Post by Claire Hawkins on Oct 10, 2021 13:46:32 GMT -5
"C'mon spooky-boo; you seriously aren't still mad about what happened in Indianapolis, are ya? I mean, sure, it didn't go the way we wanted but those things happen, ya know?"
"Yes, but I do have the right to be upset over a number of things that happened over the last week. Least of which is what happened on Monday Night Clash. Also, the fuck is this "WE" business? We're not a tag team. You're just a traveling training partner, understand?"
"Yeah.....yeah......"
"Also........"
"Hm?"
"Just why the FUCK he is coming along with us?"
"s-sorry ma'am, b-but Mister Draven said it would be g-good for me t-"
"Was I fucking talking to you? Just shut up and try not to get lost, fucking dumbass."
Trudging through the throng of people at the Des Moines International airport, the volatile banter of the trio; Claire Hawkins, Matt Draven, and Cole Harms; was drowned out by the sounds of screaming children and people talking obnoxiously loud over their cellphones. The establishment was as busy as any other day and it made clear that Claire's less than sunny attitude wasn't something uncommon. If anything, it was to be expected. Nonetheless; it, surprisingly, didn't take the group very long to navigate the sea of bodies and soon enough they were standing outside; bags in tow and fresh air in their lungs.
"Alrighty then. So, I'm going to go see about getting us a rental while the two of you behave and not kill each other, sound good?"
"Wouldn't be much of a kill though."
"A-actually, Can I go get the car? I've been here a number of times and it wouldn't be a problem."
"You sure, kid?
"Absolutely!"
"A'ight. You go do that and I'll make sure Clairebear doesn't kill anyone with her stares."
"C-Clairebear, sir?"
"Yeah, my dude. It's just a play on words I love tea-"
"WOULD YOU FUCKING GO ALREADY!"
With a startled squeak emanating from his wiry frame, the comparatively youngest fledgling wrestler of the troupe scampered off as quickly as his legs could carry him. Leaving the two alone with one another. Standing side by side as if they were a pair of bodyguards awaiting the arrival of their mark, the two were silent until one felt the need to shatter the fragile peace.
"Ya know, it wouldn't hurt you to be a bit nice to the kid. He might be greener than a horse made of fresh grass, but he's tryin' his best. So cut him a bit of slack, yeah?"
"Fuck no! I'm not the one that decided to drag him away from home just to be our bag carrier, remember?"
"Fair point, but could you at least tell me why you're so mad?"
"When am I not fucking mad? It's basically the one mood I have."
"Again, fair point. So let me rephrase the question; why are you mad NOW? Is what happened last week against Black, Kaine, and Phoenix still eatin' you up like I suggest before or does the kid really just chaff you THAT much? Cause, if that's the case, it's going to be one hell of a time so it'd be best if ya just get used to him being around."
"No, you fucking moron. I'm not mad about last week or the fact we're dragging some poor fuck around the fucking country."
"Then why......?"
"Am I so pissed? I don't know, maybe it has something to do with the fact that the man I thought was my friend left me when I needed him the most. Then that SAME guy went behind my back, broke into my home, and decided to show up last week in an attempt to fucking blackmail me."
"To be fair, havin' a spare key isn't breaking in."
"Fuck you."
"Neither was me takin' those envelopes. I gave 'em back to you right on the spot, after all. There wasn't any blackmail involved. So........."
"FUCK. YOU."
With an exasperated shrug on his part, both Matt and Claire fell into silence once more. However, much like before, the conversationalist respite was something short-lived.
"I AM sorry, ya know? I didn't wanna go out like I did in Dover when we were gettin' you ready for the match with the Thiccest Waifu. However, I couldn't get through that stupidly thick skull of yours so I think of something else."
"So you broke into my house and stole my mail?"
"Again, not breaking an entering when you were the one that gave me the spare key; but yeah. Believe it or not, we're the closest either of us has to family. So to get through to ya I had to do something drastic. I had to rummage through your thing until I found something that I thought seemed important enough for you to snap back to reality."
"......."
"That said, I DID do a bit of reading and......"
"Mathew Thomas Draven. Don't you fucking cross this line."
"........."
"Seriously, this isn't something that you should be sticking your nose into. The situation is long and very convoluted, it wouldn't do yourself any good to push this issue further. Got it?"
Clearly frustrated by the exchange, Matt grabbed his stubborn friend by the shoulder and spun her to the side so that they were facing each other; a first since their reunion a week ago.
"Fuck that! I'm not gonna stand by and watch as my best friend overwork herself into an early grave simply because she told me to butt out! Whatever is in those letters has got you spooked to the point that ya can't stop; that you don't WANT to stop. So please, Claire, for the love of everything that we went through during our time in Japan would you tell me who the fuck Aileene is?"
With a vicious snarl that caught the attention of everyone nearby, Claire slapped her friend's arm that had been holding her in place before stepping forward and shoving him back hard enough for him to nearly fall to his ass; luckily he caught his balance.
"DON'T YOU SAY HER NAME LIKE THAT! NOW STEP THE FUCK OFF BEFORE I DO SOMETHING WE'RE BOTH GONNA FUCKING REGRET!"
Just as shocked by the ferocity of her reaction as the rest of the people were, Matt could only stand there in silence as the rhythmic footfalls of Cole returning echoed through the air. Blissfully unaware of what had been happening, or the looks directed towards his fellow travelers, the Indianapolis came to a stop next to the man he had convinced he could procure a car for.
"S-so there was a bit of a problem and I wasn't able to get the car as I said. I'm sorry. But I did manage to convince the guy to hold on until you arrived. I hope that isn't a problem."
Unable to respond to either Cole's explanation or question, Matt could only continue to stare wide-eyed at Claire as she continued to give him a look that could truly boil lead.
"Mister Draven?"
"I.....uh....."
"Fucking. Go."
With her voice slicing the air, Cole's attention was pulled towards the woman to whom it belonged; someone he REALLY did not want to mess with. Especially not now, when she was remarkably more upset that he had ever possibly conceived a person to ever be. Even so, it didn't take long for either man to scamper away from the bomb threatening to explode. Which only left the explosive herself to face the throng of wide-eyed onlookers.
"What? Y'all see somethin' funny? Fuck off!"
Slowly but surely, the unfortunate souls caught in the mess outside of Des Moines International returned to what business had brought them there. Leaving an annoyed, emotionally drained Claire Hawkins standing alone amongst the masses.
"I'm going for a walk....."
The camera fades in to reveal the image of Action Wrestling pale horsewoman standing at the edge of the Des Moines River; pale feet buried within the muddy bank. With a faraway look in her eyes, the bottoms of her pants pulled partially up her calves, and the JinJer shirt being partially covered by a loose-fitting zip-up hoodie, the woman that had once been synonymous with the Action Wrestling Television Championship seemed a far cry from the Victorian dress-wearing queen of scream that people had come to know so very well; perhaps even too well. Even so, it was the oddly serene and thoughtful expression etched onto her face that drew the eye the most; eerily beautiful in the twilight of the setting sun.
"One week ago I had the opportunity to REALLY prove that I was more than what everyone had made me out to be. That I'm MORE than the gatekeeper that Action Wrestling had leaned on so heavily on. I had the opportunity to prove that my quote-unquote potential within this industry wasn't limited by the narrow views of the egotistical or even dead as a whole; that I had it in me to climb the mountain and stand tall at the summit."
"Yet, that wasn't how it went."
"Things never go as we intend, do they?"
"No. Instead of taking Phoenix, Kaine, and Blck to task in a main event match that the city of Indianapolis would remember forever, the closing moments found things becoming remarkably out of hand in a heartbeat's notice. Resulting in one of the most personally disappointing finishes that I have had the privilege of being a part of. For both, the Victor of the match, as well as the loser, can continue traveling upon their career paths without putting much stock into what happened that night. It's either carry on with what you're doing or figure out a way to become better for the next time. However, when you're one of the two that weren't involved in the decision then you're left to drift in this sense of limbo."
"What about next time?"
"Will I be able to perform like I used to?"
"Will it just end up like last time?"
"Questions, much like those, will flood into your mind as you seek an answer to things that cannot be answered that easily. For life's answers are never something that one can be freely given; they must be earned. Which, I guess, makes it rather ludicrous of me to be standing here in the mud as I consider what it is I NEED to do next; what it is I NEED to do in order to get to that next level of my career. Yet, the answer isn't going to be something simple nor will it just fall graciously into my lap; life is too much of a riddle like that. Until I discover the answer I will return to what it is I do BEST."
Sliding the unzipped hoodie to slip from her shoulders and fall to the ground, the raven-haired woman stepped out into the chilly October temperature waters and didn't stop walking until the bottoms of her rolled-up pant bottoms were touching the water. Then, in a single fluid motion, she rotated until she was facing the camera; crimson eyes glowing in the fading light.
"Jonathan Black; you understand what it was I was trying to say, right? Surely, after last week, you also find yourself wondering what you must do in order to get to that next level of success so that your professional wrestling career can continue to grow and thrive; about how much more good you can do for people once you do."
"........."
"Who am I trying to fool? You're nothing more than a walnut-brained ostrich who will keep his head buried in the sand until the next he is handed another opportunity at greatness on a platter. Then, when you ultimately fail as you did at Evolution Four and the All In ladder match, you will simply return your head to earth and pray to God that someone doesn't come along to put you out of your misery while you're busy cowering away. FAct is, Mister Black, you're basically nothing more than a big old chickenshit that's MORE than happy with his lot in life."
"Yeah, you're a REAL champion of the people."
"Fucking pathetic."
"I know full well that there are many calling me insane or even attempting to verbally reprimand me through the screen for calling their beloved hero a bloody fucking coward. After all, this is a man that will forever go out of his way to provide things for people that are forced to go without simply out of goodness of his heart. John Black is a man that will donate to a charity foundation that aims to end pediatric cancer and will spend money out of his own pocket so that local area schools will have sports equipment for their students. He is a good, wholesome man that will never.....COULD never do anything wrong or be malicious for the sake of being malicious."
"It's admirable, right?"
"He should be rewarded for his good-natured and selfless deeds, right?"
"If so, then why does it feel to vomit every time his metallic fucking face comes on-screen? Why do I feel a powerful urge to shove the television off of the stand whenever I see one of the many videos of him going out of his way to be so wholesome and kindhearted? Why do I feel like I'm being talked down to whenever he decides to, finally, talk about whichever unlucky fuck he gets to face during a match in the God damn company he works for?"
"Oh wait....."
"It's just one big generic fucking campaign to get people to forget that he is too much of a coward to take that next step; to REALLY earn money that will help the people he claims to champion. Think about it for a damn moment; the man works for one of the wealthiest and most profitable wrestling promotions in the world to date and yet he claims that he is perpetually broke? That he is a violent thug of the people and that he shouldn't be fucked with?"
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"The self-advertised "quiet man with violent tendencies" should have at least been a champion by now. He should have proven to the world that he is willing to do whatever it takes between those ropes so that he can provide for the people he claims to love. John Black shouldn't be sitting on his fucking hands in the cesspool of indifference like a happy little pig; he shouldn't be acting like every other modern generic influencer shill without a future. Yet here he is, doing just that."
"He's afraid; YOU'RE afraid......."
"Afraid that he will continue to fail as a provider for the community. He's afraid to take that blind step of faith so that he might TRULY be able to be the champion that his people believe him to be. He's afraid that even conceptualizing such a thing will cause him to bumble and tumble further down the mountain of competition; that God's benign blessing of complacency will be stripped away should he even think about striving for more."
"I'm NOT like that!"
"I NEVER want to be like that!"
"Yes, Mister Black, something as simple as me declaring that I'll do everything I can to avoid being like you is something that sets us an entire world apart. In fact, we were already oceans apart when it comes to the dedication and willingness to further hone what it is we do in a wrestling ring. You haphazardly talk about being hungry for competition; I revied the single most COMPETITIVE division from fucking scratch. You ACT like a stone-cold killer who can't be bothered by the words people say; I make fucking history and defy the expectations that the sheep-minded fucks try to define me with!"
"John Black is a man who hides away beneath a mask, playacting a hero without any desire of becoming one; Claire Hawkins is a woman who is unshakably proud of her heritage and has absolutely no fucking qualms about doing whatever it takes to get where she wants to be! She will NOT be stopped! She will NOT be denied. She will NOT be forgotten!"
Violently lurching back, the midnight-colored hair of the four-time Television Champion whipped backward as she bellowed out that emotionally charged and forever iconic Banshee's Wail! Once the supply of air had been exhausted, the crimson-eyed wretch of Action Wrestling fixated her gaze upon the camera once more; determined and resolute.
"This week is an opportunity, John; an opportunity for me to regain my footing upon this mountainous climb after the faltering of last week. This week Des Moines is going to watch what happens when you pair off a woman with unyielding ambitions against a man that is too afraid to consider his own. They are going to watch a two hundred and sixty-pound wannabe underdog be faced with the reality that is so wholly different from his own delusions that he has no other option but to accept. They are going to witness me, the Wicked Wretch of Wrestling, take you to the very limits before ultimately doing what she has done to the likes of Corey Bull and CVO; of such prospect hopefuls such as Donovan Rayne and Rampage."
"they're going to watch me BEAT you."
"So prepare yourself, John Black. For another failure is being added to your already expansive list.".
"Quoth the Witch..........forevermore."
With the lacking light already.....lacking, the camera silently faded to black as the Crimson red eyes of Claire Hawkins continued to glow; a demon's eyes in the midnight hour as it were.
"Yes, but I do have the right to be upset over a number of things that happened over the last week. Least of which is what happened on Monday Night Clash. Also, the fuck is this "WE" business? We're not a tag team. You're just a traveling training partner, understand?"
"Yeah.....yeah......"
"Also........"
"Hm?"
"Just why the FUCK he is coming along with us?"
"s-sorry ma'am, b-but Mister Draven said it would be g-good for me t-"
"Was I fucking talking to you? Just shut up and try not to get lost, fucking dumbass."
Trudging through the throng of people at the Des Moines International airport, the volatile banter of the trio; Claire Hawkins, Matt Draven, and Cole Harms; was drowned out by the sounds of screaming children and people talking obnoxiously loud over their cellphones. The establishment was as busy as any other day and it made clear that Claire's less than sunny attitude wasn't something uncommon. If anything, it was to be expected. Nonetheless; it, surprisingly, didn't take the group very long to navigate the sea of bodies and soon enough they were standing outside; bags in tow and fresh air in their lungs.
"Alrighty then. So, I'm going to go see about getting us a rental while the two of you behave and not kill each other, sound good?"
"Wouldn't be much of a kill though."
"A-actually, Can I go get the car? I've been here a number of times and it wouldn't be a problem."
"You sure, kid?
"Absolutely!"
"A'ight. You go do that and I'll make sure Clairebear doesn't kill anyone with her stares."
"C-Clairebear, sir?"
"Yeah, my dude. It's just a play on words I love tea-"
"WOULD YOU FUCKING GO ALREADY!"
With a startled squeak emanating from his wiry frame, the comparatively youngest fledgling wrestler of the troupe scampered off as quickly as his legs could carry him. Leaving the two alone with one another. Standing side by side as if they were a pair of bodyguards awaiting the arrival of their mark, the two were silent until one felt the need to shatter the fragile peace.
"Ya know, it wouldn't hurt you to be a bit nice to the kid. He might be greener than a horse made of fresh grass, but he's tryin' his best. So cut him a bit of slack, yeah?"
"Fuck no! I'm not the one that decided to drag him away from home just to be our bag carrier, remember?"
"Fair point, but could you at least tell me why you're so mad?"
"When am I not fucking mad? It's basically the one mood I have."
"Again, fair point. So let me rephrase the question; why are you mad NOW? Is what happened last week against Black, Kaine, and Phoenix still eatin' you up like I suggest before or does the kid really just chaff you THAT much? Cause, if that's the case, it's going to be one hell of a time so it'd be best if ya just get used to him being around."
"No, you fucking moron. I'm not mad about last week or the fact we're dragging some poor fuck around the fucking country."
"Then why......?"
"Am I so pissed? I don't know, maybe it has something to do with the fact that the man I thought was my friend left me when I needed him the most. Then that SAME guy went behind my back, broke into my home, and decided to show up last week in an attempt to fucking blackmail me."
"To be fair, havin' a spare key isn't breaking in."
"Fuck you."
"Neither was me takin' those envelopes. I gave 'em back to you right on the spot, after all. There wasn't any blackmail involved. So........."
"FUCK. YOU."
With an exasperated shrug on his part, both Matt and Claire fell into silence once more. However, much like before, the conversationalist respite was something short-lived.
"I AM sorry, ya know? I didn't wanna go out like I did in Dover when we were gettin' you ready for the match with the Thiccest Waifu. However, I couldn't get through that stupidly thick skull of yours so I think of something else."
"So you broke into my house and stole my mail?"
"Again, not breaking an entering when you were the one that gave me the spare key; but yeah. Believe it or not, we're the closest either of us has to family. So to get through to ya I had to do something drastic. I had to rummage through your thing until I found something that I thought seemed important enough for you to snap back to reality."
"......."
"That said, I DID do a bit of reading and......"
"Mathew Thomas Draven. Don't you fucking cross this line."
"........."
"Seriously, this isn't something that you should be sticking your nose into. The situation is long and very convoluted, it wouldn't do yourself any good to push this issue further. Got it?"
Clearly frustrated by the exchange, Matt grabbed his stubborn friend by the shoulder and spun her to the side so that they were facing each other; a first since their reunion a week ago.
"Fuck that! I'm not gonna stand by and watch as my best friend overwork herself into an early grave simply because she told me to butt out! Whatever is in those letters has got you spooked to the point that ya can't stop; that you don't WANT to stop. So please, Claire, for the love of everything that we went through during our time in Japan would you tell me who the fuck Aileene is?"
With a vicious snarl that caught the attention of everyone nearby, Claire slapped her friend's arm that had been holding her in place before stepping forward and shoving him back hard enough for him to nearly fall to his ass; luckily he caught his balance.
"DON'T YOU SAY HER NAME LIKE THAT! NOW STEP THE FUCK OFF BEFORE I DO SOMETHING WE'RE BOTH GONNA FUCKING REGRET!"
Just as shocked by the ferocity of her reaction as the rest of the people were, Matt could only stand there in silence as the rhythmic footfalls of Cole returning echoed through the air. Blissfully unaware of what had been happening, or the looks directed towards his fellow travelers, the Indianapolis came to a stop next to the man he had convinced he could procure a car for.
"S-so there was a bit of a problem and I wasn't able to get the car as I said. I'm sorry. But I did manage to convince the guy to hold on until you arrived. I hope that isn't a problem."
Unable to respond to either Cole's explanation or question, Matt could only continue to stare wide-eyed at Claire as she continued to give him a look that could truly boil lead.
"Mister Draven?"
"I.....uh....."
"Fucking. Go."
With her voice slicing the air, Cole's attention was pulled towards the woman to whom it belonged; someone he REALLY did not want to mess with. Especially not now, when she was remarkably more upset that he had ever possibly conceived a person to ever be. Even so, it didn't take long for either man to scamper away from the bomb threatening to explode. Which only left the explosive herself to face the throng of wide-eyed onlookers.
"What? Y'all see somethin' funny? Fuck off!"
Slowly but surely, the unfortunate souls caught in the mess outside of Des Moines International returned to what business had brought them there. Leaving an annoyed, emotionally drained Claire Hawkins standing alone amongst the masses.
"I'm going for a walk....."
The camera fades in to reveal the image of Action Wrestling pale horsewoman standing at the edge of the Des Moines River; pale feet buried within the muddy bank. With a faraway look in her eyes, the bottoms of her pants pulled partially up her calves, and the JinJer shirt being partially covered by a loose-fitting zip-up hoodie, the woman that had once been synonymous with the Action Wrestling Television Championship seemed a far cry from the Victorian dress-wearing queen of scream that people had come to know so very well; perhaps even too well. Even so, it was the oddly serene and thoughtful expression etched onto her face that drew the eye the most; eerily beautiful in the twilight of the setting sun.
"One week ago I had the opportunity to REALLY prove that I was more than what everyone had made me out to be. That I'm MORE than the gatekeeper that Action Wrestling had leaned on so heavily on. I had the opportunity to prove that my quote-unquote potential within this industry wasn't limited by the narrow views of the egotistical or even dead as a whole; that I had it in me to climb the mountain and stand tall at the summit."
"Yet, that wasn't how it went."
"Things never go as we intend, do they?"
"No. Instead of taking Phoenix, Kaine, and Blck to task in a main event match that the city of Indianapolis would remember forever, the closing moments found things becoming remarkably out of hand in a heartbeat's notice. Resulting in one of the most personally disappointing finishes that I have had the privilege of being a part of. For both, the Victor of the match, as well as the loser, can continue traveling upon their career paths without putting much stock into what happened that night. It's either carry on with what you're doing or figure out a way to become better for the next time. However, when you're one of the two that weren't involved in the decision then you're left to drift in this sense of limbo."
"What about next time?"
"Will I be able to perform like I used to?"
"Will it just end up like last time?"
"Questions, much like those, will flood into your mind as you seek an answer to things that cannot be answered that easily. For life's answers are never something that one can be freely given; they must be earned. Which, I guess, makes it rather ludicrous of me to be standing here in the mud as I consider what it is I NEED to do next; what it is I NEED to do in order to get to that next level of my career. Yet, the answer isn't going to be something simple nor will it just fall graciously into my lap; life is too much of a riddle like that. Until I discover the answer I will return to what it is I do BEST."
Sliding the unzipped hoodie to slip from her shoulders and fall to the ground, the raven-haired woman stepped out into the chilly October temperature waters and didn't stop walking until the bottoms of her rolled-up pant bottoms were touching the water. Then, in a single fluid motion, she rotated until she was facing the camera; crimson eyes glowing in the fading light.
"Jonathan Black; you understand what it was I was trying to say, right? Surely, after last week, you also find yourself wondering what you must do in order to get to that next level of success so that your professional wrestling career can continue to grow and thrive; about how much more good you can do for people once you do."
"........."
"Who am I trying to fool? You're nothing more than a walnut-brained ostrich who will keep his head buried in the sand until the next he is handed another opportunity at greatness on a platter. Then, when you ultimately fail as you did at Evolution Four and the All In ladder match, you will simply return your head to earth and pray to God that someone doesn't come along to put you out of your misery while you're busy cowering away. FAct is, Mister Black, you're basically nothing more than a big old chickenshit that's MORE than happy with his lot in life."
"Yeah, you're a REAL champion of the people."
"Fucking pathetic."
"I know full well that there are many calling me insane or even attempting to verbally reprimand me through the screen for calling their beloved hero a bloody fucking coward. After all, this is a man that will forever go out of his way to provide things for people that are forced to go without simply out of goodness of his heart. John Black is a man that will donate to a charity foundation that aims to end pediatric cancer and will spend money out of his own pocket so that local area schools will have sports equipment for their students. He is a good, wholesome man that will never.....COULD never do anything wrong or be malicious for the sake of being malicious."
"It's admirable, right?"
"He should be rewarded for his good-natured and selfless deeds, right?"
"If so, then why does it feel to vomit every time his metallic fucking face comes on-screen? Why do I feel a powerful urge to shove the television off of the stand whenever I see one of the many videos of him going out of his way to be so wholesome and kindhearted? Why do I feel like I'm being talked down to whenever he decides to, finally, talk about whichever unlucky fuck he gets to face during a match in the God damn company he works for?"
"Oh wait....."
"It's just one big generic fucking campaign to get people to forget that he is too much of a coward to take that next step; to REALLY earn money that will help the people he claims to champion. Think about it for a damn moment; the man works for one of the wealthiest and most profitable wrestling promotions in the world to date and yet he claims that he is perpetually broke? That he is a violent thug of the people and that he shouldn't be fucked with?"
"Are you fucking kidding me?"
"The self-advertised "quiet man with violent tendencies" should have at least been a champion by now. He should have proven to the world that he is willing to do whatever it takes between those ropes so that he can provide for the people he claims to love. John Black shouldn't be sitting on his fucking hands in the cesspool of indifference like a happy little pig; he shouldn't be acting like every other modern generic influencer shill without a future. Yet here he is, doing just that."
"He's afraid; YOU'RE afraid......."
"Afraid that he will continue to fail as a provider for the community. He's afraid to take that blind step of faith so that he might TRULY be able to be the champion that his people believe him to be. He's afraid that even conceptualizing such a thing will cause him to bumble and tumble further down the mountain of competition; that God's benign blessing of complacency will be stripped away should he even think about striving for more."
"I'm NOT like that!"
"I NEVER want to be like that!"
"Yes, Mister Black, something as simple as me declaring that I'll do everything I can to avoid being like you is something that sets us an entire world apart. In fact, we were already oceans apart when it comes to the dedication and willingness to further hone what it is we do in a wrestling ring. You haphazardly talk about being hungry for competition; I revied the single most COMPETITIVE division from fucking scratch. You ACT like a stone-cold killer who can't be bothered by the words people say; I make fucking history and defy the expectations that the sheep-minded fucks try to define me with!"
"John Black is a man who hides away beneath a mask, playacting a hero without any desire of becoming one; Claire Hawkins is a woman who is unshakably proud of her heritage and has absolutely no fucking qualms about doing whatever it takes to get where she wants to be! She will NOT be stopped! She will NOT be denied. She will NOT be forgotten!"
Violently lurching back, the midnight-colored hair of the four-time Television Champion whipped backward as she bellowed out that emotionally charged and forever iconic Banshee's Wail! Once the supply of air had been exhausted, the crimson-eyed wretch of Action Wrestling fixated her gaze upon the camera once more; determined and resolute.
"This week is an opportunity, John; an opportunity for me to regain my footing upon this mountainous climb after the faltering of last week. This week Des Moines is going to watch what happens when you pair off a woman with unyielding ambitions against a man that is too afraid to consider his own. They are going to watch a two hundred and sixty-pound wannabe underdog be faced with the reality that is so wholly different from his own delusions that he has no other option but to accept. They are going to witness me, the Wicked Wretch of Wrestling, take you to the very limits before ultimately doing what she has done to the likes of Corey Bull and CVO; of such prospect hopefuls such as Donovan Rayne and Rampage."
"they're going to watch me BEAT you."
"So prepare yourself, John Black. For another failure is being added to your already expansive list.".
"Quoth the Witch..........forevermore."
With the lacking light already.....lacking, the camera silently faded to black as the Crimson red eyes of Claire Hawkins continued to glow; a demon's eyes in the midnight hour as it were.