Post by Kylie Moore on Feb 22, 2021 20:27:36 GMT -5
The video begins on a black background. Some familiar white specks, resembling snowflakes, begin to fall from the top of the screen. Just like the last time, a familiar voice begins to speak.
In my short time… I’ve been called a prince. I’ve been branded a villain… I’ve put this entire company on my back. I carried the Trinity Wrestling banner wherever I went while it was on hiatus…
Since the very start, I have lived and breathed this company. Before A. Way, before Dream, Szalinski, Lacklan… Before all of them… there was me. Yet, I stepped away. I had to step away and reevaluate myself. Figure out some things about me so that I’d be ready when I came back…
The snow begins to build. It slowly rises to a full-on blizzard of white pixels until the screen becomes covered in white.
But now? I think it’s time I get back to it.
The white on the screen slowly falls away, leaving two words sticking out on the black background:
NEXT WEEK
Night had just fallen and Cerise was but an hour or so away from standing besides Khaos as he faced Drago Santiago. She lounges back comfortably behind the wheel of her Pink Tesla as she takes the final turn into the arena parking lot. Cerise takes a look around, clearly unimpressed with her surroundings. Parking the car, she steps out in a pair of knee-high leather boots. She quickly pats down her skirt and checks her makeup one last time in the driver-side mirror, letting out a sly smile. Cerise then begins the long walk towards the entrance to the back of the stadium, her stride never slowing down. As she arrives at the Superstar entrance, she is met by a seemingly young security guard.
“Ma’am I need to see your ID” the Security Guard asked politely.
“Excuse me…!? Don’t you know who I am little boy!?” Cerise snapped, looking him up and down, visibly insulted and disgusted.
“Ah… ah… it’s my first night,” he responded timidly, his voice cracking. “And I’m new to this location and…”
Cerise simply rolled her eyes and reached into her back pocket, flashing her ID and doing her best to force a “polite” smile.
“I’m so sorry Miss Cerise,” the Security Guard began to apologize, handing back her ID. “Of course I know who you are. You and Khaos destroyed the Cowgirls from Hell last week. That was a great match! Maybe I could… uh… get a picture?”
“Of course,” Cerise smiled sweetly. “Anything for a fan.”
The Security Guard fumbled his way through his pocket, pulling out his phone as she leaned in; wrapping her arm around him as he quickly snapped the picture. Doing a quick once-over at the photo, he smiled exuberantly as he rushed to open the door for her. Cerise winked at him, blew a quick kiss, and sashayed into the arena. Safely within its corridors, she laughed to herself as she looked down; holding in her hands the wallet she had clearly stole from the Security Guard’s back pocket during their photo op.
“Bet he’ll remember me after this,” Cerise smirked, pocketing the loose cash and tossing the wallet into a nearby trash can.
Cerise’s continuing laughter was rudely interrupted by a loud “bang” coming from Khaos’ locker room. Almost a hint of concern fell over Cerise’s face for her pseudo tag team partner as she rushed forward, bursting into the room. What she finds, however, was not what she was expecting. Damien Carter was sitting cross-legged on the floor while a very aged Nikki Sixx from Mötley Crüe sat across from him. Lying on the floor before them is an exquisite bathmat that Damien picked up as a souvenir from his XWF days. And by that, I mean he walked in to apply to the wrestling promotion, had the door slammed in his face, and stopped at the gift shop on his way out. The bathmat appears to be made of the finest wolf-fur money can buy and has the words “Don’t Tread on Me” written in, what Khaos can only assume is, blood. Atop the bathmat is an assortment of action figures and children toys. Hearing the door burst open, Damien turned his attention to his female counterpart, a bit startled by her entrance.
“Oh, it’s just you Cerise,” Damien breathed a sigh of relief. “Come on in, I’m just going over my War Games strategy.”
Cerise looked around the room, confused by the assortment of toys lying out in front of Damien....
“What the hell are you doing!?” Cerise scolded. “You have a match in about an hour! You need to be preparing for Drago Santiago, not playing with toys like some poor foster child!”
Damien appeared a bit hurt by her comment, not sure if she knew he had actually been an orphaned child growing up or not. Regardless, he shook it off as he began to explain his situation to her, his excitement almost child-like.
“This may look like I’m playing with toys and dolls, but in reality...” Damien looked over to Nikki, who was holding a Tenderheart care bear upside down. “Hey… careful with that; that is the Goddess of Thunder and Rock & Roll you are holding, old man!”
Nikki quickly snapped back to reality and placed the bear down on the mat.
“As I was saying,” Damien started, glaring at the Mötley Crüe musician. “I’m preparing for War Games. See… that Tenderheart care bear represents Amelia Hearts. And that toy Porsche is Portia Alexander. And Nikki Sixx was nice enough to fill in for Lucy Sixx, because I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“I’m still getting paid for this, right…?” Nikki Sixx asked.
“And over here,” Damien continued, ignoring the question. “Is my team. So there’s me… obviously. And this Johnny Cage action figure is Johnny Styles. Look, I even colored in his tattoos with sharpie. And this right here…”
Damien reached behind his back, producing a very lifelike Chucky doll.
“Is the Captain of Team Khaos,” Damien announced, smirking. “Mister Dorian Rhodes himself. What do you think?”
Cerise’s eyes narrowed as she wondering if she was truly in Damien’s locker room, or if she – instead – had just taken a bad batch of acid. Enraged at the mockery of his upcoming War Games match, she walked over to Nikki Sixx and snatched up the care bear that had, somehow, gotten back in his hands again. Casting one last look at Damien, her lips twisted into a snarl as she hurled it across the room.
“Are you high… or just mentally damaged!?” Cerise shouted. “You need to send the elderly rock musician home and we need to discuss strategy for tonight’s match! Somehow, I have been paired with you and I will not be made to look like a fool!”
Damien watched the care bear slam into the wall and fall to the ground. Feeling the anger building up inside him, he quickly rose to his feet, towering over his “partner”.
“You do NOT treat the Twister Sister like that!” Damien seethed.
For a moment, the two just started intently at one another, as the aging rock star could do nothing but look on. Many moments passed before Damien finally seemed to be able to collect himself, deciding to save his anger and rage for his opponent tonight.
Staring up at Damien, seeing the fire burning in his eyes, she could tell that she may’ve gone a tad too far. Cerise took a deep breath and put her hands up, trying to de-escalate the situation.
“Look…” Cerise began. “Last week, we beat one half of the tag team champions. This week, you have the other one in a one-on-one match. You beat him, who knows… maybe we get a title shot in the future. You need to think ‘Big Picture’.”
Damien nodded his head, seemingly on the same page as Cerise.
“Alright,” Damien agreed. “First we deal with Drago… and then we figure out why Kylie Moore picked me to be on her team for War Games. Because I’m still not 100% clear on why I’m with the likes of Johnny and Dorian, they don’t seem to be very well liked around here.”
Cerise sighed and unenthusiastically patted Damien on the back as the two began to exit the locker room.
“Don’t touch my shit!” Damien called back at Nikki, as the door closed behind them.
The confused rocker looked around the room, before his eyes fell on the Chucky doll that served as the representative for Dorian Rhodes in Khaos’ “War Game strategy”. Nikki turned his head to one side, and then the other, almost as if the dolls eyes were following him. Suddenly, the doll lifted its left hand into the air, a knife concealed within its grasp. The lights instantly went out as a maniacal laughter can be heard, followed by a feeble scream for “help”.
In my short time… I’ve been called a prince. I’ve been branded a villain… I’ve put this entire company on my back. I carried the Trinity Wrestling banner wherever I went while it was on hiatus…
Since the very start, I have lived and breathed this company. Before A. Way, before Dream, Szalinski, Lacklan… Before all of them… there was me. Yet, I stepped away. I had to step away and reevaluate myself. Figure out some things about me so that I’d be ready when I came back…
The snow begins to build. It slowly rises to a full-on blizzard of white pixels until the screen becomes covered in white.
But now? I think it’s time I get back to it.
The white on the screen slowly falls away, leaving two words sticking out on the black background:
NEXT WEEK
Night had just fallen and Cerise was but an hour or so away from standing besides Khaos as he faced Drago Santiago. She lounges back comfortably behind the wheel of her Pink Tesla as she takes the final turn into the arena parking lot. Cerise takes a look around, clearly unimpressed with her surroundings. Parking the car, she steps out in a pair of knee-high leather boots. She quickly pats down her skirt and checks her makeup one last time in the driver-side mirror, letting out a sly smile. Cerise then begins the long walk towards the entrance to the back of the stadium, her stride never slowing down. As she arrives at the Superstar entrance, she is met by a seemingly young security guard.
“Ma’am I need to see your ID” the Security Guard asked politely.
“Excuse me…!? Don’t you know who I am little boy!?” Cerise snapped, looking him up and down, visibly insulted and disgusted.
“Ah… ah… it’s my first night,” he responded timidly, his voice cracking. “And I’m new to this location and…”
Cerise simply rolled her eyes and reached into her back pocket, flashing her ID and doing her best to force a “polite” smile.
“I’m so sorry Miss Cerise,” the Security Guard began to apologize, handing back her ID. “Of course I know who you are. You and Khaos destroyed the Cowgirls from Hell last week. That was a great match! Maybe I could… uh… get a picture?”
“Of course,” Cerise smiled sweetly. “Anything for a fan.”
The Security Guard fumbled his way through his pocket, pulling out his phone as she leaned in; wrapping her arm around him as he quickly snapped the picture. Doing a quick once-over at the photo, he smiled exuberantly as he rushed to open the door for her. Cerise winked at him, blew a quick kiss, and sashayed into the arena. Safely within its corridors, she laughed to herself as she looked down; holding in her hands the wallet she had clearly stole from the Security Guard’s back pocket during their photo op.
“Bet he’ll remember me after this,” Cerise smirked, pocketing the loose cash and tossing the wallet into a nearby trash can.
Cerise’s continuing laughter was rudely interrupted by a loud “bang” coming from Khaos’ locker room. Almost a hint of concern fell over Cerise’s face for her pseudo tag team partner as she rushed forward, bursting into the room. What she finds, however, was not what she was expecting. Damien Carter was sitting cross-legged on the floor while a very aged Nikki Sixx from Mötley Crüe sat across from him. Lying on the floor before them is an exquisite bathmat that Damien picked up as a souvenir from his XWF days. And by that, I mean he walked in to apply to the wrestling promotion, had the door slammed in his face, and stopped at the gift shop on his way out. The bathmat appears to be made of the finest wolf-fur money can buy and has the words “Don’t Tread on Me” written in, what Khaos can only assume is, blood. Atop the bathmat is an assortment of action figures and children toys. Hearing the door burst open, Damien turned his attention to his female counterpart, a bit startled by her entrance.
“Oh, it’s just you Cerise,” Damien breathed a sigh of relief. “Come on in, I’m just going over my War Games strategy.”
Cerise looked around the room, confused by the assortment of toys lying out in front of Damien....
“What the hell are you doing!?” Cerise scolded. “You have a match in about an hour! You need to be preparing for Drago Santiago, not playing with toys like some poor foster child!”
Damien appeared a bit hurt by her comment, not sure if she knew he had actually been an orphaned child growing up or not. Regardless, he shook it off as he began to explain his situation to her, his excitement almost child-like.
“This may look like I’m playing with toys and dolls, but in reality...” Damien looked over to Nikki, who was holding a Tenderheart care bear upside down. “Hey… careful with that; that is the Goddess of Thunder and Rock & Roll you are holding, old man!”
Nikki quickly snapped back to reality and placed the bear down on the mat.
“As I was saying,” Damien started, glaring at the Mötley Crüe musician. “I’m preparing for War Games. See… that Tenderheart care bear represents Amelia Hearts. And that toy Porsche is Portia Alexander. And Nikki Sixx was nice enough to fill in for Lucy Sixx, because I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“I’m still getting paid for this, right…?” Nikki Sixx asked.
“And over here,” Damien continued, ignoring the question. “Is my team. So there’s me… obviously. And this Johnny Cage action figure is Johnny Styles. Look, I even colored in his tattoos with sharpie. And this right here…”
Damien reached behind his back, producing a very lifelike Chucky doll.
“Is the Captain of Team Khaos,” Damien announced, smirking. “Mister Dorian Rhodes himself. What do you think?”
Cerise’s eyes narrowed as she wondering if she was truly in Damien’s locker room, or if she – instead – had just taken a bad batch of acid. Enraged at the mockery of his upcoming War Games match, she walked over to Nikki Sixx and snatched up the care bear that had, somehow, gotten back in his hands again. Casting one last look at Damien, her lips twisted into a snarl as she hurled it across the room.
“Are you high… or just mentally damaged!?” Cerise shouted. “You need to send the elderly rock musician home and we need to discuss strategy for tonight’s match! Somehow, I have been paired with you and I will not be made to look like a fool!”
Damien watched the care bear slam into the wall and fall to the ground. Feeling the anger building up inside him, he quickly rose to his feet, towering over his “partner”.
“You do NOT treat the Twister Sister like that!” Damien seethed.
For a moment, the two just started intently at one another, as the aging rock star could do nothing but look on. Many moments passed before Damien finally seemed to be able to collect himself, deciding to save his anger and rage for his opponent tonight.
Staring up at Damien, seeing the fire burning in his eyes, she could tell that she may’ve gone a tad too far. Cerise took a deep breath and put her hands up, trying to de-escalate the situation.
“Look…” Cerise began. “Last week, we beat one half of the tag team champions. This week, you have the other one in a one-on-one match. You beat him, who knows… maybe we get a title shot in the future. You need to think ‘Big Picture’.”
Damien nodded his head, seemingly on the same page as Cerise.
“Alright,” Damien agreed. “First we deal with Drago… and then we figure out why Kylie Moore picked me to be on her team for War Games. Because I’m still not 100% clear on why I’m with the likes of Johnny and Dorian, they don’t seem to be very well liked around here.”
Cerise sighed and unenthusiastically patted Damien on the back as the two began to exit the locker room.
“Don’t touch my shit!” Damien called back at Nikki, as the door closed behind them.
The confused rocker looked around the room, before his eyes fell on the Chucky doll that served as the representative for Dorian Rhodes in Khaos’ “War Game strategy”. Nikki turned his head to one side, and then the other, almost as if the dolls eyes were following him. Suddenly, the doll lifted its left hand into the air, a knife concealed within its grasp. The lights instantly went out as a maniacal laughter can be heard, followed by a feeble scream for “help”.