Post by Brooklyn on Sept 17, 2023 21:33:20 GMT
Brooklyn and April Madrox, the inseparable sisters of the wrestling world, had always shared a unique bond. While their paths had diverged briefly, leading them down different avenues within the industry, their connection remained unbreakable. One particular anecdote from their past stood out as a testament to their enduring sisterhood.
It was a hot summer's day in Las Vegas, a city known for its scorching temperatures, and the Madrox sisters had found themselves seeking refuge from the relentless sun in Brooklyn's modest apartment. Despite their hectic schedules and the demands of their wrestling careers, they cherished the rare moments they could spend together.
As they lounged on the couch, Brooklyn couldn't help but reminisce about the early days when they had first entered the wrestling scene together. She was already a rising star in the industry, while April had just made her debut in a different wrestling promotion. Those were the days when they had been each other's biggest fans, cheering on the sidelines as they pursued their dreams.
"Hey, you remember that time when you were first on the scene?" Brooklyn asked, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips.
April nodded, her expression fond. "First on the what? You mean, when I first gave this whole wrestling thing a try? Of course. It feels like a lifetime ago."
Brooklyn continued, her voice carrying a hint of nostalgia. "I remember” she says with a giggle, “You were just starting out in that little Mexican territory, and I was already doing my thing here in Imperial. Losing matches left and right, I’d hoped that I’d be able to experience the same success and recognition you got when you were first here."
April chuckled, recalling the mix of excitement and nervousness she had felt back then. "When I was first in IWF I was so green, Brooklyn. But you know what? Getting released from my contract was one of the best things that could have happened to me. I’d begun to give up hope that I’d ever make it, but you believed in me, even when I doubted myself."
"That's because I've always known you had the talent and the heart for this business, even when the wins and losses said otherwise" Brooklyn replied, her eyes reflecting the unwavering faith she had in her sister. "I remember one match in particular from back in the day when you faced this big, angry-looking chick who had been taunting you all week."
April leaned in, curious about the story her sister was about to share.
"I remember watching it on tv … It was this grueling, intense match," Brooklyn began, her gaze distant as she relived the memory. "I remember that chick, your opponent, she was relentless, and the crowd was pretty well split between the two of you.”
April laughed, “Yeah, half of them wanted her to win, and the other half wanted me to lose”
Brooklyn smacked her sister in the arm, “Stop it! Seriously though April, you showed incredible determination and resilience. You fought back against all odds, and when you finally pulled off that victory, the arena erupted in cheers."
April's eyes sparkled with a mixture of pride and gratitude. "I remember that moment. It was the first time I felt like I truly belonged in the wrestling world."
Brooklyn nodded, her voice filled with sisterly affection. "That was the moment when I knew you were destined for greatness, just like I had always believed. And now look at us, years later, and we're both here, making our mark in the industry."
April reached out and squeezed Brooklyn's hand, their unspoken bond saying more than words ever could. Despite their differences and the challenges they had faced, they had always supported and uplifted each other.
Brooklyn's gaze shifted to the Women's World Championship that rested on a nearby table, a constant reminder of her own journey and the legacy she was building. She turned to April with a determined glint in her eyes.
"You know, April, I've come a long way since those early days," Brooklyn said, her voice tinged with determination. "I've worked tirelessly to reach the top of the wrestling world, and I'm not about to let anyone take that away from me."
April smiled, understanding the fierce determination that fueled her sister's ambition. "I know, B. And I'll always be there to support you, no matter what."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the apartment, the Madrox sisters shared a moment of quiet camaraderie. Their journey through the world of professional wrestling had been filled with ups and downs, but they knew that as long as they had each other, they could conquer any challenge that lay ahead.
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In the quiet, dimly lit confines of an undisclosed location, Brooklyn Madrox sat alone, her thoughts swirling like a brewing storm. The room, devoid of any extravagance or adornment, mirrored her somber mood. A single dim light bulb hung from the ceiling, casting long shadows that danced on the cold, concrete floor.
Brooklyn's fingers drummed rhythmically on the armrest of her chair as she contemplated the upcoming challenge that irked her like a persistent thorn in her side. Caroline Machado, the perpetual optimist, was a source of unrelenting annoyance. Her constant positivity grated on Brooklyn's nerves, a stark contrast to the intense and unyielding persona she had cultivated as the Women's World Champion.
With a deep breath, Brooklyn leaned forward, her gaze locking onto an imaginary foe in the shadows. She couldn't help but let her frustration spill into her monologue.
"Caroline Machado," Brooklyn muttered, her voice heavy with disdain, "always with that damn smile. Always looking on the bright side of life, seeing that glass as half-full, and being little miss sunshine day after excruciating day.
Doesn't it ever just get a little tiresome, Care Bear? This whole act?
I mean, we've all seen you cut loose from time to time and drop a spicy word or two; so who are we really trying to kid? We both know that beneath all that glitter and lip gloss is a fierce little firefly wanting to shine - either than or you really are as dumb as you come across.
How you ever became champion a year ago astounds me.
Then again, if memory serves me you didn't really do much with the title the first time around anyway did you? Seventy days without a single title defense and, in fact, the first time the company makes you put the title on the line you go ahead and soil yourself in the middle of the ring.
And thus ended another illustrious reign.
Just another name on the list of people with wasted opportunities, women who held this title but never elevated it beyond being more than just a championship title
a trinket
a status symbol
something for your alumni newsletter.
The Women's World Championship was more than just a glistening gold belt; it was Brooklyn's symbol of dominance, a physical manifestation of her iron grip on the division. She had ascended to the summit of the women's wrestling world through sheer willpower and unyielding determination.
Five years and five months have separated my reigns as Women's World champion, and in that time I've seen countless of you waste the opportunity, Caroline. Absolutely waste it.
Ms. Can’t Miss, as Brooklyn had come to be known through the years, had surrounded herself with the best the industry had to offer since recapturing the Women's World title. Her stablemates, Vivienne Rodgers, Rowan MacDonnough, Astrid Hall, and her sister April, were not just allies; they were the embodiment of excellence, each having either held the Women's World Championship themselves or boasting impressive accolades.
"But you know who hasn't wasted the opportunities that they've worked for, Caroline? My sisters in violence." Brooklyn's voice gained an edge of pride. "Vivienne Rodgers, a former Women's World Champion, knows what it takes to reach the summit. She brings a level of intensity and brutality to her matches that once pushed even me to my limits. Our battles had left us both battered and bloodied, but we had also undeniably earned each other's respect.
Rowan MacDonnough, the enigmatic and unpredictable warrior, has been both ally and adversary. We have faced off in some of the most brutal encounters the wrestling world has ever seen, pushing each other to the brink of destruction. But in the end, we’ve formed an unbreakable bond, a mutual understanding of the sacrifices required to be a true champion. Rowan is a hall-of-fame talent and the woman who's pushed me to further than I ever thought possible. She is, without a shadow of doubt, the unstoppable force of IWF.
Astrid Hall, a powerhouse in her own right, has been dominating the women's division for years, and a constant source of inspiration. Astrid's incredible strength and unyielding determination had earned her numerous accolades and championship reigns. She was a role model for every aspiring wrestler in the company, a testament to what could be achieved through hard work and dedication.
And then there's my sister April, a technical wizard in the ring. April's expertise and wealth of knowledge has not only elevated my own skills but have also helped shape the next generation of wrestlers at the IWF Performance Centre.”
It was true, their bond as sisters had only strengthened their connection in the squared circle, and Brooklyn was proud to have her by her side.
"Individually, they're forces of nature," Brooklyn continued, her voice unwavering. "But together, they're unstoppable. They're not just my stablemates; they're my sisters, and together, we've built something special."
Brooklyn's thoughts drifted back to when the women's division had been a barren wasteland, a desolate landscape where talent had floundered, and the women had felt like afterthoughts. It had been a division devoid of excitement, a place where potential had withered away.
"Five years and five months, Caroline. Five years of watching this title be tossed around like a game of Pass the Parcel. The record books don't lie - twelve women held the title; an impressive number, but meaningless when you see champions padding their defenses against talent like Candi Kane, Kate Steele and Mandi Matthews. It's been quite some time since there was a champion who was dominant in her defenses. Which is where I come in," Brooklyn said, her voice carrying a hint of satisfaction. "See, when I took this title from Jennie Fenix, I swore that I would breathe new life into the women's division. I did it before, and I'm going to do it again. I'm going to make it something special, something worth fighting for. And look around Caroline ... now, more and more women are joining the company, with hopes of taking my title."
Brooklyn had become a beacon, a symbol of what it meant to be a true champion. She had elevated the division to new heights, and she welcomed all comers to step up and test their mettle against her. However, there was a condition—a stringent prerequisite.
"But first they have to prove their worthiness," Brooklyn declared, her voice filled with unwavering determination. "I don't just hand out title shots to anyone who asks for them. They have to earn it, just like I did. They have to show that they're willing to do whatever it takes to reach the top."
Brooklyn's dominance over the division was not solely about winning matches; it was about setting a standard, a platinum standard that others could aspire to. She had built a legacy, and she had no intention of letting anyone wrest it away from her.
"So, Care Bear," Brooklyn spoke her name like a warning, "if you think you can waltz in here with your perpetual smile and 'Everything is AWESOME!' nonsense and take my Women's World Championship, you're in for a rude awakening. You may be a former Women's Champion, but that fluke could not, and certainly WILL NOT ever happen again; especially under my watch. You've wasted your time training over at Days of Our Lives and spent far to much focus on drama and not enough on drop toe holds."
With a final, determined look at her Women's World Championship, Brooklyn Madrox rose from her chair, her body language reflecting her unyielding resolve. Her fingers curled into fists, and she clenched her jaw, ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead.
"Caroline," she declared, her voice brimming with a promise, "If I'm being completely honest here, you need to prepare yourself. Because when we step into that ring, I'm going to show you just how different our worlds are. You can smile all you want, but it won't save you from the beating I'm about to deliver."
With that, Brooklyn walked away from the camera, her footsteps echoing in the silence. She was ready to face whatever challenges lay ahead and continue her reign as the dominant force in the women's division, unwavering in her pursuit of greatness.
But Brooklyn knew that the wrestling world was ever-evolving, and new challengers would always emerge. She welcomed the competition, the hungry young talent eager to make a name for themselves. They were the division's future, the next generation of warriors looking to test their mettle against the best.
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Centralia, Pennsylvania—a town that had once been a part of Brooklyn Madrox's tumultuous past. It held memories of a life she had left behind, a life she had once shared with the rest of the Pack, including the man she had considered a brother, Dean Harper. As she returned to Centralia for the first time since the Pack's disbandment, Brooklyn couldn't help but feel a mixture of nostalgia and trepidation.
The abandoned streets of Centralia still bore the scars of their time there, and it seemed as if the town itself remembered their presence. The cracked asphalt and dilapidated houses stood as silent witnesses to their history.
Brooklyn, now the Women's World Champion once more, bore no sign of her occupation on her person, though she had contemplated bringing her title with her, not only as a symbol of her wrestling prowess but also as a reminder of the strength and determination she had found since leaving Centralia behind. But, deciding against it at the last minute, she boarded her plane sans title.
As she walked deeper into the heart of the town, memories of the past flooded her mind. Centralia had once been their refuge, a place where the Pack had lived and trained together. They had shared dreams and ambitions, and their bond had been unbreakable.
The ground beneath her feet felt strangely warm, a sensation that brought back memories of the underground fires that had raged beneath Centralia for decades. Those fires had played a part in their decision to leave, to disband the Pack and pursue their individual paths.
Whispers carried by the wind brushed against Brooklyn's ears, voices from the past that spoke of camaraderie and shared struggles. She could almost hear the laughter and banter of her Packmates, Rowan, Dean, Max, and the others. But those voices were just echoes now, faded and distant.
Suddenly, the ground trembled, and a low, ominous rumble echoed through the town, mirroring the turmoil that had led to the Pack's disbandment. The very earth seemed to be reminding Brooklyn of everything that had once been broken.
From the swirling smoke emerged shadowy figures, not spectral spirits this time, but memories given form. Brooklyn watched as her former Packmates materialized before her, their faces etched with both fondness and sadness. There was Rowan, her partner and love, Dean, the most loyal, a man she have taken a bullet for, Maxine, the one who taught her that power didn’t need to come from strength, and even Caleb, the gritty street fighter who had taught her more than a few underhanded tactics during their time together. Surrounding them were many of the others who had shared in their journey.
But Brooklyn was not the same woman who had left Centralia behind. She had grown stronger, both as a wrestler and as an individual. With a resolute expression, she raised her championship belt high, its glow intensifying with an otherworldly light.
The memories of her Packmates smiled at her, their expressions filled with pride. They were not here to challenge her but to acknowledge her growth and strength. Brooklyn knew that they had once been a part of her journey, a part of her past that had shaped her into the champion she had become.
As the echoes of the past began to fade, Brooklyn lowered her eyes to the graffitied pavement. She had confronted the memories of Centralia and the Pack's disbandment and emerged with a newfound sense of closure and acceptance.
With a final, lingering glance at the abandoned streets of Centralia, Brooklyn turned to leave, her footsteps echoing in the silence. She knew that she was no longer the woman who had once lived there, but the experiences and memories of Centralia would forever be a part of her forever.
Well howdy there pardner.