Post by Claire Hawkins on Feb 7, 2021 16:57:34 GMT -5
The camera fades in to reveal a scene that was wholly different than the previous three installments. Gone were the familiar sights of cages and warehouses, replaced now by the simplistic nature of a spacious field swathed in a gentle layer of light snow. Yet, it was not the abrupt change that was mesmerizing, but the image of a porcelain pale woman clad in a black dress and standing barefoot within the frigid powder that drew attention; crimson eyes aflame over lips nearly blue. Breathing heavily, the raven-haired lass of a volatile disposition stared into the camera as she sat upon her bare legs upon the snow; a naked and rust-covered blade her crutch.
"With every ending, there is a beginning; every beginning an ending. However, neither one has any bearing upon the other on when or where either shall happen or when. Yet, despite that unpredictable certainty, there is one thing that forever remains regardless of the situation.
Pain.
Without pain, there is no end to a person's story nor will there be a beginning for a life newly born. It is within that maelstrom that I find myself swept within. For without pain I would not have met an end at the bottom of that river nor would I be facing this beginning anew within this snowy hellscape. Yet, despite the trials that I have already passed there are but more that threaten to impede this new life of mine.
Battlebowl among them."
Shifting her weight, the ghostly woman leaned against the rusted crutch as she maneuvered a leg so that a foot was a steady base.
"Battlefield is looming closer and with it comes to the expected bouts between Battlebowl hopefuls; of that, I am no stranger. Unlike the first foray into the unknown, I stand alongside a former Action Wrestling PURE Champion in Noris Cranley. Despite his addiction to the mind-numbing effects of modern media, I am wholly convinced that our combined in-ring abilities can carry us to that hallowed field.
Call it an edge of a champion."
Using the partially buried blade, the raven-haired woman pulled herself up to her feet; a firey determination burning within those crimson eyes.
"Shall I beat the dead horse some more or have you already understood what I mean?
Andrew Stone; Soldado Fortuna, the two of you have come into Action Wrestling with wrongful expectations of dominance and championship grandeur. Yet, when push came to shove, the only thing either of you has shown is that neither of you has what it takes to become a force within this company; that those notions of glory are just empty dreams.
It is truly a shame when there was at least ONE of you that has the natural ability to do so.
Soldado; you have had quite the time tangling with the likes of Reo Raijin and Jim Mud on CruiserClash. However, despite the promising showings and in-ring prowess you have only managed to prove that the bravado that Richardson crows about is nothing more than an illusion. After all, you're only returning after having taken a month to recover from a Mud's pathetic attempt with that cinderblock.
A MONTH.
I died in a barrel at the bottom of a river and I was BACK the very next FUCKING week.
Cowards and the weak do not prosper in Action Wrestling, and you have proven to be both. So, as a fair warning, prepare to have your shit kicked in as Cranley and myself prove the be the dominant duo. Of that, there is no doubt and neither is our progression to the next qualification match."
Shifting her weight that she was balanced evenly upon each foot, the woman pulled the rusted blade from the frozen earth; her gaze never wavering.
"As far as you go, Stone; you have already proven exactly why you'll never be a threat in this match nor in Action Wrestling. Regardless of your preaching and preening, you're nothing more than a fourth-rate bargain bin knock-off of Zombie McMorris without any of the qualities that make the Honey Badger a threat to any foolish dumbfuck. After all, cocaine and bodyguard work doesn't mean shit unless you prove it does.
You haven't.
You never will.
So remember, when dragging your sorry ass back to Blossoms, that a REAL woman showed you what it was like to be a REAL competitor within this industry. Then, after you have fallen into despair upon realizing it, you can snort yourself into a vegetative state and stay the fuck AWAY from MY ring.
Understand?
No?
Don't worry, cause I am going to teach you the same way that I taught Jayson Price; with a resounding DEFEAT!"
Rearing back, the pale woman let loose that Banshee-like wail that had become so synonymous with Action Wrestling over the last three years. Yet, the scene was not yet done as it normally would be. Instead, a black mass rose from the pristine blanket of snow and seemed to solidify as the mysterious black-robed figure from before; allowing the pale woman to finish her diabolical scream.
"Have you given up yet, child?"
With a simple phrase in a tone colder than ice, the look in the raven-haired woman's eyes shifted from dauntless determination to that of compounding rage and annoyance; her face contorting into a matching mask as she turned to face the newest addition to the scene.
"Given up? Bitch, I've NEVER given up on anything and I have no plan on starting now!"
"Is that so? Right now you seem a far cry from the wretch that once dreamed of being more than just a low-tier fool."
"Shut up! I gave everything I had to bring the Television Championship back from death and I'm fucking PROUD of it!"
"Oh? Well, show that pride and determination that you so cling to; the qualities that others fear."
With a vicious snarl echoing through the crisp winter air, the raven-haired lass charged forward as the screen became black.