Post by Lissie Hope on Apr 5, 2019 22:17:37 GMT -5
Lissie Hope sat in a corner seat at the bar, earbuds plugging her ears and reading intently on her ChromeBook. The edges of her blood red lips curved upward, smiling as she nibbled on a breadstick. The waiter had tried to get her attention but when her smile turned into a giggle, he decided not to intrude.
Robbie Hope entered and was greeted by the host, but noticed her in the corner of the room. He paused for a second as realized she was pretty deep into her concentration. The pride rose as he was relishing in all of her positivi-- no, wait… when she slapped her knee in bliss he finally realized that she was staring at her Twitter feed. The mind-numbingly aura of social media had taken hold.
He pulled the earbud out and her eyes shot up at him, a snarl beginning to take form.
“Don’t you got better things to do with your time?” he asked, condescendingly.
“The fuck, dude?” she answered, dropping the breadstick on the plate. Crumbles fell onto the table, and she didn’t bother to clean them up. “I’m not bothering no one, just minding my own business, and you sneak up on me and pull my shit out. For your information, I’m merely hyping the next match.”
“You’re making an ass out of yourself with the juvenile shit, girlie,” he said, remembering the comments that scrolled past his feed. Public sexual advances to Estrella Luiz, demeaning her past and future opponents, drawing the ire of established veterans like Kennedy Matthews and Dandy DiVito. She was certainly making a name for herself, but he was unsure if it was for the right reasons.
“C’mon brother, just havin’ a little fun,” she countered. “Granted, it’s at their expense, but in this business there’s no such thing as bad press as long as you’re being talked about. And that’s all I’m doing -- getting my name out there.”
“Listen, you had a damn good match and that’s what got people talking,” he said, taking a seat next to his baby sister. “You should be focusing on that. You should be making your performance in the ring --”
“Not my performance in the bedroom?”
“---I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” he continued, with a light shake of the head. “Fuck… now I need to erase that mental image and get back on my train of thought. God dammit, where was I?”
“Is there a point to this brotherly advice?” she asked, sarcastically.
“Have you bothered to familiarize yourself with Derrick Vayden yet?”
“Oh yeah!” she said, twirling her computer in his direction. “That dumb son-of-a-bitch already got on camera and tried to dissect my character and my personality. Telling pointless analogies using stories without endings, boring the fuck out of me and anyone else who managed to sit through that verbal diarrhea,” she paused to take a breath.
“Go on.”
“Trying to get under my skin with comments about ‘daddy issues’ and he even brought you into it, dude! This guy’s a joke, bro. Trying to hit me below the belt but falling just... short,” she said, pinching her index finger and thumb together to accentuate the point. She took a deep breath and exhaled, closing her eyes and giggling at herself, very pleased with the rant.
“Is that it?” he challenged.
“Does that sound like someone who warrants my time? If anything, it should bother you that he’s just… that… pitiful that he’s going to bring your name up, as if you had anything to do with this!”
“It doesn’t bother me, sis,”
“Well it should!”
“Dig deeper,” he said. “What do you know about Derrick besides these insipid, vacant comments about who we are and what we come from? You have to go further and find out what makes this dude tick, what you can use against him, what will give you the advantage against him in that ring. You need all the leverage you can get.”
“Oh come on, he’s just another failed journeyman who’s hoping to start his AW career off right against a rookie,” she replied. “It’s all they’ll ever talk about. It’s all they can hang their hats on. Experience and training, my balls.”
“What else do you know about Derrick Vayden, the man?” he asked, trying to push her to go further. It was starting to piss her off, but instead of reacting, she motioned for the waiter.
“Sir, I would like an assorted cheese board and a bratwurst,” she said, looking at the menu. “And your finest stout beer from a Midwestern brewery. The best you’ve got,” she added, as he confirmed with a smile. “Check that… forget the stout, I’m going to need something a little more reflective of the topic of conversation that my esteemed brother and I are having,” she corrected, confusing the waiter. “Get me a Pabst Blue Ribbon, please.” He nodded and asked Robbie if he wanted anything. Robbie didn’t have the stomach to eat after how silly his sister had taken the challenge.
“Beer, brats, and cheese? That’s what you got out of this exchange?” he asked, shaking his head.
“There’s not really much else to the guy, to be honest,” she said, playfully. "Thought about splurging for a good beer to get in that RAWR VAAYDENNN state of mind, but seriously though... this dude's a cheap imitation of what he desperately wants to be. In a fridge of the finest crafts, he's definitely a PBR." Suddenly, Robbie was beginning to lose his patience.
“Do you realize there’s an entire locker room of athletes that you’re starting to piss off who would like nothing more than to beat the shit out of you? These same athletes who are bigger, and stronger, and way more experienced than you are? They aren’t going to take it easy on you, Lissie. They are going to want to punish you and make you learn the tough lessons the hard way. Don’t you think you need to start making some friends instead of isolating yourself and making an enemy of everyone?”
“I don’t care about any of them, Robbie!” she yelled.
“You should--”
“I don’t care if they make me bleed, if they make me hurt, if they make look for an escape,” she said, tears in her eyes. He finally let her continue without interrupting, interested to see what she was burying behind the tough and carefree facade. “This ain’t my first rodeo, bro. You know that more than anyone. I have seen more shit in my life than I would wish on my worst enemy, and you know what? I’m a lot stronger now for it. I’ve come out on top, EVERY time. And that’s why I’m going to be on every cover of the magazines. That’s why I’m going to revolutionize this business. That’s why I’m going to be the best champion AW has ever seen. I’m going to prove every single one of my doubters wrong, one match at a time.” She was damn near crying now. “And if I have to, I’m going to prove you wrong, too.”
She paused for a moment to let the tension settle. It’s hard for her to hear her brother question her motives and her ability, but he could never question her drive. His heart was in the right place, and he did have a point, but still. She wanted to stick to her guns. It’s in her blood to be defiant, and resilient, and to do things on her own terms. If she had to learn the hard way, she was prepared for it.
“I’m glad to see I’m getting into that skull of yours,” he said, with a smile. He playfully tapped his knuckles on her forehead. “No matter how fucking thick it may be sometimes. You’ve got all the heart in the world, baby sis,” he added, punching her on the shoulder. “Knock ‘em dead.”
---------------------------------
“You okay, sis?” Robbie asked, interrupting her quiet introspection. He knew not to impose when she was processing something in her mind. Something had severely affected her during her address to Derrick Vayden, and he had the awareness to cut the camera while those thoughts engulfed her.
“Yeah,” she finally uttered. “Just got into my head a little bit there.”
“Do you wanna keep going?”
She thought about it.
“I don’t think I can,” she finally uttered. "At least not right now." He nodded his head and slid his camera into his jeans, letting her end things on her terms. He was proud of her, of the way she could completely get into the zone and hammer all the points home. He was proud of her for standing up for herself, and for fighting for what she believed in, but at the same time, he was concerned that she was going to find the road to her destiny a lot harder than she could imagine.
“I’m pretty sure you’re in a good position in that fan poll for the number one contendership,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “I truly think it’s going to be between you and Kennedy Matthews. And I think DiVito probably thinks so, too. He wouldn’t have called you out for nothing.”
“DiVito knows a challenge when he sees it. He already punished Jax, and who wants to see that retread?”
“I agree.”
“And that cokehead Bazzie? What’s he got to offer? That dude is gonna end up binging the night before and sleeping through the show!”
“I agree,” he repeated.
“It would really make no sense for it to be anyone other than Kennedy or me. We are the only ones with our heads on straight and who actually are worth a damn in this poll,” she said, starting to get her confidence back. “Hell, I think I may make an appearance for the Royal Family’s match. Give Kennedy something to think about,” a pause and a smile. “And Estrella someone to think about.”
“Keep your head in the game, sis,” Robbie warned. “Don’t overlook Vayden, and please,” he pleaded. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Would you have it any other way?”
--------------------------------------
Wake up, Derrick.
The sooner you realize the truth, you'll find the fall will hurt a lot less.
You can call yourself Wisconsin's Finest, but that's not saying much now, is it?
Relish in the fact that you were once the belle of the ball.
I mean, it's a really shitty ball, but sure. You can own it anyway.
You're stepping into harsher waters now, bro.
AW is full of sharks.
The biggest, and the baddest.
And you're the minnow.
I think you're in over your head.
And deep down, you know it, too.
Now here's the truth, Vayden.
The ring is my sanctuary.
It's where I thrive, and where I punish, and where I hurt those who seek to hurt me.
It's where you intend to write the expectations, but it's where I arrive to collect.
I'm a mercenary.
And you're the martyr.
This is not going to be your coming out party.
It's going to be your burial.
It's my sanctuary.
It's where my dreams begin to rise.
And it's where your hopes go to die.
Robbie Hope entered and was greeted by the host, but noticed her in the corner of the room. He paused for a second as realized she was pretty deep into her concentration. The pride rose as he was relishing in all of her positivi-- no, wait… when she slapped her knee in bliss he finally realized that she was staring at her Twitter feed. The mind-numbingly aura of social media had taken hold.
He pulled the earbud out and her eyes shot up at him, a snarl beginning to take form.
“Don’t you got better things to do with your time?” he asked, condescendingly.
“The fuck, dude?” she answered, dropping the breadstick on the plate. Crumbles fell onto the table, and she didn’t bother to clean them up. “I’m not bothering no one, just minding my own business, and you sneak up on me and pull my shit out. For your information, I’m merely hyping the next match.”
“You’re making an ass out of yourself with the juvenile shit, girlie,” he said, remembering the comments that scrolled past his feed. Public sexual advances to Estrella Luiz, demeaning her past and future opponents, drawing the ire of established veterans like Kennedy Matthews and Dandy DiVito. She was certainly making a name for herself, but he was unsure if it was for the right reasons.
“C’mon brother, just havin’ a little fun,” she countered. “Granted, it’s at their expense, but in this business there’s no such thing as bad press as long as you’re being talked about. And that’s all I’m doing -- getting my name out there.”
“Listen, you had a damn good match and that’s what got people talking,” he said, taking a seat next to his baby sister. “You should be focusing on that. You should be making your performance in the ring --”
“Not my performance in the bedroom?”
“---I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that,” he continued, with a light shake of the head. “Fuck… now I need to erase that mental image and get back on my train of thought. God dammit, where was I?”
“Is there a point to this brotherly advice?” she asked, sarcastically.
“Have you bothered to familiarize yourself with Derrick Vayden yet?”
“Oh yeah!” she said, twirling her computer in his direction. “That dumb son-of-a-bitch already got on camera and tried to dissect my character and my personality. Telling pointless analogies using stories without endings, boring the fuck out of me and anyone else who managed to sit through that verbal diarrhea,” she paused to take a breath.
“Go on.”
“Trying to get under my skin with comments about ‘daddy issues’ and he even brought you into it, dude! This guy’s a joke, bro. Trying to hit me below the belt but falling just... short,” she said, pinching her index finger and thumb together to accentuate the point. She took a deep breath and exhaled, closing her eyes and giggling at herself, very pleased with the rant.
“Is that it?” he challenged.
“Does that sound like someone who warrants my time? If anything, it should bother you that he’s just… that… pitiful that he’s going to bring your name up, as if you had anything to do with this!”
“It doesn’t bother me, sis,”
“Well it should!”
“Dig deeper,” he said. “What do you know about Derrick besides these insipid, vacant comments about who we are and what we come from? You have to go further and find out what makes this dude tick, what you can use against him, what will give you the advantage against him in that ring. You need all the leverage you can get.”
“Oh come on, he’s just another failed journeyman who’s hoping to start his AW career off right against a rookie,” she replied. “It’s all they’ll ever talk about. It’s all they can hang their hats on. Experience and training, my balls.”
“What else do you know about Derrick Vayden, the man?” he asked, trying to push her to go further. It was starting to piss her off, but instead of reacting, she motioned for the waiter.
“Sir, I would like an assorted cheese board and a bratwurst,” she said, looking at the menu. “And your finest stout beer from a Midwestern brewery. The best you’ve got,” she added, as he confirmed with a smile. “Check that… forget the stout, I’m going to need something a little more reflective of the topic of conversation that my esteemed brother and I are having,” she corrected, confusing the waiter. “Get me a Pabst Blue Ribbon, please.” He nodded and asked Robbie if he wanted anything. Robbie didn’t have the stomach to eat after how silly his sister had taken the challenge.
“Beer, brats, and cheese? That’s what you got out of this exchange?” he asked, shaking his head.
“There’s not really much else to the guy, to be honest,” she said, playfully. "Thought about splurging for a good beer to get in that RAWR VAAYDENNN state of mind, but seriously though... this dude's a cheap imitation of what he desperately wants to be. In a fridge of the finest crafts, he's definitely a PBR." Suddenly, Robbie was beginning to lose his patience.
“Do you realize there’s an entire locker room of athletes that you’re starting to piss off who would like nothing more than to beat the shit out of you? These same athletes who are bigger, and stronger, and way more experienced than you are? They aren’t going to take it easy on you, Lissie. They are going to want to punish you and make you learn the tough lessons the hard way. Don’t you think you need to start making some friends instead of isolating yourself and making an enemy of everyone?”
“I don’t care about any of them, Robbie!” she yelled.
“You should--”
“I don’t care if they make me bleed, if they make me hurt, if they make look for an escape,” she said, tears in her eyes. He finally let her continue without interrupting, interested to see what she was burying behind the tough and carefree facade. “This ain’t my first rodeo, bro. You know that more than anyone. I have seen more shit in my life than I would wish on my worst enemy, and you know what? I’m a lot stronger now for it. I’ve come out on top, EVERY time. And that’s why I’m going to be on every cover of the magazines. That’s why I’m going to revolutionize this business. That’s why I’m going to be the best champion AW has ever seen. I’m going to prove every single one of my doubters wrong, one match at a time.” She was damn near crying now. “And if I have to, I’m going to prove you wrong, too.”
She paused for a moment to let the tension settle. It’s hard for her to hear her brother question her motives and her ability, but he could never question her drive. His heart was in the right place, and he did have a point, but still. She wanted to stick to her guns. It’s in her blood to be defiant, and resilient, and to do things on her own terms. If she had to learn the hard way, she was prepared for it.
“I’m glad to see I’m getting into that skull of yours,” he said, with a smile. He playfully tapped his knuckles on her forehead. “No matter how fucking thick it may be sometimes. You’ve got all the heart in the world, baby sis,” he added, punching her on the shoulder. “Knock ‘em dead.”
---------------------------------
My God, Derrick. Why are you so fuckin’ sensitive?
Good lord, the mere mention of my name has you in fits, doesn’t it? It’s nice to live rent-free in your conscience, but chill out. Looky here, brosef. Let that shit breathe, don't let your balls pucker up or anything. I’m not the only one being talked about as the future of A-Dub. Don’t get too discouraged! I promise you, bud… there’s room for you, too!
Don’t get me wrong; I mean, sure…
I’m the one in all of the headlines after a dominating debut.
I’m the one whose name is already coming out of a champion’s mouth.
I’m the one who’s making little latina hearts-a-flutter.
I’m the one who’s riding the crest of the wave in the US Championship division after one match.
It may be true that I made Ryan Kincaid an afterthought. A man who came into this company with so much promise, with a little thing called longevity and experience to hold over my head. Someone who’s seen sustained success elsewhere, and who wants to ride that momentum into an organization with a hell of a lot more talent than anywhere else he’s ever been.
That someone sounds… a little like… you?
See, my man. The story is all too familiar. I’m the wide-eyed dreamer. You’re the grizzled veteran. I’m young and naive. You’ve seen a thang-or-two. You can walk into any little podunk town in Cheese Land and all them hillbilly homeboys know your name. Sure, they may only refer to you in context to those better than you, but still -- you can hear ‘em now! “Denny Vayder is here, ya’ll! How ‘bout that? Sweet talk him a ‘lil and maybe he’ll be stupid enough to cover our tab! Hand me that spit jar, would ‘ya, Bubba?”
Sure, they’ll have your name wrong, but you make an impression when you walk in the room, dude! Own it! Don’t resist it, you know you want their attention! You know deep in that demoralized heart of yours that you secretly crave it!
Just let it all in, man! You’ve got:
Star! Potential!
Just let it all in, man! You’ve got:
Star! Potential!
Or, at least… deep down, man…
You secretly wish you did.
Keep that hope going, though.
Even if all you’ll ever have.
Vayden… despite this gruff exterior, the one who wants to slap away a hand that feeds, you actually want that notoriety. I can hear it in your voice and I can see it in your eyes. You disparage those who dare to embrace the fact that people actually like them? Are you that obtuse? I get that it’s hard for a pathetic nothing like you to understand, but here’s the thing you need to learn.
Having charisma is something to be proud of.
Being appreciated is something to cherish.
Being successful is something to strive for.
Go ahead and try to psychoanalyze me. Make fun of my hair and my big mouth and somehow try to identify where I went wrong. It’s cute, really. You’ve got all these issues that so obviously bother you to this day, and here you are, projecting onto me. Newsflash, dickhole. You haven’t got a single clue what demons you’re on the verge of awakening. If I were you, I’d cut the shit out while you think you’re ahead, because while you may think you’re riding high -- thinkin’ you struck first blood -- you’ll soon realize there’s no turning back. You want to make that statement and get on track by beating the next big thing, but you’ll end up right back where you started.
Alone.
Beaten.
Forgotten.
You’ve never been successful at anything; that much is obvious. You are so threatened by this pretty little thing who’s the talk of the town, while you --the one who’s ‘paid! his! dues!’ -- is relegated to being her next stepping stone. I know it’s a tough pill to swallow, but seriously dude?
Your paralyzing delusion?
Your stunning insecurity?
It ain’t my problem, you fuckin’ parasite.
I sure as hell ain’t fixin’ it for you.
So go tell yourself some more bedtime stories and cry yourself to sleep, asshole.
Find a crease in your pillowcase you haven’t cum into yet to soak up your sad, lonely tears.
And maybe, just maybe -- you’ll dare to dream of a day you’re not a worthless sack of shit.
And with a little hope, perhaps you’ll finally awaken…
Find a crease in your pillowcase you haven’t cum into yet to soak up your sad, lonely tears.
And maybe, just maybe -- you’ll dare to dream of a day you’re not a worthless sack of shit.
And with a little hope, perhaps you’ll finally awaken…
-------
I remember things.
Memories I cherish, memories I hold dear.
I remember my brother always having my back, and never expecting anything in return.
I remember my first love, and how for the first time, he made me feel alive.
I remember my mother’s unconditional warmth, no matter how awful I could be.
And some… are memories I wish to forget.
I remember being awakened one night.
I was tired and exhausted, lying in my comfortable bed.
It was my safe place.
My sanctuary.
And I remember it being invaded.
“Hush, girl,” I would hear him say.
I would pull the covers up to my chin, and I would turn my back to the light peaking in.
I would hear the footsteps creep closer, the floor creaking underneath his boots.
I could smell the aroma of the alcohol seeping out of his pores.
His breath was warm, his fingers pricked my neck like needles.
“Hmmph,” he grunted. “Such a little girl.”
And just as quick as he entered, he left.
Like a thief in the night.
It wasn’t ever easy falling back to sleep.
-------
“You okay, sis?” Robbie asked, interrupting her quiet introspection. He knew not to impose when she was processing something in her mind. Something had severely affected her during her address to Derrick Vayden, and he had the awareness to cut the camera while those thoughts engulfed her.
“Yeah,” she finally uttered. “Just got into my head a little bit there.”
“Do you wanna keep going?”
She thought about it.
“I don’t think I can,” she finally uttered. "At least not right now." He nodded his head and slid his camera into his jeans, letting her end things on her terms. He was proud of her, of the way she could completely get into the zone and hammer all the points home. He was proud of her for standing up for herself, and for fighting for what she believed in, but at the same time, he was concerned that she was going to find the road to her destiny a lot harder than she could imagine.
“I’m pretty sure you’re in a good position in that fan poll for the number one contendership,” he said, trying to lighten the mood. “I truly think it’s going to be between you and Kennedy Matthews. And I think DiVito probably thinks so, too. He wouldn’t have called you out for nothing.”
“DiVito knows a challenge when he sees it. He already punished Jax, and who wants to see that retread?”
“I agree.”
“And that cokehead Bazzie? What’s he got to offer? That dude is gonna end up binging the night before and sleeping through the show!”
“I agree,” he repeated.
“It would really make no sense for it to be anyone other than Kennedy or me. We are the only ones with our heads on straight and who actually are worth a damn in this poll,” she said, starting to get her confidence back. “Hell, I think I may make an appearance for the Royal Family’s match. Give Kennedy something to think about,” a pause and a smile. “And Estrella someone to think about.”
“Keep your head in the game, sis,” Robbie warned. “Don’t overlook Vayden, and please,” he pleaded. “Don’t do anything stupid.”
“Would you have it any other way?”
--------------------------------------
Wake up, Derrick.
The sooner you realize the truth, you'll find the fall will hurt a lot less.
You can call yourself Wisconsin's Finest, but that's not saying much now, is it?
Relish in the fact that you were once the belle of the ball.
I mean, it's a really shitty ball, but sure. You can own it anyway.
You're stepping into harsher waters now, bro.
AW is full of sharks.
The biggest, and the baddest.
And you're the minnow.
I think you're in over your head.
And deep down, you know it, too.
Now here's the truth, Vayden.
The ring is my sanctuary.
It's where I thrive, and where I punish, and where I hurt those who seek to hurt me.
It's where you intend to write the expectations, but it's where I arrive to collect.
I'm a mercenary.
And you're the martyr.
This is not going to be your coming out party.
It's going to be your burial.
It's my sanctuary.
It's where my dreams begin to rise.
And it's where your hopes go to die.