Post by Claire Hawkins on Sept 26, 2021 13:52:44 GMT -5
Beaten.
Battered.
Exhausted but victorious.
Breathing heavily as pain thundered throughout her system as if set to the rhythmical sounds of harsh drums, Claire sat upon a bench in one of the many rooms of the TD Graden arena. The match had been as close to sheer brutality as it possibly could have been for censors; not that Action Wrestling ever seemed to care. That woman, if one could even call her that, had been nothing short of a beast. Ambushing and relentlessly charging forward, CVO had chosen a strategy that began with explosive aggression before slowing the pace in order for the after-effects to set it; a sound strategy. Yet, Claire had weathered that storm and managed to stand against the living natural disaster that was CVO.
That was good, right?
Those that scorned her would acknowledge her now, right?
No. They never would.
It would never be good enough, would it? No matter how many times she managed to emerge victoriously or how many expectations she defied, it would never be good enough. She would never be anything to be proud of; nothing to be remembered for. No.....for THEM she was nothing more than the trash that needed to be taken; to be removed in order for Action Wrestling to grow further. There was no hope, no future for her within their eyes and they would NEVER be shy in declaring it so. What COULD she do? What WOULD she do?
Battered.
Exhausted but victorious.
Breathing heavily as pain thundered throughout her system as if set to the rhythmical sounds of harsh drums, Claire sat upon a bench in one of the many rooms of the TD Graden arena. The match had been as close to sheer brutality as it possibly could have been for censors; not that Action Wrestling ever seemed to care. That woman, if one could even call her that, had been nothing short of a beast. Ambushing and relentlessly charging forward, CVO had chosen a strategy that began with explosive aggression before slowing the pace in order for the after-effects to set it; a sound strategy. Yet, Claire had weathered that storm and managed to stand against the living natural disaster that was CVO.
That was good, right?
Those that scorned her would acknowledge her now, right?
No. They never would.
It would never be good enough, would it? No matter how many times she managed to emerge victoriously or how many expectations she defied, it would never be good enough. She would never be anything to be proud of; nothing to be remembered for. No.....for THEM she was nothing more than the trash that needed to be taken; to be removed in order for Action Wrestling to grow further. There was no hope, no future for her within their eyes and they would NEVER be shy in declaring it so. What COULD she do? What WOULD she do?
Never slow......
She would annoy them!
Never relent......
She would defy them!
Always move forward.....
Should hunker down and what she had been doing due to the sheer spirit stubbornness that enveloped her so!
Forcing herself up to her feet, the raven-haired woman hobbled her battle-worn mass of flesh out the door and down the hall. It didn't matter how many times she was thrown around nor how many times she tasted the bitterness of defeat. She would match forward with a fire that NOBODY could dream of extinguishing!
Forcing herself up to her feet, the raven-haired woman hobbled her battle-worn mass of flesh out the door and down the hall. It didn't matter how many times she was thrown around nor how many times she tasted the bitterness of defeat. She would match forward with a fire that NOBODY could dream of extinguishing!
.....obsessed.....
"Will it ever be enough?"
Fading in to a scene that many might consider being completely out of place for the individual standing center frame of the camera; Claire Hawkins. Clad in a simplistic and sleek black dress, Action Wrestling's resident witch sat upon the edge of an unattended gurney as a plethora of medical equipment around her could be heard. Yet, as the camera continued to focus upon her, the regular sounds of a busy hospital and the usual humdrum of people seemed to fade away till there was nothing more than dull sounds without distinction.
"Will it ever be enough, Corey?"
"Hm?"
"How many times must you throw yourself into the fiery crucible of competition before it becomes apparent that you'll NEVER be what you once were. No longer are you a monster the likes of whom could only be stopped by only those with the fiercest of wills. No. Now you're merely a bearded little fat man whose ego has been stoked, stroked, and overly indulged for FAR too long. Yet, it isn't that shallowed-minded whore of a Voodooian thrall that's to blame for this nor are the two parasites that you picked up from Frank Lowe."
"No......"
"It's your unchecked ego that has proven to be the greatest enabler for the unearned notion of the importance of Corey Bull. After all, what grand accomplishment have you been a part of that afforded you opportunities at the United States Championship or this pseudo title that is the Pure cup? What about the World Championship, hm? What have you ever done to EARN an opportunity for that? Hell, what has your Dead Cell Incorporated EVER done?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing worthy of note has been done since you lost that Hardcore Championship to Corey Black two years ago. For two fucking years you've done nothing with the opportunities presented to you nor have you done anything to those opportunities to begin with. No, you've been feeding off what little value your name has left from UCI and what rub of credibility I gave to our failed experiment of a group with young MIster Slayer and Oblivion. Of course, you've forced wars to break out against the likes of Carter Shaw and Lissie Hope but so have every other quote-unquote "gritty" and "edgy" fool."
"Let's be honest, Corey. Your wrestling career has been on life support for the better part of two years......"
"...and I'm tired of it."
Sliding from the gurney, the bare porcelain pale feet of the wretched witch met the cool tile of the hospital floor with the faint sound of glass cracking. Slow and measured, the woman of crimson eyes began walking down the hall towards the camera."
"I'm tired of watching unambitious fucks such as yourself parade about as if they're actually important to the growth and long-term longevity of this company. I'm tired of new talent being signed to this roster bragging about the amount of money they're receiving when it's clear that they have neither the drive nor the desire to truly display what it is that Action Wrestling THINKS they see within them. I'm tired of being passed over in favor of outdated and overindulged twats."
"I'm tired of it......so I'm pulling the fucking plug!"
With an emphatic stomp upon the hospital flooring, the world surrounding Hawkins seemed to twist and wap before ultimately shattering altogether. Yet, the scene did not descend into blackness nor did the video end outright. Instead, the fractured setting of the hospital was replaced by something more familiar and more recognizable of something she would be seen at; if one was a longtime viewer, that is. Standing alone in an old wrestling ring amidst the shadowy darkness of the void, Claire's crimson eyes seemed to glow with a feverish light.
"Monday Night Clash."
"The Target Center."
"Minneapolis, Minnesota."
"These things undoubtedly mean nothing to you, but to me, they mean the world. For it here, in the land of ten thousand lakes, that I began taking what it is I have EARNED. Whether that be championship opportunities or respect, I am taking what I have earned through sweat, tear, and years of turmoil and there isn't shit you will be able to do about it. Cause it doesn't matter how much larger you are physically or just how far up on the card your ego tells you you are. When we step into that ring; EVERY TIME we step in that ring the result is the same. In fact, it's the very same ending with every single person that you met with the squared circle for the better part of two years!"
"YOU....laid out upon the canvas after I get the pinfall victory."
"I know that you're not a very big fan of that particular reality nor are you the sort that will ever admit to the fact that even someone as looked down upon such as I have your god-forsaken number. However, not even you can deny the proof once it has been driven through that dense skull and left you laying weak upon the canvas. Oh, but you will try and fight it; you always do. You'll sit there in whatever nightmarish room you fancy that day and you'll sit there and tell how pathetic and weak I am. You'll tell me that everything I have done means nothing and that I will never amount to anything more; you'll regurgitate the same vomit that everyone else has before. You will reclaim, restate, and reiterate every foolish word you have ever uttered about destroying me and you'll undoubtedly believe that you end the bout as the victor."
"You always do"
"Yet, therein lies the very problem that your ego refused to allow you to see. For two years-no....for FOUR years you have essentially been the same. Your style hasn't evolved. Your words haven't retained the sting that they might have otherwise held prior to your tenure here in Action Wrestling. Instead, you have fallen into this false sense of superiority and have become a fattened cat no longer able to catch the mice running amok within the larder. You have allowed yourself to wither and fall from the tree of Action Wrestling."
"It's time for you to step away and, for the first time in your life, do what is right. Go, stay by the side of that Voodooian whore and relish in a life you no longer have a place. Sit with her, enjoy your time together, even do what you thought impossible, and begin a family with her. For, in the end, there will a price to be paid. A price so hefty that you will forever wonder what it was for. You'll curse and rave like a mad dog, but you will never discover the answers you seek."
"Maybe you're already paying that price....."
Throwing her arms wide, the woman tilted her chin upward and continued to glower into the camera as the darkness about the ring seemed to shiver. With a sneer contorting her face, CLaire lowered her arms; completely dismissive of the reactions of the darkness.
"This Monday Night, when we step into that ring for the umpteenth time, I am going to take the fight to you in such a manner that not even you will be prepared for it. I will take the last four years that I have spent building and toiling away in the Television Championship Division and shall use every ounce of it to batter your witless head senseless. I will batter your near four hundred pound frame and I will use it to deabilate you enough for the three count. Then, using the last remaining vestiges of REAL importance that your name holds, I will begin my climb to the summit of Action Wrestling!"
YOU can't stop me!"
"THEY can't stop me!"
"NOBODY will stop me!"
Rearing back, the longest-tenured female competitor in Action Wrestling's history let loose that iconic Banshees' Wail with such vigor that it was almost enough to cause one's ears to bleed. Fiercely determined and proud, Claire soon ceased her scream and fixated her crimson eyes upon the camera once more as it began to fade out.
"You've done enough, Corey. It's time to meet your end."
"Quoth the Witch.........."
"Forevermore......."