The Regeneration of Eavan Maloney, Pt. 2
Feb 15, 2018 4:49:35 GMT -5
T.F.K., Charlie 'The Ghost' Rossi, and 1 more like this
Post by Deleted on Feb 15, 2018 4:49:35 GMT -5
The promo opens with an old television set, complete with rabbit ear antenna, sitting on a metal cart. The room is bleak; like a hospital corridor. White on white and overly sterile. The television comes on to a snowy picture before video clips start playing.
Maloney steps into camera view, dressed in her trademark Steampunk gear, her white-blond hair flowing over her shoulders, her red lips curled in a smirk, her blue eyes warm, yet focused.
Last week, on this very feed, you all saw the regeneration of Eavan Maloney. You all bought into the story, bought into me as both a character and a person, but there is much, much, more to the story than meets the eye. You see, last week was about all the faces I wore since I came into this business and came into my own as a wrestler and as the woman behind it all. The generic redhead, the face you see now, the Jersey girl, the fading waif. The world had hoped to crush me by throwing up their mirrors at me and forcing me to choose. Funny thing about mirrors. If you focus enough of them on one spot, you can set that spot ablaze. The mirrors lit a fire, that’s been proven. Unlike false Phoenixes I have come across in my journeys, I actually rose from the ashes. I dusted myself off, I picked up the sword and shield again, and I walked right back into battle.
Now is the part where the boo-birds would point out that, well, I didn’t win either match I was in. I’m sure they’d throw around stuff like “I’m a loser”, I’m all hype and no hope. See, this is not what the Regeneration is all about. I’m not a seven foot monster. I’m not a glory hound with fake tits and a faker attitude. I’m just barely over five feet, barely over a hundred pounds, and had to develop my own style to hang with the bigger and badder in every company I have competed in. Yes, I got pinned by Deruty, but I got something in return, something D-Day isn’t typically known for. I got his respect. He didn’t have to come back to the ring after the match and give me the rub, but he did. I won the crowd over, I had messages from fans, and I got respect from the man who could very well go on to be the World Champion. That’s a win for me.
I went on later that night to take on nine others for the Television Title. Adam Young and his temper made the job a little easier with his little temper tantrum, but hey, every man and woman for themselves. After Young got eliminated, it became the Eavan Maloney show.
Frost… eliminated.
Adams… eliminated.
Davoe… eliminated.
All that was left was myself and Rossi. Twice I had the Ghost dead to rights, had him over that top rope, and both times, by luck, he avoided elimination.
Let that sink in, Ghost.
TWICE… you were over that top rope. TWICE… I had you beat. That belt you have in your position is not yours. They say possession is 9/10ths of the law, but that 1/10th? That 1/10th, that thorn in your side, that rock in your shoe… is me.
You have the title because you took a coward’s way out and struck only when it benefitted you most. ZERO eliminations in the battle royal, you were a non-factor until I made a mistake and you exploited it. This week, that mistake won’t be repeated. You are holding MY Television Championship and I plan to take it.
As for you, Mr. Jayhawk, we haven’t had a chance to meet, but had you been watching after you got beat by Mak-Tak, you would have seen a whole lot of what I can do. However, I was watching, you got that mystique about you. Mind you, if truth be told, I was more interested in Shannen. Girl’s gotta look, right?
Which is probably the best time to seque back to the Regeneration I have been sharing with you all. Last week, I focused on the faces I wore. This week, it’s more about the faces I’ve seen. I will not reveal names, as I said last week, I will not revictimize them again. However, the last couple of months, I had lost my direction and sought it in out in the beds of many. All encounters consensual, but many were unnecessary. I hitched my battered wagon to too many, for no other reason than I could have. I was in demand, I was sought out, and since the wrestling world wasn’t knocking on my door, I filled my time and let others fill me. Bosses, redeemers, God-fearing and God-loving women, exotic women, and even some who played harder than others.
I’m not that way anymore, though I appreciated the experiences.
I was like a kid in the candy store, sampling all sorts of flavors. Most were sweet, some were bitter. For some, the flavor lasted a long time. And precious few I will miss as I will never get the opportunity again. And then, as with everything that happens in life, I came to a crossroads. I could stay in the past, savor the memories, long for what was and find myself idle. Or I can choose to move forward, unchartered waters, be more selective, and find somebody whose life I can enrich as they enrich mine. As always, I chose the harder option. Another forging, for it will give me more strength.
Yesterday, or tomorrow. That is the choice every single person makes in their lives. Every minute, every day. That is what every question boils down to. Yesterday? Or tomorrow? Past? Or future? That’s what we’re always taught, look back or look ahead.
And nobody… NOBODY… looks down. Nobody looks at TODAY. Nobody, because in their minds, if they look at today, then they are not moving. They are not advancing, they are not regressing, they simply ARE. And THAT is the scariest moment in everyone’s life.
Looking at the now.
And as I focus on my own ‘now’, things are promising. Yes, I had a relapse recently. Not a full-on relapse, but enough to make me start questioning myself. I started thinking of a world without me in it, and with the help of friends and family, and a new special someone, I was brought back and reminded of who I can be. Reminded that I am human and we falter, but only the strong get back up again. Again, I can choose to revert back to the alcohol and drug-fueled whore, or get up and continue to fight. The fact I stand here right now? I chose to fight again.
Now, if I stop, and look at the now, then I must break it down to five elements. Something I learned during many of my therapy classes. Five things I can see. Four things I can touch. Three things I can hear. Two things I can smell. And one thing I can taste.
As for what I see, I can state the obvious and see the television, the cart, this sterile room, the camera looking back at me, and this marble floor. None of that helps me. Instead, I choose to see you, the viewer, looking at me, the Steampunk Warrior, get up one more time because the war demands it. I choose to see Rossi and Jayhawk down and out and me holding the Television Title. I choose to see my friends happy, building their lives, healing from injuries, and yet being proud that the one they damn near lost has come back. I choose to see my family, strong, standing behind me as I carry the family name. And I choose to see myself as the best wrestler, the best athlete, the best daughter, the best sister, and the best friend I can be.
Four things I can touch. Again, I can touch this television, this cart, this camera, these walls. Or I can touch lives. I can be the hero to those struggling just like me who might feel alone in this world. I can touch my opponents, beating them, throwing them, breaking them until I get what is mine. I can touch the minds of the little warriors coming up, looking for their own strengths and talents to share with the world. And I can touch every scar on my body and remind myself that I am a survivor above all else.
Three things I can hear. I can hear the electricity in this room. I can hear the high-pitched frequency of this television set. And I can hear voices down the hall. I can also hear the roar of the crowd when I was shown respect. I can hear the words of my peers telling me they can see the difference in me and to keep up the fight. And I can hear the announcer after the match saying AND NEW TELEVISION CHAMPION.
Two things I can smell. I can smell whatever is being cooked in that room down the hall, I’m guessing Italian. I can smell the cleaning solution they used in this room before I arrived as it is faint. I can also smell the fear emanating off of Rossi and Jayhawk as they watch this, as they watch last week’s show again, poring over footage of me to figure out how to beat me. And I can smell the wood from the bridges I had burnt in the past that got me to this place.
And last, one thing I can taste. I can taste that metallic taste in my mouth from the internal bleeding I received after Rossi kicked me in the skull to eliminate me from the battle royal. I can taste the gum in my mouth trying to keep that metallic taste at bay. I can still taste all the sweet candy I have had in my life. But the one thing that will taste the best is the taste of victory when I beat Rossi and Jayhawk and became the new Television champion.
Jayhawk, you walk in the darkness, you carry that urn that if it were ever opened, would prove to be as empty as the shell you are. I do not overlook you, but I already see you as a vanquished foe because good triumphs over evil when good has its head on straight. Rossi, don’t think I’m overlooking you either, though you have already shown your true colors, and it’s nothing but a yellow streak right down your back, with a few shades of brown just below the belt. You’re a coward and you are full of it, and I plan on setting the Ghost free to haunt elsewhere because, hell, if I don’t have enough ghosts and skeletons of my own.
Evil vs Evil vs Good.
Greed vs Jealousy vs Redemption.
Jayhawk vs Rossi vs Maloney.
Only one will stand, two will be consumed by fire.
Fall... to the Warrior.
Eavan Maloney hits Frost off the apron and he crashes down to the mat below and is eliminated!
“She's going to be a force here in Action Wrestling!”
DaVoe runs full speed but Maloney back body drops her over the turnbuckle to the outside and she's eliminated!
“Eavan Maloney showed me she's one of the best damn wrestlers in Action Wrestling, Billy. Hands down, she's really on her way to superstardom!”
Maloney makes it to her feet as Days music stops. Day stands in front of Maloney and pats her on the shoulder and reaches out his hand. Maloney shakes it quickly, and Day gives a nod of appreciation and rolls back out of the ring and makes his way up the ramp. Maloney takes the support from not only Day but also the sold out crowd.
“Action Wrestling fans loved what they saw out of Eavan!”
“She's going to be a force here in Action Wrestling!”
DaVoe runs full speed but Maloney back body drops her over the turnbuckle to the outside and she's eliminated!
“Eavan Maloney showed me she's one of the best damn wrestlers in Action Wrestling, Billy. Hands down, she's really on her way to superstardom!”
Maloney makes it to her feet as Days music stops. Day stands in front of Maloney and pats her on the shoulder and reaches out his hand. Maloney shakes it quickly, and Day gives a nod of appreciation and rolls back out of the ring and makes his way up the ramp. Maloney takes the support from not only Day but also the sold out crowd.
“Action Wrestling fans loved what they saw out of Eavan!”
Maloney steps into camera view, dressed in her trademark Steampunk gear, her white-blond hair flowing over her shoulders, her red lips curled in a smirk, her blue eyes warm, yet focused.
Last week, on this very feed, you all saw the regeneration of Eavan Maloney. You all bought into the story, bought into me as both a character and a person, but there is much, much, more to the story than meets the eye. You see, last week was about all the faces I wore since I came into this business and came into my own as a wrestler and as the woman behind it all. The generic redhead, the face you see now, the Jersey girl, the fading waif. The world had hoped to crush me by throwing up their mirrors at me and forcing me to choose. Funny thing about mirrors. If you focus enough of them on one spot, you can set that spot ablaze. The mirrors lit a fire, that’s been proven. Unlike false Phoenixes I have come across in my journeys, I actually rose from the ashes. I dusted myself off, I picked up the sword and shield again, and I walked right back into battle.
Now is the part where the boo-birds would point out that, well, I didn’t win either match I was in. I’m sure they’d throw around stuff like “I’m a loser”, I’m all hype and no hope. See, this is not what the Regeneration is all about. I’m not a seven foot monster. I’m not a glory hound with fake tits and a faker attitude. I’m just barely over five feet, barely over a hundred pounds, and had to develop my own style to hang with the bigger and badder in every company I have competed in. Yes, I got pinned by Deruty, but I got something in return, something D-Day isn’t typically known for. I got his respect. He didn’t have to come back to the ring after the match and give me the rub, but he did. I won the crowd over, I had messages from fans, and I got respect from the man who could very well go on to be the World Champion. That’s a win for me.
I went on later that night to take on nine others for the Television Title. Adam Young and his temper made the job a little easier with his little temper tantrum, but hey, every man and woman for themselves. After Young got eliminated, it became the Eavan Maloney show.
Frost… eliminated.
Adams… eliminated.
Davoe… eliminated.
All that was left was myself and Rossi. Twice I had the Ghost dead to rights, had him over that top rope, and both times, by luck, he avoided elimination.
Let that sink in, Ghost.
TWICE… you were over that top rope. TWICE… I had you beat. That belt you have in your position is not yours. They say possession is 9/10ths of the law, but that 1/10th? That 1/10th, that thorn in your side, that rock in your shoe… is me.
You have the title because you took a coward’s way out and struck only when it benefitted you most. ZERO eliminations in the battle royal, you were a non-factor until I made a mistake and you exploited it. This week, that mistake won’t be repeated. You are holding MY Television Championship and I plan to take it.
As for you, Mr. Jayhawk, we haven’t had a chance to meet, but had you been watching after you got beat by Mak-Tak, you would have seen a whole lot of what I can do. However, I was watching, you got that mystique about you. Mind you, if truth be told, I was more interested in Shannen. Girl’s gotta look, right?
Which is probably the best time to seque back to the Regeneration I have been sharing with you all. Last week, I focused on the faces I wore. This week, it’s more about the faces I’ve seen. I will not reveal names, as I said last week, I will not revictimize them again. However, the last couple of months, I had lost my direction and sought it in out in the beds of many. All encounters consensual, but many were unnecessary. I hitched my battered wagon to too many, for no other reason than I could have. I was in demand, I was sought out, and since the wrestling world wasn’t knocking on my door, I filled my time and let others fill me. Bosses, redeemers, God-fearing and God-loving women, exotic women, and even some who played harder than others.
I’m not that way anymore, though I appreciated the experiences.
I was like a kid in the candy store, sampling all sorts of flavors. Most were sweet, some were bitter. For some, the flavor lasted a long time. And precious few I will miss as I will never get the opportunity again. And then, as with everything that happens in life, I came to a crossroads. I could stay in the past, savor the memories, long for what was and find myself idle. Or I can choose to move forward, unchartered waters, be more selective, and find somebody whose life I can enrich as they enrich mine. As always, I chose the harder option. Another forging, for it will give me more strength.
Yesterday, or tomorrow. That is the choice every single person makes in their lives. Every minute, every day. That is what every question boils down to. Yesterday? Or tomorrow? Past? Or future? That’s what we’re always taught, look back or look ahead.
And nobody… NOBODY… looks down. Nobody looks at TODAY. Nobody, because in their minds, if they look at today, then they are not moving. They are not advancing, they are not regressing, they simply ARE. And THAT is the scariest moment in everyone’s life.
Looking at the now.
And as I focus on my own ‘now’, things are promising. Yes, I had a relapse recently. Not a full-on relapse, but enough to make me start questioning myself. I started thinking of a world without me in it, and with the help of friends and family, and a new special someone, I was brought back and reminded of who I can be. Reminded that I am human and we falter, but only the strong get back up again. Again, I can choose to revert back to the alcohol and drug-fueled whore, or get up and continue to fight. The fact I stand here right now? I chose to fight again.
Now, if I stop, and look at the now, then I must break it down to five elements. Something I learned during many of my therapy classes. Five things I can see. Four things I can touch. Three things I can hear. Two things I can smell. And one thing I can taste.
As for what I see, I can state the obvious and see the television, the cart, this sterile room, the camera looking back at me, and this marble floor. None of that helps me. Instead, I choose to see you, the viewer, looking at me, the Steampunk Warrior, get up one more time because the war demands it. I choose to see Rossi and Jayhawk down and out and me holding the Television Title. I choose to see my friends happy, building their lives, healing from injuries, and yet being proud that the one they damn near lost has come back. I choose to see my family, strong, standing behind me as I carry the family name. And I choose to see myself as the best wrestler, the best athlete, the best daughter, the best sister, and the best friend I can be.
Four things I can touch. Again, I can touch this television, this cart, this camera, these walls. Or I can touch lives. I can be the hero to those struggling just like me who might feel alone in this world. I can touch my opponents, beating them, throwing them, breaking them until I get what is mine. I can touch the minds of the little warriors coming up, looking for their own strengths and talents to share with the world. And I can touch every scar on my body and remind myself that I am a survivor above all else.
Three things I can hear. I can hear the electricity in this room. I can hear the high-pitched frequency of this television set. And I can hear voices down the hall. I can also hear the roar of the crowd when I was shown respect. I can hear the words of my peers telling me they can see the difference in me and to keep up the fight. And I can hear the announcer after the match saying AND NEW TELEVISION CHAMPION.
Two things I can smell. I can smell whatever is being cooked in that room down the hall, I’m guessing Italian. I can smell the cleaning solution they used in this room before I arrived as it is faint. I can also smell the fear emanating off of Rossi and Jayhawk as they watch this, as they watch last week’s show again, poring over footage of me to figure out how to beat me. And I can smell the wood from the bridges I had burnt in the past that got me to this place.
And last, one thing I can taste. I can taste that metallic taste in my mouth from the internal bleeding I received after Rossi kicked me in the skull to eliminate me from the battle royal. I can taste the gum in my mouth trying to keep that metallic taste at bay. I can still taste all the sweet candy I have had in my life. But the one thing that will taste the best is the taste of victory when I beat Rossi and Jayhawk and became the new Television champion.
Jayhawk, you walk in the darkness, you carry that urn that if it were ever opened, would prove to be as empty as the shell you are. I do not overlook you, but I already see you as a vanquished foe because good triumphs over evil when good has its head on straight. Rossi, don’t think I’m overlooking you either, though you have already shown your true colors, and it’s nothing but a yellow streak right down your back, with a few shades of brown just below the belt. You’re a coward and you are full of it, and I plan on setting the Ghost free to haunt elsewhere because, hell, if I don’t have enough ghosts and skeletons of my own.
Evil vs Evil vs Good.
Greed vs Jealousy vs Redemption.
Jayhawk vs Rossi vs Maloney.
Only one will stand, two will be consumed by fire.
Fall... to the Warrior.