Post by MasterEvil on Jun 16, 2018 0:48:17 GMT
04/06/18
The bell rings and I won. I should be happy, elated even, to secure my first victory in ages. But no…I don’t feel either of those feelings at all. This victory feels empty to me. Instead of feeling fulfilled I feel ever even emptier from this bout. This victory feels nothing short of hollow. I’m at the backstage area and all I see are people talking to each other. From wrestlers to stagehands and even a couple runners. All of them talking to each other. Sharing jokes, advice and either comfort to those who lost or praise to those who win. I don’t feel anything towards them, even when none of them dare approach me or at least attempt to make me feel welcome among themselves. For I know the reason why this is. Why they are all the same and why I am different from them all.
I don’t belong here.
I don’t belong among them.
I’m the outsider looking in.
So instead of trying to talk to them, be it to brag or for advice about my upcoming Brimstone Title match, I get to my locker room and start undressing. Just under two weeks until the biggest opportunity of my WWH career…and it involves fire. Will my body be able to cope with this? Ack…I manage to take off my gear and take a moment to look at the bandaging around my chest. Shouldn’t this pain be gone by now? Will I be able to keep myself together? Or will I end up physically falling apart at Disney World?
Not that my opponent needs me to be the walking injured to have an advantage. He’s practically an undefeated monster on the roll of a lifetime. He can demolish me if he focuses hard enough. Maybe the best shot I have at winning this is to rely on Alexander Devin distracting him long enough for me to jump them both and stealing the Title. Never know, it won’t be the first time I’ve stolen Champion victory from somebody else. But will my body be able to carry me just well enough, even just barely enough, to achieve this great victory?
I can’t worry too much about that, it’s not like any of them out in the corridor would care about me anyway. So instead of caring about their opinions I’ll just take their attention by taking the Brimstone Championship away from their liked Champion. Erk…finally got the bandaging off. Now to redress it, swallow a couple of pills and get into different clothes before heading out. I can’t keep myself focused on my new Championship with all these people distracting me.
I don’t belong here.
I don’t belong among them.
I’m the outsider looking in.
So instead of trying to talk to them, be it to brag or for advice about my upcoming Brimstone Title match, I get to my locker room and start undressing. Just under two weeks until the biggest opportunity of my WWH career…and it involves fire. Will my body be able to cope with this? Ack…I manage to take off my gear and take a moment to look at the bandaging around my chest. Shouldn’t this pain be gone by now? Will I be able to keep myself together? Or will I end up physically falling apart at Disney World?
Not that my opponent needs me to be the walking injured to have an advantage. He’s practically an undefeated monster on the roll of a lifetime. He can demolish me if he focuses hard enough. Maybe the best shot I have at winning this is to rely on Alexander Devin distracting him long enough for me to jump them both and stealing the Title. Never know, it won’t be the first time I’ve stolen Champion victory from somebody else. But will my body be able to carry me just well enough, even just barely enough, to achieve this great victory?
I can’t worry too much about that, it’s not like any of them out in the corridor would care about me anyway. So instead of caring about their opinions I’ll just take their attention by taking the Brimstone Championship away from their liked Champion. Erk…finally got the bandaging off. Now to redress it, swallow a couple of pills and get into different clothes before heading out. I can’t keep myself focused on my new Championship with all these people distracting me.
15/06/18
We are inside the ruins of a castle of some kind, at least according to these decaying stone walls all around us. But why are we here? Because on the top of some broken steps is a, black but dusty, cauldron and nearby is the ruined remains of a throne. A throne with someone sitting on it. Who is that person? The Purple Haired Dynamo herself Megan Treamon. Her attire consisting of some tattered looking red robe and hood, said hood having four horns sticking out the top of it, as the milky skinned woman lifts her face up to look over at us.
“Not long now, is it? Not long until WWH Grindhouse. Not long until we get to go to Disney World and fuck up their holidays of many children as everyone beats each other so badly that, for just that one night, the Magic Kingdom will be considered some kind of demonic ritual ground. Heh…but I won’t bore you with mentioning the many things that could be happening at the event – from Jacob Cass and Lara Chambers main eventing the show to the Phoenix Cup finals – and instead bring focus upon the only thing that matters to me…
The Brimstone Championship match.
The match where Rumble Reyes puts his Title on the line in a handicap match against myself and Alexander Devin. Then add in the factor of fire all around the ring…then I guess why this match can somewhat counts as twenty minutes in hell. Especially for Rumble, definitely if you consider the fact that he barely managed to scrape pass Devin with only ten seconds to go in under half the time. So threw myself and an additional ten minutes into the bout then maybe it can be a little bit understandable why Mister Reyes could be in for the hardest match of his WWH career yet.”
Her right hand slips into the badly damaged robe, brings out a glass chalice – with some kind of liquid in it – and takes a sip from it before continuing.
“But, contrary to what many may or may not have implied on social media, I ain’t some idiot. I know that Rumble is a great competitor. For Christ’s sake he won three matches in one night to become the inaugural, and current, Brimstone Champion before greeting each challenger with a firm boot down to the ground below. I already mentioned how he defeated the person I’m supposed to classify as my partner. Let’s not forget the fact that he is the biggest person in this match, by half a foot at least, and this kind of match allows him to do whatever he wants…then one could possibly see the slightest of possibilities of the seemingly unbeatable Rumble Reyes being able to cope with most of this situation that he finds himself in.
‘Seemingly’ being the key word as the only reason he won that Championship in the first place is because the person he faced in the finals was nothing short of lucky there. If I defeated her, as well as Slappy, then I would be the one entering Disney World as Brimstone Champion. And deep down, deep in his subconscious, Rumble knows that that’s the truth. Why else does he think so lowly of me? He’s freaking scared of me…not that I blame him. After all…all dogs, even those of war, are known to be either scared or feel threatened by those better than them.”
Condescendingly departs the Purple Haired Dynamo’s lips before taking a second sip of her drink. She chuckles softly as she lowers the glass back down before smirking more cockily.
“Oh? Do I sound too confident in my chances in defeating Rumble Reyes? Why shouldn’t I be confident? Back at two thousand and ten’s Grindhouse my trainer, Chris Middley, had his first shot at a WWH Championship – which he himself admits he was just lucky to be around to get his hot – and a few days beforehand he told me this: ‘no matter the prize, or whoever you’re facing, always respect your opponent.’ You want to know what happened? He fucking lost. Eight years has passed since then, I find myself in a similar situation of being offered a shot and, unlike that losing piece of crap, I am not going to make the same mistakes he has as I will become the one who leaves Grindhouse victorious.”
The rising anger can easily be heard in The Emo Princess’ voice, even a hint of disgust can be sensed when she mentioned her trainer, before squeezing hard on her chalice at the end of her words. So hard in fact that the glass shatters, causing liquid to pour down upon her right leg. Bits of red can be seen in the liquid. Has the glass cut her hand? Either yes or no Megan rises up from her throne and starts walking towards the cauldron.
“So am I confident? Yes I am. But it is not out of any ignorance or overconfidence…instead out of self-belief as I know that I can defeat Reyes. I know I can brush my so-called ‘partner’ to the side. And I know that I am more than capable of becoming the Champion that HellsGate deserves, even if I end up becoming disliked by everyone else. You want to prove me wrong Reyes? You think that I’m no different from everyone else who came and fell to you? You’re a fool…and so is Alexander if he thinks I’m going to play helpful tag partner in this match. For the both of you are simply the same. You’re both just mere WWH people…which is the reason why…once the dust, smoke and flames clear…I’ll be known as-”
While saying her words the young Brit slowly makes her way over to the cauldron, slowly undressing her robe with each step. Once arriving at the black cauldron the milky skinned woman is now in black leather pants and matching shirt, pausing her words to throw the robe and horns into the metal pot. With her facing us we can see a smile creep onto the Englishwoman’s face as green smoke begins to snake out from the cauldron.
“The new Brimstone Champion.”
Coldly, yet calmly, leaves Miss Treamon’s arrogant sounding lips as, while chuckling, she spread her hands out and tilt her head back ever so slightly. Mere moments later a green explosion fires from the cauldron, snapping everything off into blackness.
“Not long now, is it? Not long until WWH Grindhouse. Not long until we get to go to Disney World and fuck up their holidays of many children as everyone beats each other so badly that, for just that one night, the Magic Kingdom will be considered some kind of demonic ritual ground. Heh…but I won’t bore you with mentioning the many things that could be happening at the event – from Jacob Cass and Lara Chambers main eventing the show to the Phoenix Cup finals – and instead bring focus upon the only thing that matters to me…
The Brimstone Championship match.
The match where Rumble Reyes puts his Title on the line in a handicap match against myself and Alexander Devin. Then add in the factor of fire all around the ring…then I guess why this match can somewhat counts as twenty minutes in hell. Especially for Rumble, definitely if you consider the fact that he barely managed to scrape pass Devin with only ten seconds to go in under half the time. So threw myself and an additional ten minutes into the bout then maybe it can be a little bit understandable why Mister Reyes could be in for the hardest match of his WWH career yet.”
Her right hand slips into the badly damaged robe, brings out a glass chalice – with some kind of liquid in it – and takes a sip from it before continuing.
“But, contrary to what many may or may not have implied on social media, I ain’t some idiot. I know that Rumble is a great competitor. For Christ’s sake he won three matches in one night to become the inaugural, and current, Brimstone Champion before greeting each challenger with a firm boot down to the ground below. I already mentioned how he defeated the person I’m supposed to classify as my partner. Let’s not forget the fact that he is the biggest person in this match, by half a foot at least, and this kind of match allows him to do whatever he wants…then one could possibly see the slightest of possibilities of the seemingly unbeatable Rumble Reyes being able to cope with most of this situation that he finds himself in.
‘Seemingly’ being the key word as the only reason he won that Championship in the first place is because the person he faced in the finals was nothing short of lucky there. If I defeated her, as well as Slappy, then I would be the one entering Disney World as Brimstone Champion. And deep down, deep in his subconscious, Rumble knows that that’s the truth. Why else does he think so lowly of me? He’s freaking scared of me…not that I blame him. After all…all dogs, even those of war, are known to be either scared or feel threatened by those better than them.”
Condescendingly departs the Purple Haired Dynamo’s lips before taking a second sip of her drink. She chuckles softly as she lowers the glass back down before smirking more cockily.
“Oh? Do I sound too confident in my chances in defeating Rumble Reyes? Why shouldn’t I be confident? Back at two thousand and ten’s Grindhouse my trainer, Chris Middley, had his first shot at a WWH Championship – which he himself admits he was just lucky to be around to get his hot – and a few days beforehand he told me this: ‘no matter the prize, or whoever you’re facing, always respect your opponent.’ You want to know what happened? He fucking lost. Eight years has passed since then, I find myself in a similar situation of being offered a shot and, unlike that losing piece of crap, I am not going to make the same mistakes he has as I will become the one who leaves Grindhouse victorious.”
The rising anger can easily be heard in The Emo Princess’ voice, even a hint of disgust can be sensed when she mentioned her trainer, before squeezing hard on her chalice at the end of her words. So hard in fact that the glass shatters, causing liquid to pour down upon her right leg. Bits of red can be seen in the liquid. Has the glass cut her hand? Either yes or no Megan rises up from her throne and starts walking towards the cauldron.
“So am I confident? Yes I am. But it is not out of any ignorance or overconfidence…instead out of self-belief as I know that I can defeat Reyes. I know I can brush my so-called ‘partner’ to the side. And I know that I am more than capable of becoming the Champion that HellsGate deserves, even if I end up becoming disliked by everyone else. You want to prove me wrong Reyes? You think that I’m no different from everyone else who came and fell to you? You’re a fool…and so is Alexander if he thinks I’m going to play helpful tag partner in this match. For the both of you are simply the same. You’re both just mere WWH people…which is the reason why…once the dust, smoke and flames clear…I’ll be known as-”
While saying her words the young Brit slowly makes her way over to the cauldron, slowly undressing her robe with each step. Once arriving at the black cauldron the milky skinned woman is now in black leather pants and matching shirt, pausing her words to throw the robe and horns into the metal pot. With her facing us we can see a smile creep onto the Englishwoman’s face as green smoke begins to snake out from the cauldron.
“The new Brimstone Champion.”
Coldly, yet calmly, leaves Miss Treamon’s arrogant sounding lips as, while chuckling, she spread her hands out and tilt her head back ever so slightly. Mere moments later a green explosion fires from the cauldron, snapping everything off into blackness.