The Ring I: You're Gonna Run (When You Find Out Who I Am)
Mar 13, 2022 13:47:14 GMT -5
Karlie Nash, CJ Phoenix, and 7 more like this
Post by Lissie Hope on Mar 13, 2022 13:47:14 GMT -5
OPEN WITH THE INSTRUMENTAL OF "FOR THOSE ABOUT TO ROCK (WE SALUTE YOU)" BY AC/DC. JOHN THOMAS HELLO ACTION WRESTLING FAITHFUL AND WELCOME BACK TO JOHN THOMAS LIVE! WE WILL CONTINUE DISCUSSING THE BATTLEBOWL PARTICIPANTS; UP NEXT IS LISSIE HOPE! QUEUE SOUNDBITE OF LISSIE'S INTERVIEW FROM CLASH LAST WEEK. DON'T GET ME WRONG. IT SEEMS LIKE THE LISSIE WE LOVE HAS RETURNED! I'M NOT DEBATING THAT. BUT SHE'S HEADING INTO BATTLEBOWL WITH THE TAG-TEAM TITLES IN SIGHT, AND YOU WONDER, IS SHE FOCUSED ON THE WRONG THING? QUEUE SOUNDBITE OF LISSIE DISCUSSING HER RELATIONSHIP WITH EMMA LANGDON VIA INSTAGRAM LIVE. THIS IS A PROBLEM, FOLKS. I'M HAPPY THAT SHE'S FOUND LOVE, BUT HER FOCUS DOESN'T SEEM ENTIRELY ON BATTLEBOWL. IT'S ON HAVING A SLAPFIGHT WITH SOME GUY OVER A GIRL! LISSIE NEEDS TO DECIDE WHAT SHE'S MORE INVESTED IN: DATING DRAMA, OR WINNING IN ACTION WRESTLING! AND I DON'T WISH THEM ILL - BUT IF THIS GIRL SPLIT TOMORROW, LISSIE WOULD BE BETTER OFF! There’s weight behind my name - my legacy - that would bury anyone who isn’t strong enough to shoulder it. Your feet anchor down, like quicksand slowly consuming you, inch-by-inch until your throat recoils; the terror in your pupils speak the horrors you can no longer verbalize. You become a ventriloquist, parroting the same nonsense and disregard that I’ve heard for years - all of the same bullshit spewed from different assholes. Diminishing those who’ve climbed the zenith of Action Wrestling, pretending that it means something to discredit what I’ve meant to the Action Wrestling ring - that’s shit’s easy. What’s not is doing nearly everything there is to do. World Championships. All-In. Record-setting Havoc Rumbles. Recognized as the greatest female wrestler in our universe. But this is my first venture into the #Battlebowl. And now that I’ve seen what it can mean, how it propels you to the odds-on incoming favorite, how it vaults you into the #Evolution main-event? I don’t need to set any more Havoc records. Clearing the ring after my music hits, seeing those terror-filled eyes as I march down the ramp, contributing to Giblet calling it a career by crushing his dreams, two-years-in-a-row - those honors already belong to me. Spencer Adams made it look easy - he showed the world that you can climb into #Battle and make. your. fucking. destiny. In this ring. In front of these fans. That’s what this is about. I’m not a gambler anymore. We might have blown the roof off Atlantic City, or wandered down Bourbon Street after-hours with bloodshot eyes, the risk worthy of the reward. I was even in Vegas a few-weeks-back - but I didn’t surrender to the demons lurking in the shadows, the same who’ll always threaten to pull me back into the muck. I’ve grown. I’m resilient. I know what I’m here to do. Is there anything more intoxicating than the rush of accomplishment, the pride you feel when the fans scream your name? There’s no bigger high than raising my arms in victory in the middle of the Action Wrestling ring. I won’t rely on luck. I don’t want my fate in the Havoc Rumble determined by a draw. I’m not going to throw a coin into the pit of the well and hope for the best - and I’m certainly not emptying my pockets, either. Not like you will. I deal in certainties. Your dreams are my expectations. The #BattleBowl stands in the way of where I belong. The standard-bearer. The World Heavyweight Champion. I’m one-and-one against Dandy DiVito. Dueled with Corey Black to a no-contest. #Evolution is my destiny. Alice. Serenity. Jessie. Romeo. You’re only just beginning yours. This is the opportunity of your lifetime. And I can relate; just four months into my career, I was given this same opportunity against Leviathan. Against QDT. I put my fucking livelihood on the line to escape from that torture chamber with the All-In briefcase. It’s career-defining, and life-altering. And sometimes, you just need a little push. And that’s exactly what you’re counting on, Serenity. You’re so young. So hungry. I feel like I’m staring at my reflection whenever I watch you soar in the ring. We’ve spent some time together, and I’ve learned you’re a nice girl with a fire in your gut. But let’s stop pretending you’re not a stranger in the mirror. I don’t owe you anything. You haven’t earned my sacrifice. Alexa, play “I’m Not A Girl, Not Yet A Woman” by Britney Spears. You’re eighteen, and somehow, despite your cringing father contractually-obligated to not publicly hang his head in shame, you’ve got a twenty-eight year-old basement-dwelling cave-manbaby simping after you, after you've sewed his balls into a necklace.. You and Jessie could’ve represented what I’ve been fighting for since day-one, and that’s identity independent of a man’s influence. It’s truly disappointing, Serenity, because I want to see women empowered, but I won’t let it come to a little girl who hasn’t put in the work. Not on my watch. No matter how much you think this makes you a favorite, entering #BattleBowl wearing the Women’s Championship ain’t the flex you think it is, little-sis. One year ago, I took the first incarnation of that Championship from Spayde Martinez, and Action Wrestling knew that it would be permanently affixed upon my shoulder, so they wouldn’t put it into rotation. I ended up gifting it to a crying young fan in the audience, and her young dreams came true. Now that I think about it - that little girl could’ve been you. …was it? That would make a lot of sense, actually. We know your daddy’s ruined his image in this company so badly that he wouldn’t have been invited to a box-seat - so tell me the truth, Serenity. Was it you? You’re welcome. This is your dream come true. Now wake the fuck up. Jessie, she caught you slipping, huh? You thought you were standing tall, the highest-ranked wrestler in the world by fairly... questionable... T-I-A standards. Unlike her, you do put in the work, though - I can’t take that away from you. You compete every time you can, in every mid-major promotion that’ll take you - keep racking up those victories in Revo1, and you’ll continue finding yourself number-one! But Romeo exposed you. And so did she. That’s gotta hurt - your only accolade in front of massive crowds, under bright lights, robbed of you by a teenager in her first month. That’s got to sting, cutting harder than any barb you spit - so be honest with yourself, Jessie. If she could do that to you – – what the fuck do you think I will? And I know this is Ash Blake’s disingenuous assessment of my character. That I buddy up to new women in this industry and once I find their star starting to shine, I stick ‘em in the spine. But that’s untrue, Jessie. Serenity. I can’t betray anyone I didn’t owe anything to in the first place. As far as I’m concerned, you’re all out of your depth. Alice Gemini, a tag-team specialist learning to exist on her own, and Romeo Finet, someone who’s satisfied carrying Odin’s bags until he realizes that’s his only asset. It’s sad, really - this could be your big moment. Instead, Romeo, you’ll have to lift up your White House win, your victory over Jessie, as if they mean something in this new legacy you’d like to create, while Alice - you’d like to convince us all you’re the next lethal weapon in Action Wrestling, bullet cocked and loaded. But here’s the thing, babe. Someone needs to show you how the gun works. I’m not going to. I don’t want that role. I owe you nothing. Right, Ash? Isn’t it time to finally cut the bullshit? You called me on it, right? You might feel validated now that I’ve gone #maskoff, literally and figuratively - but are your tears still embedded on the inside of the porcelain? Mine aren’t. It never feels good to erase an entire year of relationship-building, even if it was based on a lie. On manipulation. But you shoveled your bullshit down my throat and when I was finally strong enough to realize it, you throw a pity-party to anyone who'll listen. You’re not a martyr, Ash - you’re a black-stain on Action Wrestling because you fucking deserve it. I didn’t owe you my loyalty, but you made me believe that I did. That’s why your World Championship victory is tainted with an asterisk - why Corey Black is finally on deck to avenge what we took from him. As far as I’m concerned, you owe me, and I’m ready to collect. This isn’t about uplifting anyone. Empowering anyone. This is about my flight, my once irreparable wings - y’know, the same wings you clipped, alleviating the noose around my neck just when you were ready for me to do you dirty work. You never wanted an understudy - you wanted a pitbull to guard your empire of filth. But sometimes, we fight back. And you can’t take it. You won’t hear it. You can’t. Cedrone will soften you up, Ash. You’ll still limp into #Battlebowl with your strap - but I’ll be strapped. And finally, I’ll do what I was meant to do, the same fate meant for any crippled menace - you’ll get the killing blow. It’s something I’ve dreamed of for years, Odin. Since the day you ruined my World Championship celebration, and attacked me before I could win my first United States Championship. You’ve always managed to avoid me, never having to answer for what you robbed of me. You’ve been dicking around with Tatiana Jolee after you failed Kyle Kemp, who then had to ditch your tired-ass for Dandy DiVito. And look where that took them - the longest tag-team reign of all time. Multiple World Championships. And you’re still fighting the Worst World Champion of all-time badge of dishonor. It’s not going to happen, Odin. Not at my expense. You owe me your fucking heart, Odin. It’s been entirely too long for you to continue being let off the hook. I can’t wait to spike it through your jaw and pull your tongue through your rotten teeth. It’s time you finally answer for the things you’ve done. I’m done standing on the sideline. I’m done being dictated. Being lectured to. I’m done being fucked over. #BattleBowl is mine. Havoc is my stomping ground. I won’t let anyone piss on my turf. Not even you, Addy. I sat in the terminal alone waiting for Emma to return from her trip back home to Australia. I knew the arrival time was hours ago - but maybe the itinerary changed? Maybe the flight-boards never updated? There was a litany of reasons - or maybe he was right. “What’s up?” “Do you not like Emma?” “I don’t know Emma.” “I’m probably overthinking, go figure, right?” - a sip of Topo. - “You seem to change the topic when I talk about her. Did she do something?” “It’s not that -” “Then what?” “It’s moving fast. And I’m seeing - red flags. Just don’t get too attached -” “So you think we’re destined to fail.” “Lissie -” “No - that’s exactly it. God forbid Lissie Hope finds the perfect girl -” “- nobody’s perfect.” “Fuck you, Johnny.” I felt shackled to the cement as my shoes skidded down the pavement. My knees buckled and I collapsed onto the ledge. My car pulled up, and she exited quickly, pulling me up into her arms. “What happened?? Am I gon’ hav’ta cut a bitch?” John Thomas called her a distraction. And maybe he was right - maybe this is what I needed. I couldn’t be more focused than I felt - in this moment. I couldn’t wait to get in the ring. “Let’s just go.” |