Post by Jessie Lee on Mar 20, 2022 0:00:22 GMT -5
This was becoming a thing, wasn't it?
Sitting along upon the ring apron, her legs slung over the edge, the young Aussie sat with her eyes closed. The show was set to begin in a few hours, but right now there was something........nostalgic about being near a ring. Battlebowl had been an entire plethora of things and, as embarrassing as it was to admit, she was still processing what exactly had happened. So the strange comfort that the ring offered was greatly appreciated while the young woman processed her (nearly) star-making loss.
Boy, THAT was a weird sentence.
Nonetheless, the young woman inhaled and she was brought to a world in which the musky smell of sweat and blood were commonplace. Where grit, fire, and heart were more important than any pedigree; where the only thing that mattered was the fight and how much you brought. A time before.....
"You might be a Cruiserclash stat, but so help me God if you've fallen asleep on my ring....."
Sublimely reacting to the old man's grumbling, Jessie opened her eyes to see Mike, the old stagehand she had become acquainted with prior to Battlebowl, marching in her direction; a less than thrilled look on his face.
"What's got your panties in a twist ol' man? I'm just sittin'."
"Yeah, sittin' there like some kinda fucking weirdo. So what's eatin' ya kiddo?"
"Nothin'. Just thought I'd-"
"Horseshit. You were a nervous wreck at Battlebowl when I caught ya in the same damn spot. So, what's eatin' ya?"
He was right and she couldn't deny it.
"Finet."
"What about him? I mean, there's something about him that's familiar that I can't place my finger on, but it ain't worth worryin' about."
"Last time we met in the ring he completely wrecked me an-"[/font'
"So what? The last time ya met he barely lasted ten seconds before bein' eliminated."
"But that-"
"Wasn't what ya were talkin' about? I know, but kid ya gotta stop doubting yourself. Finet can be a tough opponent if he wanted, but you managed to make the top two in that Battlebowl with some of the top talent Action Wrestling has. I'm pretty sure you'll put up one helluva fight."
That optimism.....was more infectious.
"Congratulations."
"Seriously, mate, congratulations on bein' the single prick that could take the biggest win of his Stockholm syndrome career an' completely fuckin' it up by makin' the single worst Battlebowl appearance in Action Wrestlin' history. What was it? Ten.......five seconds 'fore ya were eliminated like a God damn fuckin' bitch? Seriously, Romoo, what the hell was with that piss poor performance? Fuck, man, didn't ya say that ya were buildin' a new legacy?"
"Kinda pathetic way of goin' 'bout id don't ya think? Bein' throwin' out like a used Tampon like that."
"Guess what fuck knuckle? That's what we call karma an' ya can bet you're due for a whole helluva lot more than that little embressin' failure in the battle royal at Battlebowl. Cause I owe ya some payback; payback that doesn't give a shit if you're a better grappler. I'mma beat ya down like ya never experienced before in either this life as a lazy masked fuck or as some finesse lovin' cunt that nobody gave two shits 'bout; seriously, why the fuck do ya think ol' Digger put your dumbass under a hood? Hell, the only reason you're gettin' this championship opportunity earnin' match is cause of me."
"Congratulations on that."
"Not many people could get a shot like this after only two wins a metric shit ton of losses. Seriously, ya deserve it.."
"That's sarcasm by the way. I know your mask is on too tight an' your brain cells are slowly dyin' off, so I'd thought to fill you in on that little tidbit. Just like I'm lettin' ya know that you're not stoppin' me this time 'round. This time, Romoo, I'm gonna be standin' in the center of that ring with my head held high an' a championship shot at the ready. Why? Cause I got second in Battlebowl? Nah, because when it comes to havin' fire an' grit ya just can't compare."
"Congratulations."
"You're fucked."
Sitting along upon the ring apron, her legs slung over the edge, the young Aussie sat with her eyes closed. The show was set to begin in a few hours, but right now there was something........nostalgic about being near a ring. Battlebowl had been an entire plethora of things and, as embarrassing as it was to admit, she was still processing what exactly had happened. So the strange comfort that the ring offered was greatly appreciated while the young woman processed her (nearly) star-making loss.
Boy, THAT was a weird sentence.
Nonetheless, the young woman inhaled and she was brought to a world in which the musky smell of sweat and blood were commonplace. Where grit, fire, and heart were more important than any pedigree; where the only thing that mattered was the fight and how much you brought. A time before.....
"You might be a Cruiserclash stat, but so help me God if you've fallen asleep on my ring....."
Sublimely reacting to the old man's grumbling, Jessie opened her eyes to see Mike, the old stagehand she had become acquainted with prior to Battlebowl, marching in her direction; a less than thrilled look on his face.
"What's got your panties in a twist ol' man? I'm just sittin'."
"Yeah, sittin' there like some kinda fucking weirdo. So what's eatin' ya kiddo?"
"Nothin'. Just thought I'd-"
"Horseshit. You were a nervous wreck at Battlebowl when I caught ya in the same damn spot. So, what's eatin' ya?"
He was right and she couldn't deny it.
"Finet."
"What about him? I mean, there's something about him that's familiar that I can't place my finger on, but it ain't worth worryin' about."
"Last time we met in the ring he completely wrecked me an-"[/font'
"So what? The last time ya met he barely lasted ten seconds before bein' eliminated."
"But that-"
"Wasn't what ya were talkin' about? I know, but kid ya gotta stop doubting yourself. Finet can be a tough opponent if he wanted, but you managed to make the top two in that Battlebowl with some of the top talent Action Wrestling has. I'm pretty sure you'll put up one helluva fight."
That optimism.....was more infectious.
"Congratulations."
"Seriously, mate, congratulations on bein' the single prick that could take the biggest win of his Stockholm syndrome career an' completely fuckin' it up by makin' the single worst Battlebowl appearance in Action Wrestlin' history. What was it? Ten.......five seconds 'fore ya were eliminated like a God damn fuckin' bitch? Seriously, Romoo, what the hell was with that piss poor performance? Fuck, man, didn't ya say that ya were buildin' a new legacy?"
"Kinda pathetic way of goin' 'bout id don't ya think? Bein' throwin' out like a used Tampon like that."
"Guess what fuck knuckle? That's what we call karma an' ya can bet you're due for a whole helluva lot more than that little embressin' failure in the battle royal at Battlebowl. Cause I owe ya some payback; payback that doesn't give a shit if you're a better grappler. I'mma beat ya down like ya never experienced before in either this life as a lazy masked fuck or as some finesse lovin' cunt that nobody gave two shits 'bout; seriously, why the fuck do ya think ol' Digger put your dumbass under a hood? Hell, the only reason you're gettin' this championship opportunity earnin' match is cause of me."
"Congratulations on that."
"Not many people could get a shot like this after only two wins a metric shit ton of losses. Seriously, ya deserve it.."
"That's sarcasm by the way. I know your mask is on too tight an' your brain cells are slowly dyin' off, so I'd thought to fill you in on that little tidbit. Just like I'm lettin' ya know that you're not stoppin' me this time 'round. This time, Romoo, I'm gonna be standin' in the center of that ring with my head held high an' a championship shot at the ready. Why? Cause I got second in Battlebowl? Nah, because when it comes to havin' fire an' grit ya just can't compare."
"Congratulations."
"You're fucked."