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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: Chelsea on February 10, 2017, 12:51:22 PM

Title: The Golden Girls/A Revolution is Coming
Post by: Chelsea on February 10, 2017, 12:51:22 PM

 Thursday, February 9,2017

“Mercedes.”

Chelsea lets the name roll off her tongue in a purr. She sits in an easy chair, obviously in the living room of her father’s condo. The floor to ceiling windows show the setting sunset of the New York skyline.

“I never understood how people came up with names for their children. Naming them after desserts, or places. Spelling things backward or even... after cars that haven’t been popular since the 2000’s.”

She taps her bottom lip.

“It must be a thing for her... being stuck in the early 00’s. Considering that the movie her and her girlfriends try to rip off was made in 2004. That's right. Thirteen glorious years have flown by since that movie came out. Thirteen years of way better movies and even better gimmicks to mimic. You know, it’s just a classic retelling of an unpopular girl getting popular to try and flip the table on a bunch of ‘fugly bitches’. And it also seems that this group, they just picked out the parts they liked because if they applied the whole movie... the mean girls would not be around again for the gazillionth time.”

She rolls her eyes.

“I get it though. Every time things get fucking dull in SCW they go down to the cellar and reanimate the corpse of Delia Darling and her entourage of slags to try to pump some blood into the veins of this old workhorse of a company. People get beat down. People get ‘made over’ and people plot about taking them down. It's like clockwork. But the thing that's different this time... well that of course is me.”

A smile spreads across her face.

“I am unlike any other Bombshell that has graced these halls or stepped into a six-sided ring. You might want to try to compare me but you will fail, just like Sam Marlowe did by comparing me to Caesar. I have everything you don't Mercedes. I have power, I have intelligence, I have an Ally that won't throw me under the bus and best of all... I have youth. Yours seems to be slipping by.”

She gives the camera a sad pouty face.

“But don't worry. I'm sure there is a surgery that can revitalize you. I mean you already hang out with a group that follows a movie group that are called, ‘The Plastics’. I mean 36... that's practically ancient for a woman in wrestling. But I have to hand it to you, you are well decorated. Like an Army general, proudly displaying your list of fallen opponents like he would the medals of valor on his lapel. So I have to wonder, how many of those victories were on your own steam. I mean really. Without any help or interference from one member of your group?”

She smiles.

“And your long list of accolades. Longest reigning here... the 17th to hold that... I wish I could say those things impress me. Or that it made me respect you but sadly... it doesn't. And you know why? Because you have the albatross of a group that is continuously thrust into our faces long after it's been milked dry. It's not even that I hate any one of you personally. Its that I hate that women in this industry are continually typecasted. They're sluts, they're the mean rich girl with more money than brains, they're the sweet innocent victim. They're that fighter overcoming impossible odds. It's like an after-school special. I am tired of the stereotypes.”

She sighs.

“Sam tried to label me as jealous. As just some bitch with a chip on my shoulder. She was playing people for fools with her wishy washy view on where her career stood here. I proved at Inception that I was correct. I know that Celeste technically has a win over me, but all she did was get back in the ring before getting counted out. A true coward. So without even having to pin her, I yet again proved her unworthy. And Twisted Sister? I took down the monster without breaking a sweat. Those are the things that impress people. Not about how long or how many times you held a title. Your 2016 record was unimpressive. But magically it's starting to climb with the reunion of Mean Grammas, SCW’s version of the Golden Girls.”

She gives a hint of a smile.

“I don't NEED a group to boost my confidence. No one watches your ridiculously long vignettes on the show week after week. No one cares anymore. Eventually, we should just rename SCW the Walking Dead.”

She sighs.

“I don't pretend to have been one of Mark or Christian’s top picks for the bombshell division. In fact, I'm pretty sure that until this week they didn't even remember my name. It was my father's generous sponsorship offer that was coveted. But there were a few places my father reached out too. When I saw the tweets about revitalizing SCW. About adding new talent, I knew that this was the place to leave my mark. I would be the face of the rebellion against sorry ass recycled ideas. I would be the Roxi Johnson of my generation. Come in with something new and exciting.”

She continues to smile, not faltering even a little.

“A revolutionary idea, I know. Because look at me. Twenty-two. A total of three matches under my belt, so what right do I have to challenge someone like you, a veteran of the ring? It's simple. My father taught me that I should never give anyone anything they weren't willing to give me in return. The bombshells in SCW all want the same thing and will do whatever it takes to get there. They will go against their own nature simply to move even an inch closer to having it. They don't offer respect to anyone. You would step on and squash me without hesitation, so why shouldn't I treat you the exact same way you have treated every opponent you’ve faced? Would you not destroy your own ‘friends’ if it meant getting that bombshell title in your hands again?”

Her grin turns devious.

“Loyalty only goes so far when it comes to personal accolades, you know those things I mentioned earlier that seem to mean so much to you. It's all about your personal image.  Like I told Sam, the only one in this match having something truly to lose is you. You lose and you have lost to a green as grass rookie. If I lose, they just chalk it up to being new. And as I continue to move up the ladder, it would soon be forgotten. But you would never live it down. Sure you could have your ‘ghoul’friends come and attack me after. But then it just continues to look bad on you. Couldn't do it alone so get the horde to do it for you. You could get on social media and cuss me out but honestly, you just look like a jealous, bitter old fool past her prime. You could stalk the back halls with a lead pipe and take me out Colonel Mustard style but again, very lame.  See you HAVE to win this match. To preserve what little dignity and reputation you still have. But I am not just some green as grass rookie like everyone thinks. I have been around this industry for twenty-two years. I have also been a part of a very similar version of your entourage's circle for the same amount of time. I know how you all think and live. Even if doing so tends to bring down my intelligence a few points.”

“So while I appear to have balls made out brass for calling you, or anyone like you, out I actually know what I am getting into. Do I want to make a name for myself off your coattails? Not exactly. While adding your name to my list will do nothing but good things for me, It will be more about my skills as a wrestler than who it was I used them against. Everyone here is just another name. The sooner that everyone realizes that the better off they will be.”

She takes a few seconds, staying silent while thinking about what she was going to say next before it seems that she has a moment of inspiration.

“I have been told that facing or calling out a member of mean girls is suicide. They've said that people who lose to them become irrelevant. That once the match is over, that's the end. I don't agree. This is only the beginning for me.”

She stands, leaning in slightly to the camera so that her face is the only thing seen.

“And honestly If I really wanted to kill myself... I would climb to the top of your ego and jump to your IQ.”

She laughs before blowing a kiss to the camera and walking away. The camera shuts off abruptly.

----------------------------------------

Wednesday, February 8, 2017
6:34am
NYC, NY

It's obvious by the look on Emilio’s face and in his body language that he is struggling internally. His answers to his sister and best friend are short replies. In fact he hardly says anything until they all reach the Manhattan condo that belonged to Chelsea and Emilio’s father. The trio come through the door, discarded all of their luggage in the small hallway area next to the door. They all appear worn down in their own way. Coby seems pretty bad off, trying not to turn his head or look around. All of his movements are boxy.

“I’m so glad I don’t have a match next week. If I did, I would probably have to actually tell someone that I’m not 100%.”

A light in the living room suddenly flicks on in the early morning dimness, sitting on the sofa is a short older Mexican man. His face reveals no emotion but by how Chelsea stiffens beside Coby, he knows that it’s not a good sign.

“Daddy! You're home!”

She moves into the room, leaning over to give him a hug. He shoots daggers in the direction of Coby & Junior.

“Por qué no estaría en casa? Es mi casa.”

Junior sighs heavily.

“Daddy. English. You know that Junior’s Spanish is rusty.”

In response, Coby turns to Junior, a smug look on his face.

“Why wouldn’t he be home? It’s his house….”

Junior shoots a glare Coby’s direction, and the much smaller man just shrugs, trying to be helpful.

“We just thought you and Octavia were going to Europe.”

Chelsea responds.

“We have postponed it. I saw your loss and you quitting Emilio. I am not impressed. Payne’s don't quit!”

His heavily accented voice still sends a shiver down Chelsea’s spine. When her father was angry it was scary.

“Daddy...”

He spins now on Chelsea.

“And you? You have been in that company for months and have only had 3 matches? Where is that voice? The one that told off your punk grandfather after that... disaster of a marriage...”

“Daddy... I’m trying. I even have a decent match next week. They notice my skill now...”

He shuts her up by raising his hand. He looks at Coby now.

“And you. Dating my daughter and don't even have the decency to introduce yourself and state your intentions? Not a great first impression.”

Junior slowly looks at his best friend and then his sister. She brings a hand up, covering her fa Coby does not try to backpedal away from the accusation, or make any excuses.

“No, it’s not. I should have done things a little differently. To be honest, the two of us wanted to make sure it was not going to be some short little thing before we let people in on it. These days everyone is out to ruin everybody else’s chance to be happy. I can promise you though, I don’t have any bad intentions. It wasn’t something you got singled out from knowing.”

“Remind me to punch Mats in the balls. When did he tell you?”

Chelsea looks pointedly at her father. The man shrugs.

“Yesterday. It came up. Then Tavia said she guessed it a while ago.”

Junior closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“You told Mateo but not me?”

Coby inserts himself into the conversation to correct Junior.

“Well, you did actually tell me to go with her on her date and keep an eye on her, so technically we had your permission to go out.”

Chelsea shakes her head. Coby’s words were not going to help the situation at all, but he was just trying to be helpful. She is quick to steer the conversation a different direction.

“Technically I didn't tell him anything but what happened on New Years and that I should follow up...”

She goes red.

Junior sighs again.

“I am way too tired for this. My head hurts from that bullshit kick. I'm going to bed and we can talk about it when I'm rested.”

“You have no say in who I chose to date Emilio.”

He stops.

“I know. I just need... to process this... and sleep. Need sleep.”

Coby snaps his fingers and points at Junior.

“You know that might not be a bad idea. We can just table all of this and come back fresh in the morning?”

He scans across the different faces in the room, realizing immediately that he was definitely on the outside of understanding everything that was going on. His gaze rests on Chelsea and Junior’s father. Emilio has taken a seat in a comfortable chair and within seconds is snoring.

“I can leave. If you prefer. And then come back after you guys have a chance to talk in the morning.”

Emilio Senior shakes his head

“I am not that old-fashioned or stupid. I know my girl is smart. You can stay and we will have breakfast in the morning. My wife is a wonderful cook.”

Coby very gently and slowly nods his head.

“She is smart, and that is probably one of her best qualities. Right up there behind how much family means to her, and not wanting to disappoint anyone. So, you have nothing to worry about when it comes to her being around me. I’m not someone interested in just having a pretty face to walk around with. It’s not like that.”

He has to turn to look back and forth between Chelsea and her father, not able to just turn his head back and forth after all of the damage he absorbed during the match.

“I wouldn’t be where I am at right now without her. So, if you need a title to measure her success…”

He reaches down and unzips the bag he carried in with him, pulling out the KCW Valiant Championship and holding it out to show Emilio Senior.

“You can count this one to her credit.”

Senior stands, clasping a hand on Coby's shoulder. The man only stands a little taller than Chelsea.

“Behind every great man, is an even greater woman. I am going to bed but we will talk more in the morning. Buenas Noches.”

The man chuckles as he walks back down the hallway. From the couch, Chelsea sighs deeply. Coby watches him go until he disappears around the bend in the hallway. He shifts on his feet to face Chelsea.

“That went alright…”

She laughs.

“I guess it could have been worse.”

He crosses the room and stands in front of her.

“I mean, he called you great. Greater than me even. Depending on what your opinion of me is, that could possibly be a huge compliment.”

She smiles.

“My dad and Junior are a lot alike. despite how many wives he’s had, he always has respect for them. he never disrespected my mom, she got bored with him. Let's go to sleep.”

Coby offers her a hand, pulling her up where she melts into his arms in a hug

~END~