway up, she climbs the railing, touching the back of her left wrist with her finger like she's checking her watch, before holding her arms out to the side and soaking up the reaction of the crowd....
*In the back I'm watching the monitor with a few others and seeing that debut and hearing that promo*
Fuck me, that's amazing.
I sit at the bar, nursing the third neat spiced rum this hour, the old beat up TV playing at the end of the bar. Hearing the crowd pop as that bitch makes her entrance back into the world of wrestling...
I sigh and down my drink, raising my hand to signal for another
"You sure you should have another?" a voice behind me chirps, a smile in her voice and I groan again "She's back." the voice finishes. Megan Dow...
"I know." I reply grimly
"Well... What was it you said? If she ever showed her fucking face again then you'd be there in a flash?" She presses
"I know what I fucking said Megan" I growl
"Then how about you put down the drink and start keeping your fucking word, huh Rox?" She hisses back and I turn to face her, my eyes narrowed. For a moment I hesitate. Callista fucking Quinn.... my head drops, my dyed green hair falling over my face. I put my hand in my pocket and pull out a roll of tape, my hands are visibly shaking and I can tell Megan is trying to work out if that's the drink I've been hitting this last few months or something else but the moment I start taping my knuckles up my hands stop. become solid as a rock. the familiar routine and sequence calming me
"OK... i'm ready" I finally reply, getting up off my seat. Feeling like an old warhorse in a world of tanks and fucking gun-ships "And Megan... don't ever doubt my word again" I hiss, my eyes dark and vicious. The normally fiery, volatile, psychopathic brutalist just looks down at the floor and nods.
"Lets do this...."
x G x
Standing on the metal scaffolding above the arena, facing the big titantron where most of the cameras are there. Looking on at the crowd's reaction as to what I gather, the return of a true veteran here. Callista. There isn't really a connection between her and me but something tells me that where she goes, trouble will certainly follow. What events will occur now?
Tugging on the brim of my Black Cap, the fitting a little irritating on the forehead. I pull out a phone from the right pocket of my Black Trousers. I dial the number and then wait for the one to pick up.
10 seconds was all it took for him to answer it.
"Yes?" A distorted voice asks.
"Well you are correct there. Someone special did come to the party." I answer, the certain Etonian accent that is more deep sounding would give away anyone who this is.
"So what happens now then? Any action needed?"
"No." Answers the mysterious man. "No action is needed. But keep watch and see how this plays out."
I take at least two second to think about that before I let out a sigh and respond.
"Understood."
I disconnect the call and put it back inside my pocket. Adjusting the Black Cap again, I look at her again. A small grin forms on my lips as I tip my cap down.
"Let's see how this plays out then..."
I tug on the modern, black, knee length trench coat before climbing down the scaffolding and make my way out of the arena.
Quote from: ~Gemma Rox~ on June 01, 2014, 03:18:56 AM
fiery, volatile, psychopathic brutalist
Buy the new FIERY VOLATILE PSYCHOPATHIC BRUTALIST shirt on fcfarenashop.com!
Quote from: Callista on June 01, 2014, 02:17:53 AM
(https://s4ck.com/forums/proxy.php?request=http%3A%2F%2Fmedia.giphy.com%2Fmedia%2FSa9UNLAAeGCo8%2Fgiphy.gif&hash=7136fef25daa4969d48b7e47fb4bfc672a45421e)
The lights go back on, and standing in the middle of the ring is Callista Quinn. Her hair has been cut short and dyed black. She's wearing a blue denim vest over a white tee shirt that clings tightly to her tall, slender frame. Matching blue jeans, and black, steel-toed combat boots complete the outfit. And she's got a microphone in her hand.
CALLISTA: I....have come. I have come to put each and every one of you in your rightful place. Yes. I mean you. I mean every one of you bikini-clad bimbos rolling around, tugging each other's hair. I mean every airbrushed airhead who uses the words "bitch", "skank", "whore", "slut", and "cxnt" more times combined than she mentions actual wrestling moves. I have come to represent WRESTLING in this place which so sorely needs more of it.
Callista scowls at the "Clique Wars" banner hung high in the rafters of the FCF arena.
CALLISTA: Wars? A bunch of wanna-be mean girls calling each other names. I'll show you a war. You "cliques" think you scored a win when you make someone cry. We know WE scored a win when someone calls 911. Oh, that's right. I said "we". Because I have come....and I am not alone.
Europe's "The Final Countdown" begins playing. Callista drops the mic and rolls out of the ring under the bottom rope, climbing the guardrail and making her way out through the crowd. At one of the landings halfway up, she climbs the railing, touching the back of her left wrist with her finger like she's checking her watch, before holding her arms out to the side and soaking up the reaction of the crowd....
OOC:
(Applause!)
Have to admit, Callista, I like your style. Well done. :)
IC:
Backstage, I raise an eyebrow at the monitor.
"We'll have to see about this one..."
"I don't like this..."
"I don't like you."
"That's a little mean. What did I ever do to...." Megan stops dead mid-conversation, a mischievous smile on her face as she remembers every little thing she's done to me over the years "Ha... Fair point. I still don't like this though"
We walk down the corridor and I resist the urge to punch her as I'm forced to go over the plot once more... "Listen Megan, We need her if we're going to Pull this off. This is CALLISTA fucking QUINN we're talking about. You understand me?" I halt, poking a finger into her shoulder "Quinn is pure evil.... So as much as you hate it? We're going to need her to pull this off" I finish. I see the anger in your eyes, a storm raging under your skin as those toned muscles tense but after a few shaky moments you nod your head... It's going to be a fucking struggle keeping this alliance in check.
And as we get to the door with the big gold star reading 'Rowan Chance' I sigh, knowing my job is about to get much more difficult
x G x
Evil? Moi?
I wait for a long few seconds, staring at the door. My reflection in the gold star is all twisted, bent. Ain't it the truth. I glare at the etched name.
Rowan Chance.
Fucking Rowan Chance.
"This is SUCH a bad fucking idea," I mutter, and rap on the door. There's a long silence before it opens, and those wicked eyes look out of the darkness. She's still bearing some of the scars of our most recent dances. Hell, so am I. I hold up a hand before she can say anything - or just slam the door on us. Gemma waits at my shoulder like a raven on my pallid bust.
"I know, I know. Just hear me out. Whatever else we may be, Rowan, you and I are wrestlers. Gemma is a wrestler.
Callista Quinn says she's out there to represent the wrestlers, but all she's really representing is HERSELF.
This isn't some us-against-them revolution, no matter how she tries to paint it. This is her trying to claim the banner of wrestling that you and I and Gemma and Red and Emily Layne and everyone else have been carrying in this arena, shedding OUR blood for it."
I slam my fist into the painted wall of the arena hall with a solid CRACK.
"We need to go out there united and show her that she can't fuck with us like that."
My eyes burn into Rowan's, blazing with righteous fury.
"All three of us. C'mon. Not even Quinn can stand up against three cast-iron bitches like us."
I hesitate, and then offer my hand with a grin, teeth bright behind my dark black lips.
"Stand with us, Rowan."
Gemma looks away, no doubt overcome with the sheer raw emotion of my passionate performance.
As well she should be.
Looking in the mirror, I see the dressing room behind me. There's just me and HIM. The way we started, the way it would always be.
The pain in my shoulders has almost healed. Almost. The pain in my back... maybe never.
His hands touch my shoulders, rubbing at the pain. His strong, gentle, cruel hands. I twinge. He knows me so well. Better than any other.
"You need more time," he tells me.
I shake my head. "Can't let them see me weak," I say. I look at him in the mirror. "You taught me that."
He doesn't look at me. He's got his hands on my shoulders. I feel the fire under my skin, his fingers kneading and repairing my muscles.
Then, there's someone outside the door. He turns quickly. Then, he looks at me.
I shake my head and he ducks behind a closet door. Then, I answer the knock.
The first face I see -- the one with the purple tresses -- is a face I don't know how to respond to. Half my heart breaks and the other half turns pure poison hate. She raises her hands and asks me to listen.
So, I listen.
After she's done, she gives me her hand.
Her hand.
After what we've done... all the whispers and screams. All the beautiful, terrible things we've done. Enemies in the bedroom, lovers in the ring... she offers me... her fucking hand.
I look at it. I look at her. I can see my hate reflect in her eyes. And something else, too. Something darker and even more dangerous. For both of us.
I take it... then pull her close. Close enough to... well, do a lot of things. Close enough that our breasts touch. Close enough to feel hers as stiff as mine.
"Convince me with a kiss," I tell her. "Or get the [BEEP] out of here."
Rowan's hand clasps mine and pulls me in tight and the scent of her fills my head like pure intoxication, my eyes going wide and hungry and my hand tightening on hers. My breasts are pressed up against her chest, my pierced nipples immediately coming to full attention at the close heat of Rowan's body, tenting my Bullet Club shirt.
I meet those deep eyes, full of infinite dark desire, and forget that Gemma is standing right there fuming at me with her arms crossed as I bring my left hand up, slowly brushing a curl of Rowan's hair back over her ear.
"After all, lips don't lie ..." I purr softly against her, tilting my head so my purple hair falls in a slow curtain, framing us for the cameraman as I caress her cheek, thumb stroking delicately as I draw closer and gently press my black kiss to Rowan's knowing lips. The world falls away into a spiraling sweet darkness and I breathe in slowly, tasting her on the very air. The heat between us surges, from fiery to molten. We know each other so well - the secrets you learn as lovers who hate each other are limitless - and my body shifts against hers delicately, hips pressing in just so, hand clasping hers and free left hand caressing her cheek and down her smooth neck and over her shoulder and down her side to her hip, holding her close against me. Hips don't lie either, after all.
We press against each other, so eerily similar and so jaggedly different, dark moons whirling around a lost planet. I lose myself in her lips for a long few moments and let my kiss tell the tale - heated passion, flaring fury, the curling serpent's tongue of the liar queen who threatens us, my crushed soft lips eloquently expressing despair and my hungry throaty sounds the growls of the lioness gathering a pride to hunt the savannah.
I arch my back, pressing my body to hers, my breasts imploring her aid and my tight abs grinding her belly with a noble plea for her strength. And I also squeeze her ass because damn, that's a sweet ass.
At last the kiss breaks, and I pant a little, color flared in my cheeks, black lips shining, pierced tongue gently swirling Rowan's taste along my lips.
"You coming?" I ask with a half-grin.
Gemma rolls her eyes so hard she'll require a visit to the optometrist.
I pause, the taste of Punky still on my lips.
Then, a simple, "Yes."
I arrive into the backstage area of the arena with my duffel bag over my shoulder, sunglasses and the hood of a black cotton hoodie pulled up over my face to give me some measure of anonymity. Only a measure though, and one that proves less protection once I'm backstage. Roving FCF reporter Blake Hairjob, with camera in tow, spots me and says, "Miss Quinn! Miss Quinn! Can I get a comment?"
I let out a sound that's half-sigh, half-snarl, but I toss my head to throw the hood back, and pull the glasses off of my face, giving the camera a good shot of me as I flip Blake a V of my fingers, answering, "Does 'sod off', count?"
At five-foot-eight, Blake is looking up at me, but he doggedly presses on. "Can you clarify what you said in the ring last week?"
I scowl at him, saying, "Clarify? You need it clarified. Fine." I set down the duffel bag, smile sweetly into the camera, and say, "Your worst assumptions, your worst nightmares...are all true. I am here to cause damage. I am here to cause destruction. I am here because the core of FCF is infected with a cancer. A cancer so vile and virulent that there is no treating it. There is only destroying the infection utterly. If that means a few ostensibly healthy cells must be destroyed in the process, then so be it."
"Because I am wrestling's last chance. I am wrestling's last hope. I am salvation incarnate. And all who oppose me...must be destroyed for the greater good." I smile at Blake and say, "Does that provide you with the clarity you sought?"
Blake, seeming nonplussed to see the least, begins, "Actually, Callista, I'm more confused than ev-" his sentence cuts off as my fist crashes into his jaw, sending him down to the concrete floor in a heap.
I turn to look at the cameraman, smiling and saying, "What about you? Do you need further...clarification?" The camera moves first to the left than the right. "Good." I shoulder my duffel again and walk off.
Walking down the corridor with Punky and Gemma, I can still feel the damage Red did to me in that three-way. Going through the announce table... the Mindfuck... powerbomb after powerbomb. I don't even remember it; all I've got to go on is the video. Punky did her fair share, too. I wonder if she's still feeling the echoes of that night. If she does, she isn't showing it. Her voice is still a little rough... so that's lingering with her.
I'm walking side-by-side with her now. That isn't something that happens every day. In fact, it's never happened. She said she needed me. That sent my head reeling... not to mention parts of my anatomy. She said she needed me to confront this woman... someone I've never heard of but Punky talks about her like she was an old enemy. "Dangerous," she said. Well, I've never backed down from danger before.
I don't know Gemma. Never touched her. Seen her, but... I don't trust her. I don't know who she is or why she's here.
But Punky... do I trust her?
That's a thought that takes up most of the walk down to the ring. We've fought so many times. I don't know...
Do I trust her to be able to take care of herself? Yes.
Do I trust her to take care of me? In more ways than one.
But do I trust her...
We step up to the gorilla position, looking at the curtain. Punky's music plays. Of course.
Something inside me says, "Turn back. Don't you dare fucking step through that curtain."
Punky turns to look at me, her purple hair falling across those gorgeous eyes.
I said it once. That's enough.
Yes. I'm ready.
Turn It Up (http://https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_N0cQJ2BPS0) blasts out over the arena as the lights drop low before exploding in Red pyro's and strobes. The crowd pop... But when I walk out flanked either side by the towering forms of Megan Dow and Rowan Chance? They just fucking explode. Not that they're massively tall you understand... just... when compared to me most wrestlers tower. For long moments we stand there as a brutal trinity, soaking up the roars then as the pounding riffage of the southern Metal booms out we start the walk down the ramp. All three of us wearing a face for war...
"Where the fuck is Red..." I growl, my Enforcer nowhere to be seen. Fuck sake... I needed him tonight! I have my suspicions of where he could have ended up but now isn't the time. If anything his absence adds to my foul mood so perhaps I should thank him. My sour demeanor matches my outfit perfectly, a green & black tartan microskirt sits at top ripped fishnets that run down my toned legs to my heavily buckles and studded New Rock boots. My 34d breasts are jiggling in a torn dark green halter top that match my pads. My lips are green and so are my nails, my fists however are white, tapped lightly as they always are, since my boxing days
We get to the ring, slow and purposeful, every collective step we take seems to have a weight to it that bellies our size. It should... after all there aren't many girls in Pro Wrestling who could match up to us when we're united. I reach out and grab a mic, my face burning with a righteous fury...
"CALLISTA FUCKING QUINN!!! I've seen your fucking countdown and I'm yet to be impressed... You sit up in a recording studio and talk like you matter? You tell us you're the saviour of wrestling? YOU?!?!" I roar out, pausing as the crowd "YOU'RE LOOKING AT THE FUCKING SAVIOURS YOU STUCK UP cxnt!!! While you were pissing about behind the scenes we were in this ring BLEEDING! Every fucking one of these fans payed they're hard earned money to come see us do our thing and you think that somehow you're BETTER than us? That someho....".... I trail off as fresh music hits and the crowd light up even hotter... but my face is confused. That music... That's not Calli's... I turn to the others
"What.... what the fuck is she doing here?"
x G x
Backstage, I watch as Gemma, Megan, and Rowan all stalk down to the ring. It was a matter of time before someone decided to call me out. The only question was what form it would take. I watch with interest as Gemma is the one they let talk. I mutter, "Neither your promos nor your fashion sense have evolved past late-90's ECW," as she swears like the sailor she probably should have been. Still, it sounds like my cue, so I take a step towards the locker room door, then I stop, turning to the telly and glaring at it as music starts which isn't mine.
"What the fuck?"
Looks like the greatest tag team ever in Womens Wrestling needs to get involved.
Quote from: VenezuelanGoddess on June 04, 2014, 03:40:06 AM
Looks like the greatest tag team ever in Womens Wrestling needs to get involved.
And what will
you be doing while they are?
Quote from: Callista on June 04, 2014, 04:03:38 AM
Quote from: VenezuelanGoddess on June 04, 2014, 03:40:06 AM
Looks like the greatest tag team ever in Womens Wrestling needs to get involved.
And what will you be doing while they are?
Callista, I'm beginning to like you already.
Quote from: VenezuelanGoddess on June 04, 2014, 03:40:06 AM
Looks like the greatest tag team ever in Womens Wrestling needs to get involved.
The Crush Girls?
"You hearing this?"
Over at the highest platform in the arena, I look over the three girls that stand in unity. Listening to the Short, Green and Black Clad girl blabbering on about the same old stuff that we all get in story arcs. "They pay to see us", "We worked hard to get there". Yeah, that. However, these girls would certainly interest the person I am talking on the phone right now.
"Yeah." The distorted voice replies "Like I care about what they have sacrificed and the blood they have shed. They are here to entertain. Nothing more, nothing less."
"Everyone has their views...." I answer. "You think the people in this arena think the same thing as you do? They are here to watch them do what they love."
"You believe this crap?"
"This is unimportant. I'm here for one thing and tha-"
My speech is cut off by the sudden blast of music hits the arena and the crowd reacts.....but this isn't Callista's music...I look up and see the titantron...
"What in the hell??"
I stand there in the locker room, my right foot up over one of the bench, I lace up my white shiny boot and look up to the mirror.
I am nervous, no doubt about that.
I got no lucky over the last few weeks.
The match in Japan against Sadie, I must admit she beat me up like never before.
When I came back I got attacked with that STOP sign, only few days later I realized that it wasn't Rowan that hit me, she was there, in the wrong place in the wrong moment!
That damn freak Punky will pay for that, I can't stand her, we know each other since long time and had a couple of wars in the past.
Same speech its for Gemma, we destroyed each other in another federation, almost two years ago and everytime I see her my blood boils!
I need to wipe out all these bad feelings, I need to get ready for the match of tonight. I still don't know who will be my rival but well, its still early and I wanted to stay alone in these pre match moments.
I start to stretch my body when my attention is caught by the little monitor in my room.
Three girls appearing and walking toward the ramp, finally arriving in the ring.
I immediately recognize the purple hair of Megan and my fists tightly close, the anger grows as the camera switches to Gemma and her short but strong body.
And who's the third girl?
Its Rowan!
Rowan???
Impossible!
I close my eyes and re open it.
See its not Rowan, its...fuck its really Rowan!
How in the hell this is happening? Megan and Rowan want to kill each other, for sure not to team up.
I hear Gemma no sense words and after some seconds I can't take anymore!
I don't even adjust my hair and open the door and slam it close.
One man in elegant outfit is outside, probably a staff member or so.
"Emily?" he watches the clock on his left wrist "its not your moment! Its early! Wait..." he protests
"I'm Italian, we have a different time zone..." I simply reply him as I walk away
He scratches his head
"But.."
I turn to him,still moving away
"its always MY moment, hit my music! NOW!"
When he tries to talk me .again its too late, I'm already in the corridor that brings to the curtain.
I grab a Mic over the table behind the curtain and appear in the stage as my music starts to play as Gemma, Megan and Rowan are all turned to me, though they're clearly not waiting for me.
"Wait wait wait, cut the music! what's this shit? This is so wrong! Just wrong! Cut the music I said!
I move down across the ramp, my eyes glued in the ring to the three gorgeous women there as I keep shaking my head until I stop before the ring.
I see Gemma about to say something but I stop her
"I said Wait, now its my turn to talk munchkin! What's that a Halloween festival? Purple Freak and Tattooed Munchkinmatch good but Rowan, Rowan that's not your place! Not between these two! She is talkin about bloody wrestling and fans, what the fuck? What these two knows about wrestling? Seriously?"
The scene with me blindly superkicking the STOP sign and knocking down Rowan passes in front of me.
"I already apologized with you, that superkick was a mistake, plain and simple, but you're better than this, better than them! Come on, get out of that ring, that's not.."
My sentence broken as suddenly everything goes dark in the arena and I can't see anything after my nose!
*60 seconds earlier*
I growl at this interruption. I don't know who this person is, or what the bloody hell she's talking about, but she's interfering. I grab a Maglite out of my duffel and dash out of the locker room. Stopping by the engineering booth, I hold up the torch and say, "In fifteen seconds, you're going to give me ten seconds of 'lights out' or it's going to be 'lights out' for you. Understood?" The man nods and I dart to gorilla. I stop there just long enough for the arena lights to all go dark, then press the button of the torch, finding my way onto the stage with it before flicking it off and stalking my prey.
When the lights come back on, I'm standing behind Emily, the heavy torch in hand, and I swing it in a short, sharp arc, the heavy metal body of the light cracking against the back of the Italian's skull. She goes down hard, clutching at the back of her head. Scowling at her, I give her a kick in the ribs for good measure, before stepping into the center of the stage. Looking down at the ring, and the three women who had just called me out, I bend down, picking up the mic Emily had been using. After looking the three over, I lift the mic to my mouth and say, "Now."
Its still dark around the arena, I cant see anything, just hearing the buzz from the audience which is surprised as well as I am.
Something is happening, I can feel it.
The lights come back and I'm about to turn to see what's going on when I feel a sharp pain to the back of my head
"AAAAAAAGHHHHHHHHHHHH" I cry out loud.
Fuck off its happening again! And this time Punky couldnt be the one who attacked me!
I see the stars for some long seconds while I collapses down on my knees and then on my chest as my both hands go to the back of my head, clutching it as I am stunned by the impact of the foreign weapon with my head, kicking the floor with my boots!
Then a second blow, a hard kick to my ribs.
"OOOUUFFFFFF" and I'm forced to roll across the ring area down outside the ring.
Dazed and confused by the dirty and coward attack from behind, I try to stir and get on all fours...
I'm in the ring, defiantly standing tall with Gemma and Rowan - well, with Rowan, at least. Standing tall well above Gemma.
Purple hair loose around my shoulders, wearing my own merch because of COURSE I am - my FIERY VOLATILE PSYCHOPATHIC BRUTALIST shirt, with the sleeves torn off to show off my tattoos and the belly torn away because hey, rockin abs. My shiny Tanaka-style elbowpads, black fingerless fighting gloves. Ragged black denim cut-offs, heavy with zippers, and striped stockings going down to my custom blood-red Doc Martens. I smack my fists together for emphasis, waiting for my turn with the mic when Emily comes blitzing out, strident in her accusations and suspicions. Italians are so fucking melodramatic.
And then the lights go out and I roll my eyes. I somehow never get production time with the mic these days since I told the whiteboard producer he had a guttering fatty candlestub dick. I still think I was right on that one.
Then the lights come back up and Callista Quinn is there, delivering a London constable's handshake to the back of Em's pretty head. I tense up, fists curling. So this is it.
And then, of course, she says "Now."
I turn towards Rowan, splaying my hands out and she naturally turns towards me because, after all, there might be another kiss in it for her. Unfortunately, turning your back on Gemma Rox voids your FCF Arena insurance automatically, and Gemma reminds her of that policy with a sweeping punt between the thighs from behind. I catch the crumpling Black Widow and kindly lock her head between my creamy thighs so she gets a moment of bliss before I wrap her waist and snatch her up to my shoulders - I even lock my hands on hers and cross her arms across her chest to remind her of her darling the Red Enforcer - and then I snap her down in the straitjacket powerbomb.
As she drops, Gemma leaps up in that nimble way she has, folding her legs in the air and locking them against Rowan's back, pulling down on the Black Widow's shoulders so Rowan falls into a spine-shattering Backstabber/straitjacket powerbomb combination, Gemma rolling the brunt of the drop and bending Rowan practically in half on the landing.
The crowd is less than enthused. I release my grip as Rowan arches in agony - her back has never really had the chance to heal up all the way - and turn towards the crowd, smirking and dusting my gloves theatrically before I turn my back on them and face Calli with a wide grin.
Bet this helps my shirt sales.
Oh yes, the boos are raining down now. After watching Gemma and Megan put Rowan down hard, I give a glance to Emily, who has struggled back onto her hands and knees. Giving a glance to the Maglite in my hand, I give it a quick flip, bend down a bit, and then swing it underhanded up between the Italian's legs, the head of the torch landing right on the button, so to speak, stunning her, her mouth opening wide but no sound coming out.
I drop the torch and set the microphone on the ring apron, pulling Emily up off of the ground by her hair and the seat of her pants and rolling her under the bottom rope. Figuring the two in the ring will have that handled shortly, I pic up the mic again, strolling casually towards the stairs, taking off the hoodie and showing the black t-shirt underneath with "The Countdown" in white text, and the logo, an antique pocket watch, also in white on the front. On the back, it reads "Time's Up."
It all happens so fast, there's no stopping it.
The moment Callista looked at me and said that word, I knew what was coming. This is not my first time 'round and it's been years since I saw the turnip truck. I thought Punky would be the real danger. That's why I turned to her first. Take out Punky FAST, then deal with little Gemma.
Turns out, that was a mistake. Actually, the mistake was coming down here at all. At least, that's the thought that briefly runs through my mind as I feel Gemma's backside attack. It runs faster than a streaker through my head, then all I feel is pain.
I double over, falling into Punky's arms. Always a dangerous place, no matter the circumstances. I feel her put my head between her legs, then cross my arms.
ohgoddessno.
When she lifts me up, I get a look at her. I look straight into her eyes. The conversation that takes place between us is short and bittersweet.
We could have been the most dangerous team in the Fed.
We could have been lovers.
We could have been... everything.
Her reply:
I've already got a bitch. And you ain't her.
Then, I fall. My red hair, like a bloody halo, whisks up from the velocity. I can't use my hands to absorb some of the impact. I'm trapped. Suckered and trapped. Like a jabroni. Like a first-year rookie. All because of Punky's damn kiss.
I brace myself for the canvas, but that isn't where I land. I feel hands around my neck, knees against my back. The impact comes too soon. I'm not ready for it. And when it hits, something snaps inside me. The strength, technique and skill of two women working together in perfect syncopation coupled with my already injured back... it's just too much.
My neck arches back too far. The scream I make sounds like the wail of a grieving Faerie Queen. Anger, pain, despair...
I have no way to protect myself. And they break me.
They break me.
I fall to the canvas, motionless. I can't feel my toes. I tell my body to move, but it won't listen. I have to get out of here. I have to do something.
But the pain in my back is nothing compared to the pain in my heart.
She kissed me. Looked me in the eye...
I-I trusted...
can't... keep...
I claw at the canvas. Need to... scape...
Fate draws black curtains across my vision. And I sit in the darkened theater, waiting for the next act.
I can hear the loud thud of Rowan's back hitting into Gemma bent legs.
The gasp from the crowd is so loud and its deafening.
I dont know what is happening in the ring but I guess its something impressive and devastating.
I need to recover and do something. I'm about to get up from my all fours position when I feel something hitting from behind me.
The pain is unbelievable, terrible, horrible.
"OUGHHHHHH..............................." My eyes are wide opened, it looks like they are about to pop off my face, mouth wide opened too.
Tears forming in my eyes for the pain, I crumble on my side, both my hands clutching between my legs as I lay there in the concrete floor of the ring area.
Left leg extended, right leg bend on the knee, right foot kicking down on the mat, trying to absorb the painful sensation in my intimate parts.
But it looks like its not over, not yet.
I feel Callista hands forcing me up by my hair and pants.
I moan and cry out, my hands pawing the air as my body is forced to roll inside the ring under the bottom rope.
I end the roll on my chest, my face on the right and I can see Rowan's body laying down on her chest, not moving, except to breathe. She's alive at least!!!
I feel pain everywhere, head, ribs, crotch, I put all my effort on my legs and lift up my butt, lifting on my elbows as my eyes are on Rowan
I am still a bit confused about what is happening, what I'm sure to know is that I was right, I was so damn right!!!
Intoxicating... That's what Callista Quinn is. She makes you do things you never thought you could, never thought you would, that's where her danger lies. It's a danger I've always found impossible to resist so when she told me of her plan I was putty in the palm of her hand. That... that worries me, I can't lie. I'm not used to being anyone's pawn, but the confidence she instills in you? It's a drug.
As I leap up high, my small frame bounding up in a graceful hop, I curl up into a ball mid air, reaching out my hands to grip Rowan's shoulders before gravity has her say and I start falling back fast. The timing is a thing of beauty... unpracticed, no rehearsals, we just turn up on the night and nail it. Rowan caught dead centre between my anvil & Megan's hammer. I always knew Megan's destructive streak was a thing of terrifying beauty but in all our days of blissful love and passionate hate we've never had the opportunity to actually work together. Even as my back smashes into the boards with a decidedly painful thump it still feels wonderful... The noise Rowan makes as her back is smashed across my unforgiving knees will give her fans nightmares.
Megan argued long and hard, told me that Rowan wouldn't fall for it... she's too smart... to good... Bullshit. I insisted throughout all of Megan's protests that SHE is the one we need... Breaking her is a statement. A statement every fucking bitch in FCF will remember for the painful weeks to come and as I look up over the wreckage of Rowan to the beaming smile of the venerable Miss Dow... I wink, knowing it was the right decision. I roll the bitch off me and get up, the crowd booing as I circle the ring and lap it all up. Just as I pass Callista kindly rolls in an old friend of mine...
Emily Layne... Silly bitch. On her own she's a formidable opponent, but right now? She's toast. I must admit many moons ago we had quite the rivalry, neither one of us came out of it unscathed, seems now is as good a time as any to reignite that old hate. I reach down and grip her dark hair, pulling her up roughly until she manages to get up onto those shaky legs. I stuff her head between my thighs and raise my left fist upto my right shoulder, popping out my thumb and slowly dragging it across my throat as I glare out at the disproving masses. I reach down, double hooking each arm as she groans and moans, entirely helpless after Calli's bludgeoning assault with the heavy Maglite. the crowd are booing now, they used to lose their fucking shit when I pulled this move, now they hate me. But if you have an itch, you gotta scratch it... and as I lock in my finisher I hear the drums beating, the hardcore faithful Rox fans and even some of the booers stomping their feet, banging the chairs, the booms echo out all around me as I lower my head, green hair falling over my face...
Then I thrust my head up hard! The drums silencing as I scream at the top of my lungs
"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU GONNA DO FCF???"
"CALL NINE ONE ONE!!!"
They roar and I drop, hard and fast into a splits as I plant poor Emily into the fucking canvas in a sit out facebuster...
BOOM!
The crowd pops off the chain like they always do, caught up in the rapture of the 911 but there are more boo's that cheers in the arena... Like I give a shit.
Megan comes and stands over me as I sit in the splits, leaning over and kissing my forehead, both of us looming over the twitching wreck of our Italian rival, Calli watching on with a smile on her face as the arena screens are all aglow with her Countdown...
x G x
Once again I had been attacked from behind.
Last time it was Punky, this time Callista. But this time its very different from some weeks ago.
This time I am in the middle of something big,something that will probably change everything here.
My body is up now on my knees and elbows, like it was only few seconds ago.
I guess that I have a lot of eyes pointed to my body.
My right buttcheek partially exposed as I was dragged inside the ring by my hair and shorts but I have no time to adjust my white shiny pants.
I feel ten fingers grasping on my hair.
I don't see who is grabbing me, she doesn't give me time to open my eyes and see her face or body.
"Aaaaaaaaahh fuck!" I cry out and before I know my head is clamped between two strong and toned thighs.
I would recognize these thighs between millions. I had history with her, not a long history to say the truth, it was short but intense.
Me and Gemma never liked each other, probably there was a time where we respected each other, probably we still do, not tonight though.
I smell her, I feel her.
Before she hooks my arms my hands go up on her thighs, my heart says that I should try to shove her away, punch her or something else maybe but my body is not responding.
My hands are pawing her thighs covered by the ripped fishnets, it looks like I'm feeling her, it looks like I'm trying to make sure its her!
My arms suddenly point up, hooked by hers, my butt pointing back, still it can be noticed that one buttcheek is more covered than the other.
She screams out with full voice, the crowd reacts with any kind of noises and its impossible to hear anything.
"no..no..wait..wait.." I pathetically moan, I think that Gemma is the only one in this arena that can hear my voice though she doesn't matter at all.
The floor is coming toward my face, I close my eyes, like I'm tryin to eat the pain but of course that doesn't work at all.
The impact stuns me,even more than I already am after Callista vicious attacks.
My body shakes after the impact, it convulses for a second, my ass jumps up once, my arms slumps down over her thighs, my face naturally falls on my right cheek but my eyes are closed, legs and arms spread apart, body limp,not moving except for breathing.
Helpless, completely destroyed.
And now the question is plain and simple, coming from the bottom of the heart.
Why in the hell I decided to step out of my locker room?
Who did tell me to do that crazy thing?
Planting Rowan across Gemma's perfect leap in that backbreaking powerbomb is the closest I've come to sex in the ring since the last time I actually had sex in the ring. Ah, those tours of Germany. What a country.
The Black Widow's scream echoes out as we break her between us, a perfect fluid movement of divine violence that transcends the way lovers in perfect harmony. This is the way DEMONS move together, when they dance on the smoking bloody points of pins.
I smirk at the audience as they settle into contours of shock and disdain and rapidly twisting hatred, which escalates as Gemma turns around their stupid call-and-response on them - the sheep STILL answer her with their desire to call for help - right before she spikes Emily Layne's overly-painted face into the mat. I slither behind Rox, stroking her emerald hair back with slow languid fingers, leaning down to plant a teasing kiss on her as she sneers in grim satisfaction.
There's something so SATISFYING about being justifiably hated for doing what you want to do.
Because fuck them. You're doing what YOU want to do.
My eyes settle on Rowan, smoldering as I watch her twist on the mat, clutching at her injured back even half-unconscious. I run my hands through Gemma's hair as Calli slides into the ring like Eden's serpent. "Get that bitch up for me," I purr in Gemma's ear, black soft lips caressing her, and with a gesture to Calli, I'm tossed the microphone. Rox wrestles Rowan up to her boots on unsteady legs, her back clearly in agony and her eyes an intoxicating boiling mixture of pain and rage and dazed hurt and fury. I slink closer, hips swaying, and toss my purple hair back as Gemma snugs Rox in a half-nelson, forcing her to look at me.
I put the mic to my lips, leaning close enough to Rowan that the microphone brushes her mouth, picking up her pained breaths.
"Still want me to convince you with a kiss, Rowan?" I purr, silky and soft, my eyes half-lidded. I toss the microphone idly over my shoulder, and Calli snags it neatly out of the air, barely looking, and I lean closer still, my breasts soft against Rowan's gorgeous body, pressing close enough to feel the heat of her, the silky closeness, the need ...
... and then I SNATCH her out of Gemma's arms, taking the Widow's head and her arm in a clutch I know all too well, drawing an INSTANT burst of fury from the crowd. I look around and then TWIST my hips with a snarl, muscles tensing and abs like steel as I just WHIP Rowan off her feet, twisting her around and snapping back to PLANT her skull into the mat with her own fucking finisher, the Widow's Kiss DDT.
Rowan bounces bonelessly up and flops to the mat, spasming softly. I sit there with my legs splayed, and casually bring my gloved hand up from where it was wrapped around Rowan's neck, casually licking the leather with a pierced tongue like it was too good to resist. I reach and take her shoulder, rolling her over on the canvas and slither over to straddle her, slow and lascivious, and lean slowly, silkly down to mockingly kiss her unconscious lips, tilting smirking eyes up at the crowd. I slide back down her twitching body and rise up, standing above the fallen Widow, tossing my violet hair back as I stretch my tattooed arms above my head, clasping them together like the upright hands of a clock. "Stroke of midnight, bitch."
Then Calli speaks, and I turn to listen, grinning darkly.
I feel drunk with power already.
I lift my leg up over the middle rope, leaning forward and sliding in through the ropes as Gemma and Megan conclude the destruction of Rowan, tossing Megan the mic when she asks for it, then catching it when it's tossed back.
That destruction was always the plan. It wasn't a particularly complicated plan. Lure a chosen target into the ring, and then annihilate her. But there's a difference between a simple plan and a foolproof one. Scowling down at Emily, the particular fool in question, I debate the next step.
With Emily lying there, arms and legs spread, there's any number of things that can be done, especially with such useful partners in debauchery as Gemma and Megan, but sometimes the tendency to overthink can be as disruptive as its opposite. Simplicity is a gift. I smile, walking over to my two cohorts, and lay out a supremely simple plan, keeping the microphone at arm's length as I speak for their ears only.
First Gemma smiles when I list her part, then Megan does when I tell her what she's to do. Excellent. A team is always strongest when they're on the same page. I back up into the corner, giving Rowan's barely-moving body a shove with my foot to make room. Gemma is backed up towards the corner opposite me, while Megan is in the corner to my right. I take a step forward, and all three of us are in motion.
Gemma leaves her feet, aiming both boots at Emily's midsection, Punky's single-legged kick goes between Emily's legs, while mine strikes the back of her head. The timing is close enough to perfect that all of our kicks land solidly at roughly where they were aimed at. "OHHHHH!!!!" the crowd says, a great sudden exhalation from thousands simultaneously.
After a breath's time, the boos rain down loud and long. I lift the microphone and the boos lessen. They don't disappear, but as much as this crowd hates me and mine right now, they DESPERATELY want to hear what I have to say.
"Last week," I begin, "I told you that I was here to save wrestling. Well this week," I continue, prompting a brief resurgence of boos. I calmly wait for the noise to fade again. "This week," I resume, "nothing has changed. I AM here to save wrestling. But while you all cheered me, most of those untalented, uninteresting losers in the back had the reaction I knew they would. Anger. Jealousy. Terror."
"You see, you wrestling fans, you want wrestling saved. More to the point, you realize wrestling needs saving. It needs saving...from them." I say, pointing down at Rowan and Emily. "I'm not saying they're not good little wrestlers, but when I walked out here and told all of you what I intended to do....their thoughts were immediately of themselves. Of their position in the company. Of their paychecks. I want to save wrestling. They want to save their jobs, their fame, their petty egos."
"But two brave women...two WISE women...two women who heard my words and heard truth in them, they came to me and said, 'We're with you.' Because these women love wrestling more than they love fame and fortune...more than they love themselves...even more than they love hearing your cheers."
"So it's alright if you want to boo us. We can take it. We're the heroes that you need right now, and the clock is ticking. The clock is ticking, and the era of taking bikini models and trying to make wrestlers out of them is almost over. The clock is counting down the hours on self-absorbed nobodies like the two lying at our feet right now."
I point at my wrist and hold the microphone close to my mouth, saying in a calm and even voice, "The Countdown has arrived. And Time. Is. Up."
The keytar strains of Europe's The Final Countdown play, and Gemma and Megan follow me out of the ring, up over the guardrail, and through the crowd. I don't get nearly the warm reception I did last week, but no one seems inclined to get in our way.
Quote from: Callista on June 05, 2014, 04:07:04 AM
The keytar strains of Europe's The Final Countdown
And we dance JUST LIKE THIS.
www.youtube.com/watch?v=4JFmQNuG7AY
Purple and Red? That's clearly you two goobers.
*puts away my cape and my gloves* No I don't own Just Dance 4. No, not at all.
The camera opens on a wall of trophies and belts. It pans to the left, focusing on championships from all over the world. Little indie American leagues, Canada, Mexico, Japan. Then, the camera pans out and we see Gordon standing with a mic beside the wall.
"This wall tells a story," he says. "A story of victories and defeats, triumphs and tragedies. And the woman who fought and bled for these championships is Rowan Chance."
Gordon pauses for a moment. Then, he says, "It's been a month since we've seen her in the ring. We've received thousands of letters, postcards and emails, all asking when she will return to the ring. Last week, we promised you an answer. And here, in her own home, Rowan Chance will tell us that answer."
CUT TO: Rowan's living room. A glass coffee table with drinks set out. Gordon sits on a plush sofa while Rowan sits nearby on the loveseat.
"Rowan, we understand you spent a few days in the hospital after that brutal attack by Punkie, Gemma and Callie."
Rowan nods. Her voice is calm and quiet. "That's right, Gordon."
Gordon asks, "What did they tell you?"
Rowan looks down for a moment, then raises her gaze to look back at Gordon. "Well, Gordo, to be honest, it was scary there for a few days. The Widow's Kiss DDT gave me a concussion, but more importantly, the power bomb into the backstabber was what gave me the most problems. I couldn't feel my toes for a day or two. Had trouble walking. The move also dislocated three of my ribs."
Gordon shakes his head. "That sounds terrible." Then, he says, "You've had back injuries before..."
Rowan nods. "That's right. But not like this. The doctors think it was coming off the 3-way match with Red Enforcer and Punkie that put me in the position of landing in the hospital for almost a week. That last powerbomb, Punkie's powerbomb, was the last straw."
"Did the doctors say anything else?"
Rowan nods. "They suggest at least a year off to fully recover."
"That's a long time," Gordon says.
Rowan takes a deep breath. "Yes. It's already been a month. And the Power Trio or the Three Fates or whatever it is they call themselves, have been running roughshod all over the Fed like they own the place."
Gordon says, "Have they cleared you to wrestle?"
Rowan nods. "Yes," she says. "I'm cleared. But they want me to take a year off. And that's a year without putting food on my table. A year without paying rent. A year without..." Rowan pauses, her cheeks growing red. Then, she slowly--slowly--turns to the camera.
"Punky..." she says, her voice suddenly as dark as vengeance. "Punky... you made three mistakes."
Rowan lifts one finger. "The first was picking the wrong side."
She lifts a second. "The second mistake was picking me to make an example."
And then, she lifts a third. "The third mistake was NOT. FINISHING. THE JOB."
Rowan turns, directly facing the camera. "You think there's safety in numbers?" She shakes her head, smiling. "No," she says. "There's no safety for you. Not any of you. Not you, Punky. Not Gemma. Not Callie. Not one of you is safe."
Rowan jumps to her feet, her face flush with fury. "BECAUSE I'M STILL STANDING! YOU SEE THAT? I'M. STLL. STANDING."
She glares at the camera, her eyes full of darkness. Her voice drops down low and you hear something you've never heard before. A deep and dark sound. A predatory sound. Not the sultry, seductive Rowan. Something else. Something ancient and deadly. And when she speaks, all the color flushes from Gordon's face. His eyes bulge out like he's seen his own grave and the grave digger standing over it with a shovel and a smile.
"As long as there's a drop of blood in my body. As long as I have a breath in my lungs. As long as I can crawl... I will find you. Each of you. And one by one, I will break you in ways that modern medicine hasn't figured out how to fix. I will humiliate you."
She pauses...
"I will DESTROY you."
Gordon sits still, unmoving. Then, finally, he says, "Um... yes. Uh... let's go back to the studio."
As always, she comes back to me for healing. After her recklessness and passion have gotten the better of her, she comes back to me. This time, the injuries are deeper than, perhaps, even I can heal.
She lies in my arms, tears flowing from her eyes. Her body was broken. Her spirit was broken. Her heart was broken. One has healed. The other two... I don't know.
"I trusted her," she says, her words and tears falling on my chest. "She..." Rowan stops then, unable to continue.
I hold her face in my hands and lift it so she can see my eyes.
"Listen to me. The time for grief is over. You have suffered, yes. Perhaps more than you ever have. But that time is now over."
She blinks as her lips tremble. "Tell me what to do," she says.
I smile at her. "You know. You are just afraid to do it."
I feel her shudder under my hands.
"No," she says. "I promised myself. I would never..."
I nod. "It's time."
She stares at me, her eyes full of fear and uncertainty.
"The last time..." she says, then pauses. "The last time... people... were hurt."
"It's time," I say again.
I take my hands away from her face. She nods. "I know," she says.
Rowan stands up and walks away from me. She kneels down and takes a key from a locket around her neck. She opens a small, ornate box. She takes what is inside and shows it to me.
"Yes," I tell her.
Rowan puts on the mask. When she speaks again, her voice is different. Not the same woman at all. It's darker... hungrier. Like an ancient demon summoned from the pits of Hell itself. A spirit of pure vengeance. Hell's assassin, released only when needed. And those who release it tremble as they do.
She speaks: "It's time."
Watching the carnage unfold as I just see one thing. Betrayal. I've had some experiences some time ago when I was serving my country. I know very well this feeling. And this feeling took me back to the place that I really don't want to be in right now.
"Are you still there? Hey! HEY!"
The distorted voice that shouted brought me back to reality. I forgotten that I have not disconnected the phone.
"Sorry about that."
"I've seen it all"
"To be honest, I have absolutely no idea what is going on right now."
You think? All this crap going on? And I'm still confused of Inception."
"*sigh* There is a time for that."
"Sorry."
I turn towards the exit and make my way out. Tugging on the trench coat again, I walk at a brisk pace.
"I'll be right back. There is something that I have to do."
And with that, I disconnect the call.
After finding my way to the ground floor (God Damn Confusing Directions!) I make my way towards the dressing room. Looking around to make sure nobody is watching, I slip in and enter. Walking through the hall, I look for the name of one particular person. While I'm doing so, I write a note on a piece of paper. I mean, I ain't looking to go inside to take a peek. That's another story. As I come towards the door that has the name "Emily" in it, I leave the note outside her door. Slotting it from the bottom gap of the door, I make my way out of the building.
The note says...
"We should talk sometime.
A Friend
*number on the note*
Quote from: Lord Tantalus on June 06, 2014, 12:33:05 AM
Rowan puts on the mask. When she speaks again, her voice is different. Not the same woman at all. It's darker... hungrier. Like an ancient demon summoned from the pits of Hell itself. A spirit of pure vengeance. Hell's assassin, released only when needed. And those who release it tremble as they do.
She speaks: "It's time."
(Ahem. Slight amendment.)
I put the mask to my face for just a moment. Then, I shake my head.
"No," I say. "I won't. Not yet."
I put the mask back in the case and close it. "I'll take care of this myself. I don't need her help."
Then, I walk out of the room.
(I apologize, my Lord T., but the time isn't quite ready yet... Yet.)
Having watched that interview-slash-promo that Rowan gave, I decide a chat is in order. Of course, since I want a chat and not a brawl, this must be handled...perhaps "delicately" is not so much the word as "precisely". I have, in my checkered, sordid, and some would say mysterious past, (not that it's a mystery to me, but it doesn't take much probing for me to go all close-mouthed,) picked up a few unsavoury habits. Well, ok, a lot of unsavoury habits. For instance, wanting a conversation with someone who might not wish to converse with me. Of course, I don't plan on giving Rowan the opportunity to refuse. One of my other unsavoury habits is breaking and entering, hence why I am now sitting in her living room chair, waiting for her to come home, pointing a taser in the direction of the front door, when she arrives.
Seeing me here, Rowan pauses in the door, looking at me from across the room. She puts one hand on her hip and says, "Give me one good reason not to call 911."
The corner of my lips curl upwards. "Immediately or ever? At the moment, because it would prevent you from hearing what I came to say. Ever, because it would annoy me." I smile more broadly. "Emily annoyed me."
The other woman takes out an iPhone and plugs in the numbers, but she doesn't hit "SEND." She walks over to the chair and sits down. "Put that thing away," she says. "You don't need it." Then, she puts the phone down on the table.
"Perhaps I don't," I reply. I don't quite reciprocate her gesture, as I don't put the taser entirely away, but I do set the wrist of my right hand atop the wrist of my left, pointing the electrodes at an angle and not directly at the woman. "I'd note we haven't been formally introduced, but conceding that this isn't the friendliest of entrances on my part, I will dispense with pleasantries and simply address you. You take things personally, don't you Rowan?"
"When they're done to me, personally?" she asks. Then, she slowly nods. "You'd better bet I do."
I give a nod, in response. "I do note that I'm not judging, simply observing. Megan takes things personally, as well," I say. "Me? I don't."
The woman smiles. A dark, sharp smile. "You will," she says. "I promise you." She leans forward a little in the chair. "You will."
I chuckle disdainfully. It's to be one of those conversations, is it? All threats and blood and thunder. How tiresome. "I won't. Even were you to succeed in revenging yourself upon me, and please don't think you'd be the first to do so, my reaction would be calculated to achieve my aims. You can dismiss what I'm saying, or you can take it into account in your own plans. Your personal...." I pause, trying to think of the best word. Issues? Problems? Psychoses? "complexities" I eventually decide on "with Megan are not really my concern. At present though, she is my ally, so any action you might take against her, would be. At some future time, when she is NOT my ally..." I trail off.
There's a moment of silence in the darkness. We both sit quietly. Then, she speaks, very slowly, "I want you to pay attention to what I'm about to say. I want you to not just hear it, but listen to it. Because when I say that you will take things personally, what I mean is this..." She leans forward a little more, "I'm not going to hurt you. Not physically. Not even emotionally. What I'm going to do... is break you. Break your body first. Then, I'm going to break your spirit. I'm going to make you wish you never even thought of picking me to make an example of. I am going to find out what a cold-hearted bitch like you cares about, and then, I'm going to take that from you." Another pause. "And I'm going to rip it up in front of your eyes."
I let that sit there for a moment, and then I shake my head. "Typical arrested adolescent. You mistake passion for conviction, and anger for ability. Allow me to demonstrate the lengths a truly dangerous person will go to," I say, and my right hand goes into motion, getting the taser's electrodes pointed at Rowan. The taser hits her in the belly and her whole body freezes in agony. She tries to scream, but her throat is frozen shut. After the initial burst, her eyes shut tight, tears forming, her teeth clenched.
She tries to open them again, muttering through clenched teeth, "...can't let you... ahhhgoddess..."
I stand up, leaning over Rowan's table, picking up her phone and hitting "SEND". After a moment, I say, "Police, please." After another moment, I say, "This is Rowan Chance," proceeding to give them her address. "Callista Quinn has just broken into my home and attacked me with a taser," I conclude, disconnecting the call and then tossing the phone aside dismissively. In as calm a voice as I'd give a sommelier ordering a nice cabernet, I say, "You cannot threaten me. You cannot break me. You cannot even comprehend my motivations, let alone how to thwart them. You are an insect. All you can do...is annoy me. I punish people who annoy me. If you wish to annoy me further, you may give the police a true report, and I'll spend a nominal amount of time in prison. If you don't...or worse, if you think you can actually do more to me than annoy me...then lie. Tell them it was a bit of drunken foolery that got out of hand and you're very sorry." I step towards the door, giving the taser a quick tug and yanking the electrodes free. "Seeing your answer will be...interesting. Good evening, Rowan," I say, stepping towards the door.
As I move to depart, though, I hear something come from behind me. It sounds like... laughter? A dark, haunting laugh that sounds like it came from the worst corner of a nightmare. And then, a voice speaks from the darkness. "You were right..."
"I generally am," I say matter-of-factly, pausing before the door to glance back behind me, brow quirked upward in curiosity.
The voice, Rowan's, if distorted by tension and...something...says, "I know why you tried to take me out first." Then, more laughter. "Because you think I may be the one who can stop you." She goes silent. No voice. No laughter. And then, like an echo from before...."You were right."
I do not like where this is going. "Fool," I say softly, pursing my lips and shaking my head. "I didn't pick you."
Rowan laughs again. "Then, SHE was right." And just then, I see her stagger at the corner. Her legs can barely carry her, still stunned, and she clutches at the wall to hold herself aloft. She looks at me down the corridor. A feather could knock her over. "And you... if you aren't afraid yet..." She smile. A demon's smile. "You'll learn."
I am forced to admit that there is a moment's hesitation, there, at what I see. An instant of concern. I am not a child and I do not believe in ghost stories. I fear no demons. No, I fear what can't be controlled, manipulated, or reasoned with. What I see in your eyes. Madness. 'Well of COURSE Megan would choose a psychopath...' I think to myself, grimacing and turning back to stalking out of the front door.
Nice thing ya got going here. Very cool stuff
The scene cuts in Emily Layne locker room.
I am lookin forward to the monitor of my room, the remoter in my right hand as in the little screen are showed the scene of what happened in the ring some weeks ago when Megan betrayed Rowan and I got beaten up by the three Misses Countdown.
I watch intently as Gemma and Megan are together with Rowan as they walk across the ramp that brings to the ring.
I was sure that something wrong was happening, I felt that and I was right. I'm always right.
Then the camera switches to Calli hitting me from behind with the huge maglite before she throws me inside the ring and Rox cuts her finisher on my hurt body.
Some more seconds and my body is abused by the all three with three kicks and finally Callista makes her fool speech to the arena.
I press "Rew" on the remote and I watch the scene once again, and again. Listening carefully to Callista words, one by one as the door of my locker room opens.
"Miss Layne? They're waiting for you, the press conference should have started" the guy looks down at his wrist "20 minutes ago.."
"give me some minutes" I reply with calm voice
"but..."
I turn back "I said, I need some more minutes"
He gulps and move away.
I watch the video one more time before I get up and move out the door. For a moment I stop and turn back lookin at the door.
No notes this time.
I slip off the pocket of my jeans the note I found out some days ago.
I never called that number back, but I thought about that many times and I will found out what's happening.
I move toward the auditorium of the FCFW wearing my light blue ripped jeans and a white tight shirt with a "I HATE COUNTDOWN" written in black and sneakers at my feet.
I appear in the large room and I'm surrounded by the flashes of the cameras as I walk toward the long table and sit down in the chair.
One guy pushes the Mics toward my face as I wave to the people sit in the audience.
One of the interviewer is already on his feet and asking
"how are you feeling Emily?"
"I'm fine, don't you see that?" I smile at him
"it would be needed much much more to break me,don't worry!"
Another interviewer gets up and asks
"what happened in the ring the last time we saw you?"
"well.." I stop "I think you all saw what happened there, someone tried to save wrestling with a maglite.."
I hear some giggles from the audience
"probably someone will get a Nobel for that this current year!"
The same interviewer asks again "seriously Emily, what do you think about this new force? The Countdown"
"my shirt says anything I think..okay,do you want me serious? Okay, I think that what happened in the ring was a total bullshit, everyone saw that.
I knew that something was wrong and I moved down of that fucking ramp cause of that! Plain and simple.
There are no ego or paycheck to talk about.
They want to save wrestling? How s that? Cowardly attacking from behind with a maglite?
Oh please, that wasn't about saving wrestling! That was only their theatre for their little show, but people is smart enough to know what's real wrestling!"
Another interviewer gets up
"but Rox hit you with her finisher!"
"oh really? Such a great wrestler she is! Maybe she was when I knew her, not now of course. I can't believe what she did.
When we crossed paths in the past she was the leader of her gang, people respected her,what is she now? She's a doll in Callista hands nothing more!"
Interviewer: "Speaking of Callista, some rumors tell that you annoyed her"
"ok ok, lemme say something now." I push myself toward the Mics a bit more and point to the interviewers
"The Countdown isn't wrestling, The Countdown wants to break all we trust in. But Callista and her puppets won't break anything!
They made her appearance and they showed what they can do.
Attacking from behind and betraying.
If they really want to stay here, then lets see what they have in the ring. One on one, even two or three on one if needed, but face to face!
I'll show that without the dark,without a maglite or whatever, they're only a gang of big egos and big mouths!"
I stop and hiss
"I'm done"
I get up and move away toward the corridors of the backstage while other interviewers are getting up and tryin to ask some more questions.
As I move away I slip the note with that phone number once again and disappear in my locker room.
"I'm done." Emily says before walking away from the microphone, the reporters still clamouring for more.
I turn the telly off. Taking a sip of porter from the glass in my right hand, I nod, saying with satisfaction, "Much better."
I stand in the middle of the ring after a brief, but intense match, the crowd cheering me on. My olive skin is sweaty and strands of hair matted to my face. As the loser limps back to the dressing room, Gordon climbs into the ring for an interview.
Gordon says, "Rowan Chance, congratulations on another successful match."
I nod. "Thanks, Gordo." I catch my breath. "But you know, victories like this... they aren't what's on my mind. What's on my mind is Countdown. They've been running rough shod all over the Fed. Putting people out. Sending them to the hospital. I've seen people being carried out on stretchers. Hell, after my run-in with them, they carried out me on a stretcher. So, you can understand if I'm a bit distracted right now."
Gordon nods and says, "I can understand that. Some people backstage say that this has become a personal issue with you. Especially regarding one particular member of Countdown."
I drop my head a little. "Some people may say that. But what's between Punky and me is between Punky and me. Countdown is what I'm focusing on now."
Rowan looks from Gordon directly into the camera. "Punky. You and I have a past. There's no doubt about that. But you'd better listen to me right now. Your new friends are not going to save you from the pain you've got coming to you. What you did to me... both in front of this camera and these people and backstage... You used to mean someth--"
I stop. I lower my eyes again. I turn away from Gordon for a moment. Then, I turn back.
"What I've got in mind for Countdown isn't pretty. It isn't nice. It doesn't stop at physical violence. I am going to reach into each one of their souls and pull them out with bloody fingers."
I pause, then look at Gordon again. "Each one of them. One-by-one. Two-on-one. Doesn't matter to me."
Gordon asks, "Rowan, these are dangerous women. You shouldn't go after them alone."
I smile. "Sun Tzu says one man can defeat ten men if he has a strategy. And I have a strategy. I know what Callie wants. She wants control. She wants everyone to know--not just think, but to know--that she's the best. That she's in charge. And that's how you hurt her, Gordon. That's how you beat her.
"And as for Punky..." I grin. "I know every single one of your buttons. And I'm gonna push them. So hard. By the time you get in the ring with me... like Master Sun says... you'll already be defeated."
I look at the camera again. "Callie. Punky. I know you're back there... in your personal little dressing room. Doing... whatever it is you do. Just know this."
I pause, my glare darkening.
"I have a plan. You don't know when... you don't know how... but when it happens... you'll know... you fucked with the wrong woman."
(Damn, Rowan...shit just got real...Outstanding promo!)
Quote from: AliceHN on June 12, 2014, 07:25:47 PM
Something like this.....and I'm not in it! What is this?? :'(
Then again, I have been late for many things so that could explain it! ;D
(Points at earlier ambush)
Be careful what you wish for Alice.
Those beautiful keytar notes of "The Final Countdown" ring out over the arena and the crowd drops right into a fierce, raging cascade of fury. How quickly they turn! You destroy a few of their beloved favorites and interrupt a match or two and destroy one beloved commissioner and all of the sudden these fans can't stand the sight of you. I come through the curtains, wearing my new Countdown drag - the sleeves-torn black tee shirt with the antique watch on the front under a white leather vest, hung with golden zippers and dangles and buckles, and chained across my flat belly with the long chain of a gold watch in the front left pocket. I have a white micro-skirt printed with black skulls over black boyshorts, white and black striped stockings and purple Doc martens. Black shiny elbowpads with white skulls on them, and white leather gloves complete the look as I toss my purple punkytails - with dyed black tips to add that touch of evil - back over my shoulders. I splay my hands, beckoning with both hands, welcoming the sweet rage of the crowd who just watched me and Gemma likely end the career of Alouette Ronseur last week with the powerbomb/Backstabber combo.
After a suitable time letting the hatred of the crowd roil to a boiling point and with Rowan glaring hotly at me from the ring, I grin and bring a wireless mic to my glossy black lips.
"Rowan, baby. Sweetness. Pumpkin pie. Light of my life. Song of my heart. After all we've shared ... after all those sweet dark nothings we've gasped in silky warm sheets ... after all we've meant to each other ..."
I purr each word as I walk down the aisle, hips rolling and skirt fluttering around my thighs.
"... I'm AMAZED that I still haven't managed to break your fucking back."
Oh, they hate that. Especially when the producer I sweetly threatened to feminize with a switchblade runs the footage of Gemma and I hitting the Et Tu Brute (I came up with that name. It was the best backstab in history, after all) on Rowan a few weeks back, over and over and over as I move down to the ring. Their hatred rains down like ash in Pompeii.
"Rowan, my sweet turtledove, make no mistake. I know EXACTLY who I'm fucking with. I know better than anyone else in that locker room who I'm fucking with. I know your rage. I know your pride. I know how you break."
I walk up the steps, taking my time, each clomp of my Docs heavy and deliberate. My dark eyes, shadowed and traced in showgirl gold, are glittering on you with nefarious amusement.
"And I promised Callista and Gemma that I would let them see how sweet it is when you shatter. You're not going to work your way through us like the levels of a video game. You're going to be twisted, bent, and hammered into the shape we want until you ... finally ...
... BREAK."
I slither between the top and middle ropes, coming to face you as the announcer wisely scuttles out of the way. Standing close to you, I breathe you in, savoring your sweat and the heat of you after a battle. I run my pierced tongue slowly over my black lips, tasting you.
"Time's ticking away, Rowan."
I hear a disturbance growing in the crowd.
"In fact, it's almost up."
I grin, infuriatingly. I know who's coming through the crowd.
The Countdown never goes to ONE.
5 minutes earlier
"Whatever we were doing" in our locker room was WORK. I was scouting talent, considering possible expansion, while Megan was updating our video package. Sound boring? Maybe, but being the best takes a lot of hours of work, and not just in the gym or in the ring.
Being the best also means you don't let little gnats like the one in the ring pull your card and get away with it. "Megan," I said, frowning as Rowan began to talk. I got no response, so looked over at the purple-haired woman and noted she had on big studio headphones. Annoyed, I tossed a pen at the back of her head.
"Bitch!" Megan said, pulling the headphones off. "What the fuck?" I pointed at the telly and Megan said, "Oh."
I pulled a plain black hoodie out of my duffel bag, putting it on, then pulling out black sunglasses and a mag-lite. Tucking the torch up my sleeve, I say, "Megan, you go out the front door and keep her attention. Gemma, you're on tech duty. Give me a blackout 10 seconds after Megan goes through the ropes," before jogging through the backstage area, heading through the secured doors, nodding to the man standing guard, before putting on the glasses and pulling up the hood, moving through the crowd.
I had to content myself with a fast walk at that point, letting long legs cover ground as I went around the throngs of fans in the concession and merch area, heading down the stairs towards the ring. Right on time.
Or, at least, I WAS right on time, until a fat bloke, his fat wife, and their surely diabetic children all decided that a face-off between Megan and Rowan was a good time to stuff their fat faces, and I had my way blocked by a half-ton of beef. Seeing Megan stepping through the ropes, and me still nearly halfway down the aisle from the guardrail, I had to just knock the fatlings out of my way, running down the aisle, knocking another fan who was standing in the aisle back into his seat, to get into position.
The blackout hit just as I reached the barrier. I hopped over it, let the mag-lite slide out of my sleeve and into my right hand, triggering the button once to get my bearings, triggering it again to turn it off, and rolling through the ropes. When the lights came back on, Punky and Rowan were facing each other, Rowan having dropped back into a fighting stance, Punky still standing her ground, an absolutely wicked smile on her face. Rowan paused at that face, turning around just in time to catch the barrel of my mag-lite smashing into her cheek.
The lights go out. Perfect opportunity for an ambush.
Just how stupid do they think I am? If Megan thinks this will catch me off guard, this Callista has got her seriously brain washed. That would explain a lot.
I keep my eyes on Punky, but I keep my wits at my back. I don't know who it will be, but I'm hoping it's Callista. Getting my hands on that bitch will make this ambush worth it. I'm getting taken down, one way or another... but Callista under my hands... That is worth it.
The lights come on and Punky's smiling at me like I'm a sucker. There's nowhere to run. Might as well get my licks in before I take 'em.
I spin around to see my heart's desire. It's Callista. I smile. She tries to hit me with that flashlight. I grab it just an eyelash away from my cheek. So I send an underhanded chop at her throat, just under her chin. A trick I learned in Japan under Mutah's cruel tuitalege.
If I do it right, her throat will be crushed and she'll be choking to death in the center of the ring. If I miss by an inch, she'll still be stunned long enough to deal with Punky.
That is, if I can turn around fast enough to catch whatever pain she's sending my way right now.
I'm Germany caught between Russia and France. It's a no-win scenario. But maybe--just maybe--I can burn down Paris before I have to deal with Moscow's wrath.
(Bitch how dare you compare me to the French :P)
My brow raises as Rowan catches my flashlight, smiles, and lashes out at me with a chop.
I catch her wrist in my left hand, stopping it just short of my throat, taking a moment to say, "Bitch, you think you're the only one that's been to Japan?" and holding fast to her wrist, knowing that we are The Countdown. And Time. Is. Up.
Rowan whirls around and to her credit, she catches Callista's swing of the Maglite and deftly thrusts a chop at her. It's a beautiful, fluid display of brutality - and it's easy to see why I fell so hard for Rowan. Of course, if she had ever asked me, I could've told her how trying to take out Calli with a punch or a chop goes. Callista Quinn catches most strikes like the Bulletproof Monk catches bullets. Calli blocks Rowan's thrust and tightens her wrist, and her eyes flash mercilessly.
I don't go for anything flashy, because I don't have to. The Countdown ticks down relentlessly - the hands of the clock don't need to do moonsaults.
I simply step behind Rowan, left hand clapping on my hated lover's shoulder and tightening on her trapezius as I piston my right fist into her kidney three times, from behind, quick brutal efficient shots driven from the elbow like jackhammers. All we need to do is get her soft so we can make another demonstration of her. My left arm slithers around her neck, looking to lock in a sleeper with a tight crush of my long biceps, my firm body pressing close as a kiss behind the Black Widow's body as I look to lock her right arm as well, trying to cinch Rowan up so Calli can deliver some wisdom to her.
"Tick tock tick tock tick tock ..." I singsong, mad as a dormouse.
Callista catches my wrist and I feel the surprise fill the bottom of my belly.
Damn, that was fast.
The pressure around my wrist pinches down like an iron clamp.
Damn, she's strong. Stronger than I...
Three quick kidney punches make all the strength flee from my legs. I feel my body fall against Megan's and the back of my neck falls over her shoulder. Her hands are all over me as hope floods from my mind.
Callista... Too strong. Too fast. Stronger and faster than any woman I've...
I gasp, feeling helpless in Punky's arms. Holding me up like a sacrifice to an angry goddess.
I thought I could take her. But she's...
Oh, Megan. Now I understand.
I summon all the strength and defiance I can and stare Callista Quinn in the eyes.
"Do it," I whisper through my teeth.
I've suffered pain before. It's empowered me. Enraptured me. Given me the strength I needed to survive.
"You can't hurt me."
Megan moves quickly, cinching in a sleeperhold and pulling Rowan's right hand back away from me. I let go of that wrist and immediately shoot my left hand around behind Rowan's head, bushing Megan's lips with the tips of my fingers before taking hold of the far end of the mag-lite in that hand. I step forward, the soft cotton of my hoodie yielding just a touch as it's pressed against Rowan's body by the firm, slim body inside of it, twisting on the light to turn Rowan's left hand up and back, locking her other arm in place, the shaft of the torch now pressed up against the back of Rowan's head.
Smiling as I lock icy blue eyes onto Rowan's, I say softly, "Hurting you isn't the point. The play's the thing." I bend at the waist and knees, keeping my feet on the ground but lowering my center of gravity, using that lock on Rowan's arm and head to pull her throat tight against Megan's bicep.
I feel my throat pressing down against Megan's arm. My face starts turning red. My eyes bulge. But they don't flinch. In fact, a smile spreads across my face. My body shudders -- just a little.
This isn't torture. This is...
A dark laugh trembles in my throat.
Then, I lift my almost numb legs in impossible angels. Punky has seen this. She's felt it. Pulled the life right out of her. Left her unconscious like so many others.
All the others. The hold nobody has ever broken. Nobody has ever escaped.
My legs lift up, twisting around Callie's neck. I twist my arm in her grip, pulling it toward me, locking it in.
The Widow's Web. I can hear the announcer shouting, "out of nowhere!"
And as I choke on Punky's arm, I pull Callie's throat down across my leg.
"Choke on this..." My voice whispers as if made of broken glass.
I'm watching in the back on the monitor and I do not like what I'm seeing. I know Rowan is one of the targets for our crew, but I don't like the constant jumping. Don't get me wrong, I'll cheat all I can get away with in a one on one, but group warfare, really not my thing which is why Countdown was the first group I "joined" in my 13 year career. I see the lights go out and come back up and the beat down is on. Rowan looks like she can handle herself, but soon she's trapped. I start stirring in my chair as I watch. Rowan and I have a bitter history, but even enemies should be treated with some respect when they are as talented as she.
Then I feel a strong hand on my shoulder. "Now now. Don't even think about it." Gemma. The reason I'm with Countdown. I immediately ease up. Her hand squeezes my shoulder, gently but firmly. "I know you and Rowan have a...special history. But remember, you're with us now. With me." I let go of a breath I didn't know I was holding. Times like these, wearing a mask is a bitch, but appreciated because it hides my facial expressions better than I could. I've fought both Rowan and Gemma. Both are amazing women. But now they're aligned against each other.
When I heard Gemma approaching Rowan to stop Callista, I was all for it. Callista in my dealings with her has been cold, calculating and very proper. It's not the monstrous evil you see around you, no a more well dressed and upper class seductive evil. She even thinks she's doing what's best for wrestling which makes her a bit of a true believer and more dangerous. I don't know what sway she has on Gemma and Punky, but it's strong. And here I am smack dab in the middle of it.
Gemma can almost read my mind, I'm sure as her other hand goes to my other shoulder. Her lips so close to my ear. My eyes shut and as she speaks, my body trembles, her breath so warm and inviting with promises of much more. "I know you don't like this. Just understand, it's necessary. Callista...Callista is necessary. Things have gotten a bit crazy, but they'll be fixed soon. If they wouldn't fight so hard, they wouldn't hurt so much. I need you with me. Are you with me?"
I watch on the screen as Rowan does her best to fight off both attackers. My teeth grind. One side of me railing against the injustice. Another wondering why I even care about a rival like Rowan. A third reminding me that Gemma is right here and she needs me and reminds me of our past encounters. I settle in my seat....for now.
"I'm with you."
I shudder a bit as a pair of long legs go around me and start to squeeze the breath out of me. I clearly underestimated Rowan's flexibility, never mind her resolve, even if I suspect it's less simple stubbornness driving her on than that madness I saw in her house.
Looking upward, my lips curl, part in grimace, part in a bitter smile. I tilt my head slightly, the closest I can do to acknowledge the cleverness in this current position. Figuring Megan can hold the sleeper unaided, I twist my wrists, bending yours and freeing the mag-lite from your grasp. I grab your wrist with my right hand to keep it in place, while taking the torch with my left.
There's been a lot of speculation about my motives for creating the Countdown, but however complex they may or may not be, our methods have not been complex. They have been simple, brutal, and effective. It is this thinking which picks my next move for me.
Not tarrying, I drop my left arm to my side before lifting it up back quickly, swinging the maglite in an uppercutting arc ending right in between Rowan's legs.
Few minutes later in Emily's locker room
I'm sitting on my chair lookin up the monitor, I intently followed Rowan match, I follow her since long time and always admired her way to wrestle.
Me and Rowan don't have much in common in our way to stay in the ring, still I always been amazed by her attitude and stuff.
I hear her words after match, my mind goes to what happened in the ring only few weeks ago when The Countdown showed up its real nature.
Nothing changed meanwhile, things got even worse and what is happening now its only a confirm.
The Final Countdown plays in the arena and Punky shows in the ramp in her Countdown outfit.
Something is happening, once again, this time anyone know that.
The lights go down, everything seems like the last time and Callista is in the ring.
Rowan is now alone. Punky behind her trapping the black widow in a sleeper hold.
I get up from my chair, my right hand is holding a diet coke can and as soon the two start to attack Rowan I harden the grip, squeezing the can between my palm and fingers.
A voice behind me says
"Go,now..." I don't turn my face back, I am not alone in the room.
Without any further hesitations I open the door and slam it close.
I run through the corridors of the backstage and move toward the stage.
No one sees me, my music doesn't even starts to play.
I'm wearing black spandex plant which follow the curves of my legs, black lace boots and a black sleeveless tank top, hair free to fly as I run.
I make my way through the ramp, it looks like no one is seeing me, the crowd eyes are all in the ring, tryin to encourage Rowan to fight back against the two evil ones.
This is not the time to plan, this is not the time to think about what to do and what not to do, its time to finally have our way!
I slide under the bottom rope in the same moment Callie hits Rowan with the heavy maglite between her legs, something already seen by this people. Finally the audience sees me, welcoming my presence with a loud roar which gets the attention of Megan and Callista.
I am quick in my movements, Punky releases the sleeper hold and turns to face me.
The freak purple bitch has a long history with Rowan, I cant tell the same for me and her.
I would prefer to go after Callie for what she did to me last time but as I already said,this is not the time to plan.
I don't even care what may happen to Rowan as her body isn't anymore trapped between Meg arms.
Punky is the first one on my way and then Punky it is!
I run into her full force and full speed, like a sprinter in a 100 meters race, my arm is open wide like I'm about to hit a clothesline but at the last second I retreat my arm and lower my upperbody to SLAM my right shoulder against her toned mid section in a huge and sudden SPEAR that brings her down on her ass and back with a big thud.
I stumble forward after the impact, not wanting to give any chance to recover and jump over Meg body, my knee down on her ribs,keeping her down while my left hand goes to her hair, I cock my right in a tight fist and pound down at her face!
The crowd seems crazy, wildly cheering me on in this unexpected assault!
I feel my legs wrapping around Callista's neck and I have to smile. When I feel the shudder, that smile sharpens.
Even with my face turning the color of a prune, my eyes bulging out, I know I've got you.
Bitch, I've got you. And you know it, too.
Then, the unthinkable happens.
She twists under my grip. I feel the lock slipping. I see what she's doing and I can't believe it. She's... NO!... She's breaking the--
Something hard hits me square between the legs and all my strength collapses. Everything lets go. I fall back into Megan's sleeper, my legs falling to the mat, feet hitting the canvas.
Everything going dark...
... how did she?...
Shadows dancing in my vision...
... she broke it... s-sh- bro...
The darkness gives me soft, warm kisses, making my lips numb. I'm falling harder into his arms. I see Callista laughing at me.
One last thought crosses my mind before the ten-story tall tidal wave of darkness crushes me under its weight.
i can't beat her...
I see the light go out in Rowan's eyes and her legs fall away from me. I take a deep breath. The crowd goes a bit wild right at the time I score that hit on Rowan, but the reaction is decidedly more positive than it's been for us. I check left and right, but Megan's quicker at spotting the source and turning to face it. I see Megan taken down hard, and then spot Emily mounting her, swinging a fist at her face.
Scowling, I step away from Rowan, bringing that mag-lite up in my right hand and swinging it backhanded, the hard metal crashing in between Emily's shoulder blades. "This thing is quickly becoming my sledgehammer," I say sardonically to myself as Emily slumps forward, one palm pressing down on the mat while the other hand goes to her back. I take a step back before giving Emily a simple front kick to the midsection, sending her rolling off of Megan.
Looking down at Megan, offering her a hand up, I say, "You ok?"
The answer I get from my purple-headed partner is, "I'M GOING TO KILL HER!" through clenched teeth, so I know she's just fine.
"Seems a good plan," I say, tossing the torch aside and grabbing at Emily's arms, pulling them behind her and leveraging her up into a sitting position. Dropping down onto my arse behind her, I dig the soles of my boots into her back, stretching her out and saying, "Have at her!"
Squeezing Rowan out in my arms is bliss. She fights back - with grace and venom and fury, but the combination of two lethal, efficient n'er-do-wells and the fact that she just finished a 10 minute match softens her up enough for Calli to overcome her desperate assault. God damn, she can get that Widow's Web on from ANYWHERE. But the MagLite strikes home and insures that Rowan won't be entertaining Lord Tantalus for the evening, and my tattooed arms snake around her neck and behind her head, thoroughly dousing her lights. I let her slide to the mat, boneless.
The crowd cheered when Calli hit Rowan in the goody basket with her flashlight.
But that cheer was wrong. There was too much glee in it.
People love it when we fight dirty in the ring - some sort of schadenfreude, I guess, but this is different. This is the cheer of a crowd seeing a RESCUER, FUCK ...
"PFFUNNNNHHHHHHHHFFF!"
I turn around to face the aisle just in time to catch Emily's furious spear, jolting me off the mats and folding me in half. Air blasts past my lips like rocket exhaust and my punkytails stream out as I slam to the canvas, gold chains jingling, kicking my bot as I'm hauled up by the hair and pistoned in the face with a couple of good ones. Spit flies from my glossy black lips as Emily begins to churn punches into me before she's interrupted by Trip- by Calli, hammered in the back and then kicked off of me. After helping me up like good stable members do, Quinn kindly sets the Italian brunette up a reclining surfboard and I roll my shoulders, dragging a white glove over my battered cheek, my ribs pounding with the pulsing pain of the spear.
Glowering down at Emily, I move to drop a knee between her sprawled legs and give those pain-loving fans something else to moan sympathetically about, and then leave my knee grinding there as I clutch her shoulder in my left hand and try to sink my right hand into her face, clutching at her temples and jaw and the veins above her eyes with an IRON CLAW!
Of course, this involves both Calli and I so much that we might be taken the degree we put the Black Widow to sleep for granted ...
I'm still watching in the back when I see Emily rush the ring. She gets in a good lick. But the numbers game, dammit.
I must twitch because Gemma grips my shoulders. A reminder. But then she starts really digging in, a very nice, firm massage.
"Easy killer. We're not ready to play our trump card yet."
The big roar coming from the excited audience turns into a big and loud gasp as my back meets again Mr MagLite.
"AAAAAAGGGGGHH" my back instinctively arches after the big impact and the kick shove s my body off Megan after some good punches hit her face.
"Fuck! Damn you!" I curse as I roll on the side,my hand goes between my shoulder blades, bad mistake as from this position Callista can easily grab my wrists and pull them behind me, trapping my arms and get them useless to try protect my body and face.
I feel Calli strength as she holds my arms and twists them, my legs are spread apart and Punky doesn't hesitate before gettin between them with her knee.
I try to shake my arms, wanting them free but Callista grip is firm and tight.
My breasts push forward in this position, pressing against the fabric of my black firm top.
With my hands and arms in Calli hands I can't do a lot to stop Punky nasty assault.
I feel her nails and fingers on my face in a brutal claw.
"GGGGGGGGHHHH!!!" my legs and feet kicking against the white mat under me.
Its like she wants to ruin my face with her claws!
I fight by instinct, still shaking my arms in vain while I bring up my right knee against my chest and push as hard I can the sole of my heavy right boot against Megan mid section,tryin to shove her off of me.
Quote from: ThePurpleVixen on June 15, 2014, 01:06:51 AM
Squeezing Rowan out in my arms is bliss. She fights back - with grace and venom and fury, but the combination of two lethal, efficient n'er-do-wells and the fact that she just finished a 10 minute match softens her up enough for Calli to overcome her desperate assault. God damn, she can get that Widow's Web on from ANYWHERE. But the MagLite strikes home and insures that Rowan won't be entertaining Lord Tantalus for the evening, and my tattooed arms snake around her neck and behind her head, thoroughly dousing her lights. I let her slide to the mat, boneless.
ASIDE:
Mademoiselle Vixen, your injury does not limit Rowan's ability to entertain me for the evening in any way, shape or form.
As you well know.
I look down on a body, lying on the canvas, trying to rise and failing. It only take a moment to realize the body belongs to me.
Just a few feet away, Callista and Megan begin working over the woman who tried to save me.
Standing on the other side of my body is a woman in a black and red mask.
"You need me," the woman says.
I shake my head. "No," I say. "I can do this."
She laughs. A laughter darker than my own. "No, you can't. You've already admitted it." She looks at Callista. "She's is going to break you."
"No," I say again. "I can do this."
The masked woman does not smile. "Not without me," she says. Then, the masked woman looks at Megan. "You're afraid."
I try to lie. "N-no," I say.
The masked woman looks back at me. "You know what I'll do to her," she says.
There's no sense in lying anymore. I nod. "Y-yes."
"That's why you keep me hidden," she says. "Tantalus was right. You are weak."
"NO!" I scream at her.
She points at the girl in the purple ponytails again. "She makes you weak."
I feel anger building inside of me. Anger and fear. "I won't let you..."
"You don't have any choice," she says. The masked woman bends down and the maglight is in her hand.
I look and the maglight is in my hand.
"Do it," she says.
My hand trembles. "I won't."
"You will."
I shake my head. "I'm not them," I say. "I'm not Callista. I'm not a villain."
She smiles under that black mask. "That's why you need me."
---
GORDON: "This is a despicable display of cowardice! I can't believe what I'm seeing!"
RODERICK: "You'd better get used to it, Gordon. The Countdown are here to stay."
GORDON: "With Rowan Chance down, Callista kicks her aside. Rowan has rolled out of the ring. Callista has thrown aside that maglight and is now focusing on Emily.
RODERICK: "It's like the ladies say, Gordon. It's just a matter of time."
GORDON: "Ladies and gentlemen, this is nothing less than a gang-style beating. These Countdown ladies are... wait a minute? What's... THAT'S ROWAN CHANCE! ON THE TOP RING ROPE HOLDING CALLISTA'S MAGLIGHT!"
RODERICK: "She can't do that! Where did she come from? She was out cold!"
GORDON: "Ladies and gentlemen... from out of nowhere! Rowan Chance flies across the ring, bringing Callista's own maglight down hard on the back of the Countdown leader's neck! Callista falls to the side and Emily Lane falls to the mat."
RODERICK: "That doesn't belong to her! She can't do that!"
GORDON: Rowan is standing up, but her legs are shaking. The damage has already been done, but... Rowan Chance pauses and points the maglight at Punky with a glare straight from the pit of Hell...
(*goosebumps*)
I'm cheerfully twisting my Iron Claw into Emily's face and undoing whatever work her plastic surgeon has been up to over the past few years, crumpling capillaries and mashing cartilage as she screams and writhes, while Calli coolly holds her back and locks her in place. The little mackerel-snapping bitch actually manages to shove one of her garish boots - why do all the girls in this federation except the Countdown seem to buy their boots at strip club wholesalers? - into my belly, my gold watch chain jingling as she frantically pushes back. I roll back over my shoulders, going with the push as I release the Claw, but I come up on my knees grinning wickedly, drawing the heavy gold watch from my vest pocket and locking the thick woven chain tight between my gloved hands --
And then Rowan comes hurtling from Out of Nowhere™ and bashes Calli in the back with her own MagLite. RUDE!
Calli topples over and Em flops to the mat with most of her in pain. I'm left staring into Rowan's eyes as she levels the flashlight at me accusingly.
I slither up to my feet, facing her with my eyes narrowed intently. Rowan's always had crazy, passionate, intense eyes. But now there's something else back there. Something intent and dark and furious. Something even more dangerous than Rowan.
I grin.
Good.
I lift the watch in my left hand, swinging it hypnotically.
"Time's still ticking, sugar-tits," I hiss softly. I keep my eyes locked on her as she keeps the flashlight levelled at me like an accusation. I slither backwards, hooking my right arm around the top rope and doing a backroll over it, and reaching under the rope to tug Calli out, supporting her on my shoulder, leaving the ring in possession of the wounded warriors as I back us down the aisle, still swinging my gold watch, glinting and flickering and ticking, ticking, always ticking.
"And one day soon it's gonna run out."
When I feel the sharp crack of my metal torch smashing into my spine, I let out a bit of a cry, falling forward, my grasp of Emily slipping away as I go down to the mat, clutching at the back of my neck. While the experience isn't doing anything to dissuade me from bringing it with me in the future, it is suggesting that I need to do a better job of tossing it aside when I'm done with it.
Lesson learned. Painfully so. The only way lessons truly are.
Of course there's also the question of who exactly that was. Rolling over onto my side, I see Megan facing off with Rowan, and I blink in surprise. She'd seemed out cold just moments ago. Playing a bit of possum, possibly?
Megan wisely opts for the better part of valour, giving my arm a tug after making a show exit. Walking's a chore, as my neck's still feeling the effects of that shot, but Megan's there to lean on, so I do so. I won't let foolish pride hinder what needs doing. Unlike some people...
I stifle the urge to shoot my partner a glare as we head back up the aisle. This was her handpicked message-bearer. Seems like the message being sent wasn't quite what I'd ordered.
My stomp partially works, enough to make the Purple member of Countdown roll away off of me. I bulge my biceps, trying to put all effort possible on trying to get my arms free from Callista tight grip.
I curl my legs, and start to get on my knees, using my energies and strenght to fight it back but as soon I'm trying to do it, I see Megan holding that heavy gold watch.
I know what she is going to do with that. I need a fucking plan, and I need it now!
Suddenly I feel my arms jerked to my right and I'm forced to flop down, with my wrists finally free.
I hear Gordon's words and look up at Rowan with that heavy MagLight in her hand.
Then look down at Calli holding her neck.
I didnt see the scene but its not hard to guess what happened.
Rowan is glaring at Punky, her eyes are burning in rage.
I get up on my feet, my face hurts, I wipe some hair off my face and see Rowan and Punky stare at each other, the maglite pointed at Megan.
I have enough time to run into Meg and lands a running clothesline or dropkick and topple her over the top rope but I dont, I just stand there, my chest heaving up and down. Not doing anything except watch.
The purple haired bitch makes her coward exit out of the ring and tugs Calli's body with her.
The two look frustrated there, while moving through the ramp that brings to the aisle surrounded by thousands boos coming from the crowd.
I will care about them later, now there is somheting more important to do!
I look at Rowan, her eyes are still on fire, I move to her and take the foreign object off of her hand while squaring her sexy toned body
"we're not them, we are much better than this Rowan..."
I look into her eyes, trying to find a reaction in her.
We never been very much friend, as I said before, me and Rowan are very different, with different styles and very different histories.
I dont say anything anymore, just me and her in the ring. Tension is high.
My left hand holding the Maglight, my right hand extends forward, palm and finger opened, offering my hand to Rowan......
The whole arena in silent.
I look at Emily's hand.
I don't know her. I have no idea if I can trust her. But she's an ally. At last, an ally.
I put out my own and shake it. The crowd explodes. Gordon steps back into the ring.
"Well," he says, "Dangerous times sometimes make strangers the best of friends."
I nod and turn to him. "That's right, Gordon. And I want everyone in the back to see this and understand what it means."
I pause and look directly at the camera. "Countdown aren't the only ones who have someone watching their back."
Gordon nods and smiles. "Does this mean a possible confrontation between yourself and Emily and Countdown?"
I look at Gordon. "You'd better believe it." I point at the maglight in Emily's hand. "Callista. You're real tough when you backstab folks with your little toy." I hold it up and turn it, looking at it. "Looks like about the only size that would please a slut like you."
The audience pops. They've never heard me talk like that before. I'm not exactly sure where that came from.
Yes you do.
I ignore that and look back at the camera. "Callista, you say you're here to 'save wrestling.' But all I've seen you do is ambush people with your little toy here. If you were a man, I'd say you were compensating."
The audience laughs and starts cheering, "CALLI CAN'T WRESTLE!"
"If you're here to save wrestling," I say, shouting above the cheers and chant, "then let's see you WRESTLE."
The audience cheers again. I let them have their moment before I go on. "If Emily will have me, I'll be her tag partner. And then we'll see if Calli is really here to save wrestling... or if she's just..." I point at the maglight again. "... bluffing."
The crowd cheers again and Gordon is about to say something else, but I interrupt. "Come on, Calli. You got any balls?" I hold up Emily's hand gripping the maglight. "Or just that big, fake dick?"
The crowd chants "BIG FAKE DICK! BIG FAKE DICK! BIG FAKE DICK!" and a dark part inside of me laughs.
I look at Emily to see her response...
Rowan words are causing a storm of cheers and roars, it looks like the arena is about to explode!
I just smile and look around me to see signs with my name and hers.
My fans and her fans chanting the same words.
My lips curl in a snarl as she compares the heavy maglight to a plastic penis
I shrug and we literally soak between the cheers.
Rowan throws the challenge to Calli and The Countdown, the crowd once again explodes in a renewed roar as Gordon points the Mic toward my mouth.
My eyes are in Rowan eyes. I await for the noise to fade some.
"Count on me, Rowan!" I simply respond to her call, causing a new even louder blow of cheers.
Gordon : "Oh my goodness folks! This is going to be terrific! You don't want to miss the next event at the FCF!"
I extend my right hand again to Rowan and she brings it with her right one too,once again our eyes crosses, we are surrounded by the flashes of the cameras before we finally make our way down outside the ring between the enthusiastic audience.
(I didn't realise we were cutting ECW promos, now :P)
The Announcer stands in the middle of the ring and the lights in the arena are dimmed as he lifts the mic towards his lips. ,,Ladies and Gentlemen, this next match is set for one fall!" He pauses for a moment to hear the polite cheers the crowd always gives him after that – not that there is anything special about it, but...ya know! - ,,Introducing first, from Cody, Wyoming..." that's when the music starts to play...but not that little cowgirl-theme from the country girl that was just introduced, but instead ,,Revolution" by Pennywise blares through the speakers. The announcer is silent, the crowd looking confused, except for the few people who actually follow what's going on in the developmental roster and have seen me before. The music plays for about 10 seconds before finally someone appears on top of the stage.
The 5'5'' 115 lbs girl stands with her legs spread a bit, twirling a microphone in her right hand, which, unlike the left one, is covered by a black, fingerless leather glove. She's wearing a black t-shirt, the left sleeve torn off, and also quite roughly torn between her perky breasts and her belly button, which is surrounded by a (very impressive) six-pack. A white circle across the front of the shirt, a white and blue ,,L" and ,,S" perfectly fitted into it. Kinda similar to the well known ,,Anarchy" symbol.
She's also in a pair of tight, glossy black leather shorts which just barely cover her ass cheeks, and with a thick, blue leather belt around the waist. The shorts are connected - via black, studded leather straps on the in- and outside of each thigh – with a pair of black fishnets, that have an about 4 inch wide helix of glossy black leather running down from top to bottom.
After a few more seconds of just standing there, she makes her way down towards the ring. The shoulder length, platinum, almost silverish-white and blue hair bounces on her shoulders with every step she takes in her black and silver Chucks with blue laces. With one swift hand-motion the announcer slips out of the ring, and as she reaches it to climb up to the apron, the lights are finally completely turned on again. With a tight grip on the top rope, she launches herself up and leaps over the top rope into the ring, taking a few hop steps towards the middle of it, where she stops and looks around the sold out arena while continuously twirling that microphone in her hand.
The music fades out and there I stand, in the middle of the ring for the first time in my career, looking out into the huge crowd. My heart's pounding as I raise the mic up to my lips ,,The Countdown is over! Welcome...to the future!" Spreading my arms, a smirk comes across my lips as I start walk side to side in the ring, before taking a hop-step towards the camera outside, leaning over the top rope, left hand grabbing the middle rope ,,For those who don't know me. My name's Lisa Starr!" pushing myself back off the ropes to the middle of the ring ,,And I've been waiting for this moment for WAY too long!!"
I keep walking back and forth in the middle of the ring for a few seconds before stopping, pointing towards the backstage area ,,But the guys behind the scenes held me back. You see, the GM doesn't want me out here right now. Neither do the producers, the trainers, doctors...I just found that one sound guy who wanted me out here...thanks for playin the music, by the way." Giving the camera a little wink, before turning to an angry glare again, also getting some obvious boos from the crowd, directed at the management, but I wave that off and shake my head ,,No, no...if I wanted the cheap way to reaction I'd have done the old hometown-trick, but like I said: No cheap reaction for me. I wanna earn every cheer and every boo! Right here. In this ring!" Twirling the mic in my hand again as I take a little pause, looking up the stage, backing up into the ropes and casually leaning back against them. Elbows resting on the top rope at my sides.
,,My debut was set to be FOUR weeks ago, ya know? So, obviously, I should be champion by now BUT that chance has been taken away from me! Four weeks of my precious career have been stolen, because management thought it was better to hold me back. Now...the question is WHY did they hold me back?" Shrugging my shoulders as I look out into the crowd. Scanning the surroundings, yet again taking in the amazing feel of being on stage in front of this sold out crowd. ,,They held me back, believe it or not, to protect me! To protect their biggest talent from this lil girl group who call themselves the Countdown. I don't really blame the decision makers for trying to protect their future MVP. Sure, I'm not happy I had to wait for so long but...they meant good. On the other side, though...you three?" glaring into the camera as I step off the ropes, shaking my head ,,You shortened my precious career! You decided to 'save wrestling' at the WORST possible time! Because the savior was already on her way! And now, that savior is pissed!"
Giving the cameraman, who climbed on the apron to get a better shot at my angry face, a little push right on the lens that sends him staggering back and almost falling down to the floor as I make my way across the ring and leap up to the middle ropes in the corner. Sitting down on the top turnbuckle, elbows on my knees, tapping the microphone against my forehead. ,,You girls say you wanna save wrestling? That's one thing we agree on, I guess. I TOO want to save wrestling from these air headed, bikini wearing bimbos. They should just get back to their beaches, on the catwalk...street corners, wherever they came from! And leave this ring to the ones who really care about it and actually know what they're doing in here. Like me, for example! So...yeah, we might be after the same thing! Just for different reasons and in different ways."
,,Ya see, I AM the future of wrestling! I AM the Revolution of this industry! While you...oh boy, how do I say that?" taking a deep breath, letting out a little sigh and shaking my head a bit ,,You're...kinda old news! Coming out here, ganging up against these poor lil girls. Waltzing through everyone in the back, spreading fear and discomfort all over the locker room. Leaving everybody wondering: Who's next?!" Rolling my eyes a bit, shaking my head.
,,Now I'm not like that. I'm not scared of you! I mean, why should I be?" chuckling a bit ,,I've taken a good look at you girls. I know who you are, how you work. Seen you in action. And I find it very hard to even think about shuddering in fear only from hearing your names. Let's just look at what we got in this lil clique, which by the way could also be just another 70's pop revival band..."
,,Let's start with Gemma Rox! A common hooligan whose mouth is bigger than her brain, whose fists are faster than her brain and whose age is higher than her IQ. And...even though she might look like the Walking Dead from time to time, NO! She's not over 100. Then we got that purple haired punky girl Megan. A psychopathic, brutal, predictable, instinct-driven egomaniac with the concentration span of a goldfish on drugs! Sounds like someone you'd LOVE to have on your team, right? And last but not least there's the boss: Callista! A woman who had to use all her good qualities – mostly cleverness and relentlessness – to get two loners like Roxy and Megan to team up with her. The question is...why? And...during all those weeks I had to wait before getting out here...I found the answer to that question!"
Taking the mic away from my lips, softly smacking it against my right thigh a few times as I take some time to look around the arena. After seeing how the ,,Countdown" works, I try to check if that black hoodie-covered girl is hiding around here somewhere already. Then, finally, I continue...
,,It's because she can't get it done herself anymore! Like so many great athletes, when you take some time off, you lose a step or two, get out of shape! And now, to get yourself back into the spotlight, you form this trio infernal. Acting the brilliant leader. Then, once you conquered this place, forming cracks between the other two? Making them crack each others' skulls before you dispose them like trash to FINALLY make yourself the ruler over everything and everyone again? Interesting plan! Very interesting plan..."
Hopping off the turnbuckle and with a little hop in my step, making my way back to the middle of the ring. ,,So let's recap. We got a common hooligan, a predictable psycho and a girl who seems to be in no shape to fight her battles alone anymore. What's there to be scared of? NOTHING!" Glaring into the camera, stepping closer to the guy holding it on the apron, leaning in and holding the microphone close to my lips.
,,I'm Lisa Starr. I'm the future. I'm here to save wrestling. I'm here. To save. You! And just like every hero in every movie..." Raising my free hand, pointer, middle and ring finger extended. "...I'll stop the countdown..." curling in my ring finger, waiting a second before doing the same with the pointing finger. Leaving my middle finger up, like flipping off the cameraman "...at the last second!" After that I place my hand on the lens again to push the camera to the side before simply dropping the microphone, which lands on the canvas to send a crackling little thud through the speakers and the arena as I head towards the ropes and out of the ring. Getting mostly cheers from the crowd who seem to be very happy about the fact that I've finally arrived AND don't seem too impressed by or scared of the Countdown.
(And if this previous post isn't good enough, or too long for you, I got three words for ya: GO FUCK YOURSELF :P ;D )
It hasn't been the best of nights for The Countdown, but it's over. The show still goes on, but as the main event's a midget match, (and as Gemma's been a bit twitchy as of late, and probably doesn't need to hear any comments from me about what a shame it is that they didn't allow her to participate,) I've decided my night's done and I can head out. Hoodie and glasses on, duffel over my shoulder, I'm almost to the door when- "Callista! Callista!"
"Oh god damn it," I mutter under my breath, sighing, pulling my sunglasses off, and turning to face the intrepid FCF reporter who drew the short straw and is thusly attempting to interview me.
"Do you have any response for Lisa Starr?" the man asks.
"Who? Look, fans can send any questions they want to Callista at the countdown dot com. I'm sorry if we don't get to every email, but-"
"No, Callista, she's not a fan. She's a wrestler."
"Well she can send us a demo tape and if we're interested, someone in our recruiting department will contact her. Look, I commend her for trying to climb the ladder, but this girl really should be trying to do this the right way. What is she, your niece or something?"
"Actually, she just debuted here in FCF."
I paused for a second. "Here?" He nodded. "And she's still got an indyriffic name like 'Lisa Starr'?"
"Here she is," he says, directing his second cameraman to display an image in his camera's viewfinder.
I take a look and say, "Oh good God. ECW-era Raven's Nest circa two decades ago wants its fashion sense back."
Turning to face the cameraman, I say, "If there's any question that this business that I love needs saving, let it be put to rest right this instant. When I came to FCF Pro, there was NOTHING. You fans were DESPERATE. And with a ticking clock and a touch of poetry, I gave you all the kiss of life that you hungered for."
I continued "Has it worked? The proof is in the pudding. They might as well rename this Countdown Pro Wrestling. We are the whole bloody show. Everyone wants to either join us or fight us, and the reasons there's more of the latter is that the feud is the essence of professional wrestling. The feud is everything. The feud makes careers. Andre made Hogan, Bret made Austin, and the Jumping Bomb Angels made the Crush Gals."
"Who?"
"Shut up!" I say, threatening the ignorant announcer with the back of my hand. "So now, you ask what my response is to Lisa Studd?"
"Starr-"
"Don't care. My response is this. You want to get made? Fine, I'll make you. I'll make you famous. My first match in FCF Pro will also be Lisa Somethingorother's." Giving the man a shove and standing right in front of the camera. In a soft, calm voice, the voice of an assassin reading her mark's address. "It will also be Lisa's last." I put the sunglasses back on and walk out of the building.
Hours after her promo with Emily, Rowan enters a dark room lit only by candles. A single figure sits in the small room, occupying one of the two chairs. He watches a sexfight match through a one-way mirror that takes up the entire wall.
She sits down in the empty chair beside the man watching the match.
ROWAN
(watching the match on the other side of the mirror)
You have no idea how much I wanted to know what it looked like from here.
TANTALUS
(makes the slightest nod behind my mask)
ROWAN
(reaches out and touches your hand)
Or how I wanted to earn your favor.
TANTALUS
(squeezing your hand, whispering softly)
You earned it.
(pause)
But you disappoint me.
ROWAN
(confused)
H-how? Because they left me in the middle of the ring?
TANTALUS
(shaking my masked head)
No. Nothing they did.
(turning to look at you)
What you did.
ROWAN
(standing from the chair to stand in front of you, kneeling.)
Master... Teacher... tell me how I failed.
TANTALUS
(looking down at you kneeling before me)
What did I tell you about trust?
ROWAN
(pauses)
Trust is... a weapon used by your enemy.
TANTALUS
(nodding)
And with whom have you placed your trust?
ROWAN
(I bite my lip)
With Megan.
TANTALUS
(shaking my head)
You are so blinded by her that you cannot see.
ROWAN
(confused)
I don't...
TANTALUS
Megan showed you the lesson. You did not learn.
ROWAN
(I stand)
No, sensei. She... she is different.
TANTALUS
(silence as he turns back to the match)
ROWAN
Sensei?
TANTALUS
(silence)
ROWAN
(angry)
Is this how you aid me? With cryptic warnings and no straight answers?
TANTALUS
For some, the only lesson is failure.
ROWAN
(I am so pissed I can barely speak.)
You are wrong, Tantalus. I will show you.
(I leave the room.)
TANTALUS
(says nothing, only watches the match)
"Yep. Another one just came in."
Walking around the room, the trench coat is taken off and instead left in a White Nike Compression Long Sleeve Mock Shirt (which by the way is VERY tight on my already big and muscular body. The six pack is visible in that shirt. Should probably do some modelling with these brownies!) and Black Trousers. The cap taken off and is on the table just a yard away from me. Speaking again to the mysterious man.
"Ive seen. Another 'saviour' of wrestling. Give me a break!"
"No kidding. One nut job was enough." I responded.
"Who the hell do they think they are? Saving wrestling? Are they gods?? A deity???"
"Well I wouldn't really-"
"Those who think they are gods are just tiny glow worms." The distorted voice cuts me off in anger. "And their "glowing" attracts others who become misdirected and confused. This is no different with that Callista and Lisa."
I sigh a bit, letting the idea of "glow worms" making clear in my head.
"Bugs like them should be exterminated. Squashed under a foot."
"So what now then? What are you going to do?" I ask. I can tell I am going to get a very big task that I should carry out. How big is the question.
"Heh. Here is what I want you to do....."
Cutting into the FCF changing rooms as I look around for the rooms. Making sure that I don't get caught being in there. "Come on, come on." I mutter and then I see the door with "Starr" on it. "That one." I think to myself as I pull a note out of my black trench coat. Silently, I slip it under the door and then walk towards Emily's door and slip another note inside. Now that that is done, I walk out.
Both note says...
Dont walk into the light....
Quote from: The BIG E on June 18, 2014, 11:44:41 PM
"Yep. Another one just came in."
Walking around the room, the trench coat is taken off and instead left in a White Nike Compression Long Sleeve Mock Shirt (which by the way is VERY tight on my already big and muscular body. The six pack is visible in that shirt. Should probably do some modelling with these brownies!) and Black Trousers. The cap taken off and is on the table just a yard away from me. Speaking again to the mysterious man.
"Ive seen. Another 'saviour' of wrestling. Give me a break!"
"No kidding. One nut job was enough." I responded.
"Who the hell do they think they are? Saving wrestling? Are they gods?? A deity???"
"Well I wouldn't really-"
"Those who think they are gods are just tiny glow worms." The distorted voice cuts me off in anger. "And their "glowing" attracts others who become misdirected and confused. This is no different with that Callista and Lisa."
I sigh a bit, letting the idea of "glow worms" making clear in my head.
"Bugs like them should be exterminated. Squashed under a foot."
"So what now then? What are you going to do?" I ask. I can tell I am going to get a very big task that I should carry out. How big is the question.
"Heh. Here is what I want you to do....."
Cutting into the FCF changing rooms as I look around for the rooms. Making sure that I don't get caught being in there. "Come on, come on." I mutter and then I see the door with "Starr" on it. "That one." I think to myself as I pull a note out of my black trench coat. Silently, I slip it under the door and then walk towards Emily's door and slip another note inside. Now that that is done, I walk out.
Both note says...
Dont walk into the light....
Michelle/Big E – Will It Happen?
Michelle paces backstage like a caged predator cat knowing its hunger has pushed it beyond any description of reasonableness, any thought as to the difference between right and wrong. She walks in and takes a seat between the two announcers, crossing her legs, right elbow resting on her left arm and hand that is running across her body just under her firm pert breasts. Her chin resting on her right hand, in deep though.....when.......
Suddenly!!!...... the loudspeaker system erupts with Michelle's preferred music from Halestorm's "Mz Hyde"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j2OD-dV7j_I
"Mz. Hyde"
In the daylight,
I'm your sweetheart,
Your goody-two-shoes prude is a work of art.
But you don't know me,
And soon you won't forget,
Bad as can be, yeah you know I'm not so innocent
Better beware I go bump in the night,
Devil-may-care with a lust for life,
And I know you,
Can't resist this
You know you
Are so addicted.
Boy you better run for your life!
Welcome to the nightmare in my head,
(Oh god!)Say hello to something scary,
The monster in your bed,
(Oh god!)Just give in and you won't be sorry,
Welcome to my other side,
Hello it's Mz. Hyde!I can be the bitch,
I can play the whore,
Or your fairytale princess who could ask for more.
A touch of wicked,
A pinch of risqué,
Good girl gone bad, my poison is your remedy
Better be scared, better be afraid,
Now that the beast is out of her cage,
And I know you,
Wanna risk it?,
You know youAre so addicted.
Boy, you better run for your life!Welcome to the nightmare in my head,
(My god!)
Say hello to something scary,
The monster in your bed,
(My god!)
Just give in and you won't be sorry,
Welcome to my evil side,
Hello it's Mz. Hyde!
Hello it's Mz. Hyde!
Hello it's Mz. Hyde!
I'm the spider crawling down your spine,
Underneath your skin.
I will gently violate your mind,
Before I tuck you in.
Put on the blindfoldThere's no way to be sure,
Which girl you'll get tonight!(It's me, Lzzy, I swear!)
Welcome to the nightmare in my head,
(My god!)
Say hello to something scary,
The monster in your bed,
(My god!)
Just give in and you won't be sorry,
The nightmare in my head,
(Oh god!)
Say hello to something scary,
The monster in your bed,
(Oh god!)
Just give in and you won't be sorry,
Welcome to my evil side,
Hello it's Mz. Hyde!
Hello it's Mz. Hyde!
A#1 Michelle seems a bit upset, not quite sure why. She's been pacing around a lot backstage so lets see if we can get her in here and find out what's going on.
Michelle stops walking for just a moment for the camera to pan out. The camera pans out to now take in the championship title belt wrapped around the waist of Michelle. The camera zooms in to see the nameplate of "Michelle" under the word Champion. The camera then returns the focus to Michelle's face....her eyes
Michelle walks in and takes a seat between the two announcers, crossing her legs, right hand resting up under her chin her chin resting on her right hand and her left arm coming across her body, her right elbow laying on her left hand.
A#1: But what everyone seems to be missing in this story is the fact that Big E, who by the way indicated to Michelle that he wanted a match with her, now simply refuses to even to even schedule the match with Michelle.
Big E since then has REFUSED to even respond to any communication from Michelle and when asked has not even given ONE reason for what has to be one of the great slights in wrestling history.
A#2: You're so right! I certainly have never seen such a blatant lack of respect and professional courtesy in all my years of announcing. This is beyond astonishing!! It has been weeks since he made the initial offer to fight Michelle, which Michelle IMMEDIATELY ACCEPTED WITHOUT RESERVATION, and there has not even been a word from the Big E and at present, the sports world is asking...
Is he backing away now? Did he finally realize what he had got herself into? This is becoming a public relations nightmare for the Big E and evidently his management team is beside themselves or just plain stupid!
Michelle: You see ....I have proven many times I will put my body on the line to defend this title, anywhere at anytime. I fought with broken my ribs to win this title. I will wrestle with broken bones to KEEP THIS TITLE and there is NOTHING that I will not break inside my body to keep this title. You are literally going to have to break me in half to win this belt. You will have to snap my limbs to win this title. I will still be kicking out when you try.
The Big E knows this and I think he's a little too squeamish for it all. He also knows he'll be the one spending some serious time in the ICU after we're done. You have my word on that!
A#2: Well, we all see that in you. Oh, yes, you have won a number of matches. You've won titles. We all know that. You have beaten the top class women to get to the top of the ladder. We've have seen that. You say, and you have shown that you have what it takes for you to throw your body on the line, disregarding excruciating pain. Now you're crossing over and going after the leading contender among the MALES? Are you saying the Big E doesn't have what it takes? Are you REALLY saying he's now DUCKING you?
Michelle stops for a moment and bows her head in silence. She uses this moment to pause and catch her breath. Michelle then slowly raises her head and looks directly into to the camera. Her large dark eyes focusing as she gazes down again for a moment, her eyes then slowly coming back up as she looks into the camera.
Michelle: Big E, you know you do not have the WILL to put your body on the line! That is the difference between you and me. I WILL put my body on the line. I have before and will do again. That's how I won! I'm not the one hiding out, am I? Maybe he's off showing his body for some catalog, I don't know. Maybe he got a better gig as a Chippendale's dancer.
Well, I'm here "E"! That's assuming you decide to get off the stage and quit posing long enough to face me! We've all seen your "six pack". Now put the beer down and get to work!
And if that's not good enough......I have my answer I think :)
Sitting on a bench in my dressing room. As so many times when I'm nervous and excited, I got my guitar on my lap, playing a few tunes.
"So Callista thinks she's all THAT special, huh?" growling a bit, then finally putting the guitar aside and I start packing my things to head out of here.
"I'll show her!" My eyes narrowed in anger.
Raising an eyebrow as I see that piece of paper in front of my door. Stepping over there, I pick it up and before opening it, opening the door. Looking out, side to side to see if the person who left it is still around, but...nothing! Taking a step back into the room, I open the note and read..."Don't walk into the light..." Lowering my hands, looking up at the ceiling
"Ehm....don't walk into the light! Don't walk...into the...light? What the hell?" Stepping out of the door and saying with a loud, clear voice that echoes through the corridors "What the hell kinda cryptic fuck is that? Trying to scare me? NOT WORKING!" I slam the door shut and finish packing my stuff before leaving the arena. All the time wondering...what's that supposed to mean?