Post by CVO on Oct 3, 2021 12:20:34 GMT -5
“Do you think I can beat her?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Coach, I--”
“It. Doesn’t. Matter. What. I. Think.”
Pause. Beat.
“You don’t think I can win, do you?”
“I think that Katherine Hastings is going to tear you asunder in that ring.”
“So why the fuck are we even here? Why are you even helping me!?”
Pause. Beat.
Connor finally looked up from his phone, sliding his thumb across the glass screen to vanish the picture of Maxx holding their child in her arms, his two grown daughters that stood at her back on either side of her. As close to a family portrait as I’ll actually get with them all smiling, he mused without his face betraying him, pocketing that device without a further thought about it entering his mind as he transfixed those blue eyes on her darker colored ones. She’d been bugging him for that attention and now that it was on her? CVO wasn’t sure that she wanted it any more. Her retreat wasn’t more than a backwards half step she took before catching on to what her body was about to do before her mind could catch up; disgust seemed to overwhelm her; not for the man who sat before her, but for herself.
“Why, Coach?” Steeling herself, that slouched posture straightened for once; Connor didn’t answer immediately, instead letting those baby blues remain trained on her0.
“Why the FUCK am I doing this if you think I’m going to get dog walked in the ring? What’s the point of going out there and getting my ass beat again if you don’t think I’m fuckin’ ready, huh?!” Her voice rising, her tempo getting louder as she all but screamed at the man who’d decided to be quiet, who sat there and watched her get herself in a frenzy, her brows knitting, getting tentatively louder, and louder. “She beat Diderot. She beat Hawkins. Is that IT? Because she beat them, that she’s going to beat me? That she’s just gonna fuckin’ walk through me? Is that it!? ISTHATFUCKINGIT?!” Screaming until she was hoarse, her voice starting to crack. She wanted to reach for him, her body language reading just that as she stared down at the man who..
Who was as every bit as silent as the grave.
“FUCKING ANSWER ME, WHAT’S THE POINT!? WHAT’S THE POINT, CONNOR?!” Distraught, going from sad to enraged and then back to somewhere between the two in a state that was almost worked up to pure mania courtesy of her own brain, working herself up to dare glower over her trainer who looked more like a man seeing a movie that he’d seen a hundred times, and had already gotten bored of it by the second time that he’d viewed it, than someone threatened. “WHAT’S THE POIN--” She stopped, and she stopped mostly because another voice interjected around from the corner.
“AY BITCH, YOU GET ONE MORE TIME TO YELL AT HIM BEFORE I COME BACK THERE AND BEAT YA BIG, BROLIC, ASS!” The sudden crescendo of Maxx Bennett’s voice came crashing down like thunder from around the corner. Maybe it was actually intimidation, or just pure shock, but either way CVO found herself shutting the fuck up for at least the moment, much to Connor’s outward amusement as that tight, grim, line across his lips began to shift into a smile, finally answering her
“Legacy.”
“Huh? What?”
“Legacy.”
“Legacy? The fuck do you mean by Legacy?”
“Legacy, Girl. Legacy, is why you go out there knowing that you might get a mud puddle stomped in yer arse by Battle Kat before she walks it out. Legacy, is why you’re going to go out there, face down a champion who’s not going to take your shit, or hear your excuses.. Legacy, is why you’re going to make every single cunt in that crowd remember your bloody name, because if they remember it then their children remember it, and they start to tell the story of Catherine van Owen.” Quiet, his voice barely raising above an octave as he regarded the young woman still staring at him.
“What’s your legacy, Catherine?”
“I..”
“What’s. Your. Legacy. Catherine?”
“I don’t kno--”
“Is it being a loathsome little coward who’s terrified of her own fucking shadow?”
“No! I--”
“Is it being scared of an English bitch who’s never had to dig down deep and feel what it’s like to have her nails scape bedrock because there’s no more of her to offer up!?” Finally, Connor was pushing up to his feet, towering over the woman who’d tried to do just that to him while he’d been seated. “Is it being like you are now?”
“NO!” Firing right back as she refused to back away from him, refused to break away from the eye contact he’d already established.
“Are you going to pass gently in that ring? Wings folded, and head bowed like some little dove? Going to be a good pet for The English Rose? Or are you going to go out there like a wolf, lips pulled back in a snarl, and leave an imprint of her face in that ring so you can facewash her every time you step in there? What’s your legacy, Catherine?” His voice was never barely above a whisper, his hands grasping those muscular shoulders of the Amazon in front of him.
“..It’s fighting, Coach. It’s getting up after I get stomped the fuck out and asking for round two. It’s refusing to stay down.”
“Good girl, now, if you don’t mind? While you continue to mope, I’m gonna go bury my face in my girlfriend’s arse because I’ve got better things to do than to talk about some dumb cunt who thought Battle Kat was a good fuckin’ nickname.”
Grunting, he finally turned and walked off, leaving CVO to stare at his retreating form while the camera faded to black, silhouetting her in those final frames.
“..Battle Kat is a stupid fucking name, isn’t it?”
“Doesn’t matter what I think.”
“Coach, I--”
“It. Doesn’t. Matter. What. I. Think.”
Pause. Beat.
“You don’t think I can win, do you?”
“I think that Katherine Hastings is going to tear you asunder in that ring.”
“So why the fuck are we even here? Why are you even helping me!?”
Pause. Beat.
Connor finally looked up from his phone, sliding his thumb across the glass screen to vanish the picture of Maxx holding their child in her arms, his two grown daughters that stood at her back on either side of her. As close to a family portrait as I’ll actually get with them all smiling, he mused without his face betraying him, pocketing that device without a further thought about it entering his mind as he transfixed those blue eyes on her darker colored ones. She’d been bugging him for that attention and now that it was on her? CVO wasn’t sure that she wanted it any more. Her retreat wasn’t more than a backwards half step she took before catching on to what her body was about to do before her mind could catch up; disgust seemed to overwhelm her; not for the man who sat before her, but for herself.
“Why, Coach?” Steeling herself, that slouched posture straightened for once; Connor didn’t answer immediately, instead letting those baby blues remain trained on her0.
“Why the FUCK am I doing this if you think I’m going to get dog walked in the ring? What’s the point of going out there and getting my ass beat again if you don’t think I’m fuckin’ ready, huh?!” Her voice rising, her tempo getting louder as she all but screamed at the man who’d decided to be quiet, who sat there and watched her get herself in a frenzy, her brows knitting, getting tentatively louder, and louder. “She beat Diderot. She beat Hawkins. Is that IT? Because she beat them, that she’s going to beat me? That she’s just gonna fuckin’ walk through me? Is that it!? ISTHATFUCKINGIT?!” Screaming until she was hoarse, her voice starting to crack. She wanted to reach for him, her body language reading just that as she stared down at the man who..
Who was as every bit as silent as the grave.
“FUCKING ANSWER ME, WHAT’S THE POINT!? WHAT’S THE POINT, CONNOR?!” Distraught, going from sad to enraged and then back to somewhere between the two in a state that was almost worked up to pure mania courtesy of her own brain, working herself up to dare glower over her trainer who looked more like a man seeing a movie that he’d seen a hundred times, and had already gotten bored of it by the second time that he’d viewed it, than someone threatened. “WHAT’S THE POIN--” She stopped, and she stopped mostly because another voice interjected around from the corner.
“AY BITCH, YOU GET ONE MORE TIME TO YELL AT HIM BEFORE I COME BACK THERE AND BEAT YA BIG, BROLIC, ASS!” The sudden crescendo of Maxx Bennett’s voice came crashing down like thunder from around the corner. Maybe it was actually intimidation, or just pure shock, but either way CVO found herself shutting the fuck up for at least the moment, much to Connor’s outward amusement as that tight, grim, line across his lips began to shift into a smile, finally answering her
“Legacy.”
“Huh? What?”
“Legacy.”
“Legacy? The fuck do you mean by Legacy?”
“Legacy, Girl. Legacy, is why you go out there knowing that you might get a mud puddle stomped in yer arse by Battle Kat before she walks it out. Legacy, is why you’re going to go out there, face down a champion who’s not going to take your shit, or hear your excuses.. Legacy, is why you’re going to make every single cunt in that crowd remember your bloody name, because if they remember it then their children remember it, and they start to tell the story of Catherine van Owen.” Quiet, his voice barely raising above an octave as he regarded the young woman still staring at him.
“What’s your legacy, Catherine?”
“I..”
“What’s. Your. Legacy. Catherine?”
“I don’t kno--”
“Is it being a loathsome little coward who’s terrified of her own fucking shadow?”
“No! I--”
“Is it being scared of an English bitch who’s never had to dig down deep and feel what it’s like to have her nails scape bedrock because there’s no more of her to offer up!?” Finally, Connor was pushing up to his feet, towering over the woman who’d tried to do just that to him while he’d been seated. “Is it being like you are now?”
“NO!” Firing right back as she refused to back away from him, refused to break away from the eye contact he’d already established.
“Are you going to pass gently in that ring? Wings folded, and head bowed like some little dove? Going to be a good pet for The English Rose? Or are you going to go out there like a wolf, lips pulled back in a snarl, and leave an imprint of her face in that ring so you can facewash her every time you step in there? What’s your legacy, Catherine?” His voice was never barely above a whisper, his hands grasping those muscular shoulders of the Amazon in front of him.
“..It’s fighting, Coach. It’s getting up after I get stomped the fuck out and asking for round two. It’s refusing to stay down.”
“Good girl, now, if you don’t mind? While you continue to mope, I’m gonna go bury my face in my girlfriend’s arse because I’ve got better things to do than to talk about some dumb cunt who thought Battle Kat was a good fuckin’ nickname.”
Grunting, he finally turned and walked off, leaving CVO to stare at his retreating form while the camera faded to black, silhouetting her in those final frames.
“..Battle Kat is a stupid fucking name, isn’t it?”