Post by Tatiana on Jan 23, 2022 3:06:56 GMT -5
The Cage match… A metric ton of steel and pain, all designed to keep two people in and everyone else out. It seemed the obvious blow off to what has been a hard fought, but highly respectful feud over one of the most decorated Championships in the business. So far I was 2-1 against Kyrie King, who took a rough loss in our last match and has been awfully quiet since.
“I know how he feels”
I mumbled quietly to myself, my gaze focused on the bottle of beer sitting in front of me at the hotel bar. It was a quiet night here in the lounge, likely due to COVID, but I didn’t mind. It gave me some quiet time to think… To reflect
“Can I get you something else, sweetie?”
My gaze lifted, broken by the sweet tones of the bartender's voice. She was a pretty thing, probably in her early 30’s with the dreamiest green eyes. I smiled, so as not to appear to be overly broody while wrapping my head around what would be the fourth match between Kyrie and I.
“How long until closing?”
“About fifteen minutes”
15 Minutes? I nodded agreeably before chugging down the last of my Molson.
“I’ll take a rum and coke”
“You got it, doll”
The tender made her way towards the tap with a bottle of rum in hand while I stared down into the empty beer bottle clasped in my hands. My last cage match ended badly for me. Two men absolutely pummeled me on what was my last night in Vancouver Pro Wrestling. On that night, I walked in the VP World Champion and left on a stretcher.
That memory wasn’t lost on me…
And I hoped to never experience another night like that in my life…
“Here you go”
“Thanks babe”
I smiled with a nod, dropping a 50 dollar bill on the table to cover the two drinks and a tip
“Keep the change, it’s for you”
“Aw, thank you”
She flashed a pretty smile and made her way to the till to clear my tab. My gaze moved back to my new drink, which I sipped gleefully while trying to formulate some pre-strategy in my head. I knew that King was a striker by nature who also could grapple with the best of them. He is more aggressive than I, so I might be able to take advantage of his eagerness and plot some good counters.
“Work the arm…”
Again, I mumbled to myself. Everyone thinks the key to winning a cage match is to take an opponent's legs away from them, and that is always a sound bit of advice. But really, you have to focus on an arm and wear that down as much as possible. The shoulder is always a good bet, but really if you can exacerbate the elbow, then your opponent will have trouble scaling a surface.
If you put enough stress on the elbow, it becomes hard to squeeze a fist, let alone pull your weight up a vertical plane.
And if you can only use one hand to scale the wall, then you’ll never make it up the side of the cage.
Of course there’s always the possibility of exiting through the door
And that, more than anything was the wildcard
But it was there for BOTH of us.
I was always going to win a foot race with Kyrie as I'm only half his size. If it turns into a slugfest then I’ll never beat a man of his power and prowess. My best option is to stay focused on the wrestler rather than the environment. I need to work a traditional match to start, ignore the four walls that bind us together and wear him down as much as possible.
Once I have him sufficiently worn down it’ll be time to focus on exiting the cage and ending our feud…
To finally shed the specter of being a ‘paper champion’...
That was something that I was very eager to do.
I sipped my drink again, it was bubbly, sweet, and delicious.
I was glad the bar was closing, otherwise I’d have more than a few of these
“Up, down, up, down” -sigh- “I need to get myself rolling again”
I muttered beneath my breath between drinks. My whole AW career to this point has been a woeful game of jump rope. I shine like burning phosphorus in one match and then get knocked on my ass in the next. There was no consistency, and until I can get myself a nice little string of wins, I fear I may never break out of this bi-polar win/loss record.
But it was probably my own ambitions tripping me up…
I want to be at the top of the mountain. I want to defend my TV title like it’s worth more than every other championship in this place, and I want to be respected as well as liked by my peers. But so far, I’ve proven to be lukewarm at best. And though most of my peers like me, they also probably see me as somebody who is in over her head. A girl who was once a big fish in a small pond, but got cast into a lake with bigger, better fish.
The huntress becomes the hunted
It was so cliché, it’s painful.
“We’ve got five minutes left, sweetie. Last call for Alcohol”
My gaze lifted back to the bartender.
It was only then I realized I was the last one at the bar.
“No thanks, I’ve gotta get myself to bed… Long night tomorrow”
I chugged down the last bit of my beverage, the liquor burning as it went down my throat. I slid the glass down to her and stood before giving a wink and heading for the door. Tomorrow night was a big one, and I needed to be both level headed and rested for it…
