Post by Rowan MacDonnough on Sept 15, 2017 5:03:14 GMT
“There’s nothing in the world like Irony, is there?”
Camera finds Rowan sitting on what can only be described as a makeshift throne. The members of The Pack either stand or lounge around her as she reclines with a glass of red liquid in her hand. In the other hand is an action figure of Pandora Freeman… on fire. She idly examines the burning figure, watching with satisfaction and nostalgia as the plastic melts away, dripping onto her hand. Sh e lets out a dark chuckle as the figure collapses into an unrecognizable mass of molten color, seeming unphased by the heat in her hand. After a few moments the fire dies out, and she tosses the molten mass to the floor.
“Apart from the satisfaction of annihilating an enemy and reducing them to a bloodied mass, of course. Pandora Freeman… the first of many in my long reign.”
She leans forward and holds the glass in both hands as she stares down the camera.
“But irony is a powerful thing, isn’t it? The irony of being made to stand alongside an enemy to take down a common foe. It is a taste I know all too well from the days before Night of the Immortals. Twice was I bade to stand alongside my then-enemy Charity Crowne… and when at last I did face her, I tormented her so thoroughly that it took her weeks to dare return. Regardless of how others might chafe at the idea of having to stand alongside their enemy in battle… the truth is that I relish the opportunity. Every time we stand together in the ring is a chance for me to better understand how to crush her when we do meet later. It gave me what I needed to shatter Charity Crowne at Night of the Immortals. It gave me what I needed to Balor’s Gaze Alicia Lukas right out of the IWF. And it will give me what I need to watch the vigor vanish from Helena Sawyer’s eyes as I defeat her at Extreme Endurance.”
She chuckles with satisfaction.
“But the greatest of all ironies is this: Every single time I have been in a tag team match, there has been one thing in common. A single thing that has tied all of those matches together – and that thing has a name: Shea O’Hara.”
Her eyes flash with anger at the name that she seems to spit from her mouth like a ball of phlegm. When she continues speaking there is a hard and furious edge to her tone. “Shea O’Hara. In my entire career there has never been another woman who has dogged me so. We have entered the ring together five times, and each time she has managed to slip away victorious. Driving me into unconsciousness on Sacrifice. Pinning my partner before Night of the Immortals. Beating me by count out at Open Fight Night. Making my partner submit before Bloody Assizes… and then, at Bloody Assizes itself… being the first woman to pin me in my entire career.”
The glass shatters in her hands, and she looks down at the mix of what was within it and her own blood as it slowly oozes from the slashes in her hands left by the broken glass. The Pack seems to be keeping a safe distance from her. She slowly, deliberately picks the glass from her hands, not reacting to any pain, before turning into the camera again.
“You are my white whale, Shea. The one who I have never been able to break. Despite all that I have thrown at you, you always had the edge. Always pulled it off. Always gave me the taste of bitter defeat. Of all of the times I have lost in the IWF – HALF of those defeats have been at your hands. You were right before Bloody Assizes, Shea. I didn’t have what it took to defeat you – not in our matches prior, and not that night.”
She tilts her head to the side. “But that was then.”
She reaches down beside her throne and pulls up the Diamonds Championship Belt. “Now we live in a very different world.”
The restaurant was almost completely empty. The sign on the front said that it was closed, and only three members of the staff were inside - a single chef, a single waitress, and the manager. All of them shared the occasional frightened look with one another as they worked in silence, hoping not to draw the ire of their one guest. Rowan MacDonnough sat at a table outside on the restaurant’s patio, watching the street from a shadowed corner near the building’s wall. The patio overlooked the sidewalk on the warm autumn night, and even though few people truly took the time to look and see the woman in the shadow, all of them felt a strange chill as they passed the place by. Those who had never dined there before would likely later say that the place have them a “creepy vibe” and would decide not to eat there if the opportunity presented itself.
As Rowan watched the street, she saw Helena Sawyer emerge from the crowd, wearing a ruffled black dress and a pair of heavily-buckled boots. Her facepaint was simple, a white base with dramatic black eyes and lips, a pair of thin slashes of red extending from the corners of her mouth. She flashed a smile at Rowan as she closed the gap, casually walking onto the patio and wiggling her fingers at the Diamonds Champion in a wave as she sat down across from her. “So here we are. Neutral ground.” she purred, leaning one of her elbows on the table. “It’s been so long since I got asked out for dinner. It makes a girl feel all...special inside.”
Rowan arched an eyebrow and slid Helena a menu as she leaned out of the shadows. She was wearing her mask, as usual, but instead of her oft-seen entrance attire she wore business dress - black slacks, a dark red blouse and a black blazer. Her hands, now ungloved, were noticeably covered in burn scars with varying degrees of age. “I’ve dined with a would-be king, Helena. It seemed fitting to offer the same courtesy to an heiress. I trust you know why I’ve invited you here?”
Helena grinned mirthfully at Rowan, fluttering her eyelashes. “Well, I’d like to think it’s because you just think I’m that special of a lady. But no, your little puppy-dog Dean told me. A ceasefire, until Monday. That about the sound of it?” She leaned back, crossing her legs and checking her nails again. “I have to say, it’s a lot of pomp and circumstance for a simple request. But then again, you always go for one hell of a show, don’t you? Really...fire people up.” Helena was unable to keep the anger from bleeding into her last few words, despite her casual demeanor.
Rowan’s eyes smiled back at her. “She knew what she was getting into. She could have ended it at any time, as I’m sure you’re aware. After watching you and Eternity at Metamorphosis last year, I don’t think you can honestly say you wouldn’t have done the same… unless, of course, there’s an emotional reason that would hold you back?” Her eyes gleamed with delighted malice. “But the intended message was delivered. I hear that the medical staff expects her to make a full recovery… eventually.”
She leaned back in her chair, shadows concealing her face, but leaving the eyes clearly visible in the dark. “But yes. Regardless of what you may think, Helena Sawyer, I wish you no particular ill-will. One of our opponents, on the other hand…” she paused, leaving poignant anger hanging in the air for a few long moments. “It is within my best interests to work with you as seamlessly and efficiently as possible on Sacrifice. That means neither of us constantly checking our back the whole time. I offer you what I never offered Charity Crowne or Alicia Lukas - a promise to take no action against you until after our match on Sacrifice, and all you need to do is grant the same cessation of hostility. It is… a more generous bargain than I have offered in some time.”
Helena leaned forward, a narrowed look on her face. “I don’t know what conversations you’ve been having with medical...but it looks like I’m faster than you thought. Those burns? Nothing more than first-degree...and as for the rest? My forget-me-not’s tougher than you give her credit for.” A long, hard glare followed, Helena speaking through gritted teeth. “I want to make one thing clear. This deal ends the moment our match does. And by offering it, you’ve tipped your hand. You didn’t do this for Charity or Alicia because they didn’t scare you.” Helena’s mouth warped in her own twisted grin. “You’re afraid of me. You know the places I’ll go, the things I’ll do. That’s why you’re holding out this olive branch...because you’re hoping I won’t stake it through your heart.”
Rowan chuckled. “Or, perhaps, I remember what happened the last time we met in the ring, and whose shoulders were on the mat when the three-count finished,” she replied. “And I am more concerned about settling a score with Shea O’Hara than I am about our match at Extreme Endurance, and I don’t want to lose a fourth tag team match to that creature because my partner’s head was either not in the game or stabbing me in the back.”
She waved the thought away. “Believe whatever you wish - the offer remains. Do we have a bargain?” Slowly and with deliberate purpose, Rowan extended a scarred hand. Helena eyed the hand warily, gaze slowly moving up to meet Rowan’s...
“There’s a part of me, you know… albeit a very small one… that feels sorry for Keira Hunter. Even now I can’t help but feel some small level of connection with those women who participated in the Diamonds in the Rough Tournament earlier this year who stuck it out and endured in the IWF. Of those, it is hard to argue that Keira and I have come the farthest, even though neither of us won the tournament overall. When first we met Keira was the one to eliminate me from the battle Royale that was my debut. We met in the ring again three weeks later, where she was pinned by Charity Crowne in the Diamonds in the Rough finals. Now you’ve made it all the way to being the number one contender to the Shieldmaiden Belt. It’s almost enough to make a girl proud.”
She lets out a dismissive snort. “But not quite. As you’ve so often nauseatingly bemoaned, Keira, you’ve always been in the shadow of your betters. You made it to the finals, but you were pinned by Charity Crowne… the same woman who, when we met one on one at Night of the Immortals, I crushed with rather striking ease. Then you fought with me to try to make it to the Iron Maiden – as was I – and found yourself eliminated by Gabriella Luna. Gabriella Luna… the girl who failed to claim this title from the woman I tore it from, and then defended it from. After that… well, you disappeared from the world’s attention for a spell, didn’t you? Falling back into obscurity before coming back to be second best in the Heiress to the Throne competition… where you were pinned by the woman I’ll be standing with. Then you got a… participation prize… to fight Shea O’Hara for the number one contendership to her title… and you won. An impressive feat indeed! Now you’re the second member of the Diamonds in the Rough tournament to get a Shieldmaiden shot, and may well be the second to win yourself a reign.”
She scoffs and shakes her head. “I know all this because I did some research. I had to. Because the fact is, Keira, that before I looked into your past… I’d completely forgotten that we’d ever been in the same ring once, much less thrice. I’m in a match against the two women I’ve fought more than just about anyone else in this company – you being tied with Pandora Freeman – and I didn’t even realize it until Dean showed me the tapes.”
She leans forward again with a sigh. “Yours is a tale of never hitting the mark. Never quite finishing what you try to start. It would be funny if it weren’t so embarrassing. Third best in Diamonds in the Rough. Second best in Heiress to the Throne. Disliked at school, unloved by family… a long and whining saga of how cruel the world has been to you.”
She snarls. “Grow up. Stop mewling like a spoiled child. If you’re so naïve to think that you’re the only one in the world who’s suffered because you’re different, then you’re either blind or an idiot… and neither quality makes for someone who will survive in the division I have the misfortune of having to share with the likes of you.”
She leans back in her throne. “The only reason I care about you is that you’re between me and my vengeance, whelp. The fact that the likes of you managed to get a win out of Shea O’Hara speaks well enough how vulnerable my old enemy has become. She’s losing her touch, while I’m doing better than I have in my entire career. I beat the woman who defeated her before Night of the Immortals, earned the title that she’s never managed to attain... though evidence suggests she's angling to change that.”
Rowan’s eyes gleam. “I know what you’re doing, Shea. I know how close you are. I know how hungry you are to come after me and my title, to take it from me in a match with a stipulation of your own choice. I welcome it. I want you to defeat Hunter at Extreme Endurance, I want you to win and win and win with that lesser belt and come for me with all of your strength, a head full of pride and thirst for retribution. There is nothing I look forward to more than crushing you there in that future arena. I am stronger now than I have ever been, while your will to fight is ebbing. I saw it when Keira beat you last week, since then I have been heady off the smell of your blood in the water. When we last met, Shea, you had the strength to defeat me time and again… But now I can say with absolute certainty that I… am better… than you”
She crosses her arms and laughs with savage hunger. “I’m coming for you, Shea. And I’ll break Keira when she tries to get in my way, just like I broke Astrid Hall. The two of you cannot fathom what Helena Sawyer and I are going to inflict upon you… I just hope that she is able to enjoy it.”
The camera pans back, showing two girls with paper headshots of Shea and Keira taped harshly to their faces like masks, chained to the floor and struggling to escape, muffled cries escaping their likely gagged mouths. Dean hands Rowan her kendo stick wrapped in barbed wire… stained brown with dried blood. Rowan stands and walks towards the two girls, the weapon resting on her shoulder. Her eyes flash gold.
“I know I will.”
She brings the weapon down in what looks to be a brutal, savage blow – but the camera feed cuts out a fraction of a second before it lands on the girl wearing Shea’s face.
Camera finds Rowan sitting on what can only be described as a makeshift throne. The members of The Pack either stand or lounge around her as she reclines with a glass of red liquid in her hand. In the other hand is an action figure of Pandora Freeman… on fire. She idly examines the burning figure, watching with satisfaction and nostalgia as the plastic melts away, dripping onto her hand. Sh e lets out a dark chuckle as the figure collapses into an unrecognizable mass of molten color, seeming unphased by the heat in her hand. After a few moments the fire dies out, and she tosses the molten mass to the floor.
“Apart from the satisfaction of annihilating an enemy and reducing them to a bloodied mass, of course. Pandora Freeman… the first of many in my long reign.”
She leans forward and holds the glass in both hands as she stares down the camera.
“But irony is a powerful thing, isn’t it? The irony of being made to stand alongside an enemy to take down a common foe. It is a taste I know all too well from the days before Night of the Immortals. Twice was I bade to stand alongside my then-enemy Charity Crowne… and when at last I did face her, I tormented her so thoroughly that it took her weeks to dare return. Regardless of how others might chafe at the idea of having to stand alongside their enemy in battle… the truth is that I relish the opportunity. Every time we stand together in the ring is a chance for me to better understand how to crush her when we do meet later. It gave me what I needed to shatter Charity Crowne at Night of the Immortals. It gave me what I needed to Balor’s Gaze Alicia Lukas right out of the IWF. And it will give me what I need to watch the vigor vanish from Helena Sawyer’s eyes as I defeat her at Extreme Endurance.”
She chuckles with satisfaction.
“But the greatest of all ironies is this: Every single time I have been in a tag team match, there has been one thing in common. A single thing that has tied all of those matches together – and that thing has a name: Shea O’Hara.”
Her eyes flash with anger at the name that she seems to spit from her mouth like a ball of phlegm. When she continues speaking there is a hard and furious edge to her tone. “Shea O’Hara. In my entire career there has never been another woman who has dogged me so. We have entered the ring together five times, and each time she has managed to slip away victorious. Driving me into unconsciousness on Sacrifice. Pinning my partner before Night of the Immortals. Beating me by count out at Open Fight Night. Making my partner submit before Bloody Assizes… and then, at Bloody Assizes itself… being the first woman to pin me in my entire career.”
The glass shatters in her hands, and she looks down at the mix of what was within it and her own blood as it slowly oozes from the slashes in her hands left by the broken glass. The Pack seems to be keeping a safe distance from her. She slowly, deliberately picks the glass from her hands, not reacting to any pain, before turning into the camera again.
“You are my white whale, Shea. The one who I have never been able to break. Despite all that I have thrown at you, you always had the edge. Always pulled it off. Always gave me the taste of bitter defeat. Of all of the times I have lost in the IWF – HALF of those defeats have been at your hands. You were right before Bloody Assizes, Shea. I didn’t have what it took to defeat you – not in our matches prior, and not that night.”
She tilts her head to the side. “But that was then.”
She reaches down beside her throne and pulls up the Diamonds Championship Belt. “Now we live in a very different world.”
The restaurant was almost completely empty. The sign on the front said that it was closed, and only three members of the staff were inside - a single chef, a single waitress, and the manager. All of them shared the occasional frightened look with one another as they worked in silence, hoping not to draw the ire of their one guest. Rowan MacDonnough sat at a table outside on the restaurant’s patio, watching the street from a shadowed corner near the building’s wall. The patio overlooked the sidewalk on the warm autumn night, and even though few people truly took the time to look and see the woman in the shadow, all of them felt a strange chill as they passed the place by. Those who had never dined there before would likely later say that the place have them a “creepy vibe” and would decide not to eat there if the opportunity presented itself.
As Rowan watched the street, she saw Helena Sawyer emerge from the crowd, wearing a ruffled black dress and a pair of heavily-buckled boots. Her facepaint was simple, a white base with dramatic black eyes and lips, a pair of thin slashes of red extending from the corners of her mouth. She flashed a smile at Rowan as she closed the gap, casually walking onto the patio and wiggling her fingers at the Diamonds Champion in a wave as she sat down across from her. “So here we are. Neutral ground.” she purred, leaning one of her elbows on the table. “It’s been so long since I got asked out for dinner. It makes a girl feel all...special inside.”
Rowan arched an eyebrow and slid Helena a menu as she leaned out of the shadows. She was wearing her mask, as usual, but instead of her oft-seen entrance attire she wore business dress - black slacks, a dark red blouse and a black blazer. Her hands, now ungloved, were noticeably covered in burn scars with varying degrees of age. “I’ve dined with a would-be king, Helena. It seemed fitting to offer the same courtesy to an heiress. I trust you know why I’ve invited you here?”
Helena grinned mirthfully at Rowan, fluttering her eyelashes. “Well, I’d like to think it’s because you just think I’m that special of a lady. But no, your little puppy-dog Dean told me. A ceasefire, until Monday. That about the sound of it?” She leaned back, crossing her legs and checking her nails again. “I have to say, it’s a lot of pomp and circumstance for a simple request. But then again, you always go for one hell of a show, don’t you? Really...fire people up.” Helena was unable to keep the anger from bleeding into her last few words, despite her casual demeanor.
Rowan’s eyes smiled back at her. “She knew what she was getting into. She could have ended it at any time, as I’m sure you’re aware. After watching you and Eternity at Metamorphosis last year, I don’t think you can honestly say you wouldn’t have done the same… unless, of course, there’s an emotional reason that would hold you back?” Her eyes gleamed with delighted malice. “But the intended message was delivered. I hear that the medical staff expects her to make a full recovery… eventually.”
She leaned back in her chair, shadows concealing her face, but leaving the eyes clearly visible in the dark. “But yes. Regardless of what you may think, Helena Sawyer, I wish you no particular ill-will. One of our opponents, on the other hand…” she paused, leaving poignant anger hanging in the air for a few long moments. “It is within my best interests to work with you as seamlessly and efficiently as possible on Sacrifice. That means neither of us constantly checking our back the whole time. I offer you what I never offered Charity Crowne or Alicia Lukas - a promise to take no action against you until after our match on Sacrifice, and all you need to do is grant the same cessation of hostility. It is… a more generous bargain than I have offered in some time.”
Helena leaned forward, a narrowed look on her face. “I don’t know what conversations you’ve been having with medical...but it looks like I’m faster than you thought. Those burns? Nothing more than first-degree...and as for the rest? My forget-me-not’s tougher than you give her credit for.” A long, hard glare followed, Helena speaking through gritted teeth. “I want to make one thing clear. This deal ends the moment our match does. And by offering it, you’ve tipped your hand. You didn’t do this for Charity or Alicia because they didn’t scare you.” Helena’s mouth warped in her own twisted grin. “You’re afraid of me. You know the places I’ll go, the things I’ll do. That’s why you’re holding out this olive branch...because you’re hoping I won’t stake it through your heart.”
Rowan chuckled. “Or, perhaps, I remember what happened the last time we met in the ring, and whose shoulders were on the mat when the three-count finished,” she replied. “And I am more concerned about settling a score with Shea O’Hara than I am about our match at Extreme Endurance, and I don’t want to lose a fourth tag team match to that creature because my partner’s head was either not in the game or stabbing me in the back.”
She waved the thought away. “Believe whatever you wish - the offer remains. Do we have a bargain?” Slowly and with deliberate purpose, Rowan extended a scarred hand. Helena eyed the hand warily, gaze slowly moving up to meet Rowan’s...
“There’s a part of me, you know… albeit a very small one… that feels sorry for Keira Hunter. Even now I can’t help but feel some small level of connection with those women who participated in the Diamonds in the Rough Tournament earlier this year who stuck it out and endured in the IWF. Of those, it is hard to argue that Keira and I have come the farthest, even though neither of us won the tournament overall. When first we met Keira was the one to eliminate me from the battle Royale that was my debut. We met in the ring again three weeks later, where she was pinned by Charity Crowne in the Diamonds in the Rough finals. Now you’ve made it all the way to being the number one contender to the Shieldmaiden Belt. It’s almost enough to make a girl proud.”
She lets out a dismissive snort. “But not quite. As you’ve so often nauseatingly bemoaned, Keira, you’ve always been in the shadow of your betters. You made it to the finals, but you were pinned by Charity Crowne… the same woman who, when we met one on one at Night of the Immortals, I crushed with rather striking ease. Then you fought with me to try to make it to the Iron Maiden – as was I – and found yourself eliminated by Gabriella Luna. Gabriella Luna… the girl who failed to claim this title from the woman I tore it from, and then defended it from. After that… well, you disappeared from the world’s attention for a spell, didn’t you? Falling back into obscurity before coming back to be second best in the Heiress to the Throne competition… where you were pinned by the woman I’ll be standing with. Then you got a… participation prize… to fight Shea O’Hara for the number one contendership to her title… and you won. An impressive feat indeed! Now you’re the second member of the Diamonds in the Rough tournament to get a Shieldmaiden shot, and may well be the second to win yourself a reign.”
She scoffs and shakes her head. “I know all this because I did some research. I had to. Because the fact is, Keira, that before I looked into your past… I’d completely forgotten that we’d ever been in the same ring once, much less thrice. I’m in a match against the two women I’ve fought more than just about anyone else in this company – you being tied with Pandora Freeman – and I didn’t even realize it until Dean showed me the tapes.”
She leans forward again with a sigh. “Yours is a tale of never hitting the mark. Never quite finishing what you try to start. It would be funny if it weren’t so embarrassing. Third best in Diamonds in the Rough. Second best in Heiress to the Throne. Disliked at school, unloved by family… a long and whining saga of how cruel the world has been to you.”
She snarls. “Grow up. Stop mewling like a spoiled child. If you’re so naïve to think that you’re the only one in the world who’s suffered because you’re different, then you’re either blind or an idiot… and neither quality makes for someone who will survive in the division I have the misfortune of having to share with the likes of you.”
She leans back in her throne. “The only reason I care about you is that you’re between me and my vengeance, whelp. The fact that the likes of you managed to get a win out of Shea O’Hara speaks well enough how vulnerable my old enemy has become. She’s losing her touch, while I’m doing better than I have in my entire career. I beat the woman who defeated her before Night of the Immortals, earned the title that she’s never managed to attain... though evidence suggests she's angling to change that.”
Rowan’s eyes gleam. “I know what you’re doing, Shea. I know how close you are. I know how hungry you are to come after me and my title, to take it from me in a match with a stipulation of your own choice. I welcome it. I want you to defeat Hunter at Extreme Endurance, I want you to win and win and win with that lesser belt and come for me with all of your strength, a head full of pride and thirst for retribution. There is nothing I look forward to more than crushing you there in that future arena. I am stronger now than I have ever been, while your will to fight is ebbing. I saw it when Keira beat you last week, since then I have been heady off the smell of your blood in the water. When we last met, Shea, you had the strength to defeat me time and again… But now I can say with absolute certainty that I… am better… than you”
She crosses her arms and laughs with savage hunger. “I’m coming for you, Shea. And I’ll break Keira when she tries to get in my way, just like I broke Astrid Hall. The two of you cannot fathom what Helena Sawyer and I are going to inflict upon you… I just hope that she is able to enjoy it.”
The camera pans back, showing two girls with paper headshots of Shea and Keira taped harshly to their faces like masks, chained to the floor and struggling to escape, muffled cries escaping their likely gagged mouths. Dean hands Rowan her kendo stick wrapped in barbed wire… stained brown with dried blood. Rowan stands and walks towards the two girls, the weapon resting on her shoulder. Her eyes flash gold.
“I know I will.”
She brings the weapon down in what looks to be a brutal, savage blow – but the camera feed cuts out a fraction of a second before it lands on the girl wearing Shea’s face.
Well howdy there pardner.