Post by lacklan on Jun 21, 2020 21:08:46 GMT -5
The man in stripes turns to face the madwoman.
NOW
Drive him into the Abyss DOWN INTO THE ABYSS
I hope you found peace in the Light, Creature
stupid flippy shit will cost you next week
do it
DO IT
see ya around
"BABE!"
The sudden crush from Kenzi shakes Sarah from her berserker's rage. She blinks several times, feeling how tired her eyes are underneath her thick contacts, and smiles at the caramel beauty that is her wife.
"Beloved!"
A quick peck between the Grey-Lacklans leads to them pressing their foreheads together, a gesture of affection as old as their coupling. After a few moments, Sarah flashes her Billion $$$ Smile and pulls Kenzi down the hall and toward the showers.
"C'mon! My sister will be here before we know it. Lets have a celebratory Vegas adventure!"
Which, for those curious, can be viewed RIGHTHERE!!!
The pigeon soars through the air with a grimace on its beak. New York had far too much smog and nowhere near enough trees for its liking, no matter what they thought constituted a “park.” It enjoyed its life in the flock in Hollywood, though the trees of that land were oddly shaped, and still longed for the birchwood of its home in Maine! Oh, to be home in Maine! But the job and life of the flock, of the albino carrier pigeons once thought extinct but cultivated by the Matron, was the grandest life it could have!
The pigeon circles down slowly, letting its wings gently fill with the air, as it approaches its query. The Lacklanland Pigeon Mail Service ALWAYS found their query, no matter the difficulty, and today that meant the woman whose parents didn’t know how to spell names properly. The lack of an H left an acrid taste in the pigeon’s mouth, but it never let such abominations of nature interfere with its task.
Landing on a window sill, the bird detaches the tightly rolled letter, written on the strong stock of paper derived from those famous Lacklanland trees fed by the waters of the Penebscot, and pushes it into the apartment. The pigeon takes one last whiff of the envelope, taking in the combination of lavender and marshmallow that was the Matron, and smiles in contentment of a job well done. With a beat of its red eyes, the pigeon spreads its wings and takes flight, ready for a rest in Maine before making the long trip back home, happy to please the Matron in all ways.
Bonjour, Sara
It would be a lie if I said that I hope this letter finds you in good health. I don’t! I hope that it hurts to move! I hope that you can’t even take your shirt off! I hope that every movement you make, from brushing your teeth to typing on your phone, makes you wince and think of me. But I also hope that you do not take my actions last week to be of a personal nature. I did not attack you after the match because I do not like you. I did not attack because you bother me. I did not do it because we are on some sort of opposite divide in some way. It was not personal, at all.
Simply business.
This business, dearie, is all that matters. I am not here in Trinity wrestling in order to make friends. I am not here for camaraderie. I am not here to play some shitty game of “Sisterhood of the Traveling Tights.” Not even a Master Flying Kite Enthusiast could fly the fuck I give about the friendship between Pasha and Snow, or the interpersonal relationships between the owners of the company, or Ceno’s path of redemption or Chase’s love life. I DO NOT CARE. I am here for one reason only:
Victory.
We found victory together last week because we were both focused on what mattered, while our opponents were mired by the dawning of a feud only in their own mind in Carnivore and the SHITTIEST of takes on wrestling in Madwoman. We found victory because I was unafraid to fight the MadClan by myself while you were questionable. We found victory because you were able to put on your Big Girl Panties and push against the pain in time to join me in the revelry that is a heated battle. And while we may have found that victory together, there is only one acceptable outcome of this tournament:
Adding another trophy to my collection.
Winning is what I DO. I was BRED for this business. Yes yes, you are also a member of a wrestling family, which is a wonderful thing. This business NEEDS blood like ours! It NEEDS generational commitment to excellence! But what it does NOT need is someone like you, someone so mired in silliness and idiocy as to forget WHY we are here.
Lo! Listen to the insipid vlogs which rob us of our intelligence!
Lo! Listen to you cry about not being booked at Action!
Lo! Listen to you put more emphasis on making sure you have the write emoji pack on your phone than whether or not you not only CAN be in the ring but SHOULD.
And that is something which will be your downfall. You should NOT be in that ring. You should NOT be facing me in the main event of the opening round of a tournament. You should NOT be taking a wounded wing into battle against someone DESIGNED to rip that wing right off! Because that is what I DO, dearie. It takes a particular set of skills to perform in tournaments, it takes stamina, cunning, guile, preparation, and long-term goal-setting. It takes understanding how you are physically every step of the way, compensating for the injuries which crop up, and exploiting those injuries incurred by others.
How many tournaments have you had in your career? How many trophies have you held high? I do not ask about championships. I do not ask about tag gold or divisional winnings. Specifically tournaments. Environments where you must go into a company, knowing little to nothing about your opponents or the flavor of the setting, and still find a way to excel? Have you done any at all? In the last three and a half years, I have entered into fifteen tournaments of various styles, from single elimination like this one, to grueling round robin, to complicated mixed-event clusterfucks. Every time, whether eliminated in the first round by a deathmatch master like Kennedy or pushing through to hold the trophy in bloody hands, I have been molded and shaped by my experiences, making me more and more elite at the process.
Four times the runner-up.
Five times the champion.
And making it six is why I am here.
Mind you, I know just about everything there is to know about Trinity’s first run before it sold its media to Action. I recently quipped, in response and regard to that horrendously shitty take of Carnivore, that instead of “I have never heard of you, therefore you must be trash and I won't bother even scanning a bio, Loser McJobber Pants,” you should instead embrace something like “I have never heard of you, but by the time we get in the ring, I'll know more about you than you yourself do.” This is not simple words, but a practice to internalize, and as such, I know every single result of Trinity’s first 16 shows. Because of my understanding of those 64 people featured across those months, I know why Madwoman was so triggered by losing to us last week, as “2 Sara(h)s, 1 Cup” have become the “1” in a record of 6-1 for her in Trinity.
...yeah, she has a draw in there, but that doesn’t help the flow of the words, so ignore it…
I know that the best main event performer overall after her was Lex, and the worst was that idiot Snow.
I know that several matches “conveniently” got left off the card due to “travel issues,” when individuals SHOULD have been exposed for being unable to fulfill commitments.
I know that the Pure championship was riddled with children stuck in adult bodies who were routinely destroyed by the only member of the division worth mentioning, your own Beloved.
But do you? Do YOU know what you are doing or where you are going?
Or are you too busy focused on other matters? On the debut of your new...well...associate...whose contract you now hold. On the return to full-time action after so much time away. On how many idiotic hashtags you can sneak in a promotional video and consider it “interesting” or, worse yet, “relevant.”
But I know you, dearie. I watched as your hand was crushed and your Beloved searched for the attacker. I watched your knee buckle every time you even THOUGHT of going for a Shining Wizard in the CruiserClash Battle Royal, instead choosing to keep yourself grounded. Too much of your flippy shit over your career? Is the knee giving way from all of those foot stomp impacts? Moonsaulting through the air may look spectacular, but that incidental damage done to your knee by that move becomes incremental. And those tendons will not stand long against the assault of my kicks or my locks.
I watched as you took those deep breaths to calm your nerves as you finally came to the ring on Tuesday.
I saw the hesitation at the end, even with Carnivore down into the Abyss.
I am prepared to exploit that hesitation. To exploit the fear that gnaws in you about whether or not you should even BE here.
I have no hesitation, wonder, or worry. Physically and spiritually, I was BORN to travel across the world and show this business what a TRUE wrestler is supposed to be. A fighter who does not rest. A warrior who does not falter. A CHAMPION who embodies the fighting spirit of those who came before, who pushes away the idiotic excesses of the ‘modern’ wrestler such as yourself, and gives posterity something to admire. I am faster, stronger, possess more ring intelligence and savvy, and, quite simply, want to WIN this tournament more than you.
Your mistake in all of this is that you are NOT ready to return to THIS kind of environment.
I WILL exploit it Tuesday.
I will win this match and then travel to the very end. I am prepared to RUIN your wrist to the point where you willingly give up and accept your fate of facing Miles at the PPV.
Are you?
-S.S.G-L
P.S.: In the spirit of Trinity’s preferred use of “minis” media, I have prepared for you a four-panel comic of our upcoming match highlights. You may thank me later.