[Chelsea]

 â€œHarder.”

A red-headed woman, barely the same size as the brunette in front of her breathes harder, her voice comes out ragged. The brunette sets up and spears the red-head. She has to take a step back but otherwise she is a rock.

“Why are you afraid to hit me? Come on... do I gotta talk like that slag to get you to stop being a fucking coward. Come on... Hunty... like you are so ugly.!”

The red-head flips some flame coloured strands fallen loose from her ponytail and puts her other hand on her waist.

It’s okay to be jealous of me and the group I created... you are noth...”

The brunette lets out a growl of frustration and knocks the red-head onto her back. There is a moment of silence before she breaks into hilarious laughter. The brunette is the potential SCW Roulette Champion, Chelsea Payne and the laughing red-head is LAW hall of famer and WSW star Violet Ripley.

Chelsea moves to her hunches, her shoulders rapidly moving with her laboured breath but the look on her face proves that some of it might just be the searing hatred she feels.

“What's so funny?”

Violet stands, cracks her knuckles before shaking her head.

“You. All that anger helped you knock out a woman in a straight jacket last week but it will not help you against Veronica ‘pea-brain’ Taylor. That woman can’t be hurt psychologically because she lacks the brainpower to fully comprehend any insults you throw at her but getting you angry is exactly what she wants. Because she needs the advantage. People are not in control when they are angry. You need to be calculated. Don’t give anybody what they want or expect, you are past that. You no longer need to prove shit. Now you have to follow through on your claims. You got your title shot and this is just a practice match. You beat Veronica then you will be going into this pay-per-view having beaten both your opponents already. It will be like taking candy from two self-righteous entitled bitches.”

Violet reaches for her water bottle and takes a swig. Some of it drips off the bottle and down the exposed cleavage of the red head. Chelsea suspected that she had done it intentionally, not that she was into women, but Violet was. Surprisingly, it didn't make her uncomfortable.

“Thanks for the advice.”

Truth was, Violet intimidated her a little. She had been in Chels shoes and instead of wallowing in them, she fought out of the quicksand. She had started just like Chels. Young, Hungry, angry. The difference was that she wasn't straight up nuts like Vi.

Violet gives her a lopsided smile, tilting her head to one side. She thinks she sees a momentary change in her big green eyes. A quick flash of darkness. Chels shakes her head, writing it off to stress and fatigue.

“Now Caty gets to go talk to your boyfriend to tell him to stop being a tinfoil hat guy.”

Chelsea freezes. “He isn't making it up. There are facts...”

Violet raises a hand to silence her.

“The funny thing about facts is that even though you have them, nothing changes. Even when you have ‘the facts’...”

She uses quote fingers for emphasis.

“People will do everything in their power to make you believe they are lies. It all depends on how gullible the people listening are and how good they are at convincing you.”

Vi shrugs.

“That is why people like Rayven are untouchable. Did she know what she was doing when she dived off the turnbuckle to an unconscious Coby? Fucking right she did but if she admits it, that is her whole good girl image down the shitter and no one is more important in her world than herself. Is she fucking Xavier? Probably. Its pretty common in wrestling. I mean I slept with a married man because I was convinced that he needed me. He only needed himself. He told me whatever lie I needed to hear or told me enough of the truth to convince me. I don't however think that it was planned. And I don't think Xavier and Rayven set Coby up. And that is the task that I have been given. To knock some sense into both of you. I know you want this title and you keep getting the shaft, Coby getting injured didn't lessen that stress. And of course you want to defend him.”

Vi watches the younger woman. Although only a couple years older than the girl, she had the wisdom of someone twice her age. Chels supposed when you had three personalities, it aged you.

“That’s what people do for the ones they love. You would defend Phillip or one of your sisters if you were in my shoes...”

Chelsea stops talking, feeling vulnerable and defeated. Her shoulders sink a little and she lets out an exaggerated sign. Violet nods.

“Of course I would, but I also know when I am wasting my breath. What is yelling at Rayven or any of the other people dumb enough to buy into her bubble gum princess routine on Twitter going to do? She will make a misstep and the fall will be too great to get back up from. Karma & Chaos have a way of finding balance. You threatening her or punching her in the teeth is not going to accomplish that.”

Chelsea can’t argue her logic. Violet smiles.

“Don’t get so down on yourself. I see the same pride in you that I saw in myself. Being wrong or giving up makes you feel like a failure. I get it. But sometimes acting like those people don’t matter is worse than any words you can say, or any hurt you inflict. Just you watch. Rayven is Icarus.”

Violet chuckles, putting a hand on Chelsea’s shoulder. A smile spreads over her face.

“She’ll burn.”

Violet proceeds to raise her hand and slap Chelsea on the shoulder hard enough that she moves forward a little.

“That’s right. And that will be your retribution and no one can get on your case for it because you didn't touch her. You only do something if they threaten you first.”

Chelsea responds, “ How do you keep from getting mad all the time?”

Violet smiles.

“I learned it from a famous green guy... I'm always angry.”

Violet winks and moves to the ropes of the practice ring and slips through them with ease. Despite not being in a professional ring for some time, she doesn’t appear the slightest bit rusty. Chelsea watches as she walks away without another word into the woman's change room. She can't help but wonder what it must be like in Violet’s head on a daily basis.

***
Our scene begins at a small cafe. There are only a few people at the tables, including Chelsea Payne. She looks far different than we normally see her. Dressed in designer clothing, her dark hair pulled up inside a oversized hat and large sunglasses. Her bright red Louis Vuitton bag sits on the small table beside her as she sips from a delicate looking tea cup. She doesn't directly acknowledge the camera.

“I am getting used to people in this business giving themselves titles. “Miracle”, “King”, “The Face That Runs The Place”, “Accident”, “Nobody”, “Mean Girl”, “Bad Boy”...”

She smirks.

“Most of the time we assign these names to ourselves. Trying to promote. Getting people to take notice. Asking why are they called these things? What makes them special?”

She takes another sip of her tea.

“My opponent has given herself a few names. But the biggest lie is calling herself First Class.”

She gives a low chuckle, finally facing the camera directly.

“It’s good to have confidence in yourself, especially in this line of work. It's so easy to tear people down, to call them names, without anything to substantiate the claims, much like my opponent when she claims to have class, first rate class at that.”

She shakes her head.

“Is it because she has money? And has never known what it’s like to be in the opposite spectrum? Not that I truly know what that is like either, but I don't base my worth on the number of zeros in my bank account...”

She sighs deeply.

“Or is it because someone, somewhere convinced this woman that she should lace up some wrestling boots and get in a ring. Why? Why did someone lie to this poor girl? You know that a lot of the wins she has, including her last reign as the Roulette Champion? She needed other, more talented, people to interfere on her behalf. Even worse, she is proud of that fact. How can you be taken seriously if you are proud of being a paper champion? How can you claim to be the best when you consistently need help to win?”

She finishes her tea and signals the waiter for a refill.

“Veronica has taken the definition of what class is and turned it into an ironic joke. What is classy about a woman that seeks out and belittles people simply to pump up her own ego? What is classy about a woman that promotes everything that is wrong with the image we want young women to identify with. She tells every young girl out there that if you aren't her definition of ‘pretty’ you are worthless. Guaranteed she will accuse me of being jealous. She will claim that I am against people like her and the Mean Girls because I, oh so desperately, want to be part of them. If she was smart she would bring up how I was kicked out of a group just like hers in high school and this is just me wanting to get revenge, but she won’t because we all know she is incapable of having a deep thought.”

She lets out a short laugh just as the waiter returns with a pot to fill her cup.

“Classy people don’t stoop to the level she does in her game. She gets into people's heads with it because making her opponent angry makes them susceptible to making sloppy mistakes. But if her words hold no weight, why should we get angry about them?”

She gives the waiter a couple bills from her wallet and quietly tells him to keep the change.

“So she can bring her best insults to the party. She can use her delusions of grandeur to try and claim to be better than everyone, but in the grand scheme of things she's not even mediocre. I'm going to prove that when I walk away the winner at Climax Control.”

She picks up her cup again, nodding toward the camera

“Sorry ‘bout it.”

The camera fades as Chelsea takes a sip.