Post by Lisa Frankenstein on Jun 15, 2020 16:44:21 GMT -5
Lisa Seldon tumbles into view, throwing herself down into a chair that scrapes upon the floor. She still has her title, but it slips to floor as her hands seem to move in spastic disconnect. Just minutes ago she was in a fight for her life, caught beneath some man beast while he tried to gnaw through her eye socket.
Her eyes sparked, scouting the walls like she was looking for bodies in the trees. In her head she was still out there. Lost in the jungle.
“When I’m gone. When I’m dead and buried or ground up into mulch or fired into space. Whatever they have to do with me by the end because I don’t plan on going quietly. When I am done I won’t just be remembered for my impenetrable title history or overly indulgent narratives. I will be remembered for my conviction.”
She slides up in the chair, moving uncomfortably as fresh battle wounds continue to light up her flesh.
“Anyone can pick up a belt and start ticking off the days. Some of you have been doing it for years. I never wanted that. I wanted to win for more than just the sake of winning. I wanted to be held up amongst the best in our sport and I was happy to suffer the cost.
I can't speak for Ana. She just likes to crush people’s dreams because the only time she ever feels alive is when she can watch something else die. Personally, I want to say I went out in a hailstorm. I want to know I took everything I could from this world and had the best fucking time doing it.”
She betrays herself, suffering through wet and heavy breaths.
“This division hasn’t had champions for a while now. It has placeholders. Those two sluts or the weirdo couple always trying to get you to throw your keys in a bowl. Contenders playing make believe in shoes that don’t fit.
I am aware of our detractors. That we’re greedy, we don’t give back, Ana is frigid and I’m a selfish lover who degrades people and makes them do weird shit with razorblades and battery acid. Regardless no one can say Ana and I haven’t earned everything we’ve got.”
She touches a hand to her face and it comes away red; deep gashes down either side of her nose suddenly running free.
“At War of the Worlds last year we crushed every single combination they could throw at us and gave the world a new favourite tag team to fawn over. We were the talk of the scene, but that wasn’t enough for us. We took our talents to FGA and shut down an entire tournament in Union’s name. We called out every single team who thought they could make a name off us, and when we did lose we made sure to come right back proud and better than before.
We earned the right to call ourselves Battalion Champions twice over. Then the world turned upside down and all the worst possible teams fell out of it.”
She grunts and sneers beneath a war veteran’s stare.
“In the build up to the shot they never earned, Chronic Maxxturbator and the Date Rapist said this division didn’t have a history of mad talented tag teams. She said that because she talks like a fucking idiot and fittingly has no idea what she’s on about.
The short and bloody history of the Battalion Championships has seen it fought over by some of the best teams in the world and also Salvation. The Outliers, Blood Galaxy, your favourites the Skull Kids and the Dogs of War right before they gave up on themselves and bulked out to four hundred and twenty-five members. All manner of top and talented teams have fought for their chance to hold these titles.
Then it came to us and we tried to up the ante. We fought the Osaka Rebels, Zombies, GHB, the Dead End Friends. Teams with some history, with some bite behind them. Teams it’s weird you’d never heard of since this division meant so much to you.”
She shrugs and regrets it. A dull ache passes through her as she suddenly finds herself heading toward the wrong end of an adrenaline dump.
“You might have at least googled them. Instead you were content to beat up Old Baby Yoda and maybe-her-boyfriend Danny to get handed some belts. Then you shit all over them like a scene from your OnlyFans while acting like you were going to be the ones to make these belts matter.
This stupid Jake Paul looking bitch and the Anticlimaxx are talking about how they’re the shot in the arm this division needs when they don’t even know shit about it and that’s everything that’s wrong with this picture. You’re not champions, you’re seat fillers. You’re holding belts on a technicality, your pictures aren’t in the records, your names aren’t in the ledger. You’re a couple glory-hunters who turned up at the right time and your entire reign is going to be a single footnote to ours after we rip the fight right out of you.”
Lisa draws her hand across her face again, smearing a thick trail of blood across her upper lip.
“As for the other two? I don’t even know why the fuck you’re here. At least those two sluts won something. You’re locked into track three of a two horse race and only got this far because Union were worried they might need an alternate.
I’m aware you’ve got your own accolades to speak of. You were both champions in long dead companies and I guess that’s something we can pretend is still relevant. Former Apex Champion, former World Champion. You turned up to play Title Top Trumps with the two dumbest motherfuckers in the world because you thought the most valuable thing either of them ever held was their mother’s jewellery when they were trying to pawn it for crack. Then Maxximus Decimus Chlamydius and Blacked-Out Rape Van Owens and made you look like fucking idiots.
You should have walked your way back down the fucking pecking order at that point, but your still here. And I guess I’m supposed to be impressed with your resolve, but to me you just look like two desperate losers trying to sneak away a shot that isn’t yours.”
Suddenly her eyes go wide and they turn on us sharply.
“But you had all that experience, right? Those patterns of achievement and success, it’s the DNA of who you are. You got that winner's pedigree and that was just a fluke. You came right back at them, but it wasn’t enough. Now you’re hungry for more.”
Lisa gobs a thick wad of red and viscous spit on the floor.
“You’re beyond hungry. You're malnourished. Desperate Danny just wants to win something this year because it’s getting harder and harder to get by on the memory of that time he was the top guy in Valor Pro for a whole afternoon. And Leela wants some new stories to tell people because I was a world champion forty years ago and I beat Josh Kennedy that one time sounds a lot less impressive when you look at where the Valium Cowboy has fallen to now.
We checked that guy off too by the way. Two DTW champions, the SCUM champion, the Yamashi tag champs, the Valor tag champs. We’ve been building something here. We’ve been making history while all four of you just wandered in to try and profit off it.”
She leans forward and we edge left to meet her head on. Between us teeth marks continue to drip like a stuck faucet. She plays through. No time to think about anything else.
“We are the winningest fucking winners whoever won a win and we have continued to fight for this place because these belts matter to us. The last time we were here fighting for them Ana was riding the wave of being a two time 4CW World Champion, making her the most successful person who is ever going to kick your fucking teeth out your head and I was living it up on an IV as the new Carnage Carnival winner.
That was probably it. The pinnacle of my career as a solo star. Three months of getting glass harvested out of my back every night and that ridiculous exploding cage disaster thing ending with me declared the supreme Deathmatch ruler of the galaxy. I might never win anything bigger than that. Then I hopped right on a plane with blood still spewing out of my eye-holes and helped put these titles back over our shoulders.”
She pushes her hair back out of her face.
“We missed a whole three shows and for that I can only apologise, but we never stopped caring about the work we started here. We also set an impossible standard that neither of these half-baked teams could ever hope to reach. While they’ve been fighting the good fight to call themselves second best, we’ve been your rightful Battalion Champions the entire time.
At War of the Worlds, the show where we first made our mark. We will leave vindicated and unquestioned.”
She sits on that for a moment, staring wild right through us, until eventually we have to break and we leave her to take stock. It’s not as shocking as it used to be. We’re getting used to seeing her hurt. We’re getting used to seeing her suffer for this. Lost in the jungle, fighting wars that never end.
Her eyes sparked, scouting the walls like she was looking for bodies in the trees. In her head she was still out there. Lost in the jungle.
“When I’m gone. When I’m dead and buried or ground up into mulch or fired into space. Whatever they have to do with me by the end because I don’t plan on going quietly. When I am done I won’t just be remembered for my impenetrable title history or overly indulgent narratives. I will be remembered for my conviction.”
She slides up in the chair, moving uncomfortably as fresh battle wounds continue to light up her flesh.
“Anyone can pick up a belt and start ticking off the days. Some of you have been doing it for years. I never wanted that. I wanted to win for more than just the sake of winning. I wanted to be held up amongst the best in our sport and I was happy to suffer the cost.
I can't speak for Ana. She just likes to crush people’s dreams because the only time she ever feels alive is when she can watch something else die. Personally, I want to say I went out in a hailstorm. I want to know I took everything I could from this world and had the best fucking time doing it.”
She betrays herself, suffering through wet and heavy breaths.
“This division hasn’t had champions for a while now. It has placeholders. Those two sluts or the weirdo couple always trying to get you to throw your keys in a bowl. Contenders playing make believe in shoes that don’t fit.
I am aware of our detractors. That we’re greedy, we don’t give back, Ana is frigid and I’m a selfish lover who degrades people and makes them do weird shit with razorblades and battery acid. Regardless no one can say Ana and I haven’t earned everything we’ve got.”
She touches a hand to her face and it comes away red; deep gashes down either side of her nose suddenly running free.
“At War of the Worlds last year we crushed every single combination they could throw at us and gave the world a new favourite tag team to fawn over. We were the talk of the scene, but that wasn’t enough for us. We took our talents to FGA and shut down an entire tournament in Union’s name. We called out every single team who thought they could make a name off us, and when we did lose we made sure to come right back proud and better than before.
We earned the right to call ourselves Battalion Champions twice over. Then the world turned upside down and all the worst possible teams fell out of it.”
She grunts and sneers beneath a war veteran’s stare.
“In the build up to the shot they never earned, Chronic Maxxturbator and the Date Rapist said this division didn’t have a history of mad talented tag teams. She said that because she talks like a fucking idiot and fittingly has no idea what she’s on about.
The short and bloody history of the Battalion Championships has seen it fought over by some of the best teams in the world and also Salvation. The Outliers, Blood Galaxy, your favourites the Skull Kids and the Dogs of War right before they gave up on themselves and bulked out to four hundred and twenty-five members. All manner of top and talented teams have fought for their chance to hold these titles.
Then it came to us and we tried to up the ante. We fought the Osaka Rebels, Zombies, GHB, the Dead End Friends. Teams with some history, with some bite behind them. Teams it’s weird you’d never heard of since this division meant so much to you.”
She shrugs and regrets it. A dull ache passes through her as she suddenly finds herself heading toward the wrong end of an adrenaline dump.
“You might have at least googled them. Instead you were content to beat up Old Baby Yoda and maybe-her-boyfriend Danny to get handed some belts. Then you shit all over them like a scene from your OnlyFans while acting like you were going to be the ones to make these belts matter.
This stupid Jake Paul looking bitch and the Anticlimaxx are talking about how they’re the shot in the arm this division needs when they don’t even know shit about it and that’s everything that’s wrong with this picture. You’re not champions, you’re seat fillers. You’re holding belts on a technicality, your pictures aren’t in the records, your names aren’t in the ledger. You’re a couple glory-hunters who turned up at the right time and your entire reign is going to be a single footnote to ours after we rip the fight right out of you.”
Lisa draws her hand across her face again, smearing a thick trail of blood across her upper lip.
“As for the other two? I don’t even know why the fuck you’re here. At least those two sluts won something. You’re locked into track three of a two horse race and only got this far because Union were worried they might need an alternate.
I’m aware you’ve got your own accolades to speak of. You were both champions in long dead companies and I guess that’s something we can pretend is still relevant. Former Apex Champion, former World Champion. You turned up to play Title Top Trumps with the two dumbest motherfuckers in the world because you thought the most valuable thing either of them ever held was their mother’s jewellery when they were trying to pawn it for crack. Then Maxximus Decimus Chlamydius and Blacked-Out Rape Van Owens and made you look like fucking idiots.
You should have walked your way back down the fucking pecking order at that point, but your still here. And I guess I’m supposed to be impressed with your resolve, but to me you just look like two desperate losers trying to sneak away a shot that isn’t yours.”
Suddenly her eyes go wide and they turn on us sharply.
“But you had all that experience, right? Those patterns of achievement and success, it’s the DNA of who you are. You got that winner's pedigree and that was just a fluke. You came right back at them, but it wasn’t enough. Now you’re hungry for more.”
Lisa gobs a thick wad of red and viscous spit on the floor.
“You’re beyond hungry. You're malnourished. Desperate Danny just wants to win something this year because it’s getting harder and harder to get by on the memory of that time he was the top guy in Valor Pro for a whole afternoon. And Leela wants some new stories to tell people because I was a world champion forty years ago and I beat Josh Kennedy that one time sounds a lot less impressive when you look at where the Valium Cowboy has fallen to now.
We checked that guy off too by the way. Two DTW champions, the SCUM champion, the Yamashi tag champs, the Valor tag champs. We’ve been building something here. We’ve been making history while all four of you just wandered in to try and profit off it.”
She leans forward and we edge left to meet her head on. Between us teeth marks continue to drip like a stuck faucet. She plays through. No time to think about anything else.
“We are the winningest fucking winners whoever won a win and we have continued to fight for this place because these belts matter to us. The last time we were here fighting for them Ana was riding the wave of being a two time 4CW World Champion, making her the most successful person who is ever going to kick your fucking teeth out your head and I was living it up on an IV as the new Carnage Carnival winner.
That was probably it. The pinnacle of my career as a solo star. Three months of getting glass harvested out of my back every night and that ridiculous exploding cage disaster thing ending with me declared the supreme Deathmatch ruler of the galaxy. I might never win anything bigger than that. Then I hopped right on a plane with blood still spewing out of my eye-holes and helped put these titles back over our shoulders.”
She pushes her hair back out of her face.
“We missed a whole three shows and for that I can only apologise, but we never stopped caring about the work we started here. We also set an impossible standard that neither of these half-baked teams could ever hope to reach. While they’ve been fighting the good fight to call themselves second best, we’ve been your rightful Battalion Champions the entire time.
At War of the Worlds, the show where we first made our mark. We will leave vindicated and unquestioned.”
She sits on that for a moment, staring wild right through us, until eventually we have to break and we leave her to take stock. It’s not as shocking as it used to be. We’re getting used to seeing her hurt. We’re getting used to seeing her suffer for this. Lost in the jungle, fighting wars that never end.