Solace Tatum
Full Member
First Class General Manager
"Don't Take It Personal..."
Posts: 117
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Post by Solace Tatum on Oct 3, 2021 21:46:45 GMT
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Post by Lien Xinya on Oct 16, 2021 2:24:13 GMT
IIW Arena Present Day
Lien Xinya sat in the hallway brooding, the past two weeks a blur. If you were to come up to her and ask her what she had eaten for lunch today, she probably wouldn’t have been able to tell you. She was a few days away from meeting her WoW rival at Malevolence, and in a “Pain on a Chain” match no less. This, undoubtedly, favored Chelsey Chaingang over her. But it didn’t bother her. She had beaten Chelsey countless times before; what was one more time? She hoped that this victory would be the final chapter in their story, but she had thought that many times before. Chelsey had this annoying habit of sticking around, like a junkyard dog biting into a savory bone – vicious, unrelenting. Her tactics didn’t scare Lien. Her mind games were a waste of time. Lien had seen all of this before. Lien had conquered all of this before…
Lien looked at the closed door in front of her, her leg shaking with anticipation. She was coming to really hate this part of the job, the obligatory “promo” to hype up her upcoming match. She saw no point in all of it. How was talking down your opponent supposed to give you an advantage? Sure, there could be some sort of mental/psychological warfare going on, but that would be giving this First Class roster more credit than they were worth. What good was it for you to sit there, within the safe confines of a room, isolated from the world, rambling on-and-on about how you’re going to “beat your opponent”. You might as well be just be another one of these spineless little Twitter bitches who act all tough on the outside but the moment you get them away from a computer screen, watch how they shrivel up in fear. Actions speak louder than words; always have, always will. You want to prove that you’re the best? Then stop flapping your gums and step into that ring so I can kick your fucking head off. IF you get up, then maybe you’ll earn my respect…
The door opened as a faceless wrestler walked out, pumping their arms as if they had just won the Women’s Championship. Lien shook her head at the blue haired vixen; so desperate for attention – to be noticed, to be accepted, to truly feel like they “belong”. Lien had done this song and dance so many times that she was beginning to lose count how many times she had to adapt to survive. No, survive is the wrong word. Adapt to thrive. These places are all the same. They treat you like a piece of meat; you’re only relevant to them so long as you contribute to their bottom line. They don’t care about you as a person; could give two-shits about what is going on in your everyday life. All they care about is that you show up and do your “job”. Do they not see how absurd this all is? This is “entertainment”… a product the fan base buys into because they feel like you are portraying some sort of character that was created just for them. I’m nobody’s puppet; there are no strings on me. You all conform so that you can be the greatest performer there is. But that’s the difference between you and me. I’m a fighter and I’m “Not Here For Your Entertainment”. I’m here to kick your teeth down your throat. I’m here because beating people within an inch of their life is considered to be nothing more than a “bloody good show, chap”. There are no repercussions in that ring, no consequences…
The door opened again, this time the fake-smiling face of Sunny Bird there to greet Lien. She motioned her in as Lien rolled her eyes and obliged. The two moved onto the stage where the various cameras waited for her, eager to catch every angle; record every word. Sally motioned for Lien to sit and without so much as a “how are you”, jumped right into it.
“Welcome to another edition of ‘On the Wire’ with Sally Bird,” Sally introduced. “Tonight, my guest is Lien Xinya, who has a big match coming up with Chelsea Chaingang this Sunday.”
Sally turned to Lien as Lien sat stoically, waiting for the questions to begin.
“Yes, well…” Sally continued. “There’s no doubt a bit of history between you and your opponent this Sunday. Care to elaborate on all of that?”
“Shì de, ń...... Qiè'ěrxī hé wǒ yǒu yīgè chuánqí de jìngzhēng (Yes, well... Chelsey and I have a storied rivalry)…” Lien responded.
“I’m sorry, Lien,” Sally suddenly interjected. “But if you could respond in English…”
Lien shot a death glare in Sally’s direction, immediately quieting her. Lien rolled her eyes, took a deep breath, and continued.
“As I was saying,” Lien began again. “Chelsey and I have a storied rivalry dating back to the WoW…”
“Yes, that’s right,” Sally interrupted again, nodding her head as if she had actually done her research. “We’ve heard you mention the WoW a few times now since your debut in the IIW. What was it like there, exactly?”
“It was home,” Lien answered, plainly.
“Well, surely you have to feel something similar here,” Sally concluded. “After all, you’ve been reunited with your Triumvirate allies…”
“The Triumvirate began in WoW,” Lien countered. “That is where Katia, Solace, and I first began our rise to dominance within the wrestling world. We had a good run. And then things ended. The only reason we’re here in the IIW is because your talent manager stumbled upon our tape and decided we were worth a tryout. Again, not doing their due diligence, since the three of us had been out of action for over a year. It didn’t take long for us to knock the ring rust off apparently, as the three of us have been holding up this division ever since we got here.”
“Some might argue that the Coven…” Sally tried to retort.
“The Coven is the equivalent of toddlers playing with fire,” Lien groaned. “They’re too busy playing World of Witchcraft to even understand what they are doing. Is it a façade? Do they think it’s real? I wonder how many times they ask the Ouija board if they are going to ‘finally make it in the business’. Or is that a magic-8-ball? I always get those two mixed up. Regardless, if it’s dumb luck or the spirts from beyond the grave, the emphatic response is always the same… ‘outlook not so good’.”
“How can you say that when Casie is fighting…” Sally began again.
“Sure, Casie is the #1 Contender,” Lien interjected again, not giving Sally a single moment. “To a Champion that hasn’t stepped foot in this ring since I’ve been here. Must be nice, winning a title and then taking a few months off with no competition in sight, never having to defend it. Casie might as well have been picked out of the crowd. Hell, I bet I could walk out there on Sunday, pick any female from the audience, and they could beat Moira.”
“Now hold on just one…” Sally tried to reign it in.
“No,” Lien silenced her. “The only reason I’m here right now is because I’m contractually obligated to be. Because somewhere within your corporate of Male execs and VPs, they decided that they didn’t just want to watch women beat the holy hell out of each other, they needed to hear all the ways we would rip each other limb from limb. My guess is they thought it’d be more like some frat-boy fantasy of pillow fights and lingerie outfits. But this just furthers my point that they, along with the rest of IIW, don’t know what the fuck they are doing.”
“You can’t possibly…” Sally began, her own face flushing red with anger and embarrassment.
“Just because you don’t like what I have to say, doesn’t make it NOT true,” Lien countered. “Case-in-point, look how quickly good ol’ Bob Mitchell stepped in the moment that Jolie Vexx goes down with an ‘injury’. You want me to believe that she’s supposed to be the one running First Class? Yet she takes one little bump on the head and in comes the top brass. The fact that my friend – Katia – who already earned her shot at the Evolution Championship, now has to go through another hurdle just to earn BACK the shot that she already had is another prime example of the incompetence plaguing this company.”
“But Katia got hurt…” Sally tried to defend.
“Yes, by a blindside attack,” Lien argued. “We were brought in to wrestle matches. To take our opponents from post-to-post, from beginning to end. When the match ends, what’s the reason for us to attack someone? What’s the motivation? If someone is better than you and they beat you, the honorable thing is to shake their hand, go back to the drawing board, and begin again. You only better yourself and the sport by showing that you all have a code. Katia won her match. The Coven attacked her after the fact. So you’re going to penalize my friend because your security couldn’t do its damn job to protect its performers? Or because you have a worthless GM like Jolie Vexx running around, blowing smoke up other people’s asses, just so that she can appear to be the one with all the power? If I had to guess, I’d say that’s not the only ‘blowing’ that she’s been doing, if you know what I mean.”
“I… uh… you can’t…” Sally stammered, at a loss for words.
“If you ask me,” Lien continued. “The Coven finally got one thing right in taking her out of the equation. She didn’t hold any power here, not really. She just wanted to put up a front and make it seem like she had total control. But you tell me, Sally. You watch back any one of these shows from previous weeks and tell me just how ‘controlled’ they truly were. The First Class division is in complete disarray. You bring in new talent to replace the ones that are being constantly sidelined by brutal backstage assaults or after-match attacks. Make no mistake about it, the inmates are running the asylum. The sooner you accept this, the better off you’ll be.”
“I feel like we should cut…” Sally tried to motion to her producer.
“But I’m not done talking!” Lien screamed, getting in Sally’s face and forcing her from off her seat.
Sally scurried out of frame as Lien turned her attention to the cameras.
“This place is a conundrum of continuity,” Lien began. “First you like to act that, prior to enlisting in the IIW, we don’t even exist. That none of our past or history defines who we are today. You try to mold us, like we’re your own personal ball of clay. But you are not Gods, none of you. You are all pathetic. I’d like to say that I’ve finally figured it out, what makes you all tick. But that’s a lie. Because this place is, by far, the worst place I’ve ever been. You think that it’s a coincidence that First Class is based out of England yet yields no actual British talent? You’ve burned your bridges, needed to outsource just to have a chance to stay competitive with the other wrestling federations. You all hit the tā mā de (fucking) lottery when you landed the Triumvirate and you don’t even realize it.”
Lien began to pace back and forth, like a wild animal.
“They say that history repeats itself,” Lien started, keeping her head down, focusing on her words. “The Triumvirate has seen this all before, some group or stable trying to rise to power, assert themselves at the top of the card – prove they are the dominant force to be reckoned with. The Coven is but three children dressing up in costumes and running out into the night like the good little trick-or-treaters they are. We faced down an actual group of wrestlers, ladies. The Unstoppable Force was men and women, at one point over a dozen-or-so strong. What fear do you three little witches think you strike in us? On Sunday, the Triumvirate will do what we always do, and that is dominate! We will clean up this division. We will make it respectable again. We will SAVE First Class.”
Lien stopped, turning on her heel as she glared into the camera once more.
“But first, I need to take care of some unfinished business,” Lien smirked. “Chelsey, this feud of ours has gone on long enough. Frankly, you’re not even a challenge for me anymore. I strive for bigger and better things and you, like always, are just a roadblock in my path. I don’t know why you constantly seek my attention, why you always feel the need to stick your nose into my business. The wars we had in WoW are legendary. I, dare-say, you had my respect at one point. But you don’t learn from your failures. You get up, dust yourself off, and you immediately try again. It’s admirable, truly. But it’s not practical. You need time for your wounds to heal, to let the scars fade, to learn from your mistake. But you don’t. You never do. Even me talking to you right now, I’m sure my words are going in one ear and out the other. You continue to slam your head into the concrete wall that is the ‘Crimson Lotus’ and I have – but no choice – to knock you out once more. I don’t take pleasure in this, but I will not let someone like you get in the way of my true purpose.”
Lien got closer to the camera, fire burning in her eyes.
“This place is as corrupt and infected as ever,” Lien declared. “But luckily my dragon fire is readily available. Chelsey, on Sunday, you and I will do what we always do – and that is tearing this house down. But when it’s all said and done and the smoke has settled, I turn my attention to the rest of the First Class division. I’m going to burn this whole biǎo zi (bitch) to the ground. From the ashes, a new and improved First Class will arise, one that I – someday – may be proud to call my ‘home’.”
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