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Climax Control Archives / Dearly Beloved
« on: July 28, 2017, 11:28:13 PM »
 Ooc: please excuse me using Chelsea's account to post this. I forget the login info for the Twins account and Kris is not around to remind me.

****

=================
~Dearly Beloved~
September 25th, 2016
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The old cemetery had a feel of decay in it. All the trees looked twisted with age or disease, as if their roots had tapped into the decomposing bodies that lay beneath them. There are not many people there to mark the passing of a loved one. A small group of twenty. The majority of them are aged seniors all but one are women, wearing frumpy black formal wear and  feathery veiled hats to keep out the light of a late September sun. And Indian summer had swept over the province, making the majority of people over dressed for the unexplainable heatwave. To the right of this group, is the deceased woman’s family. Two women, one with skin so white it is almost transparent and showing her age in the wrinkles on her face. Her makeup is almost too heavily done. She has a comforting arm around a darker skinned woman. Although it's obvious that she is past middle age herself, she looks to be in better shape. Her dark eyes are riddled with dark red veins, a sign that she had been crying, or not sleeping but more than likely a mix of both. On the other side of the fair skinned woman is a younger copy. Although dressed well, only her pants are black but her shirt is a short sleeved white blouse. She looks awkward, hugging her own arms in uncertainty. It is hard to read the expression on her face.

Last but not least are two identical men. They stand incredibly close to one another dressed in identical black suits but do not make any move to comfort each other.

KILLIAN’S POV:
Our grandmother was perfect. At least in my opinion. The woman was robust, outspoken and never afraid. As much as I love both of my mother's, I learned most of what I know about life from the woman that now lay silent inside this wooden box. I want to say it’s unfair that she’s gone, but it wasn't as though she lived an unfulfilled life. Marian Delgato was 81 when she left this world and man, she had so many stories. Including her time as an Army nurse during Vietnam. I admired her. When I looked at her, I always imagined that maybe life wasn't so hard, after knowing everything she went through. Losing not one, but two husbands. Raising a daughter on her own. Life could be incredibly cold and cruel yet Marian didn't let any of that break her stride.

I look over to see my mother, Ellie, still completely heartbroken. And I knew it was going to take some time for her to heal from this. Her and my grandmother were close. My other mother, Dylan holds her tight, dropping her nose and mouth into the hair on the top of her head, holding her tighter. My grandmother had been one of the few people to support my parents during a time when homosexual relationships were still largely taboo. I don’t think my Mama ever felt more accepted than she did by Marian.

Looking at Porter, I feel lost on how to comfort the man. Although we were identical in every way, right down to our DNA, we couldn't be more different. It was like looking at an alternate reality of what you could have been in another time or place. I know how uncomfortable he is in the suit, in fact it was one of mine since my brother didn't own one. He pulls a little at the collar as if it were cutting off his air way.

Something I would normally chuckle at, but today he got a reprieve. Today was hard for us both.

PORTER’S POV:
It’s hard not to be bitter. A lifetime being the brightest and most caring individual in any room, but it all ends the same. Everyone ends up in a box in the ground. In looking around, it’s hard not to wonder about the people that she will spend the rest of eternity buried beside. Could any of these people really be proper company for her? Did they love as openly as she had? Were they so willing to lend an ear to counsel anyone, even a random stranger? Had any of them gone out of their way to experience life the way that she had?

I doubt it. Yet, here we are, not even two dozen of us bidding farewell and leaving her with all of these people. What’s worse is that I know she would scold me for how I feel. She would tell me not to judge too harshly. Not everyone was taught the same things that we were. People are a product of those that help to bring them up in life. Maybe that is why I am bitter. I feel like at best, I’m still a disappointment. I can’t help but feel like I let her down.

It was easy to see the impact that she had on my mothers. Even Killian has that warmth and welcoming attitude that he no doubt picked up from her. Calla had followed that openness and trusting nature to the point of being hopelessly naive about the way that life was. I think this might be the first time that I am jealous of them. Jealous that they can let people in. Jealous that, in at least that way, they are closer to her than I will ever be, even though it was one of the things that she had always wanted for me. Unlike anyone else, she always saw right through it. She could always see that it was not just the way I was made, but that it was calculated. She knew I was afraid.

I know that I frustrated her, yet she never once raised her voice. Thinking back, I cannot ever remember hearing anything even an decibel above the sweet and nurturing voice she used to wake us up with. Even she she was irritated, or even full blown angry, she would smile, take a deep breath, and tell me she loved me and just wanted me to let someone see me the way that she did. I always told her that when the right one came along, it would happen. I think what I loved about her the most was that she believed me, even in the times that I didn’t. She never gave up hope for me.

I have probably put way too much thought into the look that was going to be on her face the moment I did finally bring someone home for her to meet. In my head it was not the same surprise, or excitement that I might get from either of my mother’s, or siblings. Every time I have pictured it, there was nothing in her eyes but pride. She wanted to see me open up to someone, anyone, and maybe just get to feel a piece of how amazing every second of her life was. She was a woman that allowed herself to feel everything. Every emotion was laid right on her sleeve for everyone to see. I feel like I robbed her of getting to see the person she always hoped I would be.

And for what? To leave her here with all of the other bodies rotting six feet beneath our shoes. It is cheap. It is unfair. They don’t deserve her. Maybe it is more that I didn’t deserve her. I always thought that there would be more time.

KILLIAN’S POV:
The minister nods at me. I had always been better at words than my brother so we had agreed I would be the one delivering the eulogy. My grandmother was hardly religious, citing that the world’s religion should just simply to love who we want, be who we want and mind your own business. For as sweet and beautiful she was, she was witty, took things in stride. She also had no problem finding a way to cut you down to size without ever having to show anger or raise her hand. I suppose that’s why I never pushed her buttons too far. I feared what she would be like if she ever fell past that ridge of no return.

I step up the small hill, seeing everyone’s eyes on me. It never bothered me but today, it felt like I carried so much pressure. This woman was so dear to me, what if I messed it up?

I know what she would say to me though, the same thing she had always told me.
”Killian, you can't be perfect. In order to be a good and decent person you gotta fuck up bad sometimes.”

It was one of two times I had ever heard her curse. I suppose that’s why it stuck with me so heavily, even now where I tell everyone how wonderful she was. Honestly there were no words on earth that could ever do my feelings justice.

PORTER’S POV:
It’s hard to focus on Killian’s words. Every funeral that has ever been held parades family members up in front of everyone to say the same sweet things. Everyone forgets all the negativity. They choose not to remember a person for who they were, but instead choose some ideal version of them that never existed to celebrate. The difference between them, and this woman, is that all of the sweet things are true. It’s only the custom involved in this whole process that cheapens them.

I turn away from it, looking at my mothers’ faces, knowing that it is most certainly worse for the two of them than it is for any of the rest of us. It’s a horrible thought to know that as bad as I feel, it is only the fraction of losing a parent, and losing one of the only people that ever really accepted you. The thought of losing either of them is unthinkably painful. Yet, I know that is what they are both feeling right now. Killian’s words offered them an opportunity to smile at happy memories, but getting through this was going to take more than just that. I can’t help but think that I’m not the one to help them though. If there was an individual most opposite to my grandmother, but still inside the family, it is undoubtedly me. I guess it is a good thing that I was born into the world with my own opposite though.


Killian ends his words with a saying, “The world has lost a beautiful soul, but heaven has gained a gorgeous angel.”

He walks over to the hole in the ground, grabbing a handful of the soil he drops it in before walking back down. Ellie reaches out a hand to grab his, squeezing his fingers before he reluctantly lets them fall away. He joins his brother once more.

“I think it's time to come home brother...”

His eyes are still on the crying woman who gave birth to them as she makes her way to the grave to offer her own handful.It was a subject change that Porter was all too happy to let his brother make. He does not look over at him, staying focused on their mother, trying to make out the words she whispers as she drops the soil into the grave.

“You would, wouldn’t you. I am going to assume it’s all because we’re needed here, and not because things are starting to come apart in Japan.”

Killian sighs heavily. “We agreed not to tell them about the gambling Porter. And yes, our family needs us closer. We are still mostly undefeated in Japan...” a smile crosses his face. “...Wouldn’t you like a new challenge?”

==============
10 months later...
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“Why are we being overlooked?”

Killian Sweete has a camera close to his clean shaven face.

“A call rings out among the masses... ’more tag teams’they shout and Porter and I sit here with furrowed brows wondering what the hell happened? We have had two real matches since officially inking our contracts. But yet they are hurting for teams?”

He turns away, shaking his head in utter disgust. As Killian leaves the frame to the left of the screen, an identical face steps in from the right. Casual fans might be confused as the duo had not been seen in awhile, but some hopefully remembered the twins.

“It was difficult enough to come up short in our last match. It would seem as though the entire company wrote us off with the loss though. We came in, and dominated The Elders, as everyone expected, but with a single loss to a man that went on to main event Summer XXXtreme, and apparently we were supposed to leave. The Black Sheep got left off shows, and were practically ignored on the cruise. We sat back while others fought for a golden opportunity at a champion of their choosing, all while the tag team division went unrepresented in that match. Remind me again how many of the people in that match showed any effort at all. How many of them are gone now? Yet we are, have been the whole time, and it took a tweet about walking away for us to make our way back onto the card.”

Killian slides in next to him now, the two showing only one side of the identical faces.

“The tag titles have been passed around like some consolation prize. No one hypes them. No one talks about them. This... is the reason that tag wrestling is dying. I am not ready to stand on a hill and deliver a speech about how good it was and then throw my handful of dirt on its remains. I...”

Killian smiles at his brother.

“We came back to America to restore faith in this division and after research, restore faith in SCW’s reputation for holding some of the best Tag talent there is... but first, they need to recognize that there is no viable talent here and throwing together tweedle dee and tweedle dum and praying, is not going to garner MORE interest.”

He chuckles while taking a deep sigh.

“TNA can’t win a singles title so why not throw him to the wolves and hope for the best, right? Gotta make sure not to breach his contract to compete.”

The smile widening across Porter’s face shows what he thinks of the idea.

“Travis Andrews did a lot of talking before Summer XXXtreme. To be honest, he has done a lot of talking since coming back before Into The Void. For all his talk though, what has he accomplished? He is best known for losing. He demands opportunities more often than Steve Ramone, and is not nearly as successful when he gets them. That’s a pretty low bar for success given that Steve is more known for breaking censorship rules than he is for winning. The fact is, Travis Andrews cannot measure up to the bottom tier of the singles division. So now, because his manager tells him to, he is going to try his hand as a tag team?”

He shakes his head, making a clicking sound with his tongue against his cheek.

“Learning to be a member of a team doesn’t happen overnight. Regardless of what singles champions would have you believe, there is no carrying going on in a tag match. There is no weak partner being protected by a strong partner. A team is only as good as its weakest link, and what we have established about this particular weak link, is that he can’t really do much of anything right on his own. It’s not going to be any different when he is competing in this division. To think that it would be, or even could be, shows a level of naivete that makes me doubt the competence of the management.”

Killian nods in agreement.

“All this goes to show is that Travis has fallen so far down the whole that now they are giving him to us, that team they felt compelled to ignore.”

He yawns, big and overly dramatic.

“I feel like our talent is being wasted brother of mine.”

Porter shrugs, equally unenthused.

“It would be different if Travis’ partner was anything less than a bland old man that’s a little too into science fiction if you ask me.”

Killian’s expression changes to that of genuine surprise. Before he can get his question out though, his brother answers him.

“There’s nothing quite like being prepared for anyone, at any time.”

A smile comes across Killian’s face as the realization sinks in.

“Oh, yes… I know who you are.”

Porter turns his head slightly, looking at the camera. More specifically though, it appears he is addressing Horace specifically, in the hopes he is watching.

“Horace Jackson. The man that gave us amazing catch phrases like ‘let me welcome you to the high life’, ‘The Empire Salutes You!’, or my personal favorite, ‘The Darth Knight will always seek to deliver his own brand of justice!’.”

Porter does not even attempt to cover up the condescending laugh that radiates from him. It takes him a few moments to collect himself, but Killian seems to be at a loss for a response to the stupidity.

“You know Horace, maybe it wouldn’t be so funny if you weren’t somebody who has been at this for almost twenty years. You’ve been in-and-out the door here for the last three years and have absolutely nothing to show for it. Maybe if you acted a little more like a guy that spent three tours overseas in the Marines, and a little less like a fanboy running around as Darth Vader, you wouldn’t be such a joke in Sin City. As it is, you’ve bounced out of here a few times and never amounted to much of anything. Sure, you’re freakishly tall, and built like a brick house, but where has any of that gotten you? You haven’t held championships here. You’ve never even done anything to make a significant impact. Your epic reappearance was received with the booming sounds of crickets chirping.”

He shakes his head, clearly disappointed.

“I wish I could say that the saving grace is that you have time to right the ship. Unfortunately that’s just not the case. You’re an old man, who has long since past his usefulness in this industry. No amount of pop culture references are going to change that.”

Killian rests his chin on her hands as he puts his elbows on the table.

“And this is a man expected to save Travis Andrews career? Two wrongs do not make a right. It seems any two idiots can wake up one morning and say, ‘Hey, we both have horrible careers, let's get together and add more to the shit pile’. I guess if you are going to go down in flames, might as well go all in right?”

Killian rolls his eyes.

“People seem to forget the things that make a team a team. It's more than just looking at a line of available people and picking someone. The best teams are the ones that have dedicated the time to becoming a cohesive unit. And honestly... what team in SCW currently can function better than identical twins? None. The Bad Boys may currently hold the titles, but they are merely a placeholder, that is of course if management doesn't fuck this up and actually remembers we signed contracts here. There are plenty of companies out there dying to get us on their rosters because we are a draw.”

His arrogance is evident in his words and tone. Porter adds another team to the list of less-than-acceptable alternatives to The Black Sheep.

“The Unholy Alliance is another barely passable team. At least the Bad Boys have sleeping together to bind them all to a purpose. As we have seen though, that doesn’t really mean anything at all. The Unholy Alliance is made up of two people that have no reason to like each other, and really, after all the continuous failures, no reason to remain a team. Sure, they won at Summer XXXtreme, but only because we were kept off of the card.”

Killian is nodding in agreement.

“Let’s not forget that The Elders are spiltsville but not to worry because it seems Eyesnane is rebounding hard with Bad Boys. I honestly didn't know he swung that way but hey, I’m not one to judge. Seems the majority of any form of relationship doesn’t last more than a minute. Pretty soon you’re dating your ex-girlfriend’s sister and making a baby in an elevator!”

They both have to cover a chuckle.

“Maybe The Elders should have taken a cue from Team BJ when it came to losing the championships. It probably would have saved Matt Dough, or Jon Spears, or whatever the hell his name is, a whole lot of pain and suffering if they would have just dropped the titles and flaked back in November. We can only hope that once we get a chance to relieve The Bad Boys of their titles that they will follow the trend of former champions.”

“But...”

Killian holds up a finger.

“There is one team that would have been suitable competition for us Porter... can you guess who?”

He smiles wide, looking at his brother. Porter mocks a shrug but the smirk on his face tells a different story.

“And that would have been a match of epic put-asses-in-seats proportions but unfortunately they grew tired of winning every match and having no competition so they broke up. One has been travelling the world and secretly married his girlfriend.”

He winks.

“Then the other one saw the roulette title just sitting there looking useless at the hands of every Tom, Joe and dickless. So he snatched that up and look... he is dominating that division all on his own.”

He sighs, looking disappointed. Porter takes a turn in front of the camera.

“It's not as though we are demanding title shots or using our nearly spotless record in the Japanese circuit to inflate our egos, we just want to not be passed by in favor of teams who seem to be as random as drawing two names from a hat. Surely, it is not too much to ask considering we did sign contracts to actually compete here in SCW. We are not keen to stand over the graves of anyone, but if we kept getting given fodder, the names of the dearly beloved will be dearly forgotten.”

The men stare into the camera as it fades out.

2
Climax Control Archives / The Roulette Title...
« on: June 16, 2017, 09:07:14 PM »
 ***Chelsea’s Rant***

Jessie can repeat her words however many times she wants, it won’t make them true.

You want to blame everyone else but yourself. The fact is, you couldn't pin me. You couldn't pin Veronica. As you said before... in the spirit of repeating words... you couldn't get the job done.

And just like those two times of being unable to pin me, you won’t magically do it this time.

They say things come in threes but your third thing on sunday will not be holding the roulette title a third time, it's going to be having a third time of seeing my ass from the ground, watching me walk away. But don't worry, at least my ass is perfect and nice to look at.

I haven't had anyone helping me win my battles here. In fact my rise to getting this title was done by my own blood sweat and tears. I saw something I wanted and I worked said ass off to get it. I have risen to every challenge I have been given and you know what, I haven't won all my matches. And I certainly didn't repeat myself either. We get it. You’re pouting over being proven wrong. It's fine. But you know what's beyond pathetic? You still underselling me. In one breath you say it won’t be easy then in the next write me off as a ‘fluke’.

Here’s some truths.

“I am not you. I am NOTHING like you. I don’t write off opponents that have beat me legit. Do you see me talking down Rayven? No. Because she pinned me fair and square. Would I like a re-match to redeem myself? Absolutely.

The thing is, I have tasted your so-called brand of... whatever that is you bring to the ring and I gotta say, it's bland. About as dry and tasteless as the promos you throw at me. All of which drone on and on and say the exact same shit. Honestly, you bore me. Just like you bore the people in the audience. Like you bore the people of the roster and sooner or later you will bore your goons too.

I have Dax Beckett tweeting me, supporting me to take you out. A guy that’s far up the mean girls asses but there he was, telling me to shut you up. Out of the two of us, even the people that hate us both pick me over you.

I came here to SCW with the intention of breathing new life into the bombshell division. Nobody wants to see the same people fighting for the same titles, saying the same thing. They want change. They want younger. Fresher... hotter.

You are none of those things Jessie. You have been in SCW for how long now? And you are still wading down here in the kiddie pool. Don't you have aspirations to go higher? I know I do. The Roulette title is only the beginning. I am not content to settle and everyone out there knows that I am the next rising star, whether they like it or not.

So Jessie, you can cling to your sinking ship of a career. Talk about how I am a fluke or a paper champion. The fact is, I am already a better champion than you or Veronica ever was. I have already proven you wrong yet you try so desperately to tread water, but let me give you some advice, these are shark infested waters and I am not the only one with the taste of blood in her mouth.

***
::*Unscripted *::

People seem to forget that although I’m a rookie, I have been around the wrestling world since birth. Ever since I was five I begged my dad to get into a ring.

Experience can come in many different forms. It’s not all just matches and titles. It's not even about formal training. It’s instinct. And to survive you have to have a killer one to come out alive.

I struggled my whole life to find where I belonged. Half white, half Mexican. I didn't belong with the upper class white girls but I was too spoiled to be accepted by my Mexican family.

My Dad though, all he saw was his little girl. I think that’s why him and I are the closest. He doesn't seem to relate the same to EJ and Mateo. Him and I share the same passions, a similar outlook on life. Its that set of ethics that have me stand out in a group of other women fighters.

It's the reason I am the future.

***

The camera focuses in on a big bright blue banner. The white letters spell out the letters, ‘ADOPT NOW. BECOME A FUR-PARENT TODAY.’

There are groups of different people entering and leaving the building with dogs on leashes and cats in carriers. As the camera enters, it stops seeing the side profile of a familiar looking brunette dressed in black tights and a bright blue shirt with the Kennels logo on the front.

She is crouched down, petting a very shaggy looking Beagle. The little girl holding its leash seems very excited.

“I hope you give Huckleberry a great new home.”

The girl's mother thanks her and they walk away. Chels smiles before standing and facing the camera.

“It really is satisfying to see an animal get a new family. Sometimes they have seen so much abuse that all they need is a loving touch.”

She walks into a back office and on the desk is the SCW Roulette title. It looks very shiny and clean. Chelsea’s name engraved on the faceplate is evident.

“So you can imagine how the Roulette title gelt when it came home to me. Abused and treated badly. Passed from grubby hands to grubby hands. No one giving it the live and affection it deserved. That was why when I made the vow to win it, I promised to care for it.”

She runs a hand lovingly over it.

“They day adopting a new friend can sometimes be a difficult transition. There is a period of adjustment where you and your new friend learn to live together and 9 times out of 10, it's an easy period. And such has been my time with this beauty here.”

She picks it up, cradling it.

“I rescued her from a life of being dirty, shoved in backpacks or being around the waist of people who truly don’t deserve or appreciate her or the division she represents.”

She gently places it back on the desk.

“You see, Jessie insists on getting her back. In fact, is so confident of her win that she talks above her station. I just can't let that go unpunished. She expects fights to be fair, one-on-one and without some kind of quirk in a division known for being unpredictable and... quirky. Maybe Jessie needs to count her losses and move on to a division that will appeal to her delicate sensibilities... like the internet title but honestly, with Black Sheep holding 3 of the 4 bombshell titles, doesn’t look like she has any more easy wins or reigns now.”

She smirks, giving a throaty laugh.

“Time to accept facts Jess... The Roulette title likes her new home and her new master and even the ‘bad guys’ prefer me to you. Might just be time to rethink your direction. But don’t be sad... cuz two out of three ain’t bad.”

She then blows a kiss and delicately puts the title over her shoulder.

**FADE**

3
Climax Control Archives / Here we go again
« on: June 02, 2017, 11:35:35 PM »
 â€œHere we are again, Sam and I standing across from one another in a ring only this time, there are no weapons. I don’t have to make her bleed. I just have to pin her to the mat.”

Chelsea holds up a poster board in front of her. On it is pasted a full colour photo of Sam Merlowe with her face busted open and bleeding after their grudge match a few months ago. The background seems to be just a standard white photography screen.

“Now, I don't have much to prove here. Before it was me proving I deserved to be at the top and now it’s Sam in my shoes.  Its funny how things turn around right? But honestly Sam... I no longer have anything against you. You seemed to take your punishment in stride and you proved everything I said about you, that you needed to find that spark you had when you were winning titles. And look at you now? Getting to the near top of the BFTP tournament. I would not be scoffing at how far you got, I mean you got farther than I did. Although I did have a shitty partner.”

She rolls her eyes and curls her lip with a disgusted scowl

“I see that spark in your eyes again. And believe it or not, that’s what I was pushing you too. This point. Honestly, there needs to be more people who want to pull this company back from the nasty clutches of the skank patrol and you are capable of that... in your own weird eccentric way.”

Her eyes light up amused at the thought.

“Now that I am done with all that shit, let's get down to the nitty gritty. What if you win? Well if you win, obviously they are going to put you in contention for the roulette title. That's what this is about. Christian is scrambling to find girls he thinks can take the title off me and fix the mistake he thinks Mark made. And that’s fine. I’m not going to deny anyone a shot at me. I like a challenge. Are you the challenge I need Sam? That remains to be seen. I am fully expecting you to still be butthurt over what happened. Good. Bring that fire to the ring. Show Christian that you deserve to do more than hand out beer to slobs and trailer trash. Come out there and show me why people stereotypically call redheads firecrackers.”

She still appears amused at her own thought, as though she is low-key mocking her.

“You are probably wondering why I am not yelling or getting angry on camera. Or being cocky like usual. Well, it's like this. You fell off my radar once I beat you. Its nothing personal, it's just usually once I beat someone, I don't have anything left to prove against them. You could have been like Mercedes, constantly subtweeting me to try and keep the corpse that is Mean Girls shuffling around but you didn't. You put on your big girl panties and did what you had to do to get yourself up the ladder. Gotta say I appreciate that. However...”

She taps her chin.

“That is not going to change the fact that you are not winning this match. You may have decided not to give up and prove to your “kids” that you aren't a washed up loser but fact remains... You are still the same wrestler now that you were when we last fought. You haven't reinvented yourself. You haven't changed your moves or gotten a makeover. You are not edgier. You are still the little sparkle pinky princess who tried so hard to burn me with Shakespeare. So for that reason, I am still prepared for anything you bring me. Not that I am underestimating you in any way, every dog has its day, but sometimes people, like you, refuse to break the mould. They want to force feed you everything they are about until you literally are gagging on it. Who am I to tell you it's wrong, I’m just saying it's not going to help you in this situation.  You bring me any quotes you like. You can demean my win. You can try to say I don't deserve this title. I don't know, with you it's a little unpredictable.”

She gives a shrug.

“but despite that, everything else is the same. And that being said, the result will be too. Honestly, I hope you can prove Christian wrong too but it’s not going to be at my expense. I am at a point where I willingly accept everything people throw at me so it can fuel my desire to smash it back in their faces. “

“The lingering question is though... what if you do win? What if you become the little come back kid who took down the big mean Chelsea? If you think that is going to get you off the forgotten list... well...”

She can’t even finish the sentence, she chuckles.

“Can’t wait for your next lesson on another great work of fiction. Because in case you didn't notice, beating me isn't an accomplishment that gets you places. Hope it's relevant this time.  Tootles “

She uses a mockingly sweet voice before blowing a kiss to the camera.

***
***Off Camera***

“Who gets married on a Thursday?”

My brother Mateo, looking debonair in his tux, actually looks uncomfortable in it. Which is funny considering he wears a suit everyday at Winslow Foundations. His skin is the same mocha colour as my own. His features very much spanish like our father but the peculiar part about Mateo is his grey-green eyes that almost look like contacts. My father’s explanation for them was that his Great-Great Grandfather married a British woman who was blonde and blue-eyed so the gene must have passed down.

My father had aspirations of becoming a doctor or biologist growing up but his parents were poor and he didn't beat out others for scholarships. But I digress.

“Our mother does. She didn't want the hassle of weekend traffic on her wedding day.”

I reach forward to adjust his tie.

“This is not going to end well you know. They will end going down in an epic fiery battle that will cost Gramps a couple million to settle.”

I shush him.

“Don’t jinx it. I don't agree either but I want mom to be happy and if this is what does it then so be it.”

He raises a dark eyebrow at me as if to say, ‘really?’

“If she is busy taking care of a husband, then she doesn't have time to meddle in our affairs...”

A light bulb seems to go off in Mateo’s head and his eyes light up.

“I like the way you think Chels.”

There is a knock on the door and it opens to reveal a tall, red haired man. This dashing older man has been the bane of my existence since birth. He doesn't smile. In fact I haven’t seen this man smile for a reason other than a non-family one in 22 years. In case you're wondering, that's my entire life.

I hadn't seen him since I moved in with Coby in LA and as limited as his facial expressions are, it's easy to see he is still not happy with me. He nods his head at Mateo who gives me a look before leaving my grandfather and I alone.

Jonathan Marcus Winslow was not a man you wanted to piss off and I had managed to do it several times over the last year.

“Chelsea-Grace.”

His voice is cold and void of any kind of love a grandfather should have to his granddaughter, but it actually wasn't personal. He treated all women like they were objects to be won and displayed rather that living breathing human beings. Heaven forgive me for being born with ovaries instead of testicles.

“Grandfather.”

He takes a seat in what I assumed to be a very uncomfortable wingback chair, judging by how stiff the material was stretched over the frame. He crosses one ankle over his knee and appraises me silently for a few minutes.

“I briefly met your... Friend, Samuel. He is a... Good interim partner for a...”

I chuckle. Did I mention that my grandfather is also a prejudice racist bigot? No? Where now you know. So not only was his first grandchild a girl... But also a half hispanic girl who looked hispanic. Karma really is a bitch, right?

“He is not an interim.”

“Has he proposed you getting married? Have you discussed your futures together? Financial responsibilities? Children?” Although he shutters since any children Coby and I had together would be very unique.

“We’re only 22 Grandfather. There is plenty of time.”

“And your trust fund?”

A red eyebrow raises up over his watery blue eyes.

“Still invested and tripled my money.”

He nods. “If you change your mind about this,” he stands. It's as though the man could never sit longer than a minute or two at a time. “I have a business associate with a son in need of a wife. 5 year arrangement and 1 child.”

My nose scrunches up. “Eww gross. Herman Holtz again? No. He’s pushing 40, but age and belt size. I am happy with my legitimate arrangements. But thanks for the talk gramps. Maybe next time we can chat longer.”

He’s already turned by the time I have rejected his offer. By the end of the sentence he is already out the door.

Anyone that says growing up privileged is a gift has never know true privilege.

4
Supercard Archives / Jessie Salco Vs Veronica Taylor Vs Chelsea Payne
« on: May 12, 2017, 11:13:06 PM »
 Chelsea Payne is standing in front of a large flat screen TV. She has a remote in one hand and the other on her waist. Of course, she is dressed in a fashionable outfit, her hair perfectly coiffed and makeup pristine. She gives the camera a brilliant smile, something distinctively twinkling in her eyes.

“Once again, Jessie is letting her ego get the better of her. She forgets what happened during our match. So I am going to take this time to remind everyone with a play by play. Commentary by yours truly.”

We watch now as she presses the button on the remote and it starts with Chelsea and Jessie in the ring.

The bell rings as both Bombshells start off the match as Chelsea and Jesse circle each other in the middle of the ring. Jesse wants to hook arms with Chelsea, but the youngster sidesteps her and pokes her head as she tells her that she isn't buying it. Causing Jesse to deliver a slap across the face of Chelsea, what causes her to grab Jesse by the head and whips her in the corner by using the hair.

Chelsea pauses the video.

“So easy to provoke. A slap? That’s what you come at me with?”

Chelsea shakes her head and presses the play button again.

She follows it up by charging in on Jesse with a running knee to the side of Jesse's face before pulling her out of the corner and goes for the cover as Holly starts to use the three count.
One!!
Two!!
Jesse manages to kick out as Chelsea grabs the left arm of Jesse and hooks it in a reversed armbar as she pulls hard on the back of the arm as Jesse is slowly trying to get back to her feet. Pushing Chelsea in the ropes as this forces Holly to break up the hold that Chelsea had on Jesse.

Chelsea pauses again.

“It was a good way to get me off. I admit that, but do you notice a starting trend here? How I seem to be in control for the most part?”

Jesse immediately grabs Chelsea and does a Belly to Belly suplex out of the corner and climbs the turnbuckles for a moonsault, only to hit the canvas as Chelsea was smart enough to roll out of the way. she then gets to her feet and runs to the ropes as she executes a springboard leg drop from the ropes and hits the back Jesse's neck before rolling her around on her back and goes for the cover.
One!!
Two!!
Again the champ manages to kick out, Chelsea grabs her by the head as she sets her up for a suplex.

Pause.

“Oh look, another pin attempt by me. Jessie hasn’t even tried and you know why? Because her feeble attempts to get me down are pitiful.”

But Jesse manages to block it and drives Chelsea spine first into the turnbuckles before she lets go off Jesse. Who then executes a dropkick to her opponent that sends Chelsea to her backside in the corner. Jesse charges to the other side of the ring before charges back in on Chelsea as she sets her up for a crossbody block into the turnbuckles and hits the move as she lands with both legs and arms between the bottom and middle rope before rolling out of the ring on the ring apron and measures Chelsea as she jumps on the top rope and hits her Moonsault once more, only this time it is Chelsea that manages to get her knees up in time. Causing to have Jesse hit the knees with her stomach and rolls around the ring in pain. Chelsea goes for the cover as Holly goes for the three count.
One!!
Two!!
Thre....
Simone: Oh wow!! A kick out!!!
Adams: Chelsea was so close!!!!
Chelsea is arguing with the referee, while the referee tells her that it was merely a count of two. Frustrating Chelsea she grabs Jesse by the hair and goes for a standing Hurricanrana and plants Jesse down for the count of three as she hooks the legs of the champion as Holly goes for another three count.
One!!
Two!!
The.....

“You know what’s funny Jessie... is you went on to say that experience is what makes you the clear cut winner in this match at Into the Void. But where...”

Chelsea points at the screen where it is frozen on Chelsea pinning Jessie to the mats.

“Where is that experience there? I pinned you four times in the first ten or so minutes of the match. But yet you still haven’t done anything to keep me down. Still having attempted to pin me. You were too busy showboating. It’s lazy. It doesn’t show experience, it shows ego. Exactly the thing I was trying to say about you before.”

The video resumes.

For some reason it is once again Jesse that kicks out, Chelsea frustrated sets her up for a suplex. But Jesse pushes her into her corner where she is tagged out by her tag team partner. Forcing Chelsea to leave the ring as well. Blair enters the ring as well as Bishop as the two Bombshells get to the outside where Chelsea's frustrations boils over as she assaults the champion and whips her into the steel steps with her shoulder. Screaming at her as the camera turns towards inside the ring where the cocky Xander Bishop is jaw yapping against the veteran Blair.

“There! Did you see that!”

Chelsea rewinds and stops it on the spot were Jessie has to reluctantly tag Nicolas into the ring.

“What was that about me not having what it takes? Was it me having to tag out? WE both know that if you didn’t have Nicolas there saving your ass you would not be carrying around the roulette title right now.  But I didn’t stop there did I? No. I kept going. I wasn’t going to let you pussy out on me.”

She fast forwards through the match stuff showing the men with a roll of her eyes.

“No one cares about any of this. WE all know Bishop sucks.”

SHe stops and plays it again when it comes back to her and Jessie on the outside again.

On the outside we see Chelsea setting up Jesse for a suplex on the outside, but Jesse manages to block the move and then pushes Chelsea into the ring apron. There Jesse gets a moment to catch a breather before getting back to her feet and executes an Irish Whip on Chelsea against the ring post before she charges in on her with a running Hurricanrana as she wants to drive Chelsea onto the concrete floor. But Chelsea manages to use the momentum of Jesse against her as she grabs her by the waist and drives Jesse down with a sit down powerbomb. Causing Jesse to bounce off the concrete floor while the crowd gets to their feet in excitement.

Crowd: Holy Shit!! Holy Shit!! Holy Shit!!

“You keep really trying to get an advantage over me, yet it keeps falling short. You keep making ‘rookie’ mistakes.”

She fast forwards some more.

Chelsea gets to her corner, but not fast enough for his liking as he starts to scream at her again. Causing Chelsea to get mad as she screams back at him to shut up. On the outside we see Jesse getting to her feet again and struggles towards Chelsea, not knowing that her opponent has gotten back up again.

“I left this going because I want to show how much I didn't give a shit about Bishop.”

Chelsea fast forwards more of the match.

On the outside we see Chelsea duck a clothesline from Jesse as she hits a Snap Suplex on the ramp way and then looks in the ring as she sees her partner suddenly tap out to the painful hold that Blair has on him. Causing Holly to call for the bell as the match is over. Only angering Chelsea even more as she walks off mad as hell while Jesse has been laid outside the ringside area.

Chelsea watches herself walking up the ramp, and look over her shoulder briefly at the prone figure of the Roulette Champion. She then turns off the TV and faces the camera.

“There you have it. Since Jessie refuses to acknowledge that I slaughtered her. Refuses to accept that through this she was carried by her partner against a useless excuse for one on my end. She wants to ride on Nicholas’ coattails. She should be thanking him because without his pin over Bishop, I would be champion right now. Everyone backstage knows it. Everyone watching knows it and even Jessie, deep down, knows it. She can stand in front of a camera and say the same story week in and week out if she wishes. Now is going to be the time it doesn't stick. It is time to move aside and let the new names have their spot in the light.”


Chelsea folds her arms over her chest.

“As for Veronica...”

She gives a sniff of amusement.

“Veronica has already proven her lack of worth for the roulette. First by gaining it by enlisting help and second by losing it to begin with.”

She slowly shakes her head.

“And the last straw was not saying anything in the first week regarding our match. I get that you think your first class but I think the truth is that you’re scared. I don't blame you. It's okay, I’m sure the other mean girls will help you win another title again in a few months.”

Chelsea chuckles.

“And one last thing before I sign off on this... Jessie you claim that I remind you of yourself, so tell me, did you let the words of some cocky arrogant asshole keep you from pushing forward? Did you let that stop you? The thing is, we are nothing alike. I own up to the things that happen, like acknowledge getting legitimately beat by someone. And I am also going to be walking out the Roulette champion.”

A wide smile forms over Chelsea’s face.

“Better luck next time Jessie.”

The camera fades out.


5
Supercard Archives / Jessie Salco Vs Veronica Taylor Vs Chelsea Payne
« on: May 05, 2017, 11:07:39 PM »
 ~Relevance and the Damage Done~



Promo Part One
Veronica: The one of many delusions

Chelsea appears in front of the camera, leaning forward into the screen of her phone’s camera. The screen is fairly dark and her voice is a bit on the hushed side.

“I love when people claim someone is irrelevant. Obviously they are relevant to you if you take time to mention them. So thank you Celeste, your contradictions during your last promo just put me on the Mean Girls radar. We have an impending future date. I was not satisfied with your cowardly win against me. Phoning it in is not acceptable. But, this promo isn't about you, or the rest of the Mean Girls, excluding the one I am actually facing. The fact that none of you can go a minute without mentioning the opponents of your... friends?”

She stops her train of thought, as a new thought takes over.

“But can you call them that? After what they did to you, you just go crawling back... hmm. But again, I will save that for when the time is right. See something I have is focus which is what lead me to this point in the game. I am not going to get angry at the words of Veronica last week because she did EXACTLY  what I said she would. The woman is a robot. She is Programmed like one of those pull string dolls. Twenty memorable phrases but no more. And once you go through them all, they just repeat. It’s boring.”

She gives a bit of a shrug.

“People want change. They don’t want a gimmick circa 2003. These girls don’t evolve. They keep doing the same thing every time. It is a dangerous business to be predictable. As Veronica witnessed last week. As she will witness again when she goes home empty handed.”

She smirks, obviously recalling her match against the so-called First Class Diva.

“The thing is, maybe she is a robot. The dull empty stare of a woman without direction in life. Does she have a backup plan if she gets injured? What if she gets an injury to her face like Coby? She's pushing thirty so what will she do when her looks start to fade? Plastic surgery? It’s called plastic for a reason because after a while that’s what you look like...”

Chelsea looks to the side and the camera catches what appears to be a figurine of a ballerina in a display case. She looks back at the camera as the idea fully blossoms in her mind.

“...a plastic doll.”

She chuckles before her frown returns.


“The other thing that bothers me is the multiple companies. I mentioned this about Crystal too. And although she proved to me that she was a hard working athlete, Veronica does not have the same work ethic.”

She shakes her head slowly.

“I promised myself I wouldn't get angry at any of the ridiculousness Veronica read off her cue cards. She said that I was jealous. Jealous of what? Come on Veronica. Let's have some facts. What do I have to be jealous of?”

She holds out one of her hands, palm up.

“I can win matches without having a group of people come out. Check, can’t be that.”

Her smirk returns to her full lips.

“Your looks? Please. Maybe when I was a teenager I wanted to resemble someone like you but I am immensely proud to be a latina now. So there's another one debunked.Your fame?”

She puts a finger to her bottom lip and taps it lightly before rolling her eyes.

“You are known for being a bratty unintelligent slag. Best of all, you need to have an equally unintelligent carbon copy back you up in your promos. No thanks.”

She sighs deeply as if the notion on its own was completely ridiculous.

“And what have I done to earn this shot?”

Chelsea genuinely laughs.

“Weak. Very weak. I can't even give you a point for trying. You played right into my hands. You took my bait and in so doing proved me right.”

Her face is completely smug now giving further emphasis to back up her next words.

“I like being right.”

THe smile doesn’t leave her face now. It is fully of mocking smugness. Arrogance on a whole other level.

“And what did you have to offer as the Roulette champion, I Mean besides your name on it? You aren't actually interested in being a champion for SCW. You just want something on your resume to brag about. Because deep down, you know that what I say is true. You know how I know? Because I used to be like you. I wanted to be accepted. I wanted to have people like me so I put on the act that I thought they wanted to see but it didn't fill that void. I could be wrong. Maybe this is exactly what you want. If you are happy with this existence than good for you. I wouldn't be. I actually have dreams and plans. I think about what my future has in store and get excited for it.”

She moves the camera to the side to show her boyfriend Cody, he is fast asleep in their bed. She smiles looking at him and then looks back to the camera.

“And last but not least... You are a two time Roulette Champion in SCW. In all the time you have been here haven't you ever tried to do better? Or are you content to let the others in your group get the higher accolades... but aren't you the founder and leader?”

She raises an eyebrow.

“Curious.”

She appears to genuinely be curious about it until her arrogant smile returns to show that she actually did know the answer but was merely using it to make her point.

“The reason people don’t jump to my defence whenever I say anything is because I don't need it. I can defend myself. And I can actually come up with relevant arguments, not just copy and paste what I have said about every other opponent that faces me.”

She cocks her head to one side, showing that she was getting to the end of her words.

“Win or lose, I will have great satisfaction knowing that you will not be winning either. Oh and one last thing Roni...”

She leans forward, picking up the paddle that she had smacked Veronica’s ass with many times the week before and shows it to the camera before smacking it on her leg.

“How does your ass feel? You know after being physically and metaphorically... beaten by me...”

She shakes her head as she laughs. She turns the camera off abruptly.

***
:::Technically this is not On Camera but it is a public event that anyone could witness so therefore it can be referred to

It is a SCW fan event. Chelsea is sitting at her table when a bunch of people all crowd the table carrying replica paddles, much like the one she had used to tan Veronica's ass at the last Climax Control.

“Will you sign this Chelsea?”

Chelsea pulls the cap off her gold sharpie and gladly obliged. She goes through the group.

“You really gave it to her Chels!”

Chelsea smirks, “Only doing what her parents should have done years ago.”

A couple people chuckle but others look slightly offended. Chelsea brushes it off. She knew corporal punishment was a touchy subject to people but honestly, she had gotten whacked in the ass by her father growing up and it hadn't done anything but teach her to be a good kid that listened to her father. She loved and respected him and even had a certain amount of respect for others who actually deserved it. Maybe... just maybe if someone hadn't ‘spoiled the child’ in Veronica's case, she might not be the bitch she was.

After the group leaves, one angry mother comes up to the table.

“I can’t believe you actually support beating children!”

Chelsea sighs.

“There is a difference between giving a misbehaving child a smack on the butt and actual abuse, ma’am.”

She scoffs, flipping her hair.

“Violence never solves problems. We need to teach children to express their feelings. Talk reasonably and resolve conflicts without any kind of abuse.” the woman shoves her nose in the air. “You being in this profession at all is just teaching kids to use violence to solve their problems.”

Chelsea folds her hands in front of her.

“Why did you come today?”

The woman seems to have an agenda and it seemed wrong for a woman with these views to be at a fan event supporting it.

“I am part of an action group called Cultures Unified Not Terrorized.”

Chelsea coughs.

“Did you seriously not double check what the acronym of that spells?”

“It doesn't matter. The point is I am here to spread the word to all you... athletes... that you could be doing something way more valuable with your time. Instead of sending the wrong message to today's youth.”

Chelsea stares at the woman.

“You do realize the training and work we put in to do this right? Most of us don’t wake up one day and are in the ring the next.”

The woman rolls her eyes

“You said ‘most’. So there are some who do?”

She shrugs, folding her arms across her chest.

“Unfortunately, there are people who get into professional wrestling for the wrong reasons and then get hurt.”

The woman seems to have dropped some of her hostility.

“But most of us did not come to this decision lightly and most of us know what it takes. Yes, we use words, get on camera or take to twitter to call each other out but this is not the type of thing I would do to someone randomly. The people I usually call out, are other wrestlers or somehow involved in the wrestling business or they said something to me first. Sure, it’s not the best environment for kids but it is your job as their parents to teach them right from wrong, not us. The world will not accommodate what you believe is right, you have to show them how to behave in a rigid world. I get what you are trying to do and I am not saying it isn’t a good cause but honestly, coming here today and yelling at us for doing what we love is not the way to get anything accomplished.”

The woman’s mouth opens up and down but no words can come out.

“I am not going to stand here and shout profanities at you for doing what you love which is obviously your kids. You just want them to feel safe. I get that. I just hope that when you decide to protest something, you come and talk to the people involved as a rational adult. Sometimes you might learn something valuable.”

The woman stands there, still silent before turning and walking away. Chelsea sits down in her seat, or rather flops down in her seat. For a brief second, she had wanted to yell at the woman but realized that, sometimes you had to pick your battles.


***
Promo Part Two
Jessie: The lucky one

This promo has Chelsea not operating the camera herself, but rather she is sitting on a set of large rocks. The breeze is moving her dark hair around and in the background you can see the Pacific Ocean.

“Yes... Jessie is Lucky, because if not for your partner, you would not still be disrespecting that title by shoving it into backpacks and gym bags.”

She shakes her head.

“There has been talk that I am not a challenge to you because your team won our match at BFTP. But did you really? Do you even call that a win? Letting Nicolas pick up the slack? The fact remains, you couldn't pin me and tagged in your partner when you knew you were losing. We both know that if that had been one-on-one, like it should have been, I would be holding the Roulette title.”

She nods her head along with her words.

“I left you a mess on the outside of the ring and you just conveniently overlook that so you can make some half baked argument about me not getting the job done? You tagged your partner in when you couldn't take it anymore. You are no better than Veronica needing someone to come help you out. And then? I left you face down on those mats and Nicholas had to come scrape you up. Once again disrespecting the title. If you can't handle me in a tag match, I highly doubt you can handle me singly or in a three-way dance. Even if our other opponent is about as useful as a bag of rocks.”

Thinking of Veronica only seems to make Chelsea shake her head in disbelief that Veronica even is in the match at all.

“All any of this does is negate everything you said and it makes you a liar. I have done everything tasked to me. I may not have beat Crystal but I damn near took her to the limit. And I impressed Mark enough that he knows a viable talent when he sees one. That is why he is vouching for me. It isn't favouritism. Like I said, I could have used my father’s reputation to get me bolstered up the ranks. But I didn't. I wanted to earn my shot. But I also wasn't going to sit on the sidelines and wait for it forever either. Because those are the people that stay stagnant. The ones that have to sit and cry about not being noticed yet don’t make people take notice either. The ones that bitch and moan to Christian until he gives them a title shot only to phone in every match until the big one comes up.”

Another shrug.

“And if we are going to discuss what it takes and champion behavior, let's get right to the nitty gritty shall we. You complain about the nature of this match, how even if you don't get pinned, you could potentially lose your title. How is this any different than me losing in our BFTP match? Because we both know that had you not had Nicholas there to bail you out, I would be wearing gold. If I didn't get saddled with a partner that didn't want to actually win, I would be carrying around the roulette title right now.”

Chelsea hops down from the rocks, crossing her arms across her chest.

“Jessie, you are a lack lustre champion. You issue challenges then complain that you got one. You complain about the match type yet you hold the roulette title, a title that is the perfect representation of chaos and unpredictability. Something neither you or Veronica can maintain. It's true you need talent to be a wrestler but you also need charisma and we both know there are a lot of women here that have the charisma of a wet paper bag. The ones that aren't bold enough to say things to your face or at least on camera. I have never not said things about people that I have not gone on camera to say.”

She is obviously making reference to Celeste commenting about ‘hearing’ about any shade when Chelsea has said it all on camera. It was meant for her to hear about.

“Other than the things I listed, I really don't have an issue with you. I don't have a goal to murder your career or make you bleed. My desire to have the Roulette title isn't personal towards you and I would pick apart anyone that held it when I wanted it. Second chances rarely come in this world and I don't intend to let this one end like the last one.”

She walks forward so that she’s filling the shot only with her upper body.

“So you can write me off if you wish, but when I get my hand raised... and when I go home to Coby, it will be as the Roulette Champion. Bank on that.”

She blows a trademark kiss at the camera before it goes dark.

6
Climax Control Archives / Definition of Class
« on: April 28, 2017, 09:08:22 PM »
 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.







7
Climax Control Archives / "Tired of Repeating Myself."
« 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.

8
Climax Control Archives / Knock Off Villain
« on: April 07, 2017, 12:44:45 AM »
 Rant

I remember when Emilio would tell me about his childhood. I was always fascinated since he had come from such humble beginnings where I was a reluctant princess. Something in particular came to mind this week after all this nonsense on twitter regarding my ‘Partner’ for the BFTP tournament.

Emilio used to talk about how his mother and grandmother barely made ends meet so any toys he had were either second hand or from a discount store. One conversation we had was in regards to knock-off action figures. He laughed and talked about how he never had a superman, he had ‘Super Guy’ dressed in a similar outfit.

I laugh now because it reminds me of Xander Bishop. I know most people will produce promos supporting their partners and trying desperately to find some redeeming qualities but now I just don't give a shit.

Since our partners were announced I have been very un-Chelsea-like in trying hard to not say anything bad about my partner. Trying hard to find positives but honestly what little respect I had for him has basically melted away and blurred much like his bumbling attempts to type and speak. I suppose he thinks his slang talk is somehow cool or edgy but all it does is cement the stereotype that African Americans are uneducated hooligans.

And before you accuse me of racism, just remember I am Mexican. I know for a fact that this stereotype was created based on a few not the many but honestly in a country that offers free public education there is no reason to speak like that. But that is minor in comparison to his other ‘sins’.

And no, this isn't me crying over him attacking my boyfriend publically. His arguments only cemented his ignorance. I am the type of person that will defend those I care about. This doesn't make Coby a bitch, it makes him well loved. Besides, it's highly ironic that he says this while tagging his stable mate for back-up. But instead of saving his ass, he made them look like asses by calling me a derogatory term.

Bravo. Way to prove stereotypes wrong there boys.

Let's now touch on the fact that he entered a tournament that if won offers a title contract yet claims that he doesn't care about winning or titles. Sounds like something someone who consistently falls short would say. I understand, I have been disappointed in my losses too when I feel I should have been good enough to pin their asses. But I stay focused on my goal. I don't need to band together with other losers on the roster and cry about unfair advantages or bias. Maybe if you assholes pulled up your socks a little you would get opportunities too. As of right now, why would Christian and Mark give any of you opportunities when A) You consistently fall flat and \'cool.gif\' You keep tarnishing SCW’s legacy with your stupid antics. I don't understand how you guys don't get this. The whole premise of the wrestling industry is winning, getting titles. Being better than your competition. I don't want to consistently attack and get butthurt at the owners for something I did.

When I called them out weeks ago for using me to go against the feeble SCW alum that was a legitimate observation and what happened? They took notice and I didn't have to look like a bitch about it. I backed up my shit. And I get to have a title shot.

Xander Bishop is not the villain that SCW needs because SCW needs a villain about as much as it needs another idiot bombshell to join the Mean Girls. I can't believe I’m saying this but At least the Mean Girls have former title holders in their harem. All you guys really have is your mid-card status. And if you continue to act like toddlers ready for nap-time you're going to find yourselves dropped down to show openers.

You accused me of comparing dick sizes... well sweetie if that were true mine would be twice as long and lack that flaccid quality yours always seems to have when you try to follow through on a legitimate argument. Plus if you include my big brass lady balls I would say you don't have a ‘leg’ to stand on.

Wrestling is a competitive entertainment sports event. The Emphasis on Competitive. So yes, I am here to win matches. Why the hell are you here?

Xander Bishop is to SCW as what a knock off Villain toy is to kids. Sure it was cool at first if you really use your imagination, but after a while everyone realizes that you can’t replace the real thing.

~~~~
***FLASHBACK***
*OFF CAMERA*
~2001~

A six year old Chelsea-Grace Maria  Winslow-Pina is sitting in a wooden chair facing the corner. She has her arms crossed over her small chest, her perfect bow lips pouting. All while wearing a yellow dress covered in lace & bows. On top of her head of dark curls is a tiara. Ornate and probably way too expensive for a girl of six to have but nevertheless there it is.

She kicks her feet, hitting the wall and leaving black streaks from her patent leather shoes. She looks over her shoulder.

“I hate you! You're not my mom! You can't make me sit here!”

A tear rolls down each of the little girl's cheeks. From out of sight, a woman's voice replies, “Chels, I am not letting you out of that corner until you apologize.”

Chelsea lets out a frustrated growl and kicks the wall again.

“I hate it here. Where's my Daddy?” her voice has changed from anger to sadness. That's when the owner of the disembodied voice appears. She's pretty, shorter red hair on a heart shaped face. She smiles, putting a hand on the girl’s shoulder.

“I know that you still don't know me very well yet Chelsea and I know I’m not your mom. I would never try to take her place but I do hope we can become friends. You know Daddy is working really hard tonight.”

Chelsea’s lip quivers and she wraps her arms around the woman and starts crying. She rubs her back, soothing the little girl.

“I’m sorry Gina.”

Gina shakes her head, hugging the little girl.

“I know it doesn't seem fair that Mateo gets to go with your grandfather and EJ gets to go to your Dad’s show. It's hard being a girl sometimes but believe me Chelly. Being a girl is the best. You’ll see it one day. And I’ll be proud to be there to see it.”

Chelsea pulls back, her eyes big and watery.

“You promise?”

Gina smiles. “Cross my heart. I am going to be there for everything. Best friends right?”

Gina brushes hair out of her face and kisses her forehead. Chelsea nods, a smile now brightening up her entire face.

---

***PRESENT DAY***
*ON CAMERA*

Chelsea looks at a picture frame in her hands. She sighs, running a finger down the glass.

“She lied... my first step-mother. Gina. She told me she would be there for me. She would be there to see all my milestones into womanhood. An aneurysm claimed her life. It stole her away from our family. It's been two years and I still cry.”

She sets the frame down on a table and the camera pans out to show the apartment she shared with her boyfriend Coby.

“We talked about how when I won my first title, she was going to climb into the ring and celebrate with me. She always was my biggest supporter, even more than my dad and in so many ways I have her to thank for how I turned out. She taught me things about the real world that my socialite mother refused to come to grips with. She taught me that women could be just as intimidating as men when it came to competitive ventures. She is the real reason I keep getting back up everytime I fall. She is the reason I continue to speak my mind. She was instrumental in making me who I am today.”

She gives a half smile, looking up to directly face the camera. There is a look in her eye, some might say it is determination. Others would call it fierceness.

“This match marks two things for me. My first intergender tag match and my first title match. I know the rules are very specific in the fact that I have to be the one to win it for my team in order to get that title off of your shoulder Jesse. I know exactly what it takes to win. I wasn’t lying when I said that I have respect for you and everything you have accomplished in SCW. But as you said... that’s where it ends. Because you jumped right into playing the rookie card. Did you forget that I have been involved with the wrestling business since I was five years old... only because that’s as far back as I remember but technically, it has been in my blood since conception. That already gives me a leg up over anyone. I was trained by a ring veteran who has far more accolades than you do.”

She moves toward the couch, taking a seat and in a very lady-like manner crosses one leg over her knee, giving the viewers a very nice view of her legs.

“On top of that... look at what I have done in this company since I arrived. I beat Twisted Sister.. The so called baddest, craziest chick in SCW. I beat Amy-Jayne with her wanna-be-Veronica attitude. I even beat Mercedes and Sam Marlowe. So although I narrowly lost to Crystal and to Rayin... neither of them have anything to show for it. I called out the owners for using me as some enforcer and told them they needed to prove to me what they have been saying when promoting my matches and that was that I was worthy of a shot. I earned this Jesse so don’t you get all high and mighty and say that I don’t want it enough.”

She slowly shakes her head, almost looking bored and disappointed.

“But...You really wanna know how bad I want that title? You really need to pay more attention to who you’re facing instead of spouting off some generic promo that everyone does. You sounded cocky and arrogant. You are already counting the match won based solely on your experience. I am not the same run of the mill bombshell that enters this company only to leave with her tail between her legs. I am the future here. And even if I have to take care of Xander myself to ensure a victory over you, I will. Don’t think that because we both have a dislike of certain prehistoric disaster of a group that we are somehow buddies. I am not Sam or Vixen. I don’t make friends with the ladies of the roster and go out to party. I make allies and I watch. Everyone is a potential opponent.”

She looks down at her nails for a second.

“I have had my sight focused on one thing since I got here and sweetie I am far from impatient. I didn’t come in here demanding shots on my first day. I have been here since November. Waiting for my opportunity. Thirsty to prove I had what it takes. I have done everything to show that I am worthy of that gold babble you just sanctimoniously shoved in a backpack while watching some whales. Who does that? It’s not some worn out favorite paperback book. Fact is, you lack respect for what the title represents. I intend to change that and in so doing, I am going change the look of what a real bombshell should be. You can either be on board with that, or you can get the fuck out of my way. I didn’t need help getting this opportunity and I certainly won’t need help getting it off of you. Just like I won’t need help getting to the top of the mountain and kicking off anyone unworthy.”

She smiles, it’s slow and methodical, almost as though you can see the wheels turning but don’t know what she has planned. It is unnerving to anyone on the outside.

“And Let’s not forget about Nicholas L Blair... not to forget the L... right?”

She smirks.

“Look... I don’t know who the fuck you are. Outside of SCW your name has NEVER come up in the circles my dad ran with and believe me, he ran with quite a few of them. The fact that you just brush me off without a thought just goes to prove that you and Jesse belong in the same outdated stereotypical box of sad assholes that keep coming out looking for glory at my expense. You latch onto one twitter comment like it was the end all be all of who I am not taking into consideration everything that was said in that conversation. Or the fact that I was justified in defending myself and my boyfriend in a twitter fight so please... if you are going to talk about something at least do your research on the whole thing rather than just pick out something that seems to suit your purpose and as I stated already... you see why Jesse is anything but ‘equipped’ to take care of me. And besides, you can’t exactly do anything to Xander unless I tag him in Amigo. Can you?”

She gives a chortle of a laugh.

“This whole thing amuses me to such great lengths I haven’t even had time to get pissed off about anything. The fact that the two of you are soooooo bloody smug about your win. That will be your undoing. That’s what will make you see your dreams of gold die a slow agonizing death. And honestly... the devil act has been done so many times that it’s passe. You aren’t doing anything new or revolutionary. Not even your fans are supporting it, it seems. I am far from intimidated by you, by Jesse or anyone in SCW. I look out for me first, above anyone else and even if I have to do all the work myself in this match by keeping Xander on the apron, so help me I will.”

She sighs, like the thought has her content.

“It’s like my step-Mother taught me. Men automatically underestimate women. But being a girl is the best and this girl aims to be the best,”

She leans forward into the camera.

“One title at a time.”

She then blows the camera a kiss before it fades to black.

***
~Present Day~
***OFF CAMERA***

Chelsea is lying in bed, staring at the man she shared it with as he slept. His mouth is open a little, a little line of drool starting to fall down his chin. His eyelids flutter every once and awhile indicating that he was in a deep sleep, in fact when she had moved his hand from her thigh, he had been dead weight. He had been working so hard, with DARC, his return to KCW and the gym. She really wasn’t surprised at how tired he was. In fact this had been the first time all week that they had laid down together in the same bed. But she knew he was going to be there for her to see her hold up the roulette title in victory. And then she would reluctantly go to KCW to support him in his match, even if she felt unsafe in the compound again.  

Regardless of that though, she looked at him even with spittle on his chin and the slight snore he gave off and felt nothing but complete adoration for him. She had never in her life felt the kind of love she had for him and felt that same thing radiating back from him in return. It was the thing that she had been searching for since her shame of a wedding failed to take place.

Sure she had the love of her father... her brothers... and to a small extent the Winslow part of her family but nothing was quite like the love of this man. Not that it defined her in any way, it only added to her. Made her stronger. And considering that she was already fucking tough it made her unstoppable.

She sighs and then runs a hand along his cheek. He nuzzles into it, a little smile forming over his lips before his mouth opens again and he drifts back into dreamland.

Sam had done so much in his short career and sometimes it made her feel intimidated, like she was falling short because if he could do all that with just as much experience why couldn’t she? She had lost the chance to go after the Internet title to a woman that was more dead than alive and then when she had a chance to redeem herself as a legend killer, she made a stupid mistake against Crystal Millar.

There was going to be no more stupid mistakes this time. The stakes were too high. She had put everything she had on the table and there was no going back. IF she lost this match, she will have lost her shirt and have to start from the beginning again. She wasn’t willing to face that failure. She was determined to be what she said she was and that was the future of the bombshells. To set an example that they were not just the Mean Girls and some other chicks on the roster. She wasn’t like anything or anyone that had come and gone through the roster before. Intimidated by the Mean Girls dirty tactics.

And even if she did lose, she wasn’t going to bail like so many others had before her. She would get up and keep going and she wasn’t ever going to stop getting up no matter how many times she gets knocked down. That’s what made her better than Jesse or anyone else. They all wanted to know if she wanted it enough and honestly, she owned nothing to any of them. None of them were her friends. None of them deserved her respect even if she did give Jesse some credit for being with SCW for so long and for her decorated career. The problem was that SCW had the same few names recycled on the title history’s. No one new was standing up and making a stand. That’s also what made her different. She was determined to do what no other was willing to do. She was a newbie and she was going to fight tooth and nail to be the veteran they all claimed to be. She was going to anchor the ship so more new bombshells were not intimidated to board this boat and be the next generation for SCW. To show that it wasn’t just the Mean Girl show.

She had grown up feeling like that. Just another group of girls doing the exact same thing that they were. Using their own insecurities to belittle and damage other girls into letting them reign.

She breaks her train of thought to lean in and kiss Sam’s forehead. He smiles again but still doesn’t wake. She slides out of the bed, slipping a shortie silk robe over her bare shoulders and tying the sash. Making her way into the bathroom she looks at her face, void of makeup and false eyelashes. No hairspray. IT was just her. And even in the awful fluorescent lighting of the bathroom she still saw someone worthy of being a champion. She had fought so hard for years to remove the words from her head that so many girls that beaten her with.

Her Mexican heritage had been an albatross in the world her mother had tried to force her into. So many of those girls had been brainwashed thinking that if you weren’t white you were damaged somehow. They pretended to accept her before humiliating her in front of the whole school.

It was one of the reasons she had agreed to the present her mother had given her. A present that was causing the front of her silk robe to gap in the middle. A gift that had gotten a lot of attention over the years. But not one she was ashamed of. She was proud of them, even if they were not given to her by nature. Not to mention, Sam never complained.

She smirks at the thought.

Watching the girls smirk and laugh. Watching them yell out her small bra size and hold it up for all the other girls to see. Seeing them all laugh that at sixteen, she was still an A cup. She had trusted those girls with her secrets. With her fears and they made it seem like they cared and sympathized.

So when her mom presented her with the coupon on her seventeenth birthday she gladly took it and before she graduated high school, she had drastically changed not only her appearance but her attitude. From there on out, she made her goal to never let anyone treat her like garbage.

The Mean Girls needed to be removed. And she would do it, in her own way. She would do it anyway she needed. It was to show other girls, other bombshells that they didn’t need to be intimidated by them because deep down they were just unloved selfish little girls and SCW was for fighters.

They were made for people like her.

She nods her head at herself before picking up her toothbrush and squeezing the green paste onto it.  She looks up and stares into her own eyes for a few seconds before pointing the toothbrush at the mirror.

“You are a warrior Chels. And the future, not just the Roulette champion but the future of SCW. We got this... Xander or no Xander.”

Her reflection nods and Chelsea starts brushing her teeth.

~END~





9
Supercard Archives / Chelsea Payne Vs Crystal Millar
« on: March 17, 2017, 07:52:48 PM »
 Crystal hasn’t said anything new or exciting. In fact all she's done is prove why she needs to move over. Her loss as champion proved without a doubt that all things come to an end. If she's the reason the bombshells were relevant then gawd, they were destined for failure.

She wants to compare us. Telling me that because of the situations we were born in, that is the reason for being better? Seriously that is the stupidest conclusion. So I just magically bought my ring ability? I just fluked my way into winning here? No. It doesn't work that way. No one wants to hear her whining anymore. Boo hoo I didn't know my daddy... boo hoo I had to earn every penny. You know what Crystal, go see a therapist for that shit because no one fucking cares.

If you actually watched my promos, I hardly ever use my last name to promote myself. The things I say are that I have been exposed to wrestling my whole life. I started training at twelve and then more seriously at seventeen. I even got a degree in Art History just in case wrestling didn't work out but ever since I can remember wrestling has been my dream. And it's not necessarily about how many titles I can collect or how many companies I can join. I refuse to only give parts of myself to every company that passes through town and then claim to be devoted to each one enough to represent them as a Champion.

What do you have to offer?

A past record? That was beaten so easily. How disappointing to you. And then you just disappear after. Some great champion. And it's funny how as soon as the division really starts heating up again, in pops Crystal again looking for attention and to be in the limelight again. Like she can just slip back into her place in line.  Honey, I am not keeping your spot warm.

And we are nothing alike. I would rather claw my own eyes out than to be compared to a pituful, selfish, arrogant piece of trash. You try to play off this “I’m humble because I came from nothing” act but really, all you are is the same as every other clique following wannabe I have witnessed in my life. And I didn't get everything I wanted growing up. My father refused to allow my mother to do that. I learned to invest my money young. And despite everything, I actually help people just like you. But maybe you should do some research before assuming anything. And just like in that ring, I am going to embarrass you for being such an entitled bitch.

When I came to SCW, it was my father's influence that got my foot in the door but do you really think Mark & Christian are stupid enough to just hire a bombshell without knowing what she brings in? I still had tryouts and evaluations. If they didn't want me here, I wouldn’t be here and up until this point I have only cemented the fact that they made a good choice.

Crystal you are not the future of the bombshells. It got hard so you decided to skip out after a loss like a bratty toddler throwing a tantrum. You're time in the sun is now turned into dusk and very soon, it's going to be completely dark. My time is sunrise. I am the future of this division. And once I pin you to that mat, it will be blatantly obvious that my words are absolutely true. Stop clinging to the remnants of your past. You were the bombshell champion. Now you're just some washed up alumn looking for relevance. The sooner you realize that, the sooner you can go help Sam Marlowe be an SCW mascot or serve popcorn. Or the sooner you can go beg the other thirty wrestling companies out there to give you undeserved title shots.

When I think of women that have made this division something, you are not one of them. Anyone can get a win, wear a title but actually being a worthwhile and notable champion? That is something else entirely. Something I intend to benchmark. When I do get to the top, people will be asking... Crystal who?

***
FLASHBACK
2013

She bounces off the ropes and brings a hard lariat to face of the man running toward her. He lets out a woof of air before falling to the mat to catch his breath. The girl, is an eighteen-year-old Chelsea Winslow-Pina. Her dark Ponytail is falling loose, strands sticking to her sweaty face.
She leans over, resting her hands on her knees.

“Good!” A deep accented voice says from the side of the practice ring. The smaller Mexican man climbs onto the apron with ease, although Chelsea knows for a fact that he is starting to have issues with his knees. The man in question is none other than Emilio Pina Sr. Or as he is known professionally, Emilio “Major” Payne. Ironic considering the man stood 5’7 at most. He was built sturdy though, not an inch of loose skin anywhere. But the man had a tremendous amount of ink. His nearly full sleeve tattoos were noticeable in his sleeveless shirt. Chelsea knew every piece was somehow significant. In the ring he wore a mask and contacts but today, he wore neither. And for a man in his late 40’s he could easily pass for much younger. Emilio was her hero and there was never any doubt that she was his little girl and his favourite child. He would always deny it, but Chelsea knew.

“Celito... that is enough for today.”

Her father hated her name. His pick had been Maria after his mother but Chelsea’s mother had always tried to distract people from her obvious flaw. The darker colour of her hair and skin. The almond shaped eyes and her larger body build, primarily her hips and backside. All the things that made it obvious that she wasn’t a normal high society girl. It made her tainted in the eyes of her mother's friends. And even in the eyes of her mother herself. After being humiliated by a group of girls two years ago she had stopped trying to fit in. She had started to really throw herself into the training seriously. Then the bombshell hit her.

She climbs out of the ring, and goes to her gym bag where she fishes out the giant diamond and shoves it into place on her left ring finger. Her father glances over at her, his lip curling up before finishing his words to her partner. Emilio stops in front of the bench, and pushes his hands into the pockets of his pants.

“You don't have to do it you know. Marry that...”

She holds up a hand.

“Daddy. You have already told me that you don't think it's right.”

“18 is too young. Take it from me.”

She smiles at him.

“I will be 19 in a few days. Taylor and I have an arrangement. It will work for both of us. I can still train. He can still... go on his trips.”

Emilio’s eyes narrow.

“You mean to his little affairs with other men! That is not what I want for you.”

She sighs, resting that hand on her father's cheek.

“I know. You want me to have that fairytale life but who is going to marry a woman planning on becoming a wrestler? A woman that probably won't have kids till she’s in her thirties. Who will be away more than she's home. And Taylor isn't ready to come out yet. It works for us both.”

Emilio shakes his head.

“You know I am here for you Cielito. Always.”

Chelsea smiles at her father.

“I know Daddy.”

***

10
Supercard Archives / Chelsea Payne Vs Crystal Millar
« on: March 09, 2017, 02:05:45 PM »
 The Rant...
"Who I Am..."

Tell me, please, how many people are in line. And if you're wondering, ‘What line?’ it's the line they have started in front of me of people who need to beat me to prove they're worthy of gold in SCW, yet I haven't won a title. Sure, I have beat women who were champions but not at the time I beat them. Tell me... who am I, that I am the one to beat? Because honestly I feel like they are insinuating my worth, yet not doing anything to show it.  All these bullshit ‘You need to prove yourself’ matches. My only losses in SCW were a lucky count out and a woman that was beaten last Climax Control to prove what I was saying all along... You can't waltz in demanding title shots.

I have had everyone ask, ‘Who is she?’ like facing me is the ultimate punishment but the only one being punished is me. Facing all these washed up oldies. Crystal, for example, was handed her ass, threw a tantrum, a full on pity party, and then went home. Now she comes back expecting to just pick up where she left off like she didn't abandon the company she was the champion of? Is that who we want representing us? A woman who will run the moment things get too tough?

And Melody. Didn't even have the lady balls to mention me in a segment where she called out all the other bombshells? Like I am not even on her radar? And Mercedes can’t fucking admit I handed her, her old and withering ass gift wrapped with a big red bow. Man, she was really butt hurt wasn't she when my name got brought up? The veteran got beat by the new girl. How embarrassing right?

So you can see how my confusion is validated. What does me putting down this old, senile dog going to do for me? I didn't come to SCW to do Mark & Christian’s dirty work. I am not a city trash collector so it's not my job to take out the refuge. I get it. Crystal is being punished for being a self-righteous bitch. But I ain't about that.

So I'm saying this right now, I will no longer be doing these matches. No. I want to be given opponents who actually matter. I am not some upset rookie anymore. I am a legitimate threat and I deserve to be treated as such, so if you're going to keep giving me trash, I will not participate. I will stand outside that ring and let them count me out. I will sit in the back and wait. You know my worth and after I clean up your garbage one last time, I expect that it will be the LAST time I need to prove anything to anyone in SCW. I have heard two of our champions claim they have no worthy opponents, yet you keep me in these bathroom-break matches. A woman you all claim to be a force to be reckoned with yet you gotta go dig up yet another corpse and to challenge for the title no less. I get that Vixen is a legend but come on. She walked away. So did Crystal but when she came back, you feed her to me yet Vixen does the same and you say, ‘yes please’. OH but it’s okay because she’s the wonderful Vixen. Please. She’s older than the Mean Girls and somehow they keep getting resurrected. It’s like a bad soap opera... you know when they keep recycling the story over and over hoping that a new audience is going to somehow make it good again.

It eliminates the purpose of recruiting all of the fresh and young talent after every supercard if you're going to shove them aside for whatever past-their-prime, semi-successful, alumni runs out of money this month. All they do is show up, fail, and get booked against me so that I can send them out to pasture. That's not what I signed up for. If it's the only thing I'm ever going to be used for, maybe I need to look at my options. Christian and Mark might not realize it for some reason, but I know I'm worth being in the title matches. If they are going to sleep on me, then I can look for people who have been watching me wide-eyed.

Unlike others that have passed through this company before me, I'm not so far up my own ass that I'm going to say that they need to change this match. Booking decisions are final and made by people supposedly smarter than any of us on the roster. I'm not saying that I won't come out and take care of this Crystal problem that Christian and Mark are having. At the same time, I want to make them both aware that this is their, “one last favor” before I am going to be asking for something in return.

That's fair right? Isn't that how it's supposed to work in this business? Nothing comes for free.

So now you can ask, ‘Who am I?’ and you know the answer is going to be...

The future.


***
::: OFF CAMERA :::

It was true that in my life I had zero friends that were women and that is for a very good reason. When you have been abused and misled by women most of your life, you tend to not believe a GD word they say anymore. The exception, of course, is Mandi Morrison. She’s a sweetheart through and through so she’s not included in that but everyone else... yeah you can’t fully trust anyone.

I know I have an alliance with Mikah and it’s very smart for both of us to have that. You see, we are both the future of SCW and well... why wouldn’t you align yourself with someone that could very well help you reach the top. And I don’t mean by running out and trying to break up pins or try to distract the ref while I cheat. No. I can do that shit on my own and so can she. Do we look like outdated idiots that can’t let the 2004 movie die? No.  We are what women in this business should be.

So back to my point, having zero GIRL friends.

At this moment, I am sitting in a gaggle of little hens all for the purpose of making my mother feel like I actually give a rats ass that she’s getting married again. Well... that’s not true. I did care. I was pretty pissed that she was marrying the father of my ex-fiance. That was pretty mind blowing. The women I was sitting amongst were all friends of my mother. Forty-something women that had never really let go of the fact that they were not still twenty-something women. So, of course, they dressed in things that their daughters would wear. Wore their makeup entirely too heavy and used words like, ‘Totes’ and ‘On Fleek’ like that will somehow make them relevant again. I didn’t even use those words.

These four women, plus my mother were discussing wedding plans. My mom, of course, was planning a massive wedding in only a few months and so everything was in overdrive. Including me having to leave the apartment I shared with my boyfriend in Los Angeles to stay in New York between my matches. I was so exhausted. Wedding dresses, wedding shoes, Wedding shows, looking at Diamonds because apparently, my soon-to-be stepfather hadn’t even proposed with an actual ring because he wanted to make sure my mother had one she loved.

I wonder... how in the world could you love someone enough to get married if you didn’t even know them well enough to pick out a ring you know they will love? I know that this is a marriage of convenience. For my mother, it gave her a rich husband and no longer living off Daddy’s money... a.k.a. My grandfather who really... made Trump look like a teddy bear. I’m assuming that this was an ultimatum from him. He really wanted this merger deal and when I didn’t even up marrying Taylor Van Der Woodsen... well he only had one woman left that could possibly seal that deal.  And for him? Well, he was pushing sixty. Taylor had been a product of an affair but since he was his only son, he allowed him to be his heir, much to the dismay of his three legitimate daughters across three previous marriages. Vanessa was his trophy wife.

It was a win-win for both of them so really, I had no room to voice my disapproval. Especially since my mother was so consumed with her wedding plans, she had barely said anything bad about Coby. Not that it would matter but still, I would rather not have to spend every day defending the guy I was falling in love with.

Surrounding my mother are:

Serena Langford:
Another trust fund baby. She never married but had adopted two boys from Thailand who had grown up to be self-righteous and self-absorbed. But both were smart and worked on Wall Street. Ms. Langford never had to worry about who would take care of her in her senior years, both boys were completely devoted to her.

Melissa Flowers:
She was only a second generation socialite but her mother had fit into the circle so easily that no one cared that she was a lottery winner. Mel here had wooed her way into the Flowers family, who had changed their name from something German after world war II. She had two daughters, twins. Fortunately, they went to school in England and I never had the displeasure of being humiliated by them at school although my few run-ins had been unpleasurable, to say the least.

Jenessa Caldwell:
My mother’s best friend since they were born. Not that you would think they were besties. It was all on paper. My grandmother and Jenessa’s mother agreed that their girls had to be best friends for life to secure their social status and so, the two women had upheld that, even if they tried to outdo each other with everything. As soon as my mother announced her second marriage, Jenessa announced her first.

And last but not least, Rebecca Dunlop.
Her daughter Tamara and I used to be friends back in school. Until of course, I found out her and her skags were using me and my need to be part of the circle. Tamara had even tried to seduce Coby out from under me on New Years which had failed and Coby had instead insulted Tamara until she left. Right now Rebecca was shooting me daggers every so often while still pretending to pay attention to my mother and her wedding talk.

My coffee had gone cold. I was over this wedding stuff and over this group whom I had spent so much time with over the last few days that honestly, I wanted to scream and pull my hair out.  I decide that I need some time to myself. I clear my throat and the group looks up at me.

“I’m so sorry but I really have to go. I have a hair appointment and it was sooo hard to get into that, I just can’t miss it. You understand right?”

I pull out my wallet and put a twenty on the table. The women all gasp including my mother.

“Chelsea-Grace... are you... tipping the waitress...”

I roll my eyes.

“Mother,” I say it on purpose so that I can see her cheeks flame red. “Waitresses here should be tipped with everything they have to put up with. So yes. I am tipping the waitress. I will talk to you later and have a good chat ladies.”

My mother is stuttering on her words and the women try to comfort her when Rebecca stands.

“I really think that your mother is far more important that some hair appointment Chelsea. You should maybe reschedule it...”

She thinks the look and tone are intimidating and frankly... she was like a fruit fly. Small, insignificant and easy to swat.

“No. I think I’m going to go. Please, give Tamara my love, will you? I hope that Coby turning her down didn’t take long to recover from. Kisses.”

I blow a kiss to the shocked faces of the women. I am already part way to my car when I hear my name. My mother has run after me in her six hundred dollar pumps and looked ridiculous doing so.

“Chelsea-Grace! You will come back and apologize to me and the other women immediately.”

I open my car door and stare at the street for a moment. There were so many people walking around. Most of them people like my mother and her friends. For a long time I wanted to be just like them... until of course, I realized I didn’t want to be a barbie. I then look back to her.

“No. I don’t owe you or any of them anything. I am tired of you treating me like I actually mean something to you mother. I was an inconvenience that got you tied up with my father for a few years. I didn’t come out blonde and blue eyed. I wasn’t light skinned enough for your groups. I am just like Serena Langford’s boys. It’s like you got some points for giving some poor boy from Mexico your attention and oops... you got two Mexican babies out of it without even having to adopt us.”

Her eyes are starting to well up with tears. I know that it wasn’t entirely true what I was saying. In her own weird way, Vanessa loved my brother Mateo and me, but it just wasn’t the way that a mother should love her children.

“You have fun planning this big wedding but I’m going to be stepping back from being your maid of honor. Give that job to Rebecca or Jenessa. As much as you don’t like it, I am not one of them. I’m not like you. I am just like Dad and that’s why I am a wrestler. It’s why I have muscles. Why I spend time in a gym so much. Why I don’t care about this social stuff. It’s just not me and you can’t keep trying to fit me into this mold. It’s a square peg in a round hole and no matter what you do, it’s never going to fit. I appreciate you wanting to include me but... I just can’t.”

I toss my bag onto the passenger seat. Vanessa looks downtrodden. It was more legit emotion that I’ve seen in her since her toy poodle shit in her Manolo Blahniks last year.

“Are you and Coby still coming to the wedding at least?”

I sigh. Closing the door I move toward her, putting a hand on her shoulder.

“Yes, Vanessa. I will be there. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

She gives me a bit of a smile through her watery eyes and although I knew she was good at acting the part to get sympathy or even just getting something she wanted, I knew this hurt was real. I turn and start toward the driver's side, my mind on how fast I could pack my stuff and be back on a flight to LA when she speaks.

“I like him.”

I look up.

“Like who? Richard? I should hope you at least like him if you’re marrying him.”

She rolls her eyes, waving a manicured hand at me.

“No. Coby. He’s a good guy. You deserve to have a good life Chelsea-Grace. I want you to be happy even if I don’t agree with the whole... fighting thing... you’re good at it. Maybe... I’ll come see your match against this... Crystal woman you mentioned.”

I light up. It was the first time my mother had ever talked about this stuff.

“Mom... are you saying that you’re...”

She covers her mouth.

“Come on... Say it... it’s okay it’s not a dirty word. Here I’ll start you off, Chelsea I am pr....”

She shakes her head and I stare at her.

“Fine! You ungrateful brat. I’m proud of you. This isn’t just some... half baked idea like I thought. Your father trained you well and... you remind me a lot of him.”

I smile.

“Thank you. I will get you a ticket. You can sit next to Emilio.”

She shakes her head and turns.

“Have a safe Flight Chelsea-Grace and please tell your boyfriend hello for me.”

She starts walking back to her friends and I sigh deeply. I never expected her to change who she was because I had an issue with it, all I wanted was acceptance and that was the closest I had ever gotten to having it from her. It may not have meant much to other people, but it meant the world to me.




***

The Promo
::: On Camera :::

“Crystal Millar.”

Chelsea Payne’s face comes into view. Her stunning dark locks are actually pulled up into a ponytail, there are beads of sweat on her face and one white ear bud hangs loosely in her ear. The sounds of weights being clinked onto their racks is actually quite noticeable. The camera moves back just enough to see that she’s at the gym and behind her, there are other people doing their reps.

“Former Bombshell champion.”

She smirks.

“Also, whiner brat that tucked tail and ran after losing said title.”

She gives a shrug.

“A woman that spends an enormous amount of time on social media too. Recently I saw her complaining to two former LAW Marquee champions about never getting an opportunity from them while they each held that title. She acted then like she acted now. Like she somehow deserved it and was denied. Actually it kinda seemed like she considers herself something of a big deal yet until I came to SCW I had no idea who she was. Legit, people not knowing me? That's kinda standard. The only reason people might vaguely find me familiar is because of my last name. But her? Doesn't seem anyone --including our own bosses-- was too impressed with her title run. And she has the second tier title, aptly named ‘DarcHorse’ which... is ironic because her doppelganger Carmen was also called a ‘DarkHorse’ and coincidently was a prize fighter for Miles Blake as well... the owner of DARC.”

She seems to have a hard time not letting her smirk turn into a full-fledged laugh.

“Honestly, Crystal Millar is kinda spreading herself way too thin. She fights at SCW and DARC yet also at LAW and who knows how many others all in some desperate attempt to gain validation and relevance by asking for title shots. I get it, when you hold titles it makes you appear to be the best of the best... the GOAT if you will. Titles seem to the way to do that for her but please, tell me, how can a company be happy to have a champion that is shared by many others? This isn’t some weird open relationship where you have both a husband and a girlfriend/mistress. No one likes to be second fiddle. Crystal is a woman who will sign with any carnival caravan that rides into town with a promise of fame. Where is the loyalty? No wonder Mark & Christian denied you a rematch. They don't want a fairweather champion.”

She rests her chin in her hand, leaning forward on her knee.

“You see, this match... This is my final step in proving that I have earned my spot as a full fledged Bombshell. No more matches to show my worth because even though you are no longer a big player here, you are a former champion and the more of those I put on my list the better I look. And let's be honest here sweetie, I only care about how I come out in this match-up. I really don't give a shit if this is the final match you have here. I am not your stepping stone to getting back in their good graces. Let's face it Crystal. You fucked up and even if by some miracle you did win...”

She appears aptly amused by the idea as if there was no way that was actually a reality.

“...You’re kidding yourself if you think beating me is going to fix that. But I will tell you this... nothing is going to stand in my way. I am determined to stand at the top of the pile and I will step on anyone that stands in my way to greatness.”

She looks down at the phone in her other hand and smiles, she then looks back up at the camera, a sinister gleam in her eyes.

“Maybe you should tweet about that...”

~FADE OUT~





11
Climax Control Archives / Big News/Daughter of the Bride
« on: March 03, 2017, 10:56:37 PM »
 :::OFF CAMERA:::

Coby and I were early to the scheduled lunch with my mother. I wasn’t sure what to expect. My mother was a trainwreck. She had tried for years to hide her addictions. The worst one, of course, was gossip. So, of course, when Octavia, my-only-three-years-my-senior step-mother had bragged to her circle about how sweet Chelsea-Grace Winslow’s new boyfriend was... well my mother caught wind of it. With a name like Chelsea-Grace Elizabeth Winslow, you can see why I dropped the hyphen and took my dad's ring name of Payne. I drum my fingers on the table. Vanessa was always ‘fashionably late’ even family things. Coby places his hand over mine, calming my nervous fingers and giving me a reassuring smile.

“You gotta calm down, even a little. Your nervousness is contagious. If you aren’t calm, collected, and confident, then I will panic. Then she will hate me, and there’s no coming back from that.”

I nod. “I know, I'm sorry. I mean even if she doesn't approve it's not going to change anything with us. It would just be easier if she did, though.”

I smile at him and he leans in kissing my cheek and giving my hand a squeeze.

“Exactly. And if she can’t change anything between us, then what are you so worried about?”

I laugh lightly.

“When you grow up constantly trying to win her approval it becomes an innate reaction.”

Just as I finish speaking, my mother comes through the door. Anyone looking would not peg us at mother and daughter. She was blonde, blue-eyed and had a smaller thin figure. Not as busty or thick as I was in the hips. Something I had inherited from past Pina women. On top of that, my mother was only 40. She was 17 when she had me, much to my grandparent's dismay. She looked like she could pass for early 30’s though.

She smiles as she makes her way to the table, sitting in front of us.

“Chelsea-Grace! You look radiant. Are you using that cream I recommended? It prevents wrinkles.”

Vanessa Winslow finally looks in Coby’s direction and I notice her smile drop slightly but she offers her hand to him.

“Call me Vanessa. And You’re Samuel, right? I wish I could say I have heard so much about you but Chelsea-Grace doesn't speak to me anymore...”

She pouts at me and I take a breath, trying really hard not to roll my eyes. I can notice his face change a little bit at hearing her call him by his first name. He manages to correct her without really hinting that it bothered him. He takes her hand gently, and with a smile.

“Everyone calls me Coby. It’s shorter than Samuel, and if you say Sam in a crowded area, a bunch of teenage girls are going to think you’re talking to them.”

He chuckles, but I can tell that it is forced, and the line that led into it was way too practiced to have been something that came off the top of his head.

Vanessa shrugs.

“Sure.”

She turns back to me. I felt a little irritated at how easily she dismissed people.

“So I have HUGE news.”

I take another deep breath.

“I thought this meeting was because you wanted to meet Coby...”

She shrugs again.

“Honestly Chelsea-Grace, you’re 22 and there are going to be a few others before you pick the right one so I am not really that concerned about this one.”

I clench my fists at my sides as she nods her head at Coby as if he was a dog in my purse. He opens his mouth to respond and then shuts it in order to not make a terrible impression. I can see that he wants to address the comment just as much as I do.

“But my news... I’m getting married!”

This takes me off guard. I hadn't even heard of her dating anyone. I catch Coby rolling his eyes out of the corner of my eye.

“To Robert Van Der Woodsen. I hope you're going to be there as my maid of honor.”

My jaw drops open, and a weird familiarity washes over Coby’s face, but I can see that he cannot place the name entirely.

“Taylor’s Dad?”

Vanessa nods, a big smile on her face. Coby covers his smile with his hand and narrows his eyebrows to try and shield giving away how comical the thought was given everything I have told him about my almost-marriage.

“Isn't it exciting? I have so much planning to do. I need your help Chelsea-Grace.”

I’m flabbergasted. My ex fiance's father. I guess my grandfather got his merger marriage after all.

“Of course,” I reply. What else could I say?

“Congratulations!” Coby forces excitement into his voice and is able to drop his hand from his mouth to display the smile on his face, knowing she will take it as enthusiasm for her marriage instead of just finding her amusing.

This immediately garners brownie points from my mother.

“Thank you, Coby! How sweet of you to say. My own daughter can’t even be happy for me.”

It was my turn to sign.

“I just don't think he's good enough.”

Vanessa laughs.

“Oh, I know it isn't a love match Chelsea-Grace but its security. He isn't too bad on the eyes either.”

I see Coby’s fist ball up hard enough in his lap for his knuckles to move a few steps closer to white than his regular skin tone. He forces more pleasantries from his mouth, though, sounding sincerely cheerful.

“You seem excited about it, and everyone knows the bride is the most important person on any wedding day. If you’re happy, nobody else has a reason not to be, right?”

Vanessa looks at me with a smile.

“Maybe you should keep him around. He’s sweet.”

She nods at Coby with one of her fake smiles.

“Well, unfortunately, I can't stay. I have so much to do but I thought since you were out here already I should tell you in person. The wedding is in May so we can talk more after you get back to New York.”

She stands. A waitress comes by, a confused look on her face.

“Whatever they order please charge back to me. Vanessa Winslow.”

She leans forward to kiss both my cheeks and before either Coby or I can say anything. She turns and is gone just as quickly as she had arrived. I put a hand to my face. How much she bothered me must have shown pretty clearly on my face because his next words were thickly sarcastic and aimed just at making me laugh.

“I like her. She seems like a super observant, intellectually sharp, not at all crazy, below-middle-aged woman.”

I look at him through my fingers and smirk.

“You can see why I often feel like I’m the mother in this situation.”

I sigh heavily.

“But let’s eat the most expensive things on the menu. Not like she’s even going to look at the charges anyway.”

His face lights up with actual enthusiasm for the first time since we sat down.

“Or just like one of everything, take a ton of stuff with us when we leave, only to give it to random people on the way back.”

“I know her credit card number by heart so you know if you wanted to buy a new car too...”

I’m joking of course but it was making me feel better. I loved my mom but sometimes I hated her too. She was the reason I was always at war with myself over what I should be or do but looking at Coby now, taking my hand in his, I knew that it didn’t matter to him.

*****

::\'ohmy.gif\'N CAMERA:::

Chelsea comes into view of the camera as she sorts through racks of wedding dresses. She looks at one and rolls her eyes and sighs as the voice of her mother, Vanessa Winslow filters over.

”I want cream, not white. It doesn’t seem right for a second time bride to wear white.”

Chelsea chuckles.

“From what my opponent has said lately... Romanians are just plain better. Just simple genetics. You know who also said something similar about their people? That person ended up slaughtering millions of innocent people. Not naming names or anything...”

Chelsea smirks.

“But by my calculations my opponent has had seven matches in SCW to date. Four back a few months ago which were all winless and three since she has been back where she beat two useless wastes of space. So yes, by that standard you were better than one american since Aphrodite was in fact greek... but hey who’s counting. Did she ever win here? Was she more than just a faint blip on anyone's radar? Nope? Well then why should we even be impressed that you beat her. Then comes Veronica Taylor. The girl with an IQ ranging in the 70’s.  80’s if you really want to squeak out some redeeming qualities. And I know, you don't have to be a genius to be a wrestler. In fact a lot of the women in this business have cup sizes that are bigger than their actual intelligence but that all changes with me.”

Chelsea takes a mermaid style dress from a rack and looks it over. She smiles at the sequins and then lovingly puts it back on the rack. She doesn’t look at the camera as she continues.

“We have quite a bit in common Amy. You see my father and brothers were wrestlers too. My older brother still is actually. He’s playing with the baddies over in DARC now. My Dad and younger brother Mateo? Well they're both semi-retired. I get why you left. My familia means everything to me too and I won't belittle you for the choice to take care of them first but your reason for waiting so long to return, well that makes me question everything you stand for.”

She looks up at the camera, her eyebrows raising in emphasis

“You were scared?...”

“...Scared?!”

Are you fucking kidding me? You come in here talking shit about Americans being either fat lazy cows or stuck up plastic bitches yet you couldn't suck it up to get back in a ring out of fear? That's pathetic. And everyone is supposed to believe that you just got over that in what? Four months did you say? Please. I'm not surprised you couldn't beat the pocket munchkin. Besides, remind me why a 1-4 record earned you that shot to begin with?”

She gives a laugh that doesn’t leave her throat.

“Yeah.”

She stops to admire a tiara display, fingering a few of the more ornamental ones.

“If this match is what Christian and Mark need to cement me as championship material then by golly I'm going to destroy you.”

A slow sinister smile fills her face as she looks up from the jewels.

“And I don't mean in that shitty cliche way where I say I'm going to do this or that... no no. I’m just going to make sure that when you leave that ring next sunday, you’re never going to classify any american into your stereotypical bullshit categories. It really shouldn't matter what someone's place of birth is. A person's character is measured on their actions, not the actions of their country. That being said, I’m not going to blame Romania for you being a dick. Seriously. And I don’t call many other women that. As much as I dislike most of the people on this roster, I would never stand up and say I was better because of my heritage. That just buys into everything that we are fighting against when it comes to equality. AS people, not as wrestlers of course because honestly honey, if it comes down to who in this match deserves a chance to move up from the rookie moniker it’s me. I have worked hard and I have never been scared to step into a ring. My first match here was against a woman they didn’t think i could beat based solely on the fact that she was so crazy she has to have a therapist follow her around.”

She shrugs as she comes back to the front of the store. Her mother, Vanessa is standing on a dias. She is wearing the dress that Chelsea had just been admiring a few minutes before, only in an off white colour. It fits her body perfectly. She turns and waves her hand at her daughter.

“What do you think of this one Chelsea-Grace? I think it is perfect for my figure. I mean it’s a good thing I don’t have large hips or a bigger butt like you right? You could never pull this dress off.”

She looks back into the mirror and Chelsea rolls her eyes.

“Right. You look great.”

“I do, don’t I?”

Chelsea shrugs and turns back toward the saleswoman and leans in.

“Suggest something with an open back but not as gathered around the ankles. Mention something about knowing of a woman who tripped because it was too tight. My mother shouldn't have to worry about any potential mishaps.”

The woman nods and moves forward to talk to Vanessa. Chelsea smirks. She looks back at the camera.

“Amy, let me be perfectly frank. You have no chance of beating me. Not only do have the talent, the perseverance and the know-how but I also have something to prove. I lost to a woman that shouldn’t be getting a chance to win a #1 contendership. That is not going to happen again and especially  not against someone like you. I hope you appreciated your shot at Polly pipsqueak because it’s going to be a while for you another. But good luck honey.”

She blows a kiss to the camera.

“You’re going to need it.”

***Fade to black***





12
Climax Control Archives / How To Beat A Crazy Person In One Match
« on: February 17, 2017, 11:24:10 PM »
 February 17, 2017
Los Angeles, CA

11:58
Chelsea takes a deep breath. She was meeting someone that she had admired for a while, yet had never met in person despite how easy it would have been. Parker, Coby’s trainer had set this up for her. Seeing as though this woman was nearly his sister-in-law. She needed some perspective and there was no other person with this particular similarity than Violet Ripley.

The LA coffee shop isn’t very busy despite it being nearly noon and that being a prime time for people to pick something up that was quick and convenient for lunch. Inexpensive too, if you thought on the terms of someone living in LA that is. To a normal person the prices were quite extravagant. Chelsea however was used to the high end pricing for cheap pastries and bitter coffee.

12:03
She was late but Chelsea tried not to get nervous or aggravated. It wasn’t like she had to be there exactly at noon even if that was the time that had been agreed upon. If anything, Chelsea was just nervous about meeting someone considered a hall of famer yet was only a few years older than herself. But the thing that Vi hadn’t done in her short career was get to the very top of LAW’s pyramid but she got sick and that derailed her plans. She was a fighter though and that was something Chelsea admired.

12:04
She starts to tap her fingers on the table. Patience was not a virtue she had herself. She was more worried that Vi wouldn’t show up at all and Chelsea did not like looking like a fool.

12:05
The bell above the entrance door dings. Chelsea looks up, almost letting the anxiety exhale through her lungs only to see a man enter. She deflates again.

12:07
The barista comes up and asks her if she wants a refill. Chelsea ops for a bagged tea instead. She thought that they couldn’t screw up a tea... right?

12:09
From the front door, the back of a woman’s head is seen. The flaming red colour of the hair has Chelsea’s hopes up as she struggles with a stroller, using her back to push open the door. When she finally does, and turns, Chelsea is excited to see that it’s her guest but the guest looks pretty furious.

“You know, it’s okay... see a woman struggling with a stroller and NO ONE, not one of you assholes bothers to get up and hold the damn door? You should be ashamed of yourselves!”

A few people look down at their coffees in shame as Violet blows hair out of her face.  She pushes the stroller towards the table where Chelsea has stood up.

“I’m sorry... I...”

Violet waves her off.

“I can excuse you, you’re a virgin right?”

Chelsea blushes and looks away, stuttering on her words and Violet grins from ear to ear as she takes a seat. She raises the canopy on the stroller where her sleeping 1 year old daughter was.

“Oh... so you and Coby had some fun huh? Good for you.”

Chelsea gives an uncomfortable cough.

“Alright. So you wanted to talk to me... about your SCW match? Why? I’m sure you could have asked Coby, or your Daddy or even Parker about this... why ask me?”

Chelsea straightens up and then puts a piece of paper on the table. On it, is the bio information of her opponent at SCW, Raynin. She pushes it toward Violet and she glances down at it, scanning its contents and then a smirk passes over her face.

“Seriously?”

She looks up and when Chelsea nods she breaks into loud laughter.

“Oh that is rich. I doubt very much this woman has a true case of DID. You know how long it took my doctors to admit that was what I have? Years. They wanted to call me every other psychological disorder in the book before admitting that I actually had multiple personalities. Doctors do not like admitting it’s actually possible. She’s probably just skitzo.”

Chelsea’s face breaks off into a slow rising smile.

“You know, I was thinking that it was something extremely rare and to see two cases of it in the wrestling world was awful coincidental.”

Violet shrugs.

“I don’t think she copied me. In fact until you showed me this, I wouldn’t know anything about her. No... this is just her trying to maybe get some attention. Maybe make herself look more dangerous than she really is. How long has it been since she’s held a singles title?”

Chelsea laughs.

“Years.”

Violet laughs again.

“And she’s been away for a time?”

Chelsea nods.

“She’s trying to bite off more than she can chew in my opinion. You are younger, faster, more hungry and you don’t have excuses holding you down like being incorrectly diagnosed with a disorder you probably don’t actually have. She would probably be better off, getting her feet wet with a few more matches, getting proper medications and then seek out a title. Sometimes, old dogs need to know when to lie down. And if not...”

A barista comes by with Chelsea’s tea and then a cup of coffee for Violet with little creamers and sugar packets.

“I”m so sorry ma’am. Please... this is on the house for the trouble. We’re going to be looking into getting some automatics installed really soon.”

“See that you do.”

The woman nods and walks away. Chelsea takes a minute to watch the woman. She opens up six packets of sugar and dumps them in. Then adds the same amount of creamer until the cup is nearly overflowing into the saucer.

“You orchestrated that to get attention... didn’t you?”

Violet smiles over her cup, she takes a sip before answering.

“I have no idea what you mean dear... I’m just a mom trying to have a coffee date with a friend.”

Chelsea shakes her head but the smirk hasn’t left her face. This was why she admired this woman. She never let anyone see the weakness within her but right now, she needed to know some because Violet was probably the closest she would get to knowing how Raynin probably thought. She wanted to study her, try to find Violet’s weakness and then apply that same strategy to the one eyed wonder.

“What advice could you give me for this match, as someone that thinks maybe a little like she does.”

Violet sets her mug down.

“If we were facing each other, I would not let you see a single weakness of mine. I would have this exterior coating that only a few have ever been able to break. This Raynin person... It seems like she doesn’t have that. She’s weak and she let people see that. She has admitted to having a weaker personality. Wrong. If you let people know that.. .then they will do everything to provoke that part of her. Two...”

She holds up two fingers for emphasis.

“She keeps threatening to let this... darkness out, but hasn’t really. You know what the biggest weakness I had when I first won the Marquee title?”

Chelsea shakes her head.

“I was still in constant turmoil with the other voices in my head. Once I let all those voices have a turn, it hasn’t been chaos in here...” she taps her head, a devious smile crossing her face. “Only to everyone here on the outside because when the three of us are working together, there is nothing anyone can do to break that shield. Raynin does not have unity. She fights her darkness. It means that with the right provocation she too can lose it and end up locked up in a padded cell like I was. I doubt very much she has someone like Phillip to unify her.”

Chelsea crooks her head to one side, a realization coming to her.

She finished the meeting with Violet rather quickly after that. They talked about her family. About how her and Parker hadn’t always gotten along but that had started to improve. Talked about their siblings and now annoying they could be and then when Lavender started to stir, Violet said her goodbyes. Three people got up to open the door for her this time.  Chelsea sat there for a few minutes after, slowing contemplating her strategy now.

Raynin didn’t have a ‘Phillip’. Phillip was Violet’s strength and if Raynin didn’t have a Phillip that made her an easy opponent... not that she would ever actually admit that out loud because then, Raynin would have leverage.

***
:::OFF CAMERA:::

When I arrived at the Hollydale Mental Asylum I was not expecting the groups of buildings. From the outside it looked like it was still intact minus some of the doors and windows being boarded up. I pull Coby’s car to a stop but I'm almost frightened to get out of the car. I wasn't one to scare easy but this place just made a chill run up and down my spine. Two seconds later, the sound of an engine makes me look in my rear view. A woman pulls up on a racing style motorcycle and comes to a stop slightly ahead of me. A black leather jacket and a purple helmet. She pushes out the kickstand, steadies the bike before pulling the helmet from her head.  
The motions of it remind me of those cliche movie scenes when the pretty girl reveals herself much to the arousal of the male protagonist. That was not the case though. Alice Bates, --professionally known as Alice Quinn-- was not my type but I could certainly be hers.

Her long dark curls fall part way down her back and she steps away from the bike, turns and then waves at me with more enthusiasm than I expected.

I exit the car, making sure to lock it and put the keys firmly in my pocket and walk up to her. I am instantly hugged tightly.

“Chel-SEE!”

When she releases me, she winks.

“Thanks for helping me out today.”

She eyes me for a split second.  

“Of course. You’re like family now. You wanted some place creepy although there are no abandoned buildings that aren’t especially creepy. This one has a LONG history. Even a guy that committed suicide.”

I stop. Her smile widens. I try to change the subject.

“How did you find out about this place?”

“I squatted here when I first came to LA. Not for long though. The place gave me the willies.”

“How reassuring...” I say under my breath and she walks to the front gate. It's chained shut with a padlock.

“Are you good with climbing...”

I blanch. I was... but the barbed wire along the top didn't have me feeling confident. Then she laughs, or rather cackles.

“I’m kidding. I know a guy.”

She takes a cellphone from her pocket and types and within seconds a rather portly looking man comes around the corner in a blue uniform. He shakes his head before coming to the gate.

“If they knew you were back here...” he says, shaking his head.

“Don't worry, just a short visit. And if we get caught I’ll not mention a word about you. Just like last time.”

The security guard looks skeptical but he pulls a key ring on an elastic retractor and unlocks the gate. He pulls it open.

“You got an hour. Then my partner will see the cars and you're on your own.”

He leaves the padlock hanging. From a distance it looks locked again. Alice thanks him before taking my hand and pulling me toward the door.

“Come on. I know the perfect spot. Don’t be scared, I’ll protect you.”

***

::\'ohmy.gif\'N CAMERA:::

The camera is a little shaky as it tries to focus on the figure in front. When the picture clears it reveals the figure to be Chelsea Payne. She’s standing in what appears to be an old gymnasium.

“Our minds are not perfect. We all have things that nobody else in the world knows. We lock them away in rooms inside our heads, hoping they never see the light of day. Inside our mind, it is a thriving Institute of secrets.”

She looks around. There are piles of garbage, fire damaged furniture and refuge.

“But if you neglect the institution, it goes into disrepair. Descends into chaos and madness. I know there are many people who embrace that about themselves. Including my friend Alice.”

The camera suddenly turns to show the face of Alice Quinn.

“Hi!”

She then turns it back to Chelsea.

“People like LAW HOFer Violet Ripley who marketed her brand of crazy into a winning strategy. Raynin, my opponent, is not someone I would consider marketable. Crazy or not.”

She moves to take a seat in an old chair to the side.

“Much like this institution it was once known for helping to rehabilitate many people whether it was from the great depression in 1929 when so many people suffered from the stock market crash. Or during the second world war. And they treated a variety of issues here from a Polio center to treating addictions and a wide variety of mental illness. Not to mention a place for thousands of the elderly to transition into nursing homes.  Up until the late 1980’s this place was in operation until finally closing its doors. They built a new facility across the road. Not nearly as big mind you but it eliminated many of the redundancies here. Since then it has been a home to squatters and hundreds of feral cats.”

She leans forward a little on her knees.

“Raynin is a lot like this institution. For a long time she was a unique member of the SCW Bombshell division. What was it she said, the fourth person to ever hold the bombshell title? And a multiple Bombshell tag champion. That is a good solid history. The problem is, she didn't take care of the institution up here...”

She taps her head.

“Or here...”

She taps her heart.

“She claims to now have multiple personalities inside her. And one of them apparently wishes to hurt any and all that stand in her way of regaining bombshell gold. But... She’s not ready. It would be like letting patients back into this place as it stands now. It's dangerous. To her...”

She smirks.

“She has way too many things going on. Plus...”

She sighs.

“Her winning gold again means nothing. There have been so many roster changes since she's been gone. New fans have started filling the stands. Younger fans that will see Raynin and ask who she is. The whole thing about being an internet champion is to be someone with a presence ON the internet. She might not want to reveal her age but if SCW has been around four years and she was on the original roster than you are probably in the same territory as Mercy.”

She slowly shakes her head, she then stops. She taps her bottom lip as a thought comes to her.

“In fact, I think it's rather selfish to be looking to take this opportunity away from the newer bombshells. SCW seems to be littered with old news trying to constantly resuscitate their careers. But Christian and Mark are trying to bring in younger talent. I understand the importance of having veterans. My own father is one. But my father wouldn’t dare get back in a ring for gold at this stage of his career. Make room for the new ones. Whether you have one eye or two, I am walking away from this match the winner.”

She offers the camera and the audience a prideful smile.

“I have made it my job to prove that SCW is ready for change. The fans deserve the new and exciting not the dull and useless. I am the future, Raynin is the past. Get used to seeing my face because it won't be long until I am the new Internet Champion.”

She then blows the camera a kiss as it suddenly cuts off.

13
Climax Control Archives / The Golden Girls/A Revolution is Coming
« 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~

14
Supercard Archives / Samantha Marlowe Vs Chelsea Payne
« on: January 20, 2017, 11:13:30 PM »
 ~January 20, 2017~
~*ON CAMERA*~
Disneyland, Anaheim, CA

The Scene opens with a very elaborate over exaggerated table and items. At the seats are the favorite fictional characters from a variety of Disney movies. The Madd Hatter. The White Rabbit. Chip and Dale. Princess Aurora and of course Donald Duck. Even Maleficent had decided to take a place next to Aurora. She stares at the villain for a second before giving her a hug and the two women laugh. At the head of the table, dressed in the iconic dress worn by Alice in wonderland is Chelsea Payne.

“Welcome to a party I have thrown for someone special. This is Sam Marlowe's Pity Party.”

Chelsea curtsies before nodding to her guests and nodding to the extra seat beside her and Donald.

“You may ask me why. Well, the answer is simple. At any moment SCW’s dazzling redhead is going to break down and show us amazingly how she goes from beating herself up and wanting to quit, to somehow getting the confidence to be her ‘Daddy’s’ girl.”

Aurora nods. Chip and Dale look at each other as if discussing something without words.

“She doesn't have the monopoly on that term, you see I am also my father's daughter and he taught me a few tough lessons when I decided to train to be a wrestler, but none of those was to show even a moment of weakness like admitting that I wasn’t feeling at 100% at any given time in any given match.”

Donald pats her shoulder, nodding in agreement.

“The first was that our past doesn’t matter. You know why? Because most people don't bother looking back. When someone says, “I have held this title and I beat so and so...” I suppose it's a kind of intimidation tactic. Like it will somehow make the person you are telling this to give you a little more respect. Let me tell you about my feelings on respect Sam. I don't respect people based on what they did a few months ago, a few years ago. I could give two shits about you being your ‘Daddy's girl’ or that you have a backup plan when you actually quit. None of these things make me respect you.The fact of the matter is, I do not give respect to people who have not earned it from me. I don’t just offer it up based on past accomplishments. It’s bullshit. How many people have done extraordinary things only to be ousted as despicable human beings later on? How many people have risen to the top by hook or crook, only to be exposed to have little to no actual talent after the fact? Actually the whining and fake sweetheart routine actually make me like you less each time you open your mouth or brush your fingers across your phone keyboard.”

She imitates typing on her palm and rolls her eyes.

“Tell me, Sam, do you WANT to be here? I have a hard time believing you do. The fact that you have to pump yourself up every time you have a match tells me the truth of where your heart is at. And it isn’t here, in SCW.”

She mockingly puts a hand to her chest over her heart.

“I don't know where it is and I don't care either. And honestly, my goal isn't to push you out. Those assholes that shout at opponents that they are going to end their careers or make them quit... that shit is bullshit. Hint, Hint. But I will touch on your Faux pax in a moment.”

Chip and Dale put paws to their mouth in shock.

“But if I wanted to eliminate all my potential opponents then I would have no one to fight. What I want from you, Sam is to see that you actually WANT to be better. You started falling off the cliff when you lost your title and since then it's been a slippery slope all the way to the bottom. But I am not here to be your ‘Mickey’ though and give you sorta half-assed encouragement. I am here to make you bleed first so I can continue my little journey to my first title. You will never hear me talking about my failures like they are long lost friends or how they are lessons in humility. They are things I need to correct. So yes, I want to face Celeste North again and this time she’ll have her shoulders on the mat. But right now, the obstacle in front of me is you. I am confident Sam that you can't make me bleed. But I KNOW I can make you bleed.”

Chelsea snickers and Maleficent raises her tea cup.

“Now back to the point where you messed up in your promo. You can’t sit there and play like you are innocent. You can’t say you’re a special snowflake and then proceed to tell both me and the world that you are going to bury me and say I’M the bully. To be honest, though, I’m actually not even mad at you. That gives you way too much power over me. If I had to pinpoint how I felt, I’d say I was maybe a little disappointed, but more amused than anything. You know what the big difference between us, Sam? That’s a rhetorical question because from watching what you said, you have no clue. You seem to think it’s my lack of professional experience. Even if it was, which it’s not, that doesn’t put you at an advantage given your string of recent losses. If anything, you pointing it out only shows people that you are still down here on my level. I am at the bottom because I am new. You are back at the bottom because you have consistently failed to do anything worthwhile lately. So if you want to talk position in this company, there is no difference between you and I. However, the real difference is that I take ownership of the things I do.”

The Madd Hatter places an oversized Polka Dot box of kleenex on Sam’s place at the table and points at it. Chelsea smirks and looks back to the table.

“I don’t cry about loses. Sure, I am annoyed that you chose my match to come out and ‘size me up’, and in so doing, offered a distraction that you could easily claim you weren’t there to be. You can make whatever excuse you want that it wasn’t about that. You might be able to sell everyone on the lie that you were seeing your ‘kids’ but my point from last week stands: You could have come out for ANY match and chose mine. You have the audacity to say in your little sob story of a promo that I am trying to steal the spotlight. Yet, you come out during my match, to put the focus away from the ring and onto you. Pot to kettle: Black. But what’s done is done. This match wasn’t made because I lost against Celeste.If you wanna say that you’re under my skin… fine. Try to sell that pipedream. But honey... it’s pretty obvious that I am under yours. Otherwise, why would you be so apt to ‘teach me a lesson’? In what delusional fairy tale that plays in your head do I care that you don’t respect me? I could give a rats ass what you think of me to be perfectly honest. There is nothing you can say or do that is going to convince me to change my opinion of myself, or of you, even if in the slim possibility that you win this match.”

Chelsea leans forward to pick up her own cup of tea and takes an exaggerated long sip, sticking her pinky out.

“Another thing my father taught me was how to have confidence. So, let me explain something to you about the word confidence. It’s sometimes confused with arrogance. There is a subtle difference, though. A confident person knows that they are better, and doesn’t have to say it out loud. An arrogant person will sing their own praises all day, taking breaks only to cut another down. If you look back, I have not said I AM BETTER than you as you have implied I did. Honestly, though, I would have to care about you a whole lot more than I do to even consider comparing you to me. To me, you are just another name on a paper and another face in the locker room. Do you want to know why I gave you that awful gift at Christmas? I was SIZING you up. I saw someone that could be a great competitor squandering her gifts with her level of suckiness.  I wanted to see what you would do when a legitimate competitor showed up and challenged you. Before I even gave you those stitches, you were already a write off to me and since then, instead of standing up for yourself you downplay me. You don’t acknowledge the fact that there was a clear selfish motive for coming down to my match. So, of course, I’m going to downplay you right back. Eye for an eye sweetie.”

Chip and Dale look a little scared and cover their plastic eyes.

“If you were looking for some level of professional respect from me after this match, don’t hold your breath. I’m guessing that you will anyways, though. That naive train of thought seems to be indicative of what your career has been lately, and it’s a fucking damn shame too. You were a BOMBSHELL champion for the love of god. Where is that fight? Where is that need to succeed? Where is that fire? Want to know what I think? I think it burned out and now you’re giving me some weak ass story about Julius Caesar because you can’t find words of your own. Maybe that is the real reason that you have talked so often about packing it up and riding off into the sunset.  Even your adaptation of Julius Caesar seems ill-informed and uninspired. You concentrate on the fictional interpretation of a story, yet you mention nothing of what the man accomplished in his life. Every person eventually falls Sam. It’s inevitable of the human race. I am not someone that fails to see that. But you know... the assumption is what got us here right? Me assuming things about you, like you were a fighter, and you in return assuming that I’m just some rookie kid that doesn’t know her place. I have watched you since Christmas, and this is what I think, Sam. You are one of two things. You are either scared shitless that I am not afraid of anything this company can throw at me or, you really are as deluded as you come across. Either way, it’s not looking good for you. I don’t want to face someone who has talked about giving up recently. Nor do I want to face someone that struggles to put an ounce of fight into a promo but doesn’t actually say anything. So far, that is all that you have given me to work with. It is either the same sob story or fiery words with no basis in reality, that we can all tell you don’t actually mean. All I was asking for was for you to dig down deep and pull out some words that offer some form of inspiration. Afterall, that is exactly what I did for you. Obviously, some of what I said resonated with you. You didn’t try to deny my words comparing you to the skittish little Red Panda. I get it, replying to someone else’s words comes across as lazy to some people, but in the same respect, it doesn’t change how I see you either way.”

Chelsea shrugs and looks at Donald who mimics her.  

“Maybe this seems weird but I want someone to show me how much they want something. I want them to stand up for themselves. I cut you with a broken glass and now you want to cut me with something else to even the score. Not because you actually want to show how much of a fighter you are, but just to get retaliation. Tisk Tisk.”

The whole table shakes their heads.  

“I want you to try because one-sided fights bore me. You think you’re giving into my ‘bullying’ ways by defending yourself? If that is really the way that you think, you’re going to find that you are outmatched. You confuse what I say for underestimating you, and I fucking hate that excuse. It’s a cop-out that so many people in this company use. It’s like you’re crying a river that no one wants to swim in. I know what you have accomplished. I have talked about what you have accomplished. I don’t think anyone would argue my saying that the person that you were then, and the person you are now are very different. The woman that carried the Bombshell Championship is not the same pathetic excuse for a bombshell that I am going to stand across from at Inception II. In this business, you need to make an impact. You need to stand out from the crowd in order to get noticed. It’s not about how many wins and loses you actually have anymore. It is about the show you put on and the way you capture the crowd’s attention, whether they love you or hate you. It’s about the dollar signs and the asses you put in seats. The way that you put asses in those seats is by showing everyone, not just a group of kids, that you want to be there. That’s another thing you have regularly failed to do recently. You are content being in the background. You have your friends. You have your ‘kids’. Other than that, though, you’re a side note. They put you in title matches because of your past achievements and that fact that your name might bring some die hard fans to the events that haven’t paid attention to your latest stuff. However, I doubt management actually believes you’ll win those matches. What does that say about you when the people who hired you have no faith left in you?”
She points in the direction of the camera.

“I mean, I could be wrong, and I welcome you to offer proof that I am. In fact, I welcome you to provide any proof that I am not who I have said I am. You don’t know me any more than I actually know you but the difference is, I have years of video proof to back up what I say about you. I’m not just pulling it out of my ass. You, on the other hand, have lumped me into a group of people that use people as stepping stones and get glory over it. I already told you that I know that this match isn’t going to propel me into super stardom. In fact, I mentioned, many times, that I have to work hard to get up to the top. Now you’re going to keep me from going up?”

She gives a fake pout and sad face. She even pulls a gloved hand to her face and once again Donald is consoling her. She looks up from the giant duck and says very plainly with a sob in her voice.

“Wow Sam, that sounds a lot like being a bully too.”

The Hatter offers her a kleenex from the oversize box and she dabs at her face.

“Being a bully is being a person who uses strength or power to harm or intimidate those who are weaker. So by saying I am a bully, are you admitting that you are weaker? And in actual fact, the things I say about you... I’m not bullying you at all. I am simply showing the world, by documented proof, the type of person you really are and instead of denying it, you come back with defenses of crushing my dreams and standing in the way of my success. I’m sure that’s a good lesson for those unfortunate kids you love so much. And frankly... if what I say is too harsh for you, then why did you even get into wrestling? Any person that loves this industry KNOWS that most people do say nasty things. Far nastier than I have said here. Damn millennials with their hyper sensitive, ‘the world should be fair’ reasonings.”

She chuckles. The white rabbit pulls out his pocket watch to check the time.

“But at the end of the day Sam, it is all going to be over quickly for you. And I hope you do stick around after. I hope you get your opportunity to be a champion again. You do want to prove me wrong right? Right?”

The White rabbits is now holding up his watch and taps it, indicating that it’s time for the party to start.

“Well, Rabbit says it’s time to start this party. Looks like you didn’t get the invite so instead of a pity party, we’ll just celebrate my impending win. Tootles. Muah.”

She blows a kiss at the screen, a big smile on her face as the camera shuts off.



~January 14, 2017~
~*OFF CAMERA*~
Manhattan, New York City, NY

The Manhattan penthouse belonging to Emilio Payne Senior and his wife Octavia was mostly floor to ceiling windows. It allowed a lot of natural light into the space. Presently, the setting sun over the New York City skyline gave a warm orange glint to the white furniture in the living room where Coby Quik was currently sitting. Chelsea, his friend, was getting them both a drink from the kitchen. Coby reaches forward, and grabs a remote from the table, starting to flip through other options they had for movies. The two of them had been posted up, talking while movies that they had each seen dozens of times played. He hears the moment of Chelsea returning, and pulls his eyes away from the screen to catch a look at her from the moment she appears, all the way until she throws a blanket over her lap.

She puts two classes of soda on the table and smiles.

“Anything interesting?”

He shakes his head and sits back against the back of the couch.

“I think we may have exhausted our search for terrible movies that are so bad they are interesting. We might actually have to watch something that will end up being more than just background noise.”

She shrugs. “There are some movies under the TV too. Not very many. Octavia insists that there is no need to buy movies anymore when you can stream them from so many sites. Is it weird that my Stepmother is only six years older than me?”

He coughs, but it is from surprise over anything else. It quickly turns into a laugh and he nods several times.

“A little weird, yeah. That is too much of a gap in age for me. I mean that has to make her over ten years different from your dad, right? It might just be me, but I tend to draw a line around like four.”

“Try 26. I'll be 22 in February though. There are 5 years between me and Junior. My Dad seems to upgrade when his wives get older.”

She rolls her eyes. He shakes his head and lets out a disappointing sigh.

“It's sad that looks mean that much to him I guess. That's the only reason people do that. It's kinda like a trophy for arm candy. I'm lucky to have the parents I have. They have been together for twenty-five years. Only a year apart. Knew each other from ten years old.”

He shrugs.

“Probably why I am the way I am. I am a walking example of the fairytale ending being a reality. Why ever settle for something less, regardless of the benefit? If I can't see a person being around for a while, why waste time and let them get to know me?”

She looks at him a moment, watching him thoughtfully.

“So I guess that means you see me sticking around?”

She can tell that he wants to nod and agree with her, but something stops him.

“I think you are the first person in a long while that I look at and see some kind of potential to enjoy having you around for a long time. It's not a quality found in a lot of people.”

He shrugs.

“Whether it’s gonna happen or not, I'm not sure. But I’m giving it a shot.”

She nods.

“I hope I don't disappoint you.”

He shakes his head and smiles.

“I'm not sure you really could at this point. I mean we have been talking all day both of the last two days. We stayed up all night New Year's getting to know each other.”

He pauses, his cheeks reddening a little.

“So far there is nothing about you to dislike, let alone be disappointed by.”

She laughs.

“According to some, I am just a shallow bully looking to ride others backs to stardom.”

He laughs with her.

“I haven't seen or heard anything like that from you, so clearly whoever said that is not paying attention.”

She rolls her eyes.

“My opponent tries to say I'm the bad guy but if you ask me, she's a little too self-righteous than she deserves to be.”

There is a touch of anger in her eyes before it quickly fades.

“I would be less offended about that part if I were you.”

She turns the slightest bit of that anger to him in the split second it takes him to explain himself.

“If she's saying stuff like that, it means she hasn't listened to anything you've said. It's a lack of respect. That's what would bother me. On the other hand, though, it means she has some version of you in her head that's not gonna match the version of you in the ring. That's an advantage.”


She sighs.

“I don't want her respect if getting it means I have to pander to her delusions of being this martyr. I don't buy into that. The issues with her career quickly slipping isn't on my shoulders, I simply pointed it out. Obviously, I am under her skin as much as she claims she is under mine. What has she said other than half-truths that are very twisted? With every word, she utters she looks more like a fool.”

He nods, leaning forward to grab his drink.

“That's kinda the name of the game. People like her are kinda similar to a few in KCW. They act one way, but you know it is all a fraud. It's an act to win people over because they need eyes to be on them. Even when they fail.”

She had an idea who he was talking about but did not want to push it.

“It gives people that just be themselves a bad name. Like we aren't quite as likable because we act like regular people instead of comic books characters or the parents from 50’s television shows.”

“Or perfect, sweet little girls with obvious issues with depression.”

She chuckles but then stops.

“Not that I think depression is a joking matter but I mean having to keep pulling yourself back from the ledge of career suicide seems pretty suspect. I just hate that she thinks that losing to her is going to somehow make me like her. That is a really childish way to talk.”

She takes a deep breath.

“At least, like me, the Mean Girls are upfront about who they are. I have been nothing but upfront about who I am and what I intend to do. And it's a little extreme to want to crush my dreams over some ashes in a box and a couple superficial stitches “

She takes a sip of her drink.

“And even then, it was just to get her to let go of my hair.”

He scrunches up his face in mock disgust.

“Doesn't it make you feel a little dirty to be mentioning yourself in the same sentence as the Mean Girls, though? Like, you saw the way I react to those types when that friend of yours tried to get me to ghost you New Year's Eve. Not exactly the types you want to be compared to.”

“No. The similarities end at just being upfront and actually owning up to the things we both do. But yes, the idea that mine and Anyone from mean girls in the same sentence makes me want to take a shower.”

He laughs, sitting back and opening his drink.

“Don't let me stop you. Just looking at most of them makes me feel dirty. I am so glad that there is nobody like that in KCW. We have sketchy types sure, but not anyone comparable.”

“I am not going to let anyone chase me away. Even in the extreme chance, she makes me bleed first, I am not going to be like her and cry over my failures. Failures are moments to learn.”

He shakes his head, the words striking a nerve.

“Yeah, enough of them in a row will shake you, though. I lost ten and stepped away for three years while I worked on my shit. I missed something, so even though I wanted to keep going, it kinda broke me. If Parker hadn't stepped in and made me focus on school I wouldn't be here. I'd be managing a fast food restaurant or something.”

Chelsea scrunches her nose in disgust.

“Smelling like fried food is awful.”

He nods.

“The only thing worse would be like a Taco Bell. Most of that stuff smells terrible and doesn't really wash off. I wouldn't be able to keep a roommate.”

“But if you found someone willing to help you wash it off. Might be fun...”

Even with his complexion, she can see his face turn a deep red. He stammers over a few syllables before finding words.

“Uh..um..hu… Yeah… I… I mean I guess it would have to be more fun than doing so alone.”

She avoids his eyes. “I will... remember that.”

He opens and closes his mouth a few times, not wanting to push the conversation further and make it awkward for either of them, but realizing that he did not mind having this kind of conversation which typically made him very uncomfortable. It brought a question to his mind.

“So what would you say to going on like a real date? I mean Junior was around last time. So, just the two of us. And maybe as a regular thing. That we don't do with other people…”

He does not have the courage to look up at her, almost sure he was going to get shot down.

She smiles.

“He is a really bad third wheel...”

And then his words sink in.

“Are you...like...”

She blushes and then takes a steadying breath.

“Is this you asking me to be your girlfriend?”

~TO BE CONTINUED~

15
Supercard Archives / Samantha Marlowe Vs Chelsea Payne
« on: January 13, 2017, 10:09:20 PM »
 Our scene starts with a woman standing next to what appears to be an enclosure. She’s dressed quite fashionably in a purple beret, black pea coat and a chenille scarf. She doesn't turn to the camera, but speaks. Her voice, although new, is still familiar.

“Clichés. Our business is full of them. You got the rich ‘packs’ that rely on decent looks, mediocre wrestling skills and a stable that was very good a few years ago but is just plain sad now.”

She smirks and even from this angle the camera captures it perfectly. She raises a hand toward something in front of her. The camera slowly turns to a fenced enclosure. It looks empty until you see the grey fur of a wolf. And then as if by magic, more animals appear over an overhang of rock. The camera turns in such a way that Chelsea and the wolf exhibit are both in view.

“Wolves hunt better in packs. A perfect comparison to my first mentioned type of wrestler. Alone, sure they can do damage but together they can take down almost anyone. It's too bad that they give up easy if they think the prey not worth their time.”

The camera cuts to Chelsea now walking backwards as in the background a zookeeper dressed in a thick dirty jacket stands throwing objects from a bucket to a very large brown bear.

“You got the ‘Monsters’ that utter the threats to ‘hurt you’ or ‘end you’ so many times they sound like a monotonous toddler in that ‘copy-repeat’ stage. Just like the large, brooding simplicity of the common brown bear.”

The bear groans as he gets up on his hind legs to catch the food being thrown to it. Chelsea winces in disgust as the bear rips chunks of flesh from the carcass of a fish in its paws.

The scene quickly changes to show a skunk, it waddles without noticing the people filming it.

“You have the assholes.”

It changes again to the sea lion fountain. They are clapping and performing for the crowd. Chelsea laughs, shaking her head.

“You have the trained idiots. The ones that do anything for a treat, until of course you stop giving them attention.”

The crowd slowly thins out. The sea lions don't like that people are looking at other exhibits and start ‘barking’ loudly at them. Chelsea is hysterical.

“Just a bunch of ‘nobodies’ right? Probably even overlooked, unless they continuously do things to garner the attention of the crowd, to the point of throwing tantrums to get noticed.”

One of the sea lions dives in the water and starts splashing at people who walk by. Chelsea looks up at the camera.

“Then they have you Sam.”

The scene shifts again. This area is relatively quieter than the other exhibits. The camera looks frantically between the trees but so far there are no animals until finally Chelsea points and the camera zooms in. It's a small red furred face, barely seen.

“The unassuming red panda. Sure she's cute and demure but she's not a predator. She doesn’t have a group, she's not an asshole with a big mouth. She’s not attention seeking....usually...”

Chelsea looks behind her at the animal as it slinks into the leaves and completely disappears.

“You’re the “I’m a good girl that naively does what I'm told so when I try to threaten people I just get laughed at” cliche. Oh, I know what you're thinking. I’m a jealous bitch just looking to piggyback on your career... please tell me, first off what do I have to be jealous of, and second... what career?”

She raises her hands, opening her arms wide. The smirk even more obvious now.

“You seem to keep getting chance after chance to make an impact but you always manage to fall short. Then, you claim to be the good guy.... yet you come out with a chip on your shoulder looking to interfere in other people's matches... so tell me red... who’s piggybacking who?”

She offers a shrug, the smirk doesn't change though.

“Sure you tried to hide it by saying you were sitting with ‘your kids’ but don’t you think it’s fishy to come out during MY match. Of all the matches in the entire show, you come out to try to steal the limelight during mine.”

She gives a chuckle.

“People are going to say you do it all the time. Most people probably won’t agree with my point of view. The fact remains that it is funny how far you have fallen though. You won’t actively come out and try to get involved, but you had to know that coming out during my match was going to be a distraction for me. You may be naive, but you’re not as braindead as some of the others on the roster. Not getting directly involved, is your little excuse to hide behind to seem totally innocent. No way I was letting that stand though.”

Chelsea leans back against the rocks surrounding the enclosure.

“You knew what would happen. You should be ashamed of yourself, using sick kids as a way to garner sympathy because what kind of person would attack their hero in front of them, right? See here's the thing, while I am not completely heartless, I don't actually care what they think of me. Their opinion of me doesn't actually change the outcome of my day. But it does change how they see you, and my guess is that changes everything about your day.”

She crosses her ankles and her arms over her chest.

“Because now they saw their ‘hero’ get messed up in front of them. Weak, Sam. That's what you are. And when a pack has a weak member, they eliminate them for the good of the group. I am simply, providing SCW with a service. That's real heroism.”

She pauses for a few moments, looking back at the cage

“And you know what’s funny? You're still crying over the stitches in your face. Last I checked, a cut was the least of a wrestlers worries. If you were such a big person and better than me, you would have walked away at Christmas. Instead you blew ashes in my face. I MADE you a bad guy in that moment. And even though I gave you a push to prove me wrong, you just keep proving me right. Where is the fight? Where is the rage? Where is that need to prove that what I have been saying isn’t true? All this from a girl that continuously talks about wanting to quit over her failures. Take ownership of that and get better, instead you don’t really know who you are, do you? You have lost all sight of what you ACTUALLY want.  I dunno what exactly you’re here for or who you are deep down inside but all I see is you still crying about needing to ‘teach that mean Chelsea a lesson...’ “

She gives a fake pout and uses a baby voice before breaking back into that same arrogant smirk

“Like that is going to somehow renew your faith in yourself. All this over a few truly spoken words and a cut on your cheek. It’s not like you were going to die.’

She gives a snort of arrogant amusement.

“Let me tell you something Sam. Beating me at Inception II is NOT going to make all the bad stuff go away. If you beat me? Congrats, you beat a rookie in her third match as a professional. It will mean nothing because you have lost that drive. Oh, but when I beat you... I cement myself as someone that is not here to fuck around. I’m not going to stand here and use the tired line claiming I am going to hurt you. We're not stupid... correction... I’M not stupid. I know that being a wrestler entails. The injury risk.  But yet I still come show after show.”

She pounds her fist into her open palm three times, emphasizing each of her last three words with it in rhythm with it.

“You are like every other goodie two-shoes in existence. You think that somehow ‘good’ will prevail over ‘evil’. That just by willing it so, the good guy is always going to come out on top. This match isn't about skill at all. It's about what you are willing to do to win. We both know that I will cut you open if that means winning. That ring is going to be crimson and not as a result of your bad dye job. You don't have it in you to be ruthless.”

She stretches her arms out on either side of the rock wall, not looking worried in the least.

“People come into this company show after show, and whether or not they have any real talent, they talk about winning the top title that this company has to offer. Sam, even you have talked about your numerous attempts, and numerous failures to capture a single championship. That is not my endgame though. That is not as high as the bar gets for me. I set out in this company to make a name for myself, and it means starting from the bottom and working my way up. It is not about becoming the Bombshell Champion, because by the time I get there people will be talking about how doing so made me a Triple Crown, or Grand Slam Champion. I watch the show, and constantly hear people complain about not getting their shot to jump from the bottom to the top, or get depressed when they reach up too high and fail. You are one of those people, and you have plenty of company in that club. The part that you people don't get, is that to get there, you have to take all of the little steps that come before that. You have to work your way up.”

She closes her eyes, for only a few seconds though, as if she were thinking about what she was about to say next and not just blurting out whatever was on her mind. Signs that what she was saying she had already thought about and mulled over anyway.

“My primary objective here is not to make friends and smoose the roster. I am here to win. You stood in my way of giving Celeste exactly what she wanted. She wanted to be beaten so she would have another excuse to add to why she’s a fuck-up. She couldn't even bother to say much about me in her promo. The ONLY reason that Celeste has that win is because she had some red-headed brat throwing a silent tantrum on the side. I am not like her. I am not going have some sad little pity party but what I will do is make sure you know the vengeance of this woman.”

She gingerly points at herself.

“Don't count on getting a win over me Samantha. At the end of the day, what I said at Christmas was true. Your uncalled-for bout of defiance and attempt at mind games shows that it hit a few nerves. Your career...  is ashes. And I am not going to allow you or anyone else to overlook me as a dominant female athlete. Not now, not ever. So take a long hard look in the mirror and prepare yourself with the words, ‘I was kidding myself thinking I was better than Chelsea’.”

She smiles and then blows the camera a kiss, before the camera goes dark.

:::OFF CAMERA:::
...Continuous...

Just as the video ends, Coby Quik, dressed in his own winter attire, puts down his phone and instantly sends the video to Chelsea’s phone. She smiles, just as her phone dings with a notification.

“Thank you. I appreciate you doing that for me.”

He shrugs, with a wide smile on his face.

“As long as I get a director’s credit. I mean, it totally gives me a fallback option for when I inevitably break my leg and have to go without a paycheck for a few months. If you think about it, you are just helping me diversify.”

She laughs, she moves from the rock wall to join him at his side. She looks vacantly at the red panda exhibit and chuckles.

“Of course. You make a pretty good director though but you are still a way better wrestler. And don’t...”

She holds up a finger as soon as she sees him about to argue that point.

“Try to downplay that with excuses about always getting beat on by the re-treads at KCW. You are a good wrestler, a good champion. It’s not your fault that you have people like Super-blondie and my brother as your backup.”

He shakes his head, brushing away the idea.

“That’s nothing compared to the people you have running around on your roster. I tried to watch some of those Mean Girls talk and I think I had brain cells committing mass suicides. There’s like a handful of people with potential. The majority are either brain dead or people that should have long since retired taking up screen time.”

Chelsea links her arm into Coby’s elbow and the two start to walk away.

“Veronica Taylor is just a younger version of my mother. As a child, my grandfather saw that she wasn’t good for anything other than her looks so he used that to his advantage. Ever since his last wife has been gone, he has used my mother was a pawn in his games. She’s still really good looking for her age, not that she’s really that old though. I’m not afraid to admit that I was a ‘baby of passion’. My mother was only 18 at the time and she seemed to be enthralled with my father. But my Grandfather knew, after my brother was born, that he had to ensure that nothing like that happened again. My mother is officially out of the baby making business since he was a year old. It’s for the best though, who knows what a third kid would be like.”

She smiles. She looks at him and then moves herself closer into him, practically hugging his arm. She shakes a little, nervous that the intimacy of the move would scare him off.

“I think they got a good look at exactly what a third kid would have looked like with Junior in the mix, and I’m willing to bet that from their perspective, they probably dodged a bullet. I mean, Junior’s a good dude, but my guess is he doesn’t mesh with their worldview.”

He moves his arm away slightly, which scares her momentarily, but it is only to bring his hand up and take hers in his own. He laces his fingers with hers and offers a smile.

“I am hoping that this is okay….”

She gives him a nod and shy smile, something rarely seen on the woman's face. She had shown more of her true self to Coby than any other person, including her own family.

“Junior was raised by his mom and grandmother. A very different worldview for sure. He is so easy going now, but for a time I really expected to get a call that he was found dead somewhere.”

Coby nods, having heard enough stories to know that it was a very real possibility there for a while. Strangely, the same stories he had heard from Junior and Chelsea had been echoed by Jason when talking about Kris.

“I can’t ever say that I had any real experiences like that. My parents always wanted me to do the best, and be part of the most clubs. Pretty much every minute of my time was planned, but it was great. I can’t complain. I love them to death and they were wonderful. They just wanted a lot for me.”

He sighs, and there is almost a touch of disappointment in it.

“Then I went out to LA and Parker has pretty much micromanaged my schedule for three years. It kind of makes me sound super lame to say that this is the first actual date I have really been on. Unless you count New Year’s Eve, but that would mean that I went on a date with your brother too.”

He shakes his head to get the visual out of his mind.

“I guess all three of us come from different worlds.”

She smirks.

“If my mother had it her way, I would be part of hers, but no matter what I never fit in with the groups she wanted. The daughters of the girls she was friends with growing up still didn’t accept me. You would think, hey... it’s the 2000’s, people should be accepting of people of different colours and heritages right? Nope. Even though I did everything else right, they never wanted me around because I looked more brown than white. I would never put anyone down for something like that. I find legitimate ways to insult someone though.”

She smirks again with a chuckle.

“It’s why I have such an issue with people like Veronica and her group. They have this idea of people being perfect. I found it funny that she tried to use the whole ‘you can’t sit with us thing’ like I really give a shit about them. She’s deluded herself into thinking people actually want to be like her and that washed up gang of braindead bimbos. There comes a time when you have to grow up and she is still in neverland. And Sam... she might not be a prejudice idiot but she’s still an idiot nonetheless. Why would you willingingly put yourself down and tell everyone about it? It’s like an invite others to put you down. You can’t do this if you think you are going to lose. It’s like putting the nail in your own coffin. The ONLY reason Celeste got a win was because I didn’t get back in the ring fast enough. I wouldn’t be happy with that as a win. So she shouldn’t. Good thing she’s not a gloater, it would be a nuisance to have to shut her up.”

She sighs.

“But yeah. So I’m like trying to find out who I really am in this world. I don’t need the high society bullshit but at the same time, I don’t want to be a freak with no direction either.”

He gives her hand a shake with his own, so that she looks up at him. When her eyes lock on his he smiles again.

“I’m not gonna tell you how to do things. I bet the more we talk about dealing with work, the more we are going to disagree on things, but you have one thing right, at the very least. Find who you are on your own. Don’t let anyone tell you how to be. Those Mean Girls chicks want everything to conform to them. That’s a real downer. All the people over there pretending to be nice make me nauseous because you can tell it’s not real… not that it isn’t a problem more than just there.”

He shakes his head, thinking about some of the clear fakes that he works with.

“Don’t fake it, and don’t fit into something you are not. Doing that, all by itself, puts you a step above all of them. If you need an example that it works, look at me. I spent a few months losing every match I was put in because I was trying to fit myself into a certain mold. I started doing things my way, and I won a championship. Not saying be exactly like me. I’m just saying be yourself. I have talked to that person, and think she’s pretty cool.”

“I have to be aggressive though. I have to stand up and tell everyone what I want and how I’m doing it because otherwise, people will assume it. Whether it be because of how I look, an action I took, or something I have said elsewhere. I am not going to just sit around and wait for things to come to me. By making Sam bleed first, I am going to be on my way to prove that I will do whatever it takes to keep going up. That is me though. Even in my personal life I don’t just sit there and take it either. I get that from my Dad I think. After the stuff that happened with Taylor... I told my grandfather that I was not going to be a pawn in his corporate games. It may not have gotten respect from him but it gave me respect and confidence in myself. Doesn’t make the sting of rejection any better though.”

She squeezes his hand.

“I can't even imagine really. I mean I've been turning down friends trying to get me to hook up with randoms or years on the rare occasions it has come up, and wouldn't even push myself that far. You were actually engaged and going to be set up to get married.”

He shakes his head, but there is not any negativity in it.

“You are a stronger and braver person than I am for going through with it because of what family meant to you.”

He laughs.

“I had trouble convincing myself to call or text a girl I actually like for almost two weeks….”

She stops him, turning to look at him.

“Then how long did it take you to get the courage to kiss me?”

He was quick to answer, but it did not stop his face from turning red as he did so.

“How long ago was it that you blew me off at a party?”

She bites her lip.

“A month ago? I feel like a real dick now.”

She doesn't let go of his hand. She looks up at him, meeting his eyes and reaches up with her free hand to brush against his cheek. He shrugs a little, the embarrassment intensifying on his face. The smile widens as a result, and he actually pulls his eyes away from hers while he actually says the words.

“You were close. It was December 4th, so like forty days…”

He manages to compose himself enough to be able to look back at her though.

“But technically we kissed on New Year's, so it wasn't quite a month yet at that point.”

“Was it worth the wait?”

The pair have stopped and moved to the side of the path. She was just as nervous as he was and was glad her gloves hid her shaking hands well. He looks away only for a second, and has himself mostly calmed by the time he finds the right words.

“I’ll tell you, but I need you to do me one favor. I need you to tell me it is okay to lie to you just one time.”

He was hoping that she would not take his words negatively, and his tone was not remotely mean. The smile on his face let her know it was obviously some set up for some cheesy line like he had made fun of the entire night of New Year's Eve.

“Okay...” She raises an eyebrow. “One freebie.”

He nods, letting out a heavy, but very fake sigh.

“I just don't remember if it was worth it so if you want to know you are going to have to remind me.”

He barely gets the words out without breaking and laughing, but manages to keep a smile off his face when he is finished. She steps into him, a smirk forming over her lips.

“Okay...” She grabs the collar of his jacket and pulls him down, bringing her lips very close to his. “This is one thing I don't mind repeating.”

She then follows through by pressing against him. He leans slightly forward to close the rest of the distance between their lips, pressing his to hers. He lingers there, having waited way too long to get to this point so not wanting the moment to pass, but forces himself to break away due to their surroundings. He smiles.

“Yeah, worth the wait.”

She instantly smiles.

“Glad to know that I'm not a bad kisser. Never really kissed anyone before.”

Now her cheeks start going red in embarrassment. He shakes his head and chuckles a little.

“So you're right there with me. We could both be terrible, and we wouldn't have any idea that there was something better.”

“Should we kiss some random people then?  Totally for scientific research of course.”

She’s obviously joking and even the thought of doing that for real made her more nervous. Even though he picks up on it, he still shakes his head no.

“I am a firm believer in ignorance being bliss, and who am I to argue with bliss?”

“Nobody should argue with bliss, from what I hear it is the first step in true happiness.”

She laughs, throwing her arms around his neck and hugging him.


16
Climax Control Archives / Missing Puzzle Piece
« on: January 06, 2017, 11:25:01 PM »
 Dearest Celeste,

There is nothing I hate more than people who victimize themselves. It's one thing when people are actually a victim of something but another entirely when they use it to have people feel sorry for them.

SCW is a hotbed of people complaining about the wrongs done to them. I mean you are a prime example of that.

Celeste North. The poor little rock star's daughter. Who was neglected and got into trouble because she had such a horrible childhood. Pfft.

You act like your story is some sob one. That we should all cry for you.  Oh boo hoo, the mean girls fucked with me again. Oh boo hoo, I got mommy issues. Oh boo hoo I’m not getting title opportunities. Just shut up. Seriously.

Maybe this match doesn’t mean anything to you Celeste but oh it means a whole lot to me. You see, every single person I take out on my journey to the top is significant. No name is meaningless. And You really should be happy that I am going to add you to my list of names. Because you might just get that relevancy you desire. You are way more relevant than Twisted sister and I beat her. And maybe to you, Sam Marlowe is more relevant but to me, no ONE person in this company is more relevant than another. They are all just names on my list. As these names add up, it will be the number that becomes more important, not the names. Names fade. People change them. People Change.

Except you Celeste. You do the same song and dance every single time. You have this sorta... Manic depressive, bi-polar thing going on. And that... is the real reason that you are falling down this ladder you invented for yourself. It’s not the owners pushing you back down, it’s YOU.

You sabotage yourself and I know I haven’t been here pretty long but I’m going to guess that this song and dance is one that a lot of people have already memorized. That they chalk it up to one of those adages of being a “celeste thing” and probably can mouth the words and mimic the steps... Am I correct?

That’s another strike for you darling.

I have no desire to give you any more reasons for you to OD on pills and drown in your bathtub like so many other diva’s out there. My only desire is to beat your pathetic whiney ass and move on. You may not have any problems with me Sweetie, and I don’t technically have any personal problems with you but I do have a problem with people that try to garner sympathy without any real reason to get it. You see... that shit that happened with your mom... that shit that happened with you not getting your shots and whatever else... you need to get over it. Pick yourself back up from the ashes of whatever this... persona thing you’re doing is and then Move. ON. Period. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that life is too short to live with regrets?

We are all given a hand in life and you can either choose to play the cards you have and risk going bust, or you can keep drawing from the pile until you get the hand you want. I want to be a title holder here in SCW. I want to get a Triple crown status and getting that isn’t like what you said, it isn’t giving blowjobs behind the scenes. It’s not being part of some dinosaur of a stable with a nasty looking T-rex trying to pull the strings on the stegosauruses.

I learned a long time ago that stables like the Mean Girls? Well they lose power the moment you stop giving it to them and what they want is for girls like you to be miserable and talk about how you’re this nobody and everyone should feel sad for you. I’m not going to give you a damn thing except maybe when I beat you, it will some knock some sense into that stupid bratty head of yours.

You want to be recognized than stop saying you're a nobody. Because I certainly know that I’m a somebody.  Are you a somebody? You can’t complain about people calling you a nobody when you call yourself a nobody. But who am I? Who is that person?

Pay very close attention sweetheart. I’m about to show the whole world who Chelsea Payne is. Every match I win is like another piece of that puzzle.

But don’t worry.. It’s only a small puzzle... I know that people with limited intelligence have trouble with the big ones. So here is another piece. And before long Celeste, you’ll be wishing you took my advice when I’m sitting at the top while you’re still blaming others for your... slippery ladder.

But you take care of yourself sweetie and don’t go nursing those wounds with something that is going to put you right back in rehab. I would rather not have a forfeit win.

All my best,
Chelsea


***

“Have you called him?” The voice on the other end of the phone is that of my brother. Not the one everyone knows... no. I wouldn’t be stupid enough to talk about what happened New Years with Emilio. He’s got a big mouth. No. This was my ‘little’ brother Mateo. Although he wasn’t so little. Older by only 11 months, we were practically twins, but he was taller and more muscular. He was even bigger than my father but that wasn’t saying much.  He took after our Maternal grandfather who was well over 6’5. Although Mateo was not that tall, he was still the tallest Pina man in a long line of Pina men.

“No. Well, yes but not to talk about...”

“Him kissing you?” He snickers. Sometimes I wanted to strangle him although it was kinda hard to do that when he was presently in Orlando and I was in New York.

“Yes.”

“Well... Why not? It’s about time you actually opened up and went on a date with someone. I was getting worried. Like maybe you were one of those weird new sexual orientations where you were in love with yourself or something. Or that maybe you were a secret lesbian...”

I facepalm. I was sitting in my room. Which was gorgeous in its design, thanks to me because I have excellent taste, afterall.

“I’m not a lesbian Mats. And I am just... selective okay? I like him. I just...”

“Afraid to get hurt again? In all honesty, it’s kinda a blessing in disguise that Taylor Darlington left. You would have been completely miserable. He would have been a man whore and having to deal with a mistake like Dad’s.”

I have to sigh . Mateo did care about Emilio, he just... was a little rougher around the edges. Like Dad. And it took a lot for him to show real affection for anyone. I was kinda the exception to that but I think it’s because fora  long time, were were all we had. Our mother was the socialite that hired a nanny to raise us. Our father was an aging professional wrestler who spent more time away from home than at home. It really wasn’t surprising when they got divorced only three years into their marriage. And Susan, our step-mother was actually a decent human being. Even if she did have the intelligence of a cocker spaniel.

“Emilio isn’t a mistake. A mistake is someone like my opponent.”

Mats chuckles.

“I heard. Just another easy pick off Chels. You got this. But in the meantime, call him. Tell him that you like him.”

I shake my head even though he can’t see it on the other end of the phone.

“I’m not saying it first. No way. That’s suicide and I don’t do that. But I’ll see him at the KCW show. Maybe we can... talk there. He doesn’t have a match.”

“You better or I’m going to get his number from Emilio and call him myself. You need to get over this shit with Taylor. You know you give your opponent shit for holding on to stuff from her past when you’re just a big hypocrite.”

“On the contrary little brother, there is nothing BIG about me. I am perfection in a petite package.”

He laughs.

“I mean it though. I think talking to him and maybe going out again... that’s going to be the key to putting all that shit permanently behind you. But I gotta go. Grampa has another meeting for me to oversee. I hate being the only boy in like two generations that can be his protege.”

“Buck up. It could be worse. You could be training with Dad.”

He lets out a noise that I always described as being eerily similar to a dying rodent. A high pitched whining. THankfully it never lasted very long.

“No thanks. Wrestling is your thing, not mine although I would rather be doing ANYTHING else than this. I’ll call you later and good luck on Sunday. You know I'm your biggest fan.”

I smile. He was the best brother... not to say that Emilio wasn’t making up for all this faults but Mats... he and I had that bond that no one could replicate.

I hang up and see my half open closet. I get up, going to it I see the perfect outfit I could wear at the compound. The perfect thing to really impress. Not just Coby but maybe turn a few other heads too. I mean isn’t that what Valet’s were supposed to do? Distract?

17
Climax Control Archives / Monster Slayer
« on: December 09, 2016, 06:24:35 PM »
 Chelsea’s Blog #001
~Re-boot~

You know, there is a hugely wrong stereotype of women like me and in all honesty it exists because a lot  women act like entitled brats and act like the world owes them something. This is simply based on who their parents are, or how many zeros are in their bank account. In fact, SCW even encouraged the behaviour by allowing a stable of women like that. It's an insult to women like me because I may be from the upper crust of society, I’ve never really been accepted. I always stood precariously on the edge. Some days I would be the newest member and other days they suddenly remembered that I am half mexican and physically I don't look like them with lilly white porcelain skin, blue eyes and perfect hair.

But that's not to say that I am not beautiful. And there are many other women who are of mixed heritage who are very beautiful.

Don't confuse this for me being ‘nice’ though. That is not something I would consider one of my personality traits. Because I am far from nice. If I wanted to, I could cut down anyone and leave their guts exposed.

So it's funny that the booking team of SCW chooses to put me up against a woman who names herself after an 80’s rock bank. Who seems to have gotten in a T.A.R.D.I.S or Delorean to bring us this... Marvel of wrestling.

Enlighten me if I am wrong, has she done anything of significance since signing here? I know that once upon a time, she held a tag team championship with someone with an equally ridiculous getup. Iron Maiden. Do either of you even know what a real Iron Maiden is?

I assume not. It is yet another violation of copyright by infringing on the name of two popular bands. Why they were popular is beyond me. My father seems to recall that people went crazy for them. There are no screaming fans for this woman though. She is only known for being brutal. She likes to use her fists and weapons. In my opinion that just shows a lack of creativity, a lack of that particular brand of cunning that gets you out of sticky situations. It also probably means having agility and speed, two things I happen to excel at.

I have to wonder though what is going on in the mind of our owners. First by taking me on via the influence of my father's name and then to essentially think they are leading me to slaughter by placing me against what can arguably be described as the brutalist woman on the roster. I assume it was to test my endurance. To see if I was worth the stock my birth certificate was printed on.  

That is fine. When I stand victorious over this woman, they will have automatically given me the best moniker that this company can afford without awarding me a title.

Monster Slayer.

And after that? Who can say anything about my credibility? They put me up against a woman that could break me in half, yet when she doesn't it is only to my benefit whereas they have seen it as a way to eliminate another legacy rookie. The difference is, I am not like any other legacy wrestler. I don't ride the coattails of my father's fame. I am not demanding title shots or my name in lights. It's why I intend to beat this faker with a bad perm and send her back to her Pantera albums and rum mixed drinks. To leather pants and blue eyeshadow. Time to downgrade to ponytails, mom jeans and sappy Barry Manilow songs, dear. You won't be missing the rains in Africa but you sure will miss that reputation of breaking newbies.

We may have to re-boot this match from last week due to whatever ‘flight complications’ you had but I assure you ‘Sister’ I am going to make you regret ever being booked against me.

Chels out~!


****
:::OFF CAMERA:::

It’s not surprising whenever my brother Hayden visits. Mainly because he calls first to make sure our father isn’t in the apartment but also because there is usually a pattern.  

It had been eighteen months since the last time.

Check.

He had called stating that he missed his baby sister

Check

He sounded burnt out over the phone with that certain drawl to his voice that indicated that he was actually sober, which meant he wanted one thing and one thing only and it was not the company of his ‘baby’ sister.  It was Money.

Oh money, the root of all evil but the one thing you could not live without in this world. Especially if you had grown accustomed to the lifestyle that I had. My mother was born into so she had a certain reputation, so you can imagine why we hardly spoke at this current time and then my father who was considered, new money. Someone that had acquired it after hitting a windfall or working a high profile job which allowed them to accumulate it over time, but lacked the certain... breeding that came with always knowing you had money at your disposal.

No, dear old dad grew up in Mexico. But most of the people that watched me and the rest of the SCW wrestle on television with stars in their eyes were from middle America. Whether it be because they envied us for our skill, envied the men who got to touch the bodies of us attractive ‘eye candy’ ‘babes’ in a ring or because they simply wanted to have the money that came with being on television but in all honestly, if you wanted to get rich... wrestling was not the way to do it.

No the best way to get a lot of money quickly with the least amount of depreciation to yourself was to marry someone already rich and then live it up, as they say.

Emilio’s mother was not born into money.

So while Dad was travelling the country, his first wife Cordelia was at home nursing the accident my father had left in her womb. I even believe that for the first five years of Emilio’s life, he didn’t even know he existed. You see, their marriage was a ‘drunken Vegas’ debacle that quickly was remedied with a quick and easy divorce. Cordelia got a large one time settlement check and another mouth to feed and my father got to walk away like nothing happened.  That was until Cordy showed up at one of his shows and caused a big row about it all.

They tried to make it work for a few months but of course my father’s eyes were on younger, prettier women. I.e. my mother Patricia.

And then so ended that relationship and despite Cordy’s attempts to keep Emilio away, well... he refused to not see his father. The visits were often strained and uncomfortable. Emilio trying to win the approval of his father but failing because my father was all about his little girl. Me.

Do I feel bad that my father basically abandoned my older half brother to give me his attention? I suppose I should, but I don’t. I blame my upbringing and the selfishness that comes with it.

Of course when my younger brother Mateo was born only eleven months later, well Emilio became an afterthought. Another bill for my father to pay, until he grew old enough to follow in Emilio Payne’s footsteps.

Opening the door, my brother, who had decided to grow out his dark hair and have that... hipster coiff hanging in a limp unwashed ponytail halfway down his back, was standing in front of me and surprisingly, despite my assumption based on our phone conversation, he looks relatively bright eyed. In fact, he didn’t have the appearance of someone looking for money to feed his heroin addiction at all but that of a man that had decided to clean up, completely.

He grabs me in a hug, tight as if he actually cares about me. I gingerly pat his shoulder and feel a little uncomfortable that he’s held the hug a little longer than what I deemed socially acceptable. He grabs my shoulders to look me over.

“Look at you! Grown up a lot since last I saw you.”

I scoff.

“Please EJ. You saw me eighteen months ago and I am hardly a girl anymore.”

He laughs, “Oh Chels. You’re always so negative. It’s the thing to be called and want to be a girl rather than a woman. It makes you appear younger, vibrant, attractive.”

“Am I not any of those things still or is 22 the new 50?”

He laughs.

“Of course not. You look great as always.”

He invites himself in. At least that much hasn’t changed.  He takes a seat on the sofa and I can’t help but notice that despite the fact that he doesn’t appear to be addicted to anything at this moment, he still has this aroma of unwashed and pungent.  Quickly I think about how I might have to call someone to come and steam clean the white designer sofa he had taken up a seat on.

“So, what do I owe the pleasure Emilio?”

I walk over to the wet bar. Pour myself and him a drink and bring it back, handing it to him he takes a sniff and takes a small polite sip before placing it on the table in front of him. He leans forward, placing his elbows on his upper thighs.

“I want you to go into business with me.”

I raise my eyebrows.

“What sort of business?”

“Manager.”

I laugh.

“I have just started my wrestling career, I hardly want to be your manager. And besides that, based on your track record I would only be out to lose big on this sort of investment.”

He shakes his head.

“No. I’m clean. I have something lined up with a place and I want you to be there. I don't want you to give up SCW, this is like a... side gig and maybe on occasion I can be there for you too.”

I chuckle.

“Oh EJ. You are too funny.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are, but the answer is no. For the same reasons as before, I don’t want you to have anything to do with my career. I have worked far too hard to have you squander it.”

“Just... think about it. You may be a Payne and you may have all the training from Dad but you’re still new to all this as an athlete.”

“I grew up around it a lot more than you did.”

“True. But what about those that would take advantage of it. Besides, Maybe I could negotiate a better contract. I know that Dad basically bought your contract.”

I take a seat. It was true I didn’t like that part but I was determined to prove that it didn’t matter, that regardless they had made a good decision in bringing me in.

“Or even just be there to support you. Like family should.”

“No.” I say.

“No?”

“You heard me. I assume that your ears are still something that are not permanently injured correct? Truth be told I don't trust you and as sober as you appear to be right now, your... appearance says otherwise. Couldn’t you at least have showered  before you came over.”

Emilio stands.

“I just took a long flight to get here. So I’m sorry if my appearance isn't up to your fake standards.”

He sighs.

“Listen, I really just want an excuse to actually spend time with you.”

He starts walking toward the door.

“But if you're not interested...”

He pulls open the door and I feel it. That want to have my brother in my life but I wasn't about to get all sappy about it.

“Wait...”

He turns, looking at me.

“Maybe I’ll go with you to see what it's all about and then... well maybe you can like... come to my show. No promises though... alright?”

He smiles, crossing the distance to crush me in a hug.

“That's my baby sis.”

He lets me go and I suddenly feel like I can breath again.

“I’ll call. You’ll see me Sunday Chels.”

He whistles a little as he leaves and I shake my head. This better not backfire on me.

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