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Roleplay Boards => Archived Roleplays => Climax Control Archives => Topic started by: Chelsea on April 21, 2017, 11:12:35 PM

Title: "Tired of Repeating Myself."
Post by: Chelsea on April 21, 2017, 11:12:35 PM

 A loud bang echoed through the apartment, causing Samuel Quickens, better known as Coby Quik, to wince as the sharp pain in his ear quickly moves down his injured jaw and orbital socket. His girlfriend Chelsea had been on edge. She had been denied a title because her management issued partner was an idiot. Not to mention that she had already been denied a chance at the internet title because of the ref making a count too fast. Now she was being thrown into a no DQ match... to once again prove her worth to Christian. The fact that she was worthy was something Chelsea had already explained numerous times, if only they would listen. Maybe it was time to stop telling them, and get into the ring and do something they couldn’t ignore. Add to that the stress of Coby’s injury and the list of people she wanted to maim but had promised she wouldn't, and you had the perfect storm that was about to break loose any second.

All the time she is internally thinking, she is slamming and walking heavily. Grumbling under her breath in broken spanish too fast for Coby to correctly translate. The hobbled former champion comes to their bedroom door, leaning against the inside of the doorway with his good side. His right hand trails up the left side of his abdomen, his ribs not quite healed enough for him to be moving around like he has been.

“I’m sorry that nothing seems to be going right lately….”

His voice was low, but startles her all the same. It forces her to stop, looking down at the basket of folded laundry. She grips the sides and takes a deep breath before answering.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Sam. No one asked for any of this. And don’t ever think you are a burden, because you aren't. I know you would do the same for me if the roles were reversed.”

She shortens the distance between them by walking toward him. She moves a hand up to caress his face like she normally would do but stops short, sighs and shoves her hands in her pockets instead. She can tell that he’s not exactly buying it.

“It’s okay to be frustrated. First I was gone for weeks setting up the gym. Then Xander screws your shot at a title. Then this….”

He raises his hand from his ribs to the side of his face where his eye socket is stitched together.

“Now you get dumped into the opening of the show against someone you already beat because apparently you still haven’t proven you have talent. I get it. It’s okay to be angry. You don’t have to act like it doesn’t suck.”

She sighs deeply.

“I should have been out there with you. Maybe if I had, it wouldn't have happened.”

She was feeling guilty for staying backstage, watching helplessly from the dressing room.

“But the last thing I wanted to do was have anyone else think you can’t defend yourself. Especially that hypocrite Ra...”

He cuts her off.

“It wouldn’t have mattered. Even if you would have been at ringside the whole time, it was all over in a few seconds. There’s nothing that anyone could have done other than the referee stopping it. You can’t blame yourself for it. I’m just saying I know things have been rough lately and a lot of that falls on me. You can’t beat yourself up though.”

“I can't go and take out my frustration on the people who deserve it. I made you a promise to leave Rayven alone but I would love to smack that smug look off her face. I hope she loses that title and her world falls apart. I just...”

She lets out a growl and suddenly slams her fist into the wall beside her, leaving a dent in the plaster. She then spins on her heel. Pissed but also embarrassed.

“I made you promise to stay out of it, because I already have it handled.”

Coby, holding his side, hobbles across the room from the doorway as he speaks.

“But what good is being angry and hitting walls going to do? The only person you’re hurting doing that is yourself. It doesn’t have to be like that.”

He comes close to her, but sits down on the edge of the bed behind her instead of attempting to hug her.

“If you know you can beat this person, then beat them… but don’t just beat Twisted Sister. If Christian wants to try and keep ignoring you, give him something that he cannot ignore.”

“And what? Become Xavier and Rayven? As violent as this match is going to be... I would never do what they did. I could never keep beating on an opponent who is already out. No matter how much I hated them. I have already proven time and time again that the Pina blood is alive in me. I was born for this and I am better than the rest of that roster. I beat Mercedes for fucksakes! Doesn't that count for anything? If not for Xander being a pansy bitch, I would already have the roulette title.”

She paces back and forth in front of him, hitting her palm with her opposite fist with every point she makes.

“You don’t have to hurt someone to make a point.”

His tone and voice and attitude about the situation couldn’t be more different from hers. The cool and collected sound of it stops Chelsea’s pacing so that she can focus on him.

“There’s a difference between pinning someone and beating someone. If Christian needs you to show him what you can do, don’t stop until she can’t keep going anymore. No roll up pins. No distractions. You end the match so definitive that you’re halfway back to your locker room before she is able to pick herself off the mat, and there’s no way that they can ignore you.”

Chelsea opens her mouth, not exactly in agreement with him, but he continues before she can speak.

“You don’t have to cheat, or injure anyone to make sure that people know your worth. You just need to demonstrate the gap in talent between you two.”

She sighs, sitting beside him on the bed.

“I really hate using weapons. Not to say I won't do whatever it takes but I was taught that if you truly are a good wrestler, you shouldn't need them to win a match. And I know how good I am and so does that roster.”

He shakes his head.

“But it is not the roster that needs convincing. It’s the people that are handing out the bigger matches to lesser talents.”

“Mark already sees it. It's Christian that is being a dick.”

She closes her eyes, taking another deep breath to steady her anger. He smiles widely, trying very hard not to break into laughter while offering a silver lining.

“It could be worse. I mean, you could still be having to deal with Xander on a daily basis. Anyone would take being in an opener against a hack as opposed to listening to his rambling nonsense.”

She laughs, the tension breaking. She takes his hand.

“You’re right. Nothing could be worse than that.”

He gives her a nudge, and a reassuring smile.

“Except being Twister Sister this weekend.”

****
~ON CAMERA~

“I said a long time ago that it wasn't our right as the athletes to complain about who we get booked against. I was wrong.”

We see Chelsea Payne, sitting on the outside of a ring. It’s not the six sided ring of SCW but rather a practice ring setup within the gym owned and operated by Jet City. Her legs dangle over the side, white ring shoes, then bare legs all the way up to her shorty-shorts in bright pink. She’s wearing a tank-top with the saying, “I flexed and the sleeves fell off” in a shade of orange. She doesn’t look as vibrant emotionally as her clothing would have you think as a scowl crosses her beautiful full lips.

“After bullshit match after bullshit match. It is becoming tedious. I asked to be recognized for my talent and what do I get? I get the same fucking insane talentless hack I beat in my debut back in November. Like all the fucking newbies. Do I really have to start taking crowbars to the talent you think are worthy? I will go to whatever lengths I have to if it finally drives the message home even though I don’t like having to resort to these types of matches. They are lazy. They show no level of actual talent or skill. But every time I take a chunk out of your tired, mangy pitbull, You can blame yourself for booking this match in the first place. I don't know what your problem is Christian, but if you have one, stop cowering in the back and step up. Put on your big boy pants and come tell me to my face. And in this face, you are going to see the essence of what is going to take the bombshell division to the next level. Not Melody, not Polly, not the dried out has-beens in the Blast From The Past Tournament, and definitely not any members of the ‘Mean’ Girls who are just becoming sad and boring at this point. Their matches all have the same shady, bullshit endings and their promos are only anticipated by the fans because they know they have more than enough time to wait in line to take a piss.”

She rolls her eyes as a slight smile turns up the corners of her lips. However, it slowly fades as she continues to speak her mind.

“I am tired of repeating myself. I am tired of your garbage ‘prove yourself’ matches. I am tired of being used in whatever fucking game you are playing. You keep trying to call upon fresh blood in SCW when you don’t even see it flowing in front of you.”

She moves a hand up and down her her own body, indicating that she believes herself to be the ‘fresh blood’ she’s speaking about.

“You know, Mercedes whats to call me a crybaby but yet who handed her, her ass huh? Who made Sam Marlowe bleed first?”

She shakes her head, adding a roll of her eyes.

“That’s right... this bitch. If I’m a cry baby for speaking out about what I want and what I know I deserve than fuck it. I don’t give a shit what anyone on this roster says. I have what it takes and that’s why everyone on this roster is scared of what happens as I move up the ranks.  You know, When I came here I could have used my father’s influence to get title shots. I could have been featured from day one, but instead I wanted to work for it. I wanted to prove I was every bit as good as I claim to be. I wanted to do it the right way, and I have, god damn it.”

She takes a deep breath and with it lets out a low growl, very primal and guttural. It shows how deep her frustration truly goes.

“If you think that I’m scared, even for a minute, of getting into a match with an old bitch that should be taken out back and shot... you are sadly mistaken. I already proved I was better than her so what does this match really say? To me, it says that Christian is scared. He saw what I did to Jesse two weeks ago. He saw how I left her in a mess on the mats and how quickly I abandoned my partner to get his ass handed to him. I am ruthless. Maybe that bothers some people, but unfortunately I am just plum out of fucks to offer. I don't want to be that person that threatens someone's career, especially after this last week but if I have to take Sister out to the point of injury to have you munchers see that I am serious I will do whatever it takes and if you still don't see it... well I will find a company that does and you can watch the same tired bombshells filter through the titles like the same old merry-go-round it always does. Boring. Dull. Lifeless. Kinda like Twisted sister trying to intimidate anyone with her Glenn Close Ice pick impression. Or...”

She shakes her head, again another brief smile comes to her lips but it’s more in sarcastic value than it is actual pleasure in the situation.

“You can recognize that it is people like me, that breathe new life into this company.”

She leans forward, resting her elbows on her her knees.

“The choice...”

She winks at the camera.

“Is yours...”

She then blows a kiss as the scene fades out.