Post by DJS on Apr 22, 2017 20:50:19 GMT -5
New Orleans. The streets are hustling and bustling with people, all enjoying life. Some are out shopping, talking, laughing and sitting around having a good time. In the midst of the crowd, all of a sudden, a girl in a black hat who we do not initially notice as she's walking along in a clump suddenly turns around, revealing the orange hair and black eyeliner we've come to recognise as she stops to reveal the Union Battleground Trench War Championship. Her time as a title holder has apparently not prompted her to clean herself up- she looks as much of a mess as we are used to seeing.
People around her stop and tut, their route completely obstructed by the Worst of the Pavees as she notices us and begins to walk through the crowd.
She holds her title up in the air, nearly hitting a man walking past who quickly jumps out the way. She turns, quickly.
The man shakes his head as he carries on walking, grumbling and muttering low enough that we don't hear him. Em begins to walk towards us, slowly.
Emery taps the side of her head, nodding, because she's a total clever-clogs, as she often tells herself when things go to plan.
A rather heavy-set woman walks past with a bag full of shopping from a department store. Em turns to her, fixing her stare on her, with no smile. The woman has no idea whether to maintain eye contact or look away and is constantly flipping between...until Em gives her a smile.
She waves and the woman waves back, awkwardly.
The woman walks on, way quicker and completely out of sight, fading into the crowd never to be seen again.
Emery finds a bench, sitting down on it with us quite quickly. She puts the title on her knee as she turns around. There is an old man sat on the bench next to her. She turns slowly, noticing him and throws up a little wave...but he gets up and leaves! Em's shoulders drop slightly.
She reflects on this for a few moments, looking down at her impeccably shiny Trench War title. It's cleaner than she is, deliberately. She's spent more time cleaning that center-plate than she does herself. And when she looks into it, she sees herself staring back and no one else. Just the world walking past, not understanding her.
She looks to her side, her eyes suddenly lighting up.
She grabs her title runs out of our view. In several hours, she gets into the ring with her toughest opponent yet.
EMERY LAYTON:
“Jesus H, you guys!”
People around her stop and tut, their route completely obstructed by the Worst of the Pavees as she notices us and begins to walk through the crowd.
“I leave you lot for a few weeks and look what happens! Spike cancels LiGHTS OUT? Man. Maybe we're better off without 'em. I mean Tweeder needs a swear jar and we all know that but me hitting that guy in Texas couldn't have done any favors for us either. But who needs Spike right now, anyway? This is New Orleans! This is Fallout! And you're about to hear from the best red-headed pavee this side of Pay Per View. Emery Layton's back, and she's brought her pride and joy with her!”
She holds her title up in the air, nearly hitting a man walking past who quickly jumps out the way. She turns, quickly.
“Ooh, I am sorry. Not every day you get hit with a Championship though, right? That'll be one to tell the kids!”
The man shakes his head as he carries on walking, grumbling and muttering low enough that we don't hear him. Em begins to walk towards us, slowly.
“He seemed like a pretty grumpy fella.
So what have I been up to since we last sat down and had a good old chin-wag? Well, I mean what do you expect outta me? Travelling! Went to Melbourne, been wearing this thing every week on XWA's programming- took part in a TLC match there, that hurt a bit. Then off to Liverpool in the UK to wrestle for my pal's promotion, and to cap it all off, I got a manager who deals with my stuff now. Read Tom Sawyer when I was a kid, learned something- if you can't get your shit together, find someone else to get it together for you!”
Emery taps the side of her head, nodding, because she's a total clever-clogs, as she often tells herself when things go to plan.
“And the thing is it's all kinda blown up since I won this title. Oh I carry this thing around everywhere these days. 'What's that?', ask some. 'Hey, isn't that the Trench War title?', ask others. 'Isn't that a little heavy for someone like you?', ask most guys at customs. I give them a really hard glare after that. Like, 'pierce your soul' hard. No seriously, it's really cool. Watch.”
A rather heavy-set woman walks past with a bag full of shopping from a department store. Em turns to her, fixing her stare on her, with no smile. The woman has no idea whether to maintain eye contact or look away and is constantly flipping between...until Em gives her a smile.
EMERY LAYTON:
“Ah, just kidding. Hello! Trench War Champion. Not my actual name- that'd be weird. New in town! Never been here before!”
She waves and the woman waves back, awkwardly.
WOMAN:
“H...hi.”
EMERY LAYTON:
“Got some shopping there, boss?”
WOMAN:
“Yes.
EMERY LAYTON:
“Anything for me?”
WOMAN:
“...Are you trying to rob me?”
EMERY LAYTON:
“What? Oh, wait, nonono. I'm sorry. Just bringing a bit of craic, y'know?”
WOMAN:
“A bit of crack? You're trying to sell me crack?”
EMERY LAYTON:
“NO, don't be acting the mickey, now. It's a phrase. It means--”
The woman walks on, way quicker and completely out of sight, fading into the crowd never to be seen again.
“Well that coulda gone way better.
But normally it's a conversation starter anywhere, and that's cool to me, man, because before I won a title I had to actually go up and talk to people myself. Probably thought I was a bit full-on. If today's anything to go by that's not changed. But it's weird. Now people in the wrestling world come to me. Everyone wants to be your everything. Everyone wants to be your friend, but they wanna be your enemy. Everyone wants to hang around with the champion but they also wanna BE the champion. I dunno who or what's real anymore- what I'm seeing this afternoon or what I see when I walk up into that lockerroom. I mean I got my circle of peeps and they're good eggs but they're all spread out everywhere and I'm left with...other people. And that's the curse of being Trench War Champion all day every day. It's the title everyone wants and I'm the Journeylass they all wanna take it from. Tough gig, but someone's gotta do it!”
Emery finds a bench, sitting down on it with us quite quickly. She puts the title on her knee as she turns around. There is an old man sat on the bench next to her. She turns slowly, noticing him and throws up a little wave...but he gets up and leaves! Em's shoulders drop slightly.
“Saito attacked me on LiGHTS OUT and I dunno why cos I didn't do anything to her other than be there. She's a bad-un to be sure and she thinks this is a piece of tin. But it ain't no tin and I ain't no tin soldier fighting an imaginary war in no trenches. And neither is Hannah Kristensen. Literally- she was an actual war hero. Hannah was actually the first person to say 'keep hold of that title cos I'm coming for it'. But to me the Trench War Championship is deeper than that. I ain't superstitious, but something tells me this title was made with me in mind and it was made for me to keep. There's a beaten-up old woman in the future right now sat with this Trench War title, reminiscing about this night. About this match. About how she beat you. I gotta make her exist. I gotta let her live.”
She reflects on this for a few moments, looking down at her impeccably shiny Trench War title. It's cleaner than she is, deliberately. She's spent more time cleaning that center-plate than she does herself. And when she looks into it, she sees herself staring back and no one else. Just the world walking past, not understanding her.
“Hannah, you're a great athlete. You don't back down. I got super respect for you, for real. But that don't mean I'm gonna lie down and take whatever you got to dish out. I'm sure you'll give me the good fight, and I'll give you the good fight like I would anyone else. I made this title for fighters by being the fighting champion. I ain't gonna be caught in the Crosshairs of your ambitions, cos I'm already the Prikasa for yours, love. Afterwards, we might say 'good match'. We might even go for a drink...if that's your thing? I dunno. You're pretty ripped. Guess I'll get you a few protein shakes in or whatever. But during that match, I am not stopping till I know I'm keeping this thing. You had it in you to challenge me and fight your way to getting there.
You wanna jump in there with me first? That's grand. Just know the only Slice you're getting won't be Americana. It'll be humble pie.”
She looks to her side, her eyes suddenly lighting up.
“But until then, there's gotta be someone here who wants to talk me for me. Hey, you got a dog! Can I see the dog?”
She grabs her title runs out of our view. In several hours, she gets into the ring with her toughest opponent yet.
