Post by Claire Hawkins on Apr 27, 2019 6:01:06 GMT -5
The camera faded in to reveal a scene that was as elegant as it was simple. In an otherwise pitch black room, a lone spotlight shone down from overhead and a replica of the Action Wrestling Television Championship could be seen sitting atop a large oaken table. Despite it being considered a “low-tier” title, the glistening gold was almost mesmerizing underneath the illumination from above.
“How is it something so trivial in the grand scheme of things be so entangled with some of the best and worst names that Action Wrestling has seen? Then again, that is just the perpetual duality of the Championship’s nature. In order for the best to shine through the worst must first sully.”
Stepping into the light from behind the curtain of darkness, Claire placed her hands on the table on either side of the replica belt. Leaning over the replica belt, Claire stared into the camera intently; a fire burning intensely in her crimson eyes.
“Which brings me to you, Hazel Overton. Tell me champ, how does it feel knowing that you NEVER won that belt? That you NEVER earned that belt? That you were NEVER qualified to compete for Television CHampionship let alone lace the boots of L Verez or Andre Holmes?
Better question.
How does it feel knowing that you are worth less than some jacked up truck owned by a steroid-abusing meat puppet?
The fact is that you were just in the right place at the right time. Nothing more. Nothing less. You weren’t chosen. Camila didn’t see anything inside you. You were haphazardly handed the championship because she didn’t feel like reigniting Rage’s child-like understanding of the entitlement mentality. To think anything else shows how pitifully desperate you truly fucking are.
Although that isn’t all that surprising. Not when you had such a chronic desire of only competing is such sub-par and shitty companies as Rose City Wrestling and the Juggalo Wrestling Foundation.”
After a brief period, Claire lowered her gaze and let loose an audible sigh of exasperation. When she raised her crimson gaze to the camera it became clear that irritation now burned within her. A fact that would only be reinforced by how heavily it would cover her every word.
“How the fuck did this happen? I go from competing with some of the best the WORLD has seen to this? I don’t know whether to consider this a punishment or if Management is trying to have me be the damage control for their obvious fuck up.
Neither would surprise me at this point.
Then again, maybe they did actually make the mistake of thinking you are worth more than dried dog shit. That might explain why they had you face three unskilled jack-offs at Clash of Champions. You know, try to add some legitimacy to your so-called “reign” as well as add some kind of credibility to you as a competitor. However, I don’t see how they could think that when they deserved a chance to compete for the Television Championship even less then you do for being THE champion.
However….”
With a slight tilt of her head, Claire allowed an amused chuckle to escape her lips. Although the fiery irritation still burned within her, a wolfish grin that hinted at diabolical intentions spread across her face.
“YOU are precisely the type of narrow-minded fool that would think exactly that. In fact, you’re more than likely under the impression that a victory over the three stooges actually means something and that you’re ACTUALLY deserving. That there was a justifiable reason to hand the Television Champion off to a cretin such as yourself. Hell, you probably think that the four-way match at Clash of Champions validated that.
Good.
Hazel, I WANT you to continue thinking like that. I WANT you to think that you’re a worthwhile champion; that you’re more than just a transitional champion. The more you do; the more you think our meeting will be a one-sided affair, the sweeter MY victory shall be. Cause, unlike you, I won’t be walking out empty handed. In fact, THIS will no longer be a replica.”
As she leaned away from the camera, Claire plucked the replica belt from its place on the oaken table and held it up as if she were the Action Wrestling Television Champion.
“Don’t get it twisted Hazel. I’m not only after the Television Championship. Cause you see, this Sunday at Havoc the Golden 1 Center becomes a slaughterhouse where I am the butcher and you are the pig. Which means I shall be gutting you like the overly fat sow you are.
Sumat per te corripiat: et vermes. Quae repugnat sanguis sanguinem succumbat. Sanguis sanguinem peribit qui oppugnant. Qui vivis a quibus facti sunt et sanguis sanguinem aeternum.”
{Heed thy warning, vermin. Those that resist the blood shall succumb to the blood. Those that fight against the blood shall perish by the blood. Those that live by the blood shall become the blood of eternity}
With her voice laden with an ancient and mysterious power, Claire recited a simple phrase. A phrase that she had recited a few times prior. However, what made this instance different was what would transpire shortly after. You see, after she had spoken those words of power, Claire reared back before violently slamming the Television Championship replica belt down onto the large Oaken table. As soon as the replica belt made contact with the wooden surface it exploded in a spectacular mess that splattered a deep and dark shade of red everywhere! However, standing there unfazed and covered in blood like spatter, Claire looked into the camera before slamming her empty hands onto the Oaken table and letting loose her signature Banshee Wail as the camera faded to black.
“This Sunday I WILL become the NEW Action Wrestling Television Champion. Quote the WItch Forevermore.”