Training Week 2: Like Riding a Bike...
Jul 9, 2019 11:16:23 GMT -5
Shadowlove, Roger Payton Jr, and 2 more like this
Post by Sahara on Jul 9, 2019 11:16:23 GMT -5
Training Week 2: Like Riding a Bike...
“You ready for this, Hollywood?!” Rodgers shot her a quick smirk as Sahara bounced from foot to foot in the ring, continuing warmups. The blonde simply nodded as she gave the top ropes a quick tug to test the springiness. She pulled a bit harder a second time, stretching her arms and back before getting set to go. Grabbing each elbow and pulling in toward her chest, she circled around the ring and waited for the whistle.
Having a trainer was something of a luxury she could barely afford, but she wasn’t about to let ring rust become an excuse in the making, costs be damned. A creature of relatively bad habit, she tended to spend money as quickly as she made it, and stepping back into the ring for the first time in almost eighteen months wasn’t lost on her. She intended to be prepared in every way imaginable.
“I was born ready for this, Rodgers. And stop calling me Hollywood.”
Her trainer scoffed, “Yeah, we’ll see about that ... Lauren.” His added emphasis to her real name prompted her to raise her eyebrows--
“It’s Sahara. I don’t go by Lauren when I’m anywhere near a ring. Ya gotta stop calling me that…”
“Yeah, yeah. Live the gimmick, I get it. Relax girl … let’s just take--”
“No. I’m serious. Ya gotta stop calling me that. You don’t understand what that locker room is gonna be like when I make my debut at Action. You don’t know the boys like I do … or at least did … they ain’t gonna accept me, and they sure as hell ain’t gonna respect me. They’re gonna see Lauren MacKay, spoiled hollywood brat that steps out of action scenes so my stunt double can take the hits and make me look good. To them, this is all a publicity stunt to keep people talkin’ about me until I can land my next role. If I’m gonna do this, I gotta be all in. There ain’t no half-assin’ this. I gotta become Sahara again.”
There was a brief silence as the gravity of her words lingered in the air. Moments later, Rodgers nodded. “When you’re right yer right. I’m sorry. Sahara it is. From now on. Now let’s take it slow, get a feel for the size of the ring again, hit the ropes, take some bumps, you know what to do…that ring is the same dimensions they’re usin’ at Action, I made sure of it, so it should give you the feel you need to not trip over yourself when you’re out there for real next Monday night.”
She nodded, her thoughts still lingering on the locker room and whether they’d accept her as one of them. It was evident in her voice, as there was a bit of uneasiness in her tone, “What if they don’t accept me back? What if they never see past those fangs and the blood?!”
Her trainer shrugged ever so slightly, “You want the truth?”
“Always.” She responded rather matter-of-factly.
“That’s why we're here. The only way they’re ever takin’ you back is if you prove to them this isn’t some part-time gig and you’re gonna treat them and this business with the same respect you once did. This has to be more than some mid-life crisis in the making. That’s gonna mean taking some real punishment. It’s gonna mean bloodying up that pretty little face with, ya know, actual real blood again. You’re gonna have to take some pain, get up and keep comin’ for more. You’re gonna have to show ‘em that yer in this for real, and that you ain’t gonna take your ball and run back to Hollywood at the first sign of a struggle. You say you’re goin’ all in? Then show me…show all of us.”
He gave the whistle hanging around his neck a quick blow, sending an echo through the facility. It was like ringing the bell at the starting gates of the Kentucky Derby, and it was the only sound she needed to hear. Taking a deep breath, she charged headstrong into the ropes, the rebound felt natural, as did the placement of her body to maximize the springback effect...but the unfamiliar pain that slammed her ribs brought out a wince--
“You alright?”
She nodded, “Yeah, I just … damn I don’t remember that hurtin’ the ribs so much. My placement’s just off a bit. It felt good though, pain or not, but … ahh fuck it, no point in talkin’…”
Once again, she charged against the ropes. Bang. Springback. Pain.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Bang. Springback. PAIN.
Rinse...
Repeat...
She already felt the side she favored when running the ropes was gonna be a bruised up mess in the morning, but she could also feel the rust beginning to wear away. It was like gettin’ on a bike again. It’s a skill you never really forget, and breaking those mental barriers was exactly what she needed to do.
Taking that first big hit was gonna gonna be the true test, but she knew the pain that followed would be worth it.
Thankfully, that’s why they invented them ‘clear ones’, or as the novice would call it … alcohol. Takes the edge off after a rough day of nonstop training. But that’s what it’s gonna take to step back into the ring and compete at the level she expected of herself.
To complete at the level an organization like Action Wrestling demanded.
She was merely an hour into the session before he started her on footwork exercises...
“Hey, Rodgers,” taking a break, she looked out over the ropes before wiping her sweat drenched face with a towel. “Any chance I can do my entrance, suck up all the adulation from the fans and then replace myself with a stunt double?! What’d they call that in that one magic movie with Batman?”
Rodgers shrugged, “What magic movie with Batman? Hell if I know? Oh, wait! The Prestige I think?”
Snapping her fingers, she pointed out toward him before playfully throwing her towel at him, “That’s the one. The Prestige. The character that gets all the credit for the act?! With this face, I could totally be the Prestige. Dude, and you’re like the Michael Caine character in that movie that teaches me all Mr. Miyagi style.”
After nonchalantly catching her sweat drenched towel, he shook his head before throwing it back at her, “That’s two different movies, ya sassy bitch. Now stop messin' around and get back to workin’ on your footwork with the blindfold on and quit wastin’ my damn time. When you get it to where you can circle that ring blind without hittin’ the ropes, we’ll move on. Commit the dimensions of that ring to memory. Oh, I also got that sparrin’ partner comin’ in later today, just like you asked…nearly identical in size n’ weight to RJ Collins. It’ll give ya a feel of what you’ll be goin’ up against before that bell even rings.”
Her trainer shook his head just thinking about it, “310 pounds. Jesus, girl, that’s a big damn side of beef…”
“I know he is, that’s why I wanted the damn sparring partner.” Sahara winked at her trainer and tapped an index finger against her temple, “See? Not just a hat rack, my friend...”
With a sigh, she pulled the blindfold down over her eyes and got back to work, continuing to test her ability to navigate the ring blind without touching the ropes...
"You sure you got this?"
Without stopping, she laughed while continuing her footwork drills, "You'd better hope I got it, or I ain't gonna be able to afford payin' you."
Quite a few members of the wrestling media milled about before the former wrestler turned actress turned wrestler entered the room. Her platinum blonde hair was tied back by multiple intricate Nordic style braids, and she appeared ready for war, donning her full in-ring attire despite the fact this was merely meant to be a pre-match presser. A single table was situated at the front of the room with a mic and a few bottles of Fiji water. While various members of the media and dirt sheet writers took their seats, Sahara sat down behind the table and picked up the mic, giving it a few taps to bring some silence to the room.
“Thank you and welcome. Consider this my official announcement of my return to the ring with Action Wrestling. For those living under a rock, the date is July 15th, 2019. Get your tickets now.”
One of the many present spoke up, “Lauren, isn’t this a bit over the top? Aren’t these pre-fight hype sessions usually set up so both competitors are present?”
“First and foremost, I’ll be addressed as Sahara. This ain’t Netflix, or Hollywood, this is wrestling. And normally, yeah, both me and my opponent would be present for this, but Action Wrestling ain’t all that interested in hyping an undercard match they all think is gonna be a squash, so I decided to do it on my own. If RJ wants to hype this match as badly as I do, he can do something about it on his own damn dime. I don’t know, maybe he can show us how to eat cheeseburgers, or “steal my lunch”, I’m sure that’ll put some asses in seats. To him, this is just another throwaway match meant to hype him up and keep his momentum goin’. To me, it’s the main event. It’s my job to get as many eyeballs on this match as I can … to show the world what I’m made of. As they say, there are no second chances to make a good first impression. As far as I’m concerned, there ain’t no throwaway matches in this sport, just throwaway wrestlers."
"For the record, I don’t plan on makin’ a good impression, I plan on makin’ a great one.”
“Now that we got that out of the way, I’ll start, and then we can go with some Q and A…and then you can all print up your stories about how the cute little foul mouthed blonde girl is gonna get crushed by her super-sized opponent that ain’t been tested since steppin’ into an Action ring.”
Putting the mic down a second, she grabbed one of the bottles of water and cracked it open, taking a quick swig.
“To those in Action Wrestling that may or may not know me outside of the fact I played a vampire on Netflix, I have one request. Start takin’ me as seriously as I take you. I was born and raised in this sport, and I ain’t here to play games, or to be dismissed. I ain’t interested in safe space, trigger warning social justice bullshit, either. Man or woman, I can take the hits, and as you can see by these bruises I got, I’ve been takin’ ‘em for the last few weeks getting ready for this match. This ain’t some shtick to me, I ain’t playin’ a character or reading a script. This ain’t about disrespecting’ my opponent and actin’ like he don’t stand a chance. You don’t get into Action Wrestling without having “it”. This is just who I am. Born n’ raised on the South Side of Chicago. I may look like a Disney princess on the outside, but I ain’t prim, and I sure as hell ain’t proper. I can think the things I think an’ still respect my opponent for what he is. He’s a big son of a bitch, and it’s gonna take a lot to knock him off his feet … mentally, physically, by any means necessary, I’m gonna step through that fire n’ flame and take that big bitch down. Bank on that.”
“Alright, I’ve said my piece, let’s go with some questions…”
Taking another drink, she capped the bottle and looked out before pointing at a random member of the wrestling media.
“Do you have any plans on returning to television if this wrestling venture--”
“No. Like I said, this ain’t some publicity stunt. Next question.”
“Sahara, Ryan from WrestleWithTheMarks.com. While you may be one of the bigger girls in Action Wrestling, standing at 5’10 and tipping the scale at 180, RJ Collins is a good few inches taller, and almost 150 pounds heavier, how do you plan to counteract that kind of size and weight advantage?”
“The only way I know how, Ryan. Some view that ring as a prison. That the ropes are meant to keep us inside, confined to an area. But this ain’t boxing. The ring itself is part of my arsenal. I learned from an early age that there’s always gonna come a time when an opponent outweighs you, or is faster, stronger, or whatever the case may be. And you’ve gotta use whatever tools at your disposal to level the playing field. Yeah, Collins is bigger and stronger than me, no doubt about that. But the ring itself is my equalizer. The outside, the inside, the stairs, turnbuckles and the ropes. So to answer your question, his 300 plus pound ass is about to get split in two by a 180 pound blonde projectile weapon.”
“That’s how.”
Sahara points to another, “You there, in the QDT shirt. Go.”
“Thanks for the time, Sahara. Tommy Little from The Zone, a local radio station where I have a segment on my morning show dedicated to all things wrestling. RJ’s history shows he’s hungry to do this wrestling thing. It’s all he’s good at. But you, while well seasoned in the ring because of your upbringing, you walked away from the business to become an actress -- and I really loved your show, by the way, I was a huge fan -- but how do you go from that kind of life to this sort of violence against an opponent that does this because it’s the only thing he knows how to do?!”
“This is one area I actually respect Collins. Like I said, I’m a southside Chicago girl myself, and from what I know he wasn’t born all that far from where I was. We were both born and raised roaming the streets. I didn’t have much growing up, and I imagine Collins didn’t either. I had to scratch and claw to get to where I am, and I’ll assume he did, too. But here’s the thing, big boy claims he’s hungry, and maybe he once was, but I ain’t seein’ it. I mean he ain’t workin’ at Pizza Hut or whatever anymore. I don’t how how long ago that was, but if you wanna talk about being hungry, he sure doesn’t show it. Phoning in a 33 second promo and trainin' by eating burgers might be enough effort to beat some in these parts, but not this girl. Before my return to Action Wrestling, I already worked out 6 or 7 days a week … you think the life of an actress is easy, but even than I had to stay in top shape. Some people work 9-to-5 jobs at a bank or whatever, sittin’ in a cubicle … my cubicle has been that gym for years, and it’s been in that ring for the past two straight weeks. I’ve done everything I could to work off the rust. I practically slept in that ring for the past eight days, reacclimating myself to every aspect of it. I ain’t takin’ this match lightly … and I suggest he do the same. So if you wanna talk about hungry, I’m goddamn starving.”
Without waiting to be selected, someone spoke up within the gaggle of reporters...
“The oddsmakers have you as a 10 to 1 underdog in this match. According to the editor of Wrestle Circus, and I quote, ‘She’s outclassed and outmatched, and this soon to be short-lived return to the ring is gonna have her wishing she was still sinking her fake fangs into the neck of some pretty-boy actor while her stunt-double does all the actual work. This is more akin to watching The Incredible Hulk versus the Black Widow than it is to anything resembling an actual contest.’ In the harsh face of opinions such as this, what do you even have to say?”
The forced half smile on her face almost betrayed her. She sat in silence for a moment as the words lingered heavy on her mind. Everyone thought this was a joke. Everyone thought she should tuck tail and run back to the safe spaces of Hollywood.
In their eyes, she wasn’t meant for this world.
It was just like when she was younger, all over again. The damsel in distress. She knew right then that the only way they’d ever take her seriously, was if she showed them...
“Lau, err -- Sahara?!”
Snapping out of her zone, the blonde looked up, her fiery sapphire eyes seeming to darken with anger as she finally broke the silence.
“Then I guess I’m gonna neutralize the behemoth, just like she did. Hey, big guy ... the suns gettin’ reeeeeeeal low … only that ain’t some line from a movie, it’s the sun setting on your undefeated streak here in Action Wrestling. I saw you running your mouth on social media last night. You think this is a game? Know this, Mr. Collins … I ain’t here to hold hands with you, I’m here to chop you down and send a message to the wrestling world. Hashtag -- stick this in your Twitter machine and Tweet it -- the desert can be a hot, sandy, unrelenting, unforgiving bitch … but when the sun goes down at night, that’s when ya really gotta worry … because she can be surprisingly fuckin’ cold, too.”
"See ya at Clash..."