Post by emmanuelle on Sept 23, 2023 8:41:59 GMT
“Are you ready?”
“I could ask you the same thing, you know? You’re under very much the same situation that I am, Emmy.”
“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you were ready, girl.”
“....I think so?”
“Just admit it, you’re nervous.”
“Oh, Emmy, I don’t really know. It’s a high-pressure situation.”
“You’re nervous.”
“Really, I’m not!”
“Sonya, the first step to dealing with a problem is admitting you have one!”
Emmaneulle had her bags packed. The next few days were about to be a whirlwind of activity. San Jose then Kansas City for three matches in two nights. For now, though, she was comfortable in her bed, relaxing and chatting on the phone with her best friend in the world. Sonya. A wrestler in her own right, she had called Emmy the night before one of the biggest matches in her career. Biggest two matches, actually. Much like her friend, Emmy, she had double duty to pull as well, one of her matches being a championship match. Emmy knew all about those. She knew what it was like to have her hard work and determination rewarded with victory…and knew how much defeat stung. Her friend, still seeking her first major title, was a nervous wreck and called her for advice.
“Okay. I’m nervous. Very nervous. I mean, don’t you ever get nervous for matches anymore?”
“Always. Always. When you don’t have that fire in your belly, you shouldn’t be at it. I get it every time I step into the ring. But the thing is…we learn to control those emotions. You control fear, your nerves, your excitement, your anger, whatever it is. You can’t let your emotions get in the way of the task at hand!”
“It’s strange. I usually tell you things like that.”
“Well, it’s different when you’re away from the sport like you were, giving up your time to travel with me. Now you’re on your own, in the thick of it, really getting your first full taste of wrestling life. But you’ve got a chance to do something special. You’ve got a chance to win your very first title! Just embrace the nerves, embrace that the situation is new and excites you…and just go for it! Whatever happens, it happens.”
“Thanks, Emmy. Hey ... .about Those Murders…that group?”
“What about em?”
“I’ve seen that things have gotten a little rough for you when it comes to dealing with them. Are you sure you’re going to be alright with them? You’re like a sister to me, I don’t mind coming to help.”
“....Meh, I’m good.”
“....Are you sure?”
“Yep. I’m going to make sure that I send them a message loud and clear in San Jose. I’ve got a plan, so don’t worry about it. I’ll call you if I need you.”
“....Alright. I’ll hold you to that. Please, just be careful. You’ve got so many things going on, making so many enemies all over the place. Don’t get yourself into more trouble than you can handle.”
“You worry too much! This is Emmy you’re talking about here!”
“....That’s exactly why I’m worried!”
The Next Day
San Jose, California
San Jose High School
It’s getting close to sundown in San Jose and Emmy is out, not in her usual glamorous look but a simple pair of jeans, a UCLA pullover and a baseball cap with the same powder blue and gold ensemble as her jacket. There’s no quirky speech or hype or props, it’s Emmaneulle Alicia DiNardo standing in front of the camera, not so much The Platinum Standard. She gestures around to the school's buildings, taking a moment to look at the gymnasium especially.
“Here. My wrestling career pretty much started in a building like this. In fact, buildings all across California, Oregon, Utah, Arizona. Before I blew up like a supernova and started taking over the wrestling game, I was in places like this. I fought, I busted my ass and I got myself noticed. Now there’s not a promotion in the world who doesn’t want Emmanuelle to grace their locker room. Sometimes I like to visit places that I used to put in work to remind myself that it always wasn’t so easy, that it always wasn’t as pretty as I imagined. I’m not saying this because wrestlers don’t have adversity in their lives. We all do on some level. No matter what country, no matter what promotion, no matter what your gender is, that first time you slam your back on that mat still fucking hurts. We all pay the price.”
She walks around the building a bit, taking in the outside for a few moments more before finding a door to enter through. She finds the halls pretty much as she left them a few years ago. The halls were old, but clean and well-kept, as was the basketball floor that the gym was primarily used for. She walked towards center court, taking a look around the building.
“I really used to consider this a big venue. We’d be lucky if we had like three hundred people for the shows, but I was determined to give my all for them. I was determined to touch them in a way that would inspire them, light a fire inside of them that was just like the fire that was lit inside of me when I decided to attend a show at the Rose Bowl for the first time. It wasn’t glamorous and it didn’t pay much, despite my best efforts, but it was something. It helped me get to where I am now.”
Emmy walked around for a while longer before finding herself a spot to lounge on the wooden bleachers on one sideline.
“Vivienne, buildings like these were where the Emmanuelle that is in IWF now was born. Emmanuelle Alicia DiNardo became Emmanuelle, the Silver Starlet….which eventually evolved into the Platinum Standard. I’m a Cali girl through and through, and now IWF is coming here with the Legacy event. There are many things that I’m passionate about in life and professional wrestling is one of them…but if you think that me making friends and trying to please everyone is my thing, you obviously don’t know the real Emmy. When I was on this circuit, I was one of the most hated people in a five-state radius. I wasn’t disliked just because I was a cocky bitch who could back it up. I was disliked because I used to strongarm promotions for money. I didn’t have friends, I had competitors. I didn’t see other wrestlers as people, only obstacles to try to make my name on. And the fans? Heh…..CHA-CHING! Money. Dollar signs, Dollar signs, Dollar signs. That’s all that I saw when I was a rookie in this business, money.”
Emmy frowned for a moment, folding her arms over her chest. She wouldn't quite say as much, but hearing some of the comments from someone she once respected as Vivienne had directed towards her weren't just stinging jabs of a video promo. They were fighting words that she took extremely personally.
“The first time you talked about me, you said that I was trying to please too many people, that my title challenges were vague, that I needed to deliver. I’m going to address all of those things right here and now because the more I heard you speak, the more pissed off I became. I post a lot of racy pictures online, so fuckin’ what? I’m proud of my body. I put a lot of work into looking as good as I do, so why not show it off? I don’t know if you’re aware, but one of my side hustles is modeling so…kinda a prerequisite of the job, posting pictures. Do I spend a lot of time stirring up shit on Social Media? Yep. Guess what though, that doesn’t make me an incapable wrestler. Not by a long shot. In fact, I’m one of the few people who can run their mouth on Twitter and back it up in person, a fact that several members of the IWF roster have already learned. And as far as that whole wanting the championship thing goes, I don’t think it can get much clearer than calling the champion out directly, several times, and not getting an answer. I realize that losing to April puts me in a tough position, but I’m cool with that. I am willing to settle that score on the way to the top of the mountain. You know what’s sad to me though? You. You’ve done all this straight shooting about me having to do more with Brooklyn hiding behind the roster when you’re one of the main fucking people trying to hide her from me. My memory’s not so fuzzy as to I don’t remember her coming in and sneak-shotting me while you and your goon of a tag partner took advantage and roughed me and my partner up. And look at you now, instead of me having a title match, I have to pull double duty with the fucking Island of Misfit Toys on the pre-show THEN wrestle you. Doesn’t it seem strange to you that of everyone on the roster, I’m the only one that’s wrestling a battle royal THEN a singles match on the same show? Seems to me that a lot of people are trying to scheme lil ol’ Emmy out of the picture.”
Emmy waves her hands around a little bit with a sarcastic “mystified” expression before rolling them and letting her hands flop down on her lap.
“That’s okay though. You know why? Because I’m going to win that battle royale. And then, I’m going to make sure I have just enough energy to batter you. I don’t know what happened to you, honestly. Tara and others say that you used to have honor, that you had a fucking backbone. What I see when I see you now is not someone who is worthy of respect. I see a fucking stooge for a champion who for whatever reason wants ZERO parts of the Platinum Standard. You think that she wants to wrestle me? She sicced her sister on me and now she’s trying to have you pull the same trick twice but…that’s not going to happen. Not this time. It seems to me that the Murders have declared full on war on me but you ladies, just like most of the stubborn asshats I come across in this sport, fail to understand that even when I’ve been at my lowest it doesn’t take much for me to come through and pull off a shocker. But this? This wouldn’t be much of a shock, would it? And I think you know that. You wanted an Emmy free of distractions? You wanted the true, straight up murder machine without the bravado? That Emmy is right here. That Emmy is ready to beat you down and send you back to Brooklyn with one message: that if she retains that title that’s around her pretty little waist, I’m more than willing to snap her pretty little neck to have it around my fucking waist. I. Want. Next. And if you think that’s more ‘white noise’, once I’ve picked you up and dropped you on your head, your reception is going to be crystal fucking clear.”
Emmy stood up as calmly as she could from the bleachers that she sat down on just a few moments prior. There is a fire in her eyes that seems highly unusual. Her voice doesn’t raise, but her anger seems to rise with each syllable, every sound, every breath drawn. She has all the poise and pent up aggression of a volcano about to explode.
“The way you talk to me, Vivienne, you seem to think that because I’m a badass of a wrestler that I should be different, look different, not be like those models that people see on TV. I’m not like you and I get down on my knees and thank God every day that I’m not. You’re the fake one here, spitting out white noise and all the while not even pretending to recognize the hypocrisy of how you and the Murders move. That’s cool with me though. It really is. Why? Because you’re in my backyard, going one on one with me. No tag partners, no attacks from behind, no bullshit. And, fuck, you even get the extra boost of me already having wrestled once that night. So you have ZERO excuses for not finding a way to beat me. And that’s exactly what I want. And guess what I’m going to do afterwards, Viv? I’m gonna get on Twitter and post a thirst trap just to piss you off. You’re gonna have to trudge back to your crew and tell them how you let an Instagram thot who already wrestled the night before who has years less experience than you BEAT YOU in the middle of the fucking ring on a PPV event. There’s no way in hell that I’m going to not run you this fade that you’re VERY much fucking owed in my backyard. Fuck that.”
Emmy sneers a bit before continuing.
“Will that be enough? Will having my hands on an Invictus title shot and a win over Vivienne be enough for you all to give me what I want? I hope so. I really do. I’ve been patient here, as patient as I’ve ever been anywhere when it comes to opportunities. The one that I have for the Invictus championship? Big trust, I’m going to seize that and knock off whoever the champion is whenever I have the chance. But that World title, the Women’s title for the division that I’ve been watching grow and flourish since I arrived here to help jumpstart that process….that’s the belt I want. And I will have it. And if there has to be collateral damage for that to happen then so fucking be it. But…that’s a conversation for later. For right now, Vivienne, you’re the main objective. I plan on making sure that when you speak of my name in the future, that you speak like a woman that knows her fucking place in this world. What is your place, you may ask yourself? I’ll give you a clue: It’s nowhere near the Platinum Standard!”
Emmy turns around and starts to rummage through a nearby box that’s near the bench. She’s continuing to talk, but with her back turned to the camera, obviously preoccupied with digging for something that apparently is of importance to her.
“Now, I’m not so stupid as to think you’ll come into this match solo. I know groups like yours, dime a dozen stables. You play numbers games. You play mind games. I’ve seen it and been on the wrong end of it a few times already. There’s one reason that I’m glad I’m gonna be in my home state for this, Viv. It’s going to be easier for me to find equalizers to make sure that things are contested….fairly. Or as unfairly as I need them to be to make sure I come out on top with your bitch patrol pissing around the ring.”
When she’s done rummaging, she manages to pull up a heavy piece of chain link, wrapping it around her arm and fist. It was something that was very much Emmanuelle’s weapon of choice in her independent days. Taking a few swings with it and being satisfied, she turns back to the camera, a wicked grin spreading over her lips.
“How is it that one Dr. Dre song goes? I think it’s an apt description of my feeling towards you and the Murders, Viv: Fuck yall, all of yall, if you don’t like me, BLOW ME…..
Yall gonna keep fuckin’ round with me…and turn me back to the old me.”
“Trust me, you don’t want THAT Bitch stalking you. So just play fair. You’re gonna get your ass kicked anyway, but if you and your girls play fair…it will be a lot less painful and infinitely less humiliating compared to what I plan to do to you otherwise. See you soon, bitch.”
Dropping the heavy chain, Emmy raises both of her middle fingers to the camera, a demented smile on her face as the video fades out.
“I could ask you the same thing, you know? You’re under very much the same situation that I am, Emmy.”
“That’s not what I asked. I asked if you were ready, girl.”
“....I think so?”
“Just admit it, you’re nervous.”
“Oh, Emmy, I don’t really know. It’s a high-pressure situation.”
“You’re nervous.”
“Really, I’m not!”
“Sonya, the first step to dealing with a problem is admitting you have one!”
Emmaneulle had her bags packed. The next few days were about to be a whirlwind of activity. San Jose then Kansas City for three matches in two nights. For now, though, she was comfortable in her bed, relaxing and chatting on the phone with her best friend in the world. Sonya. A wrestler in her own right, she had called Emmy the night before one of the biggest matches in her career. Biggest two matches, actually. Much like her friend, Emmy, she had double duty to pull as well, one of her matches being a championship match. Emmy knew all about those. She knew what it was like to have her hard work and determination rewarded with victory…and knew how much defeat stung. Her friend, still seeking her first major title, was a nervous wreck and called her for advice.
“Okay. I’m nervous. Very nervous. I mean, don’t you ever get nervous for matches anymore?”
“Always. Always. When you don’t have that fire in your belly, you shouldn’t be at it. I get it every time I step into the ring. But the thing is…we learn to control those emotions. You control fear, your nerves, your excitement, your anger, whatever it is. You can’t let your emotions get in the way of the task at hand!”
“It’s strange. I usually tell you things like that.”
“Well, it’s different when you’re away from the sport like you were, giving up your time to travel with me. Now you’re on your own, in the thick of it, really getting your first full taste of wrestling life. But you’ve got a chance to do something special. You’ve got a chance to win your very first title! Just embrace the nerves, embrace that the situation is new and excites you…and just go for it! Whatever happens, it happens.”
“Thanks, Emmy. Hey ... .about Those Murders…that group?”
“What about em?”
“I’ve seen that things have gotten a little rough for you when it comes to dealing with them. Are you sure you’re going to be alright with them? You’re like a sister to me, I don’t mind coming to help.”
“....Meh, I’m good.”
“....Are you sure?”
“Yep. I’m going to make sure that I send them a message loud and clear in San Jose. I’ve got a plan, so don’t worry about it. I’ll call you if I need you.”
“....Alright. I’ll hold you to that. Please, just be careful. You’ve got so many things going on, making so many enemies all over the place. Don’t get yourself into more trouble than you can handle.”
“You worry too much! This is Emmy you’re talking about here!”
“....That’s exactly why I’m worried!”
The Next Day
San Jose, California
San Jose High School
It’s getting close to sundown in San Jose and Emmy is out, not in her usual glamorous look but a simple pair of jeans, a UCLA pullover and a baseball cap with the same powder blue and gold ensemble as her jacket. There’s no quirky speech or hype or props, it’s Emmaneulle Alicia DiNardo standing in front of the camera, not so much The Platinum Standard. She gestures around to the school's buildings, taking a moment to look at the gymnasium especially.
“Here. My wrestling career pretty much started in a building like this. In fact, buildings all across California, Oregon, Utah, Arizona. Before I blew up like a supernova and started taking over the wrestling game, I was in places like this. I fought, I busted my ass and I got myself noticed. Now there’s not a promotion in the world who doesn’t want Emmanuelle to grace their locker room. Sometimes I like to visit places that I used to put in work to remind myself that it always wasn’t so easy, that it always wasn’t as pretty as I imagined. I’m not saying this because wrestlers don’t have adversity in their lives. We all do on some level. No matter what country, no matter what promotion, no matter what your gender is, that first time you slam your back on that mat still fucking hurts. We all pay the price.”
She walks around the building a bit, taking in the outside for a few moments more before finding a door to enter through. She finds the halls pretty much as she left them a few years ago. The halls were old, but clean and well-kept, as was the basketball floor that the gym was primarily used for. She walked towards center court, taking a look around the building.
“I really used to consider this a big venue. We’d be lucky if we had like three hundred people for the shows, but I was determined to give my all for them. I was determined to touch them in a way that would inspire them, light a fire inside of them that was just like the fire that was lit inside of me when I decided to attend a show at the Rose Bowl for the first time. It wasn’t glamorous and it didn’t pay much, despite my best efforts, but it was something. It helped me get to where I am now.”
Emmy walked around for a while longer before finding herself a spot to lounge on the wooden bleachers on one sideline.
“Vivienne, buildings like these were where the Emmanuelle that is in IWF now was born. Emmanuelle Alicia DiNardo became Emmanuelle, the Silver Starlet….which eventually evolved into the Platinum Standard. I’m a Cali girl through and through, and now IWF is coming here with the Legacy event. There are many things that I’m passionate about in life and professional wrestling is one of them…but if you think that me making friends and trying to please everyone is my thing, you obviously don’t know the real Emmy. When I was on this circuit, I was one of the most hated people in a five-state radius. I wasn’t disliked just because I was a cocky bitch who could back it up. I was disliked because I used to strongarm promotions for money. I didn’t have friends, I had competitors. I didn’t see other wrestlers as people, only obstacles to try to make my name on. And the fans? Heh…..CHA-CHING! Money. Dollar signs, Dollar signs, Dollar signs. That’s all that I saw when I was a rookie in this business, money.”
Emmy frowned for a moment, folding her arms over her chest. She wouldn't quite say as much, but hearing some of the comments from someone she once respected as Vivienne had directed towards her weren't just stinging jabs of a video promo. They were fighting words that she took extremely personally.
“The first time you talked about me, you said that I was trying to please too many people, that my title challenges were vague, that I needed to deliver. I’m going to address all of those things right here and now because the more I heard you speak, the more pissed off I became. I post a lot of racy pictures online, so fuckin’ what? I’m proud of my body. I put a lot of work into looking as good as I do, so why not show it off? I don’t know if you’re aware, but one of my side hustles is modeling so…kinda a prerequisite of the job, posting pictures. Do I spend a lot of time stirring up shit on Social Media? Yep. Guess what though, that doesn’t make me an incapable wrestler. Not by a long shot. In fact, I’m one of the few people who can run their mouth on Twitter and back it up in person, a fact that several members of the IWF roster have already learned. And as far as that whole wanting the championship thing goes, I don’t think it can get much clearer than calling the champion out directly, several times, and not getting an answer. I realize that losing to April puts me in a tough position, but I’m cool with that. I am willing to settle that score on the way to the top of the mountain. You know what’s sad to me though? You. You’ve done all this straight shooting about me having to do more with Brooklyn hiding behind the roster when you’re one of the main fucking people trying to hide her from me. My memory’s not so fuzzy as to I don’t remember her coming in and sneak-shotting me while you and your goon of a tag partner took advantage and roughed me and my partner up. And look at you now, instead of me having a title match, I have to pull double duty with the fucking Island of Misfit Toys on the pre-show THEN wrestle you. Doesn’t it seem strange to you that of everyone on the roster, I’m the only one that’s wrestling a battle royal THEN a singles match on the same show? Seems to me that a lot of people are trying to scheme lil ol’ Emmy out of the picture.”
Emmy waves her hands around a little bit with a sarcastic “mystified” expression before rolling them and letting her hands flop down on her lap.
“That’s okay though. You know why? Because I’m going to win that battle royale. And then, I’m going to make sure I have just enough energy to batter you. I don’t know what happened to you, honestly. Tara and others say that you used to have honor, that you had a fucking backbone. What I see when I see you now is not someone who is worthy of respect. I see a fucking stooge for a champion who for whatever reason wants ZERO parts of the Platinum Standard. You think that she wants to wrestle me? She sicced her sister on me and now she’s trying to have you pull the same trick twice but…that’s not going to happen. Not this time. It seems to me that the Murders have declared full on war on me but you ladies, just like most of the stubborn asshats I come across in this sport, fail to understand that even when I’ve been at my lowest it doesn’t take much for me to come through and pull off a shocker. But this? This wouldn’t be much of a shock, would it? And I think you know that. You wanted an Emmy free of distractions? You wanted the true, straight up murder machine without the bravado? That Emmy is right here. That Emmy is ready to beat you down and send you back to Brooklyn with one message: that if she retains that title that’s around her pretty little waist, I’m more than willing to snap her pretty little neck to have it around my fucking waist. I. Want. Next. And if you think that’s more ‘white noise’, once I’ve picked you up and dropped you on your head, your reception is going to be crystal fucking clear.”
Emmy stood up as calmly as she could from the bleachers that she sat down on just a few moments prior. There is a fire in her eyes that seems highly unusual. Her voice doesn’t raise, but her anger seems to rise with each syllable, every sound, every breath drawn. She has all the poise and pent up aggression of a volcano about to explode.
“The way you talk to me, Vivienne, you seem to think that because I’m a badass of a wrestler that I should be different, look different, not be like those models that people see on TV. I’m not like you and I get down on my knees and thank God every day that I’m not. You’re the fake one here, spitting out white noise and all the while not even pretending to recognize the hypocrisy of how you and the Murders move. That’s cool with me though. It really is. Why? Because you’re in my backyard, going one on one with me. No tag partners, no attacks from behind, no bullshit. And, fuck, you even get the extra boost of me already having wrestled once that night. So you have ZERO excuses for not finding a way to beat me. And that’s exactly what I want. And guess what I’m going to do afterwards, Viv? I’m gonna get on Twitter and post a thirst trap just to piss you off. You’re gonna have to trudge back to your crew and tell them how you let an Instagram thot who already wrestled the night before who has years less experience than you BEAT YOU in the middle of the fucking ring on a PPV event. There’s no way in hell that I’m going to not run you this fade that you’re VERY much fucking owed in my backyard. Fuck that.”
Emmy sneers a bit before continuing.
“Will that be enough? Will having my hands on an Invictus title shot and a win over Vivienne be enough for you all to give me what I want? I hope so. I really do. I’ve been patient here, as patient as I’ve ever been anywhere when it comes to opportunities. The one that I have for the Invictus championship? Big trust, I’m going to seize that and knock off whoever the champion is whenever I have the chance. But that World title, the Women’s title for the division that I’ve been watching grow and flourish since I arrived here to help jumpstart that process….that’s the belt I want. And I will have it. And if there has to be collateral damage for that to happen then so fucking be it. But…that’s a conversation for later. For right now, Vivienne, you’re the main objective. I plan on making sure that when you speak of my name in the future, that you speak like a woman that knows her fucking place in this world. What is your place, you may ask yourself? I’ll give you a clue: It’s nowhere near the Platinum Standard!”
Emmy turns around and starts to rummage through a nearby box that’s near the bench. She’s continuing to talk, but with her back turned to the camera, obviously preoccupied with digging for something that apparently is of importance to her.
“Now, I’m not so stupid as to think you’ll come into this match solo. I know groups like yours, dime a dozen stables. You play numbers games. You play mind games. I’ve seen it and been on the wrong end of it a few times already. There’s one reason that I’m glad I’m gonna be in my home state for this, Viv. It’s going to be easier for me to find equalizers to make sure that things are contested….fairly. Or as unfairly as I need them to be to make sure I come out on top with your bitch patrol pissing around the ring.”
When she’s done rummaging, she manages to pull up a heavy piece of chain link, wrapping it around her arm and fist. It was something that was very much Emmanuelle’s weapon of choice in her independent days. Taking a few swings with it and being satisfied, she turns back to the camera, a wicked grin spreading over her lips.
“How is it that one Dr. Dre song goes? I think it’s an apt description of my feeling towards you and the Murders, Viv: Fuck yall, all of yall, if you don’t like me, BLOW ME…..
Yall gonna keep fuckin’ round with me…and turn me back to the old me.”
“Trust me, you don’t want THAT Bitch stalking you. So just play fair. You’re gonna get your ass kicked anyway, but if you and your girls play fair…it will be a lot less painful and infinitely less humiliating compared to what I plan to do to you otherwise. See you soon, bitch.”
Dropping the heavy chain, Emmy raises both of her middle fingers to the camera, a demented smile on her face as the video fades out.
Well howdy there pardner.