(Writers Note: Sorry bout the late posting, I hope this is up to scratch. I had a final scene to add, but I've decided to hold off using it cause I just don't think I have the time to do justice to that part of the story in this moment. Hopefully it still reads alright and any feedback is always welcome- otherwise enjoy, and good luck Ruby <3)
“It was funny how little justice seemed to come in the wake of justice being done. It was funny how often the word “funny” described horrors that couldn’t be screamed away.”
― S.R. Hughes, The War Beneath
Unnamed Fairgrounds
White Springs, FL
09.07.2005
11:17am
“You really gotta cinch that arm in Bambi, yeah… See, now you have a bit more control over the body.”
Even under the summer sun, Grizz couldn’t help but beam with pride. Despite having been running drills for the better part of a couple of hours, the young redhead seemed unperturbed by the sheen of sweat that had collected on her skin nor the ragged breathing coming from her clearly overwhelmed opponent. With a smug authority and a leverage advantage, she forced him to his knees whilst jamming his arm further into the middle of his back.
Almost bored, Amber had to admit that he hadn’t presented much of a challenge- but she quickly concluded that it likely wasn’t his intention. Familiarity bred contempt and complacency, rolling with the same people day in and day out did little more than dull her senses as their best became second nature- no, this one was another ‘lost cause’, another no name derelict taken under the wing of someone who should have known better. Scraggly blonde hair stuck to his skin as he tapped feverishly as far back towards the redhead as he could reach, begging for mercy- or at least a reprieve.
Without a word, Amber relented disappointedly- he’d likely be gone again within the fortnight.
Allowing her hapless ‘sparring partner’ to roll out in search of a breather, Amber absent-mindledly twirled her fingers through the end of her messy ponytail as she covered the distance between the middle of the ring and where Grizz watched, still bearing the same spirited grin.
“Atta girl.”
Deftly avoiding the faint moisture stain on the canvas from her foe’s skin, Amber watched him try to shake out the cramping and soreness through his shoulder while shooting the occasional surly glance in her direction. No doubt he thought he’d hit the goddamn jackpot with this gig- an easy payday for easier work, given free reign to come out swinging against this skinny young redhead girl who, he’d been warned, had a mean left hand. Maybe he thought he looked like a badass throwing hands, trying to replicate something he saw in a video game once perhaps- regardless Amber had been content to let him run himself stupider as an exercise in control.
Countless opportunities to lay him out with a solid kick to the face or a left hand through a very open guard felt anti-climactic, defeating the purpose of what she’d presumed the point was- no, possession was 9/10’s of the law and she’d been determined to hold it as her own.
“Why do you sound surprised?”
Grizz shrugged thoughtfully in response as she brushed the hair from her eyes.
“You aren’t exactly the patient type. Thought you might lose your cool and make a silly mistake, let your guard down… get frustrated”
He wasn’t wrong, she’d already cultivated a reputation through busted lips and blackened eyes. Bruised and bloodied knuckles were a mark of pride- and afternoons spent like this were more of a public service, humbling the trash before it ended up in the bin, than a chore.
Looking rather bemused, the 16 year old redhead leaned heavily against the ropes, her arms resting lazily across the top edge as the harsh sun radiated off her face, Grizz moved in closer with a ‘good job kiddo’ kinda smile.
“Oh ye of little faith. Besides, you’re acting as though I have no self control when the truth is I just don’t use it.”
Grizz had promised that when she got good enough that he’d finally spar with her- her mind raced at the possibility of proving herself, an opportunity to really see if everything she’d worked for had paid off, that it had led somewhere for something. A glimmer of pride remained despite her smart-assery as he went to respond; however his voice died in his throat as a commanding voice rang out across the open grounds.
“Ah, Mr Parker… I was hoping I might catch you.”
Faintly accented, although Amber suspected that might have been more deliberate than natural. Snapping to attention, the approaching man's toothy grin betrayed nothing of his very choice moment of intrusion and authoritative nature of address.
By now she had guessed it was pushing 100 degrees out there, the sweat traced across her skin confirmed that and yet the man’s discerning yet worldly smile and full business attire made him seem as though the laws of weather had no effect on him. As he approached, Amber was certain his tie was getting uglier- and his swarthy complexion was cosmetically altered just enough to be slightly off putting, yet close enough to natural that it took some staring to properly determine- a fact not lost on the man himself.
At his side stood an older teenager of similar dignified posture, although his complexion ran a little lighter and his half-smile less warm and welcoming, bored perhaps by the less than thrilling expedition across the fairgrounds. Far more captivated by the middling crew and their assembly of a neo adorned, generic adjective named thrill rides- his gaze settled on the pairing of Cassidy and Sticky loitering just off to the side, their toxic relationship seemingly laid bare for all.
Effusive in a way that Amber never thought she’d bare witness too, Grizz stepped away from the ring with arms spread welcomingly while his smile almost seemed to crack at the edges, taking the smaller suited man into a weighty embrace- Amber caught sight of the remnants of a scar below the left eye that, no doubt, had a lot of work done to reduce its appearance unlike the deliberate salt and pepper smattering through his temples and well groomed facial hair.
With a smile reminiscent of a crocodile preparing to strike, the newcomer gestured vaguely to the grounds as work continued in the near distance.
“I must commend you, this is quite the welcome sight- especially in consideration to the last time we spoke. I trust business has improved?”
Business-esque, his tone attempted to make a personal connection, but instead came across as almost condescending. Out of willful ignorance or happy obliviousness Grizz allowed himself a hearty chuckle.
“If our lights are on, then I’d say business is doing just fine. If that changes, then we might be having an entirely different conversation I imagine.”
Guardedly, Grizz gestured away from the ring however the businessman stayed grounded- his attention turning towards the redhead still surveying the rapidly changing conversational landscape with an openly cynical and apprehensive expression.
“I presume she’s one of your… how do I put this... strays?”
Despite not addressing her directly, the man stared through the redhead curiously as though fascinated and oddly repelled at the same time, perhaps by her unwillingness to ‘play along’ with whatever had been previously agreed upon without her.
Moving between Amber and the newcomers, Grizz’s smile became that of genuine pride once again- his heart swelling inside his chest as he vaguely motioned in Amber’s direction despite his back being to her.
“Something like that I suppose.”
Through gritted teeth, Amber watched Grizz tense disapprovingly as her stomach did the kind of backflips the Olympics would be demanding a drug test for.
“Amber is my protege, and I’ve no doubt that she’ll one day make all of us proud… Bambi, I’d like you to meet Mr Del Gado, one of my long time business partners and one of the biggest reasons we’re able to keep doing what we love…”
“Bambi, that's quite the charming nickname.”
Amber wanted to vomit where she stood, the way the words almost dripped off his tongue sent a shiver racing through her spine. Grizz cleared his throat uncomfortably, deliberately avoiding Amber’s very annoyed, narrowed gaze.
“I see you’re brought your son along as well.”
Gently placing a hand on the teenager's shoulder, Mr Del Gado’s half smile blossomed into something a little more genuine, or at the very least well practised.
“Ah yes, my son Dominic. I thought it prudent that he get to see some of our work first hand to begin to understand the scope of what it is we do… I trust that's of no inconvenience Mr Parker.”
Finally acknowledging Amber at his fathers unspoken request, Dominic Del Gado gave the redhead a knowing wink- while in the meantime she could swear that the pit of her stomach fell through the canvas.
“You’ve got a lot of faith in Miss Ryan- and alot of weight on her shoulders. Such an expectation to succeed, it's certainly not for all.”
Fighting the urge to cringe, Amber forced a smile.
“Of that I have no doubt, perhaps you’d like to wait in my office while I finish up here?”
Waving over Cassidy and Sticky, Grizz quietly gestured towards his office. Cassidy put on her most charming smile while Sticky was no doubt concocting a plan to weasel his way into either Del Gado’s pockets.Watching the businessman and his son disappear amid the throng of activity, Amber loudly spit out into the patches of grass a few feet away- no longer able to restrain her disgust.
“What the fuck was that…”
“Look, I’ve known the Del Gado’s for many---”
“Yeah, I don’t doubt you have- but that's no reason to throw yourself down in front of them the moment they say your name. Come on Grizz, be real with me here… how long has this been going on?
You can’t tell me this isn’t related to the late night meetings and skeevy assholes in expensive suits and cheap haircuts…”
Disappointed, Grizz turned to face Amber with a look of resignation and acceptance.
“It’s a little more complicated than just that…”
Trailing off, Grizz struggled to meet the redheads judgemental gaze.
“Is it though? Look, we might be dumb, but we sure as fuck aren’t stupid… okay so maybe most of us are- but I’m sure you get my drift…”
Softening her tone, Amber couldn't help but almost pity the man- for everything he’d done and the lives he’d changed, his pride had been sacrificed and tagged with a price.
“We’re family Grizz- you made us all family. If this is affecting you, it's affecting us and I don’t wanna wake up one day and be totally indebted to these assholes without at least knowing what I might be in for. Whatever this is, we’ll get through it, we always do… right?”
Without making eye contact, Grizz turned to face her trying to feign an unmistakable false confidence. It almost turned Amber’s stomach to see the way he fought to keep the edges from fraying and his professionalism being torn asunder beneath the pressure he’d created.
Swallowing hard, trying to find the right words, Amber’s softened gaze still managed to tear through the paper thin walls.
“... It's a necessary evil. I made a promise to everyone that I’d take care of them Bambi, everyone here is relying on me to do the right thing, to keep their heads above water. That's what I’m doing, even if that means I have to drown a little in the process.”
Forcing a smile, Grizz ran his fingers through his thick mane absent-mindedly.
“I won’t pretend like they aren’t predatory assholes, and that maybe I’m out of my depth… but sometimes it's the shittiest fucking people in the world that are the only ones willing to do what everyone else won’t.”
Lowering her own fearsome stare towards the ground, the ground almost inviting her to dive headfirst into it like it might solve any of their problems, Amber shifted her stance slightly while trying to restrain the disappointment that seeped through her tone.
“I just hope, whatever it is, that it's worth it.”
“Don’t worry Bambi, so do I.”
Turning away, Grizz sucked in the deepest breath he could muster.
“... so do I.”
******
“Do you think I’m a bad person?
Perception in this industry seems to be everything, and opinion hinges so precariously on those few moments where people decide to give a shit that it's any wonder that there's a positive word ever said out of sincerity.
I mean, if most of our peers are to be believed- I’m just the fucking worst.
Not that I’m bad at my job, or that I’ve actually done anything really to wrong them besides exist and have an opinion about my own existence- those I’ve wronged have their gripes of course, but it's the ones who’ve been adjacent that seem to voice their disapproval most loudly as though I can affect what others do cause I happen to be THAT toxic.
I mean lets be honest Ruby, I’ll always be the first person to admit that I’m not exactly a nice person- I’ve found it's really tough to maintain that kind of discipline in an industry where you are constantly incentivised to cause harm and speak ill of those who oppose you.
I’ve done a lot of terrible things, I’ve been a part of heinous acts. I’ve made some statements that people fundamentally oppose cause it doesn’t fall within their opinions and therefore is systematically wrong. However, I’ve always had a damn good reason for it.
Every step of the way I’ve done my damndest to maintain a level of professionalism, even if it means being morally reprehensible. I go out there and I exceed expectations, I go beyond every limit set before me- even if it means I rub a few people the wrong way for it.
Method and madness Ruby, it's not all that different.
Don’t ever think I feel good about those things- that I walk backstage holding my head high cause I am once again chief asshole of the grey area. I feel things just as much as anyone else, I regret the things that I can’t and won’t apologize for- I feel remorse for the careers I’ve ended and the lives I’ve considerably shortened cause it was a necessary evil.
I’m the Bombshells world champion because I’m willing to say and do things that most others in this industry won’t.
Ethically, morally, emotionally- they hold their own virtues in higher regard than being champion, and you know what? Good on them. If that's what helps them sleep at night, then by all means they can revel in a solid uninterrupted eight hours…
I’ve sold my morals to the highest bidding company for opportunities, I put aside my ethics and virtues in order to prove that I wasn’t just another nobody sailing through mediocrity whilst clutching my life jacket of goodness like that would somehow save me.
I have said things and done things to people I care about, things I couldn’t take back even if I still had a soul to sell, just so that I could add another line to my resume like anyone was ever gonna read it.
Every title I’ve ever held came at a personal cost Ruby, one after another I’ve burned bridges so that my name might be a little more lined with gold. Maybe this is the point where I should start looking at myself and asking if it's all been worth it, that I’m getting to the point of my career where I should start caring more about people rather than shiny things and that my relationships are worth more than another shot at being a little better than anyone will ever give me credit for.
I should do all those things- I should care far more about the fact I just got married and wrestled a hardcore match the same night instead of revelling in this abundance of love and appreciation that I’ve stumbled headfirst into. I should care that I walk through that backstage and people who don't know me can’t, or just won’t, even make eye contact cause they worry that whatever is wrong in my head might just be contagious.
I spend more time these days in a fucking wrestling ring than enjoying life outside of it, my name is synonymous with sacrifice and violence- I hurt, I fight and I bleed for everything I’ve earned and yet it's still never going to be enough cause I’m not willing to pretend to play nice on top of that.
I give everything for this title, this opportunity to be champion.
So politely and with all due respect Ruby, I’ll be fucking damned if you think I’m just going to roll over and let you have it.
Not because you haven’t worked hard to get where you are- there are few people in this industry I’d say don’t belong, and they know who they are and for what reason. You’ve done the work and you’ve earned your place- it's just that, that place isn’t at the top. Not yet and certainly not while I’m there… Sure, you’ve shown up, you made a splash and you won a few matches- congratulations you’ve achieved minimal expectation.
But we both know the only reason you’ve got this opportunity is Blast From The Past- otherwise you’d still be finding your footing among the big kids and trying not to get lost in the shuffle.
I can’t take that away from you in the same way I can’t take it away from Courtney when she won it. Only difference was she actually earned it, while you tagged along and got rewarded for having your original partner drop out. Of course, that's a whole other thing isn’t it- we’ve got plenty of time to dissect that whole shit show.
No, what this is about right now is the match- it's about you stepping up and stepping out of your comfort zone, this is deep water and I’m not about to teach you how to tread it. You have to remember that this isn’t some fuck around curtain jerker against Apple Coren, this isn’t some feel good warm and fuzzies tag match with Candy and Team Hero all proclaiming how much they love each other.
We’re top of the card, scratching and clawing to keep our place while everyone underneath scrambles for our spot- and I promise you Ruby, everything that everyone tells you that I am… I’m all that and a bag of chips kiddies, I’m the goddamn fucking reaper in this division and you’d best be willing to give me everything you have or I’m taking your soul as compensation for my wasted time.
I’m not here to make anyone's day, I’m not making dreams come true or bringing fairytales to life- I’m stomping out happy endings cause that's what it is I have to do to keep my title. I have given up more than you have to offer just for a shot and while I can respect that you’re willing to give this a red hot go- I’m the one who has to bring reality crashing down on your head.
I’m not the champion cause I’m the best at anything Ruby, I’m not the champion cause I’m the biggest or the baddest- I’m the champion because I’ve given the most and I’m the one willing to put it all on the line to stay champion.
I’m the one with everything to lose and that is a far greater motivator than you’ll surely be able to understand.
All I can ask Ruby, with the utmost sincerity is just what are you willing to give… Honestly. What is it that you’re willing to sacrifice to beat me- are you willing to break, to bleed, to cry and scream into the void in hopes that your willpower might somehow overcome mine.
Would you kill for this belt, would you die for it?
Are you willing to take everything else that you love and put it on the backburner, put it to the side for ten pounds of leather and metal- to stand atop the mountain knowing that one day you’ll fall and there's nothing you can do about it.
You don’t have to be a shitty person to get to the top, you don’t have to burn bridges and slit throats- you just have to be willing, to allow that side to come to the forefront should it be required. You need to be able to smile in the face of someone else's misery cause they’re now one step further back from your spot, to pretend like the doubts and the hate doesn’t hurt when it cuts through your walls like a machete through tissue.
You need to take the weight that everyone else throws on your back- and you need to laugh in hopes that no one sees your knees buckle.
So don't you get me wrong- I have no doubt that you’re willing to bring it Ruby. That you’ll be fire and exuberance, that youthful rookie spirit shining through at Into The Void- and you’ll go out there with the intention of making everyone proud.
I promise you won’t let them down when you lose, cause you care too much about what they think that you’ll never stoop far enough to be me- and they’ll love you more for it.
Just know though- like I’ve heard in every goddamn fucking match of my career, and probably more of them to come… like I’ve spent my whole life trying to prove wrong...
Everything you have to give Ruby, it just isn’t enough.”
******
Unnamed Gym
Las Vegas, ND
12.05.2021
5:37am
Jab. Jab. Duck right. Cross. Duck right… Then drive the elbow through the side of their fucking face.
Rinse.
Repeat.
Something had to give eventually, right?
Although the dents in the heavy bag were promising as it creaked loudly on it's chain, the ache that radiated down from her elbow and out through her fingers couldn’t be ignored. They’d never stop coming from her- for every opponent she put down there’d be two more with her name firmly in their mouths ready to step up like scavengers at her carcass.
Being champion didn’t mean the work stopped, a fact that had been drilled into her long before she’d ever won her first strap- complacency was killer and she’d vowed to never stay still long enough for rust to form.
Of course the matches were taking their toll though, the quality of opponents might have varied but the quantity would eventually be what would overcome her. Amber, contrary to popular belief, had never been disillusioned enough to believe that she’d be champion forever, hell the idea alone was exhausting and sucked the wind from her lungs as she forced the repetition through again.
Another combination, another focus. Another weapon in the arsenal.
Never let them catch you doing the same thing the same way twice…
Give them a pattern, something to sink their teeth into.
Jab. Jab. Duck right.
Let them memorize it.
Cross. Duck right.
Then… make them fucking pay for it.
… and kick the air straight out of their chest.
Everything hurt, everything goddamn sucked for days after a match like Climax Control 300. There was no doubt that Courtney made her work for it, that she’d given Amber everything she could handle and then some- it wasn't that she was surprised by it, but that she’d actually lived up to her word.
Many a time, many more a match, Amber recalled between ragged breaths, she’d been promised the fight of her life only to be sorely disappointed when the opponent accepted defeat before they’d stepped into the ring. You could see it in them that the false bravado fell away, allowing a peek behind the curtain at a soft underbelly that Amber could seize upon- only to find that it was all she was getting when the time came to throw down.
No, thankfully or not, Courtney Pierce had been much more than that- and Amber, in spite of her outwardly abrasive nature could appreciate that.
What the problem was though- was that no one really won.
Arguably Amber was still the champion- that was without dispute, the circumstances to which though… well, it had left the redhead a little more than bitter as another fist sunk briefly into the ripstop edges. It wasn’t as though she had doubts that she COULD have and SHOULD have won- but it was the fact that it could be disputed, that there was a shadow of doubt that could be cast.
Her first goddamn defense and there was rain on her parade.
With an aggravated sigh, Amber found her focus slipping and her resolve faltering as the strikes landed wayward, skimming and catching her tape instead of dissipating the pent up frustration. This was supposed to be monumental, a statement of intent and proof that she wasn't just another flukey bitch lucking her way into something she didn’t deserve- another paper doll in the line of impotent champions.
This was supposed to prove that she’d earned her place, that she was living up to everything she claimed… Instead all it seemed to prove was that she was willing to settle, to accept victory even when it wasn’t truly so, proving that she was everything everyone was saying she was… No better than the ones she swore she’d outwork and outshine.
“Y’know darl, you’re allowed a day off from being ‘you’ every once in a while.”
There was a comfort in Mac’s tone as he lingered by her duffel bag, she’d been so intent on channeling everything out of her system that she’d never heard the ‘One Man Wrecking Crew’ come in. She could even tell the way he was watching her without ever having to glance over, that insightful gaze that seemed to permeate the walls she so desperately tried to fortify against the world for fear they might see her for something other than what she intended.
“I’d probably be more inclined to agree if 300 hadn’t ended in such a shit show…”
Untaping her fists, she flexed her fingers for blood flow, trying to ignore the angry red of her knuckles as layers of skin seemed to have been worn away with repeated punishment. Mac smiled fondly, bowing his head in understanding as she absent-mindedly crumpled the tape between her hands.
“Ah, yeah I figured that's what this was about.”
There was a faint derision that only he could get away with, borderline and acerbic she let that brief tone shift slide as her focus shifted to the tape around her ankles and bare feet.
“Don’t pretend like you didn’t see it.”
“I saw it alright- I also saw you retain your title but---”
“--- but nothing. There shouldn't even be a 'but'. Don’t bullshit me darling. We both know what this means- I might have the belt, but how the fuck can I expect anyone to take what I say seriously when I can’t even…”
With a huff, Amber tore away the tape that snaked around the bottom of her feet and up around the edges of her ankles.
“... Right now, I’m just about every bit of the fraud I accused Christina of being.”
Amber paused thoughtfully, trying to collect her thoughts as Mac cautiously approached.
“No one thinks you’re a fraud--”
With a rabidity usually saved for the ring, Amber stepped back- no doubt if she had hackles to bear, they’d have been raised and angry, her composure falling to the wayside in exchange for something more primal. Something fuelled by fear and loathing.
“I do Mac. I do despite the fact that I’ve been going out there for practically a year now running my mouth and telling the world that I wanted the Bombshells title to stand for something better, to mean more than others had allowed it to. It's supposed to be a privilege, it's supposed to carry weight- and if I’m going out there getting wins based on referee fuck ups instead of my own fucking work… then I deserve this title less than those I’m calling out for the same, or worse.”
Instinctively, Mac’s own body language went on the defensive. He’d been in the ring with her enough, he knew where this was headed and no doubt had every intention of letting it go no further. Part of him wanted to reach out and make some form of connection like grasping at a woman on a ledge knowing she’d stray too close to the edge- but the better part, the one who knew her better than damn near anyone knew that she’d see it as an insult. As needing to be rescued, irregardless of the fact that she likely did.
“It was one match Red, you can’t just ignore everything else you’ve done because one time things didn’t go as expected. Sure, if the ref had seen it then you wouldn’t have won there but I’ve got no doubt in my mind that you’d still have won eventually cause that's just who you are… You’re relentless, and I love you for that.”
A soft chuckle spilled from her lips as her head lolled slightly, her shoulders relaxing slightly and the tenseness of her muscles seeming to give a little. His platitudes, despite their sincerity were falling on quickly deafening ears, selective and visceral her senses sharpened to a knifes edge threatening to tear through the threads holding her together.
“Maybe I would have Mac or maybe I’d have lost and lived up to my reputation for failing when it matters- we’ll never know now, and Courtney is always going to hold that over my head like a goddamn anvil. I can't change it Mac, instead I have to walk out as one of the main events and pretend like I’m just fucking cool with it- cause if I don’t, then I’m admitting that I wasn’t good enough, that I needed the help.
In the meantime- I have to stand in front of the world and try tell Ruby Steele the same shit I told Courtney and expect her to believe a goddamn word of it like she’s a fucking idiot.”
With a sad smile, Amber adjusts her ponytail, her fingers slowly trailing through it's tangled length.
“ God, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. I didn’t want to be some paper champion, I wanted to prove that it could be better… that I could be better. That it's worth believing that I was capable of more than just mindless violence…”
Gently Mac stepped closer, making his move to catch her before she fell into the abyss. Each step became that through a minefield of emotions and fists. She couldn’t deny that he radiated a comfort- one she wanted to deny, that he gave her a security that she tore to shreds and used as fuel in this moment for her self-loathing. It would have been so easy to leave, if only for the fact she wanted him to stay just a little more.
Hell, even if she could muster the words- she knew he’d never leave.
“You’ve done that though- anyone who knows you can see that, and if they can’t well that's just too fucking bad for them.”
“It's funny, cause I thought that too.”
Expression hardening into something more determinedly sick, a crooked little half smile at the corner of her lips blossoming in spite of the overwhelming melancholy in her eyes.
“Until I came to realize that now… Just to get back to square one, I have to be worse than ever. I have to go backwards just to feel like I’m moving. Mac, I’ve got to be someone I’m really trying hard to be better than- just to prove I was right from the start, to prove that I’m everything I keep telling everyone I can be...”
Stepping away a couple of steps, Amber shook her head apologetically.
“I’m sorry darling. I really do appreciate you trying- but that one refs fuck up is threatening to invalidate everything I’ve done to get here.
Fact is, I have to win and I have to do it definitively... regardless of the cost. If I don't, then I’m just as bad a champion as everyone else thinks I am. As I think I am…”
With those words, Amber turned away in hopes of concealing the last remnants of realization and despondency that washed over her. Storming off, she hoped that Mac wouldn’t follow and that maybe he’d come to understand- and satisfied that heavy footsteps didn't follow in her wake, she disappeared silently into the gyms maze of locker rooms in hopes of disappearing long enough for the industry to come to terms, and perhaps forgive, with the atrocities she might force herself to commit at the supercard- just for the sake of a fucking title and it's legacy.
******
“I’m not proud of everything I’ve done to get here.
I won’t pretend like ‘winning’ against Courtney gave me any more satisfaction than swallowing a mouthful of live bees in front of a lukewarm studio audience. If we’re willing to call it that.
If she’s to be believed, this match should be between you two- one of the many lovers trysts that made me wanna take this belt more, to have it no longer serve as a conduit for the failure of personal lives or a reason for emotional infidelity. If Courtney Pierce is to be believed, she should be walking into this main event as the champion- cause she’s a better person than I am.
Honour. Dignity.
Apparently I lack a spine. That instead of accepting someone else made a mistake in my favour, outside of my knowledge until after the fact, I should have ‘done the right thing’ and given her another chance or restarted the match or… fuck, I don’t know… punched the ref in the mouth cause zebra stripes cause selective blindness.
I’m just not allowed to be grateful that the match ended mercifully sooner for her than it could have, that she wasn’t put back on the shelf cause I didn’t feel like being a complete asshole when the opportunities arose. I’m not allowed to act as 99% of this fucking roster would have in the same situation cause Courtney Pierce is a pillar of virtue in this quagmire of derelict morals and ethical abscence.
We get it. I’m a piece of shit, tell me something I don’t know.
So, why don’t we look at the fact that I didn’t argue about her getting a shot when I could have easily brought up the time gap, that her record coming in was spottier than an acne ridden dalmatian breeder. Why don’t we look at the fact that I could have gone out in that match and used her triumphant return as an exclamation mark at the start of my title reign- I might be a fucking awful person, but give the devil her due once in awhile. I get it, it's really easy to overlook the things I’ve actually done mostly right in favour of the one thing outside of my control.
Fact is, I never wanted this title to be marred by personal vendettas and petty squabbles. I won this title with the full intention of making it worth challenging for- not something that needs to go through a bleach bath cause title celebrations can get a little… sticky when you’re messing with couples vying for the same belt. Now, it feels like I’m spinning my wheels cause a ref can’t functionally manage the most important job they have- that thing they’re getting paid to do right night after night.
Walk in, count a clean three or a submission, then go home.
It shouldn’t be this goddamn hard.
I shouldn’t be sitting around kicking myself in the ass cause I still have the belt. I’m supposed to be confident and fulfilled and instead I just wanna chain smoke till my lungs give out- and they don’t make a nicotine patch strong enough for that, believe me I went looking.
I’m the champion, I’m still the one to beat- and as confidently as anyone might cling to their moral life preserver, I can assure you that when presented with the chance- most people will stoop cause lust, cowardice and greed are like water- always seeking the lowest possible point
Would you be content to win that way Ruby?
Knowing that in your heart of hearts, knowing the way Courtney interpreted her loss on social media and that she was saying she wouldn’t react similarly and knowing that you cannot physically beat me otherwise. When it comes down to it Ruby, I’m one of the baddest women in this industry and you’re a jumped up pastel pop start pretending to roll on a canvas for shits and giggles, acting like you understand anything of which we do and mocking the very foundation that women better than I have laid for us to showcase our evolutions.
I mean I’d call you a joke if I thought the punchline might be funny- but I’m far beyond such things cause I’ve come to realize that you don’t care. You lucked your way into this match and now you’re actually shitting yourself cause you realise this match is happening and you aren’t ready.
Truth is, I cannot erase from history that you ‘won’ Blast From The Past. I cannot erase the fact that you got a second chance with a partner determined to make up for lost time- a partner willing to wrestle like he had nothing left to lose, cause he just didn’t.
If I could remove such things though- where would that have left you… I mean, really what was your contribution to the team, you didn’t really make much of a splash- no one was talking about any of your performances cause most of the audience forgot you were there standing on the apron like a badly dressed mannequin.
As far as everyone was concerned, you were an anchor tied around the throat of men expecting better- I mean, of course Mark Cross wasn’t going to let you drown despite the fact you made little to no effort to save yourself. You were one of those picks almost everyone dreaded getting tagged with- a rookie with average promise and a middling sense of entitlement.
Daniel Morgan got it, he understood and disappeared as soon as he could say that he tried. Mark Cross had everything to gain, Despayre and I already knocked him out of the tournament once when he had a better partner- so you got a ‘get out of jail free’ card and he got his shortly-awaited redemption arc.
That's the thing isn’t it- it's not that you didn’t try… It's that you didn’t need to. Cross was always going to do all the heavy lifting cause he had something to prove- all you had to do was show up and not lose…
That's what this is about though Ruby, it's about having something to prove.
You’ve got the lingering stench of a tournament win that some people don’t believe you worked for, a coat tails ride to a level that you just aren’t yet on. You won something that wasn’t meant for you and now the consequences are looming and you haven’t figured out yet that your best option was to run.
Was. Past tense.
It's a bit late now though, cause you’re stepping up against me… on a good day that's a bad enough prospect, I’m already well beyond your reach to the point that I almost feel bad for punching down.
It's not a good day though, I’m feeling a little off- a little unlike myself I suppose cause despite having proved myself time and time again- it's still not enough.
There’s an asterisk on my records that I can’t erase Ruby, this little goddamn footnote that plagues the otherwise brimming pages of achievement after bloody achievement that I have fought for.
I’ve got a bee in my bonnet and a bitter pill on my tongue. I’ve been feeling so fucking venomous since Climax Control 300 that I haven’t dared kiss my husband for fear I’m gonna take him down too- so I keep swallowing it, I keep it sitting in the back of my throat festering until it's got somewhere else to go. I’m holding onto to the moment that ended that match, Ruby- the one that Courtney feels so very slighted by and I’m owning that shit cause otherwise I might just vomit my heart out.
I’m coming into this main event with a chip on my shoulder that I can’t shake off until I put a full stop on the end of the sentence that is my first title defense- even though there's already one there, but it's just in Comic Sans.
You were just supposed to be a challenger and this was meant to be the grand reward for a triumphant victory- instead, you’re another blood sacrifice to a vengeful goddess whose veracity and lack of morality is quickly becoming legend among the ranks.
I’m well aware this match is without stipulation and gratuitous violence- but I don’t need a weapon to make you regret ever signing up for Blast From The Past, there's no need for anything beyond my fists and hell-given talents to make you understand that your wonderful girlfriend poked this rabid little honey badger with a sharp stick till she flew into a virulent rage.
Fact is, I'm the necessary evil so everyone's got something to jeer and loathe while you're showing up to fulfil expectation.
Yeah, I’m pissed Ruby, but it's not you. It's at the fact that I’ve worked too damn hard to get to this point- only for noses to still be upturned and opinions doubtful of whether my word means anything. I’ve given everything to get here only to watch fucking rookiesfast track their way through and expect to be treated like they’ve given something more of themselves. I’ve spent years upon years being damn good at what I do, to be told that I’m not allowed to be grateful for when the fates fall preemptively in my favour.
I’m pissed off Ruby, cause nothing I do will ever be good enough and I’m too goddamn stupid to stop trying to prove otherwise.
You’ve got a bright future, of that I have no doubt- but it's my job to dull your shine. It's not your time and it's not your place to be squaring up with me Ruby, regardless of what anyone might tell you. Fact is, sweet girl, this match just isn’t about you... sure you might be in it, but you’re a bit player, a supporting role in a greater narrative. This little fairytale run ends with the turning of this page, leaving you little more as a trivia question for the diehard SCW fans.
No, see this match is about being better and setting a higher standard. I might not be coming for blood Ruby, but I won’t complain if it's drawn either like an exclamation mark on a sentence that doesn’t necessarily need one.
Into The Void demands finality. It demands closure- and come that main event I promise I’ll have you staring down the barrel of your own career mortality just for having the gall to pretend as though you truly earned this shot and by the end of the night Ruby Steele, well… lets just say you’ll be practically begging me to pull the fucking trigger.”
