Gory Glory I

The camera fades in and the rabid Revolution One fanbase is treated to an old school treat from the undisputed Rising Star Champion. Lounging upon a folding chair that had been set up in the middle of an empty ring, the lovely accented Aussie Terminator was clad in a pair of tight-fitting grey jeans and a black Hot Milk t-shirt; the Revolution One Championship sitting on her lap with it's faceplate towards the camera.

"Crazy ain't it?"

"Just a little over a year ago I flew across the big ol' blue ocean, got hired by a little company nobody cared about, an' was lucky enough to break into the bloody excitin' business that I love. As any good an' diligent fan of Revo One knows, my first couple of months were one hell of a rollercoaster. I went from losin' my first match to some uptight self-entitled little prick of a Left Hand bish, to winnin' the Horrorcore strap, to losin' an' havin' to return home cause my dipshit of a brother got in over his bloody fuckin' head; useless fuckin' bogin. Yet, despite all the distraction an' shit I had to deal, I came back strong than ever an' I have done nothin' but show every man, woman, an' Revolutionist just EXACTLY why the Aussie Assault is THE bish to beat!"

"Can't really say the same can ya, Chelie?"

"Naaaah, you're too busy tryin' to be a bloody damn attention whore with all Twitter talk 'bout bein' in porn an' that Elden Ring shit; which I adore cause I feel the fuckin' pain with that game. Don't get me wrong, I don't hate yya or even dislike ya for the matter. In fact, out of the plethora of women here in Revo One I consider ya to be one of the few that I can connect with an' have one hell of a good fuckin' time. However, this ain't one of those times an' I have to be one of the most real motherfuckers; if not THE realest motherfuckers; walkin' the halls of Revo One; which, to their credit, is somethin' that the Revolutionists pick on as soon as they lay eyes on ya. If they feel that ya ain't real with them then there isn't any fuckin' way that you'll connect with them; ya won't get their support an' their support is EVERYTHIN' in this business."

"Which you would know...."

"If ya ever had their support to begin with."

"Face it, Chelia, you never once in the entire time you've been here have you ever meant a single fuckin' word that ya recited outta the "Good Guys for Dummies" book ya carry 'round. I mean, ya can spout off that you're the kinda girl that'll always pick themselves up after they fail; but, if we're bein' honest, that's never once been the case. Just take a look at when ya won the International strap an' became Chelie Two Belts for a hot minute. Despite bein' a double champ an' recitin' all that good-two shoes garbo there wasn't a single person that gave a fuck."

Leaning forward with a dangerous look twinkling in her eyes, the young brawler put venomous emphasis on every word she was about to say.

"Not."

"A."

"Single."

"Fuck."

"Ya understand that, don't ya? That I'm sayin' that weak ass shit isn't goin' to get your belts back nor is it gonna give ya even the SLIGHTEST of chances of beatin' this Saturday Night. Seriously, Chelie, wake the fuck up stoke that competitive fuckin' fire that I know ya got deep down in ya. Cause I'm gonna run right through ya if ya can't even manage to get the tiniest of flames started. I'm gonna knock ya flat on your back, sit on your chest, an' pummel your face in till there isn't a single fuckin' person alive that'll ever recognize ya again."

"Not those blowhard on your Onlyfans."

"Not any of the dozen fuckin' wrestlin' companies that you're stretched out by."

"Not even that fuck knuckle of an ex-boyfriend that brought ya into Revolution One to begin with."

"But yeah; like I said, I don't have any malice for ya an' I hope ya understand that none of this is personal. It's just business, an' the business I'm in as the Risin' Star Champion is breakin' jaws an' snappin' neck with the single most devastatin' move in professional wrestlin' today; the bloody fuckin' LEEthality! Which means that you're only an obstacle on road to gettin' a good seedin' spot for the Glory flustercuck of a tourney that'll be happenin' soon."

"So wake the fuck up an' quit half-assin' every damn thing ya fuckin' do."

Slowly; purposefully; Jessie slowly rose to her feet and haphazardly slung the Championship over her right shoulder; the hard, unrelenting looking still burning brightly in her eyes as her face became a mask of determination unmatchable by most.

"So, Chelie, this is gonna be your final an' only warnin' 'fore the bell rings an' I'm forced to unleash every hellish battle I've been through in a furious storm that you're never gonna be ready for. Show up or half-ass this match like ya do everythin' else an' you're goin' to find yourself needin' a fuckin' body bag 'cause there isn't ANY fuckin' way that you're walkin' outta that arena alive; I'm the Horrorcore Queen for a fuckin' reason. I'm gonna bust ya open an' hurt lya like you've never been hurt. I'm goin' to break ya mind, body, an' soul just like I did ol' Ambi-bambi an' I'm WINNIN' an' there ain't shit ya can do 'bout it."

Still staring into the camera, Jessie gave the faceplate a good slap that echoed throughout the empty building.

"The Sky may be YOUR limit, Chelie, but this bish is reachin' for the stars an' she ain't gonna be stopped!"

"Now let's fuckin' GOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Leaning back as she let loose her favorite phrase, the camera faded to black.