Post by Brooklyn on Jul 24, 2023 23:48:50 GMT
Brooklyn sighed, “Like a reverse Hot Pocket … got it. Okay, you win, I'll focus on something else then."
Rowan's voice softened with approval. "That's the spirit. Remember, you possess an inner strength that no supernatural force can replicate. It’s what makes you special. Trust in yourself, and never lose sight of the hope that lies within."
With those words echoing in her mind, Brooklyn gave Rowan her love and hung up the phone, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. She knew the road ahead would be challenging, but she was determined to navigate it with caution, perseverance, and the support of the medical community.
Brooklyn closed her journal, setting it aside. As she drifted off to sleep, she made a silent promise to herself—a promise to trust in the journey, to embrace the unknown, and to discover healing on her own terms, without succumbing to the allure of dangerous and uncharted paths; but also a promise not to close any doors, even if that meant going against Rowan. She’d forgive her in the end, though ….
The following days were a whirlwind of appointments with medical specialists, therapists, and alternative healers. Brooklyn threw herself into her pursuit of answers, determined to leave no stone unturned. She underwent a battery of tests, each one an attempt to understand the enigmatic forces that plagued her. Yet, despite the many examinations and consultations, the medical professionals remained as perplexed as she was.
As she walked back to her Las Vegas apartment after yet another appointment, frustration gnawed at her. It seemed like there was no escape from the torment that had taken hold of her life. The failed exorcism, the unanswered questions, and the relentless pain threatened to break her spirit.
In her apartment, she glanced at her journal, feeling a mix of weariness and determination. Maybe Rowan had been right all along, but there was just something she couldn’t shake about the Morrigan. Brooklyn opened her journal and began scribbling down her thoughts, listing all the specialists she had seen, the tests she had taken, and the promising leads that had turned into dead ends.
Time seemed to stretch as Brooklyn lost herself in her writings, searching for patterns, any sign that might unlock the puzzle of her affliction. Hours passed, the evening turned into night, but Brooklyn was relentless in her pursuit of understanding.
As she reached the last page of her journal, her hand stopped mid-stroke, and she stared at the words she had written. Something clicked in her mind. The correlation between the nights of agony and the intensity of her wrestling matches became clearer. She recalled how the pain had intensified during the final moments of her championship bouts, moments where she pushed herself to her physical limits.
Her heart raced with excitement and trepidation as she realized that the answers she sought might actually lie so close within her grasp.
A wave of determination washed over her as Brooklyn picked up her phone and quickly punched in Rowan's number. It had barely rung once when Rowan answered, Brooklyn spoke with newfound resolve, and the speed of an overcaffinated chipmunk. "Ro, I think I've figured something out. The link … the link between my all this pain I’m in … it's like my body is reacting to this … this … extreme physical exertion."
There was a brief pause on the line before Rowan responded, "Are you saying that wrestling could be the cause of your suffering?"
"No," Brooklyn replied, her voice steadying,"I think it might actually be the solution. Wrestling has always been a part of me, a force that has defined who I am. It’s always demanded more than what I could give, but I always just gave what I had - just like you taught me. But I think maybe it's time to harness that power, to use it to heal instead of hurting myself."
Rowan was silent for a moment before finally speaking, her voice tinged with caution, "Brooklyn, I understand your passion, but you must be careful. You've seen the consequences of tampering with forces beyond your control."
Brooklyn nodded, even though Rowan couldn't see her. "I know, and I won't make the same mistake again. But it's part of who I am. Maybe it's time to embrace that aspect of myself fully. You know, give up my control and just let it take over."
Rowan sighed, realizing the depth of Brooklyn's conviction. "If you're going to do this, you need to be prepared. Don't push yourself too hard, listen to your body. Your physical well-being must come first."
Brooklyn agreed, understanding the importance of temperance. "I promise, I'll be careful. And Ro, thank you for always being there for me, even when I don't listen."
"I'll always be here for you, Brooklyn," Rowan replied, her voice softening, "Now go, chase your destiny, but remember, you're never alone in this journey."
As the call ended, Brooklyn felt a mixture of excitement and nerves. She knew the road ahead would be challenging, learning to just ‘let go’ and stop holding back was something foreign to her, but with Rowan's guidance and support, she new she could do anything.
Anything.
The word kept echoing inside her head, repeating itself over and over again.
Anything.
All she needed to do was give herself over to this force that drove her. Holding back a part of herself had been slowly killing her … maybe. Now though? Now she had to figure out just how too ‘let go’ - that and stop worrying about the ‘what ifs’ that naturally came along with that.
She’d been through so much in her short time on this Earth, but her perseverance had always been what set her apart from the rest. She tried meditating on this, clearing her mind of everything and trying to find that little spark of fear and self preservation that was buried down deep inside.
That spark had to be extinguished.
It had to be squelched, and cut out of her psyche lest she continue down the path she was on; an endless cycle of pain and anger with no real understanding of their connection.
She had to let go.
That night, as she laid her head on her pillow a small chuckle broke the silence of the room as she, for the briefest of moments, thought about praying for help letting this go. But, in the end, the only god that mattered to her, that was worth communicating with, was halfway across the country. So instead, she drifted off to sleep thinking of Rowan.
Her dreams that night were vivid and indistinguishable from reality. Lucid beyond anything that she’d ever experienced.
It was the day of the PPV match against Jennie at Bloody Assizes, and as she stood in the locker room, she could feel her heart pounding with anticipation. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, seeing the fierce determination, and amber glow, in her eyes. This wasn't just another wrestling match; it was a battle for her physical and emotional well-being.
The dream skipped ahead and she quickly found herself stepping into the ring, the crowd erupting in cheers, the energy electrifying the air. Brooklyn felt a newfound sense of purpose, a resolve to let herself give in to this passion. She faced Jennie Fenix, knowing that this match would be more than just a rivalry; it would be a testament to her strength and resilience.
The bell rang, and the adrenaline that only a moment before had been coursing through her veins seemed to disappear and be replaced with something cool and calming. Brooklyn moved with grace and precision, tapping into the force that had always driven her in the ring. But this time, she didn’t hold back, no longer careful not to push herself too far, letting the force take the wheel. With each move, she felt a sense of liberation, a realization that wrestling wasn't just a competitive sport, but a means of connecting with her inner self.
As the match reached its climax, Brooklyn and Jennie exchanged fierce moves and near falls, the crowd on the edge of their seats. It was an intense battle, a clash of wills, and an embodiment of the strength that defined both competitors.
Finally, Brooklyn seemed to watch as time slowed to a crawl, Jennie moving at a fraction of her normal speed while Brooklyn smiled and easily moved about the ring outmatching the challenger and driving Jennie into the canvas with force never before felt. Brooklyn felt calmness as she reached down, pressing her palms against Jennie’s chest and pinning her to the mat for the three-count. The referee's hand slapped the canvas, declaring Brooklyn Madrox the winner.
She heard the crowd erupting into cheers, celebrating the hard-fought victory. But for Brooklyn, the noise of the crowd seemed to mute as she looked around the arena. She realized that the win held a deeper significance. It wasn't just about defending the title or defeating her rival; it was a testament to the power of embracing who, and what, she was.
She was a force of nature given human form.
As she stood victorious, her championship belt held high above her head, Brooklyn felt a sense of peace wash over her. She had unlocked the key to her healing journey—embracing her passion and using it to connect with her true self.
Her dream continued to fast forward, her mind tapping into the possibilities that in the weeks that followed, Brooklyn would continue her career with newfound purpose and direction. With each match, she felt the pain and torment lessen, replaced by a sense of fulfillment and empowerment. And as she continued to step into the ring, she knew that she was not just the IWF Women's World Champion; she was a warrior, a force to be reckoned with, and a testament to the strength that lies within embracing one's true self.
Brooklyn’s eyes opened the next morning, a smile already on her face. And in that realization, she found not only healing but the embodiment of what it truly means to be a champion—someone who rises above adversity, embraces their passion, and defies all odds to become the best version of themselves.
Brooklyn Madrox was many things; cunning, fierce, unwavering, charismatic, and tenacious. But now, a new adjective rose to the surface above all the others.
Dangerous.
-------------------------------------------------------
The Las Vegas sun sets in the distance, casting a warm glow over Brooklyn Madrox's minimalistic apartment. The room is immaculate, with sleek furniture and a few tasteful decorations scattered about. In the center of the space stands Brooklyn, the reigning IWF Women's World Champion, clad in her signature ring gear, her championship belt glistening in the dim light. Her piercing blue eyes reflect a calm and composed demeanor, the epitome of the champion she has become.
"The IWF Women's World Championship," she says, her voice steady and assured, "it’s a title that represents more than just a gold-plated accessory. It's a symbol of dedication, of sacrifice, of pushing oneself beyond limits to reach the pinnacle of this sport. Anyone capable of holding this position should understand this and strive for nothing less than to be the standard. And that's exactly what I've done."
As she speaks, her gaze locks onto the championship belt resting on the nearby table. She reaches out and gently runs her fingers across its engravings, each marking a milestone in her illustrious career.
"You see," Brooklyn continues, her voice remaining cool and collected, "In my time I've faced some of the best in this industry, literal Hall-of-Fame entrants who came knocking on my door, desperate to take this title away from me. They came with their accolades, their reputations, and their grandiose names, thinking they could overshadow my hard work and determination. But they all failed in the end."
She takes a step back, her eyes narrowing as the fire within her begins to flicker. The memories of those hard-fought battles surge through her, reigniting the passion that fuels her every move.
"It's funny, really," she says, her voice growing more animated, "Jennie Fenix is no different from those Hall-of-Famers. She thinks her last name is a golden ticket to success. Well, let me make one thing abundantly clear: her last name may get her recognition in other companies, but it means absolutely nothing here. In the IWF, we don't hand out opportunities based on family connections or famous relatives; just ask any of the Kane children."
Brooklyn's voice rises, her frustration evident as she speaks of her rival. She circles the room, her movements purposeful, like a lioness prowling its territory.
"We’ve all seen her in action, and we’ve seen her attitude," she continues, her voice growing heated, "Jennie cares about one thing and one thing only - herself. She doesn't care about elevating the women's division or pushing it to new heights. All she cares about is holding that title, thinking it somehow validates her existence; that being a champion is the only thing that matters. Trying to collect titles like Infinity Stones, but not understanding that being a champion isn’t just about titles … accolades … spotlight."
Her hands clench into fists, her knuckles turning white, but she takes a deep breath, regaining her composure.
"In a different world," Brooklyn says, her voice chillingly calm, "maybe I could have respected her as a competitor. But she's shown time and time again how little she cares for the IWF women's division. It's all about her, her glory, her name in lights.
And I’ve tried … oh lord I’ve tried to give you chances. But it seems like whenever you and I get within swinging distance of each other that’s exactly what happens. Twice in now in as many weeks we’ve faced off against, and with, each other in tag team action and both times you’ve disappointed me, Jennie.
Two times now you’ve decided that you were bigger than the match, bigger than the moment, and tried to put yourself into a position to be in that spotlight."
Brooklyn's gaze settles on her championship belt, and for a moment, she stands there in silence, her thoughts racing.
"But you know what?" she says, her voice now laced with determination, "I'm not going to let your ego overshadow what I've achieved. I am the Women's World Champion, and there's a reason for that. I've fought against all odds, defied every challenge that’s been thrown my way, and risen to the top. And there's nothing Jennie Fenix can say, or do, to change that.
‘Oh, but Brook - didn’t you hear? The girls out back are saying you didn’t earn your shot.’
Did I win the Heiress to the Throne tournament?
No.
Did I win the Joker in the Pack briefcase?
Nope.
Ace in the Hole?
Is that even a thing?
Did management take a long, hard look at each and every one of your faces backstage and say to themselves, ‘man, we’ve got to do something here because these chicks aren’t ready’?
Yup.
And that’s what burns the most. That management looked past the Fionas, the Carolines, past the Taras and Black Widows to someone who they knew they could bank on. Until I made my return to IWF there wasn’t a single on of you who could have stood a chance at beating Jennie for this title. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth - none of you would have been able to do what I did, and what I’m going to do again."
Her words hang in the air, the weight of her convictions palpable. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as she brings her focus back to the present.
"This match, our little get-together at Bloody Assizes," Brooklyn says, her voice steady once more, "it's not just about the title. It's about proving who is the best in this company, who truly deserves to be the champion. And I will show the world, and each and every one of you women out back just why I am that woman."
She turns back to face the camera, her eyes locking onto the lens with unyielding intensity.
"I am not just ‘A’ champion," Brooklyn declares, her voice echoing with resolve, "I am ‘THE’ champion. I’m what elevates this title, and not the other way around. I am the embodiment of the passion and dedication that drives women's wrestling forward. And at Bloody Assizes, I will leave no doubt - I am the one who deserves to hold this championship high."
With a final, determined nod, Brooklyn steps away from the camera, her silhouette framed against the sunset. In the upcoming clash with Jennie Fenix, she knows that the battle will be fierce, but she is prepared to face it head-on. As the reigning champion, she will rise above, proving once and for all that she is not just a wrestler but a force to be reckoned with. And with the weight of her victories and the passion in her heart, Brooklyn Madrox stands ready to claim her place as the true queen of the IWF Women's Division.
The clouds above Las Vegas continued to shift, revealing the full moon once more. It’s glow casting a cool light through the window of her apartment, Brooklyn Madrox found herself on the phone with her sister April. The anticipation for her upcoming match against Jennie Fenix at Bloody Assizes weighed heavily on her mind, and she welcomed the distraction of their conversation, hoping it would offer some reassurance and support.
"Hey, you," Brooklyn greeted her sister with a forced cheerfulness, trying to mask the nervousness that lurked beneath the surface.
"Hey, yourself," April's voice was tinged with concern, and Brooklyn knew all too well what was coming next.
"I can't stop thinking about the match, Brooklyn," April admitted, her worry palpable. "Are you sure you're medically up for this? After that exorcism incident, I can't help but fear that you might not be ready."
Brooklyn's jaw clenched, and frustration simmered in her tone. "April, I've been over this with you countless times. I'm fine. The exorcism didn't go as planned, but that's in the past. The doctors have cleared me, and I've been training harder than ever."
April's voice wavered as she continued, "I know, but I can't help worrying. You're my sister, and I love you. I just don't want to see you get hurt, especially in the ring with someone as tough as Jennie. She's relentless, and you know how intense those matches can be."
Brooklyn closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She understood her sister's concern, but she needed her unwavering support now more than ever. "I appreciate your concern, April, really, but I need you to trust me. I've been doing this for years now. I mean, I'm the Women's World Champion here, and I've faced opponents much tougher than Jennie. I know what I'm doing."
"But what if something goes wrong? What if you get hurt?" April's voice cracked, her love for her sister evident in her fear.
Brooklyn's frustration reached its peak, and she couldn't hold it back any longer. "April, I'm not some fragile flower! I've been through worse in this business, and I've come out on top every. single. time. I can handle myself, okay?"
"Look, I know you're tough, Brook, we all do ... but you're not invincible," April's voice trembled, her worry for her sister overpowering any other emotion.
"I never said I was," Brooklyn's words were sharper than she intended, but she couldn't help it. "I just need you to have faith in me. This match is not just about the title; it's about proving to everyone that I am the best in this company. I've worked my ass off for this, and I won't let anyone doubt me or my abilities."
The silence on the other end of the line was heavy with emotions, and Brooklyn softened her tone. "Look I'm sor ... sorr ... ugh ... April, you know I love you, right?"
"I do," April's voice was small, filled with vulnerability.
"Then trust me on this," Brooklyn pleaded. "I need you to be in my corner, supporting me like you always have. You know I can't do this without you."
April's voice quivered as she replied, "I want to support you, Brooklyn, but I'm just so scared for you. Maybe I should talk to someone at the Performance Centre, get them to look into this and make sure you're really okay."
Now it was Brooklyn's turn to feel conflicted. She understood her sister's concern, but she also needed her unwavering support. "If it would ease your mind, talk to Pooler," Brooklyn suggested, referring to the head of the IWF Performance Centre. "Get his opinion on this, and if he gives you the green light and thinks I'm good-to-go, then maybe you'll finally see that I'm ready for this match."
April hesitated, torn between her love for her sister and her need to ensure her safety. "I guess that's fair. I'll talk to him and see what he says."
"Thank you," Brooklyn's voice softened, grateful that her sister was at least considering her perspective. "Now, try to relax a bit. I promise you, I'll be okay. This is just another challenge, and I'm going to overcome it like I always do."
"I hope so," April said, her worry still evident.
"I love you, April," Brooklyn whispered, her heart heavy with emotions.
"I love you too, sis," April replied softly.
As the call ended, April was left feeling torn and unsure of what to do. She wanted to support her sister, but she couldn't shake her worry. She knew she needed to clear her concerns, but the thought of potentially disrupting her sister's preparation weighed heavily on her.
The future of Brooklyn's match against Jennie now hinged on April's decision. A decision that could impact not only the upcoming bout but also the bond between the sisters. The weight of uncertainty hung in the air, leaving both Brooklyn and April on edge as they navigated the challenging road ahead.
Rowan's voice softened with approval. "That's the spirit. Remember, you possess an inner strength that no supernatural force can replicate. It’s what makes you special. Trust in yourself, and never lose sight of the hope that lies within."
With those words echoing in her mind, Brooklyn gave Rowan her love and hung up the phone, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. She knew the road ahead would be challenging, but she was determined to navigate it with caution, perseverance, and the support of the medical community.
Brooklyn closed her journal, setting it aside. As she drifted off to sleep, she made a silent promise to herself—a promise to trust in the journey, to embrace the unknown, and to discover healing on her own terms, without succumbing to the allure of dangerous and uncharted paths; but also a promise not to close any doors, even if that meant going against Rowan. She’d forgive her in the end, though ….
…
The following days were a whirlwind of appointments with medical specialists, therapists, and alternative healers. Brooklyn threw herself into her pursuit of answers, determined to leave no stone unturned. She underwent a battery of tests, each one an attempt to understand the enigmatic forces that plagued her. Yet, despite the many examinations and consultations, the medical professionals remained as perplexed as she was.
As she walked back to her Las Vegas apartment after yet another appointment, frustration gnawed at her. It seemed like there was no escape from the torment that had taken hold of her life. The failed exorcism, the unanswered questions, and the relentless pain threatened to break her spirit.
In her apartment, she glanced at her journal, feeling a mix of weariness and determination. Maybe Rowan had been right all along, but there was just something she couldn’t shake about the Morrigan. Brooklyn opened her journal and began scribbling down her thoughts, listing all the specialists she had seen, the tests she had taken, and the promising leads that had turned into dead ends.
Time seemed to stretch as Brooklyn lost herself in her writings, searching for patterns, any sign that might unlock the puzzle of her affliction. Hours passed, the evening turned into night, but Brooklyn was relentless in her pursuit of understanding.
As she reached the last page of her journal, her hand stopped mid-stroke, and she stared at the words she had written. Something clicked in her mind. The correlation between the nights of agony and the intensity of her wrestling matches became clearer. She recalled how the pain had intensified during the final moments of her championship bouts, moments where she pushed herself to her physical limits.
Her heart raced with excitement and trepidation as she realized that the answers she sought might actually lie so close within her grasp.
A wave of determination washed over her as Brooklyn picked up her phone and quickly punched in Rowan's number. It had barely rung once when Rowan answered, Brooklyn spoke with newfound resolve, and the speed of an overcaffinated chipmunk. "Ro, I think I've figured something out. The link … the link between my all this pain I’m in … it's like my body is reacting to this … this … extreme physical exertion."
There was a brief pause on the line before Rowan responded, "Are you saying that wrestling could be the cause of your suffering?"
"No," Brooklyn replied, her voice steadying,"I think it might actually be the solution. Wrestling has always been a part of me, a force that has defined who I am. It’s always demanded more than what I could give, but I always just gave what I had - just like you taught me. But I think maybe it's time to harness that power, to use it to heal instead of hurting myself."
Rowan was silent for a moment before finally speaking, her voice tinged with caution, "Brooklyn, I understand your passion, but you must be careful. You've seen the consequences of tampering with forces beyond your control."
Brooklyn nodded, even though Rowan couldn't see her. "I know, and I won't make the same mistake again. But it's part of who I am. Maybe it's time to embrace that aspect of myself fully. You know, give up my control and just let it take over."
Rowan sighed, realizing the depth of Brooklyn's conviction. "If you're going to do this, you need to be prepared. Don't push yourself too hard, listen to your body. Your physical well-being must come first."
Brooklyn agreed, understanding the importance of temperance. "I promise, I'll be careful. And Ro, thank you for always being there for me, even when I don't listen."
"I'll always be here for you, Brooklyn," Rowan replied, her voice softening, "Now go, chase your destiny, but remember, you're never alone in this journey."
As the call ended, Brooklyn felt a mixture of excitement and nerves. She knew the road ahead would be challenging, learning to just ‘let go’ and stop holding back was something foreign to her, but with Rowan's guidance and support, she new she could do anything.
Anything.
The word kept echoing inside her head, repeating itself over and over again.
Anything.
All she needed to do was give herself over to this force that drove her. Holding back a part of herself had been slowly killing her … maybe. Now though? Now she had to figure out just how too ‘let go’ - that and stop worrying about the ‘what ifs’ that naturally came along with that.
She’d been through so much in her short time on this Earth, but her perseverance had always been what set her apart from the rest. She tried meditating on this, clearing her mind of everything and trying to find that little spark of fear and self preservation that was buried down deep inside.
That spark had to be extinguished.
It had to be squelched, and cut out of her psyche lest she continue down the path she was on; an endless cycle of pain and anger with no real understanding of their connection.
She had to let go.
That night, as she laid her head on her pillow a small chuckle broke the silence of the room as she, for the briefest of moments, thought about praying for help letting this go. But, in the end, the only god that mattered to her, that was worth communicating with, was halfway across the country. So instead, she drifted off to sleep thinking of Rowan.
Her dreams that night were vivid and indistinguishable from reality. Lucid beyond anything that she’d ever experienced.
It was the day of the PPV match against Jennie at Bloody Assizes, and as she stood in the locker room, she could feel her heart pounding with anticipation. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror, seeing the fierce determination, and amber glow, in her eyes. This wasn't just another wrestling match; it was a battle for her physical and emotional well-being.
The dream skipped ahead and she quickly found herself stepping into the ring, the crowd erupting in cheers, the energy electrifying the air. Brooklyn felt a newfound sense of purpose, a resolve to let herself give in to this passion. She faced Jennie Fenix, knowing that this match would be more than just a rivalry; it would be a testament to her strength and resilience.
The bell rang, and the adrenaline that only a moment before had been coursing through her veins seemed to disappear and be replaced with something cool and calming. Brooklyn moved with grace and precision, tapping into the force that had always driven her in the ring. But this time, she didn’t hold back, no longer careful not to push herself too far, letting the force take the wheel. With each move, she felt a sense of liberation, a realization that wrestling wasn't just a competitive sport, but a means of connecting with her inner self.
As the match reached its climax, Brooklyn and Jennie exchanged fierce moves and near falls, the crowd on the edge of their seats. It was an intense battle, a clash of wills, and an embodiment of the strength that defined both competitors.
Finally, Brooklyn seemed to watch as time slowed to a crawl, Jennie moving at a fraction of her normal speed while Brooklyn smiled and easily moved about the ring outmatching the challenger and driving Jennie into the canvas with force never before felt. Brooklyn felt calmness as she reached down, pressing her palms against Jennie’s chest and pinning her to the mat for the three-count. The referee's hand slapped the canvas, declaring Brooklyn Madrox the winner.
She heard the crowd erupting into cheers, celebrating the hard-fought victory. But for Brooklyn, the noise of the crowd seemed to mute as she looked around the arena. She realized that the win held a deeper significance. It wasn't just about defending the title or defeating her rival; it was a testament to the power of embracing who, and what, she was.
She was a force of nature given human form.
As she stood victorious, her championship belt held high above her head, Brooklyn felt a sense of peace wash over her. She had unlocked the key to her healing journey—embracing her passion and using it to connect with her true self.
Her dream continued to fast forward, her mind tapping into the possibilities that in the weeks that followed, Brooklyn would continue her career with newfound purpose and direction. With each match, she felt the pain and torment lessen, replaced by a sense of fulfillment and empowerment. And as she continued to step into the ring, she knew that she was not just the IWF Women's World Champion; she was a warrior, a force to be reckoned with, and a testament to the strength that lies within embracing one's true self.
Brooklyn’s eyes opened the next morning, a smile already on her face. And in that realization, she found not only healing but the embodiment of what it truly means to be a champion—someone who rises above adversity, embraces their passion, and defies all odds to become the best version of themselves.
Brooklyn Madrox was many things; cunning, fierce, unwavering, charismatic, and tenacious. But now, a new adjective rose to the surface above all the others.
Dangerous.
-------------------------------------------------------
The Las Vegas sun sets in the distance, casting a warm glow over Brooklyn Madrox's minimalistic apartment. The room is immaculate, with sleek furniture and a few tasteful decorations scattered about. In the center of the space stands Brooklyn, the reigning IWF Women's World Champion, clad in her signature ring gear, her championship belt glistening in the dim light. Her piercing blue eyes reflect a calm and composed demeanor, the epitome of the champion she has become.
"The IWF Women's World Championship," she says, her voice steady and assured, "it’s a title that represents more than just a gold-plated accessory. It's a symbol of dedication, of sacrifice, of pushing oneself beyond limits to reach the pinnacle of this sport. Anyone capable of holding this position should understand this and strive for nothing less than to be the standard. And that's exactly what I've done."
As she speaks, her gaze locks onto the championship belt resting on the nearby table. She reaches out and gently runs her fingers across its engravings, each marking a milestone in her illustrious career.
"You see," Brooklyn continues, her voice remaining cool and collected, "In my time I've faced some of the best in this industry, literal Hall-of-Fame entrants who came knocking on my door, desperate to take this title away from me. They came with their accolades, their reputations, and their grandiose names, thinking they could overshadow my hard work and determination. But they all failed in the end."
She takes a step back, her eyes narrowing as the fire within her begins to flicker. The memories of those hard-fought battles surge through her, reigniting the passion that fuels her every move.
"It's funny, really," she says, her voice growing more animated, "Jennie Fenix is no different from those Hall-of-Famers. She thinks her last name is a golden ticket to success. Well, let me make one thing abundantly clear: her last name may get her recognition in other companies, but it means absolutely nothing here. In the IWF, we don't hand out opportunities based on family connections or famous relatives; just ask any of the Kane children."
Brooklyn's voice rises, her frustration evident as she speaks of her rival. She circles the room, her movements purposeful, like a lioness prowling its territory.
"We’ve all seen her in action, and we’ve seen her attitude," she continues, her voice growing heated, "Jennie cares about one thing and one thing only - herself. She doesn't care about elevating the women's division or pushing it to new heights. All she cares about is holding that title, thinking it somehow validates her existence; that being a champion is the only thing that matters. Trying to collect titles like Infinity Stones, but not understanding that being a champion isn’t just about titles … accolades … spotlight."
Her hands clench into fists, her knuckles turning white, but she takes a deep breath, regaining her composure.
"In a different world," Brooklyn says, her voice chillingly calm, "maybe I could have respected her as a competitor. But she's shown time and time again how little she cares for the IWF women's division. It's all about her, her glory, her name in lights.
And I’ve tried … oh lord I’ve tried to give you chances. But it seems like whenever you and I get within swinging distance of each other that’s exactly what happens. Twice in now in as many weeks we’ve faced off against, and with, each other in tag team action and both times you’ve disappointed me, Jennie.
Two times now you’ve decided that you were bigger than the match, bigger than the moment, and tried to put yourself into a position to be in that spotlight."
Brooklyn's gaze settles on her championship belt, and for a moment, she stands there in silence, her thoughts racing.
"But you know what?" she says, her voice now laced with determination, "I'm not going to let your ego overshadow what I've achieved. I am the Women's World Champion, and there's a reason for that. I've fought against all odds, defied every challenge that’s been thrown my way, and risen to the top. And there's nothing Jennie Fenix can say, or do, to change that.
‘Oh, but Brook - didn’t you hear? The girls out back are saying you didn’t earn your shot.’
Did I win the Heiress to the Throne tournament?
No.
Did I win the Joker in the Pack briefcase?
Nope.
Ace in the Hole?
Is that even a thing?
Did management take a long, hard look at each and every one of your faces backstage and say to themselves, ‘man, we’ve got to do something here because these chicks aren’t ready’?
Yup.
And that’s what burns the most. That management looked past the Fionas, the Carolines, past the Taras and Black Widows to someone who they knew they could bank on. Until I made my return to IWF there wasn’t a single on of you who could have stood a chance at beating Jennie for this title. I’m sorry, but that’s the truth - none of you would have been able to do what I did, and what I’m going to do again."
Her words hang in the air, the weight of her convictions palpable. She takes a deep breath, her shoulders relaxing as she brings her focus back to the present.
"This match, our little get-together at Bloody Assizes," Brooklyn says, her voice steady once more, "it's not just about the title. It's about proving who is the best in this company, who truly deserves to be the champion. And I will show the world, and each and every one of you women out back just why I am that woman."
She turns back to face the camera, her eyes locking onto the lens with unyielding intensity.
"I am not just ‘A’ champion," Brooklyn declares, her voice echoing with resolve, "I am ‘THE’ champion. I’m what elevates this title, and not the other way around. I am the embodiment of the passion and dedication that drives women's wrestling forward. And at Bloody Assizes, I will leave no doubt - I am the one who deserves to hold this championship high."
With a final, determined nod, Brooklyn steps away from the camera, her silhouette framed against the sunset. In the upcoming clash with Jennie Fenix, she knows that the battle will be fierce, but she is prepared to face it head-on. As the reigning champion, she will rise above, proving once and for all that she is not just a wrestler but a force to be reckoned with. And with the weight of her victories and the passion in her heart, Brooklyn Madrox stands ready to claim her place as the true queen of the IWF Women's Division.
-------------------------------------------------------
The clouds above Las Vegas continued to shift, revealing the full moon once more. It’s glow casting a cool light through the window of her apartment, Brooklyn Madrox found herself on the phone with her sister April. The anticipation for her upcoming match against Jennie Fenix at Bloody Assizes weighed heavily on her mind, and she welcomed the distraction of their conversation, hoping it would offer some reassurance and support.
"Hey, you," Brooklyn greeted her sister with a forced cheerfulness, trying to mask the nervousness that lurked beneath the surface.
"Hey, yourself," April's voice was tinged with concern, and Brooklyn knew all too well what was coming next.
"I can't stop thinking about the match, Brooklyn," April admitted, her worry palpable. "Are you sure you're medically up for this? After that exorcism incident, I can't help but fear that you might not be ready."
Brooklyn's jaw clenched, and frustration simmered in her tone. "April, I've been over this with you countless times. I'm fine. The exorcism didn't go as planned, but that's in the past. The doctors have cleared me, and I've been training harder than ever."
April's voice wavered as she continued, "I know, but I can't help worrying. You're my sister, and I love you. I just don't want to see you get hurt, especially in the ring with someone as tough as Jennie. She's relentless, and you know how intense those matches can be."
Brooklyn closed her eyes, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She understood her sister's concern, but she needed her unwavering support now more than ever. "I appreciate your concern, April, really, but I need you to trust me. I've been doing this for years now. I mean, I'm the Women's World Champion here, and I've faced opponents much tougher than Jennie. I know what I'm doing."
"But what if something goes wrong? What if you get hurt?" April's voice cracked, her love for her sister evident in her fear.
Brooklyn's frustration reached its peak, and she couldn't hold it back any longer. "April, I'm not some fragile flower! I've been through worse in this business, and I've come out on top every. single. time. I can handle myself, okay?"
"Look, I know you're tough, Brook, we all do ... but you're not invincible," April's voice trembled, her worry for her sister overpowering any other emotion.
"I never said I was," Brooklyn's words were sharper than she intended, but she couldn't help it. "I just need you to have faith in me. This match is not just about the title; it's about proving to everyone that I am the best in this company. I've worked my ass off for this, and I won't let anyone doubt me or my abilities."
The silence on the other end of the line was heavy with emotions, and Brooklyn softened her tone. "Look I'm sor ... sorr ... ugh ... April, you know I love you, right?"
"I do," April's voice was small, filled with vulnerability.
"Then trust me on this," Brooklyn pleaded. "I need you to be in my corner, supporting me like you always have. You know I can't do this without you."
April's voice quivered as she replied, "I want to support you, Brooklyn, but I'm just so scared for you. Maybe I should talk to someone at the Performance Centre, get them to look into this and make sure you're really okay."
Now it was Brooklyn's turn to feel conflicted. She understood her sister's concern, but she also needed her unwavering support. "If it would ease your mind, talk to Pooler," Brooklyn suggested, referring to the head of the IWF Performance Centre. "Get his opinion on this, and if he gives you the green light and thinks I'm good-to-go, then maybe you'll finally see that I'm ready for this match."
April hesitated, torn between her love for her sister and her need to ensure her safety. "I guess that's fair. I'll talk to him and see what he says."
"Thank you," Brooklyn's voice softened, grateful that her sister was at least considering her perspective. "Now, try to relax a bit. I promise you, I'll be okay. This is just another challenge, and I'm going to overcome it like I always do."
"I hope so," April said, her worry still evident.
"I love you, April," Brooklyn whispered, her heart heavy with emotions.
"I love you too, sis," April replied softly.
As the call ended, April was left feeling torn and unsure of what to do. She wanted to support her sister, but she couldn't shake her worry. She knew she needed to clear her concerns, but the thought of potentially disrupting her sister's preparation weighed heavily on her.
The future of Brooklyn's match against Jennie now hinged on April's decision. A decision that could impact not only the upcoming bout but also the bond between the sisters. The weight of uncertainty hung in the air, leaving both Brooklyn and April on edge as they navigated the challenging road ahead.