[Mark Ward]

 Post all roleplays for this match here.
Limit: One roleplay per week.
Good luck!

[Chelsea]

 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.

[Sam Marlowe]

 A redhead dressed in a pair of dark jeans and a well worn University of Nevada hoodie sits quietly on the top turnbuckle of a six sided ring in the middle of the darken arena.  No one can be seen in the seats, the only noise the soft hiss of breathing from the woman as she sits there.

From the side, a voice breaks the silence and catches the redhead’s attention.  “Hey Sammi, what are you doing here and all by your lonesome,” says the voice of familiar backstage interviewer Pussy Willow as she walks along the ramp and towards the ring where Sam Marlowe is sitting.

“Thinking Pussy, just thinking,” says Sam as she manages to give Pussy all of two moments of attention before she directs it back into the ring.  

Giving her friend a confused look, Pussy makes her way closer to the ring and begins to climb the stairs.  Once on the apron, she can see a hand resting on an open book on her lap.  “Soooo…whatcha thinking?” asks Pussy as she slides between the ropes and into the ring.  

“I’m thinking that I am putting myself in a position that I don’t know if I can actually see my way to give my opponent my respect like I can for all my other opponents,” says Sam as one side of her lips curl upward slightly in a grimace.  “I mean I can usually find something good to say about my opponents but I have been spending all my time thinking about how much of a spotlight needing person Chelsea is.  Did you see what she did at Climax Control?  I was minding my own business and spending time with my superstars when she decided to target me instead of paying attention to the match.  And if that wasn’t enough Pussy, I bet she had the nerve to say it was my fault she lost.  I don’t know about you but I have the sinking feeling that Chelsea doesn’t like me very much.”

Pussy snickers at the comment before wiping her hand over her mouth as Sam gives her a look.  “What makes you so sure she doesn’t like you Captain Obvious?” chokes out Pussy as she moves to the ropes beside Sam.  The redhead shakes her head as Pussy leans on the ropes and gives Sam a smiling look.

“Well, first she decides that she wants to hurt me because I happen to stand up for myself then sends me for stitches no less,” begins Sam as she clenches her fist on the book.  “Then of course, just like I always do, I go to spend some time with the kids from the hospital and she needs to constantly showboat for me and what happens, she gets counted out because she had to mouth off to me.  Hell I even warned her for sobbing out loud.”

Sam’s last comment is muttered almost to herself as she once more focuses in the middle of the ring.  Pussy looks from Sam to the center of the ring then back at the redhead.  “Listen Sammi, from the looks of it, Chelsea is just trying to make a name for herself and is using you to do it.  So that means at Inception, you just have to be the roadblock in her dreams of making her way to the top.  Chelsea has got the nerve but you have the skills Sam.”

The dream like stare of Sam is broken as she starts to laugh.  “You know what Pussy, you are right.  I can’t tell you how relieved I am to hear you say that,” jokes a now laughing Sam Marlowe.  “Do you really think that is going to make me feel better when I have to get in this ring with Ms Chelsea I’m Gonna Beat you Bloody Payne?  Seriously Pussy, the only think I feel right now is…”

“Fear?” interjects Pussy which only earns her a glare.  

“Noooo…more like disappointment.  After all what is she to me really?  A woman that seems to think that I am her personal cross to bear because I happen to be the one she set her sights to bully and I stood up for myself?  Do you really think I haven’t lived through a bully before?  I could totally care less if she thinks I am going to back down in this match because I have decided that the only thing I can do is continue just what I am doing and that is getting under her skin,” states Sam.  “Chelsea must think that I am a push over because of my recent downhill slide with wins and losses.  Maybe she thinks that I am not even in her league when it comes to wrestling but I know something she doesn’t know Pussy and come Inception I am not going to be afraid to use it.”

It’s Pussy’s turn to give her friend a glare as she leans closer, one hand moving to rest on the hand that is clenched on the book.  “What are you talking about Sammi?  What could you possibly know that Chelsea doesn’t?”

“She doesn’t know that I know I am getting under her skin,” says Sam, her mouth quirking ever so slightly.  “I am getting under her skin and I could care less if she talks trash about me which I am sure that she will be doing as much of it as she can and that is ok.”  Sam pulls her hand from Pussy’s and then gently closes the book on her lap.  Golden letters are embossed on the cover and Pussy leans over slightly to read the title.

“Julius Caesar?” ponders Pussy Willow only to receive a nod from Sam who begins to smile.  

“Seemed fitting in some ways and I thought that maybe I might get some insight into Chelsea Payne from comparing her to him and well, if you ask me, this play is very apropos.  It is all about this guy who thought he was indestructible and on top of the world, kind of like Chelsea.  And it is about how that person was taken down quite a number of pegs by the others,” offers Sam as she holds up the small book and uses it to emphasize her points.

Pussy looks at Sam and then reaches out to grab the play and shake her head.  “Ok, I think you took one too many hits to the head.  How is Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar going to give you the win at Inception hmm?”

Sam jumps down from the turnbuckle and takes back the book that Pussy is holding out.  As she does, she hugs it to her chest and begins to smile before walking to the middle of the ring and then opening it and looks up at Pussy.

“This match that I have coming up at Inception Pussy, this match is going to be her Julius Caesar moment where her sense of self-worth will be taking stabs and punctures in that ring.  This match is going to be me making sure that her ego is deflated like a balloon,” offers Sam as she looks onto the page and her smile widens.  “To paraphrase Shakespeare, I haven’t come to praise Chelsea…I am coming to bury her.”

Pussy is shocked by the look on Sam’s face.  The smile was gone, her eyes glittered with desire and bad intentions.  Moving closer to Ms Willow, Sam shuts the book with a snap under Pussy’s nose.

“I only have one more thing to say tonight Pussy,” offers Sam with deadly intent.  “And that is ‘Cry havoc and let slip the dogs of war!’”

With that, Sam turns and moves to the side of the ring before looking back only once at a shocked Pussy who is speechless in the middle of the ring.  Hanging her head, Sam moves back to her friend who gives Sam a look of surprise.

“That was intense Sammi,” offers Pussy still shocked and standing in the ring.

“That was Shakespeare Pussy,” teases Sam as she guides her friend towards the ropes.  “I was studying for class and the presentation I have to do on Julius Caesar.  So I figured I would do it like a wrestling promo since I am sooo good at them.”

Sam and Pussy move out of the ring and then up the ramp as Pussy comes to and then with a goofy growl, she smacks Sam on the shoulder as the pair disappear through the curtain.

[Chelsea]

 ~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~