Post by Brooklyn on Feb 11, 2024 22:44:09 GMT
As the ambulance tore through the city streets, Brooklyn lay motionless on the stretcher, her body a canvas of agony painted in hues of red and purple. Every jolt sent spikes of pain through her, but she gritted her teeth, refusing to let out a sound. Blood seeped from cuts and bruises, staining the pristine white sheets beneath her a deep, ominous crimson.
Beside her, April sat in silent anguish, her fingers trying to intertwine with Brooklyn's as if trying to tether her sister to the present, but with every touch, Brooklyn’s hand yanked away. April’s face was a mask of concern, eyes darting between Brooklyn's battered form and the passing blur of neon lights outside. The sirens blared a constant reminder of the urgency of their journey, drowning out the chaotic thoughts swirling in Brooklyn's mind.
At that moment, as the city flashed by in a blur of lights and shadows, all Brooklyn could think of was Rowan: her love, her anchor, her reason for enduring this brutal world. Whatever had happened, whatever had prompted April's frantic call, it didn't matter. Rowan needed her, and Brooklyn would move heaven and earth to be by her side.
Arriving at the hospital was a blur of activity, a whirlwind of urgent whispers and probing hands as medical staff swarmed around Brooklyn. But she barely registered their presence, her focus laser-sharp on the doors leading to the intensive care unit where Rowan lay. Every fiber of her being screamed for her to run, to find her love and never let go.
April trailed behind, a protective barrier against the onslaught of hospital personnel. She tried to reason with Brooklyn, to convince her to let the doctors tend to her wounds, but Brooklyn's resolve was unyielding. She shrugged off their attempts at care, brushing aside needles and bandages with a steely determination.
"I'm fine, April," she muttered, her voice hoarse from the exertion of battle. "Ro needs me."
And so, they found themselves at Rowan's bedside, the sterile hospital room a stark contrast to the chaos of the wrestling ring. Machines beeped rhythmically, monitoring Rowan's vital signs, while tubes and wires snaked from her body like lifelines anchoring her to this world.
Brooklyn's heart clenched at the sight, her breath catching in her throat. Rowan lay still, her features serene in repose, but the pallor of her skin spoke volumes of the ordeal she had endured. Brooklyn reached out, her fingers trembling as they brushed against Rowan's hand, seeking solace in the warmth of her touch.
"I'm here, Rowan," she whispered, her voice barely a whisper in the hushed room. "I won't leave you. Not now. Not ever."
April watched silently from the corner, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. She knew the depth of Brooklyn's devotion and the lengths she would go to protect the ones she loved. But she also knew the toll it took on her sister, the sacrifices she made in the name of love.
"Brooklyn," April ventured, her voice tentative, "you need to let the doctors help you. You're hurt, badly. You can't keep ignoring it."
But Brooklyn shook her head, her focus unwavering. "I'll be fine, April. But she needs me more. I can't...I won't leave her."
“Brooklyn …” April continued, several nurses behind her waiting to triage.
“I SAID NO,” Brooklyn snarled, her head whipping around to look at, and through, April. April had to steady herself from stepping backward at the sudden change - and while it may have been a trick of the lights, but April couldn’t help but notice that her eyes flashed a dangerous shade of amber as they caught the light in the room.
As the hours dragged on, April found herself caught between a rock and a hard place. On one hand, she understood Brooklyn's unwavering determination to remain by Rowan's side, but on the other, she couldn't ignore the urgent need for medical attention that Brooklyn so desperately required.
The doctors and nurses moved around the room with practiced efficiency, their voices a constant murmur of concern as they assessed Rowan's condition and monitored her vital signs. But every time they approached Brooklyn, she waved them off with a dismissive gesture, her attention firmly fixed on her unconscious partner.
April hovered on the sidelines, torn between her sister's stubborn resolve and the nagging worry gnawing at her gut. She knew Brooklyn was hurt, badly hurt, and she couldn't bear the thought of her sister suffering in silence while she tended to Rowan.
"Brooklyn," April said gently, reaching out to touch her sister's arm, "you need to let the doctors take care of you. You're hurt, and you can't keep ignoring it."
But Brooklyn shook her head, her gaze never wavering from Rowan's pale face. "I'm fine, April," she insisted, her voice tinged with exhaustion. "But Rowan needs me here. I can't leave her."
April sighed, frustration bubbling up inside her. She understood Brooklyn's devotion to Rowan, she really did, but she couldn't stand idly by while her sister's health deteriorated before her eyes. Glancing around the room, she caught the eye of one of the nurses, silently pleading for help.
The nurse approached cautiously, her expression a mix of concern and sympathy. "Miss Madrox," she began gently, "I understand that you want to be here for your partner, but you need medical attention as well. Please, let us help you."
Brooklyn's jaw clenched, her fingers tightening around Rowan's hand. "I said I'm fine," she snapped, her voice laced with frustration.
April stepped in, her tone firm but gentle. "Brooklyn, please, you’re bleeding all over everything … even Rowan" she implored, "let them help you. Rowan would want you to take care of yourself."
Brooklyn hesitated, torn between her desire to stay by Rowan's side and the nagging worry that gnawed at her. But as she looked down at Rowan's still form. Rowan’s once pristine, white sheets now a pinkish hue. Brooklyn gently rubbed at Rowan’s hands in an attempt to wipe away the dried blood as a sense of clarity washed over her. With a weary sigh, she relented, allowing the nurses to tend to her injuries.
As the medical staff worked to patch up her wounds, Brooklyn's gaze never left Rowan's face. She watched with a mix of relief and anxiety as the machines beeped rhythmically, a steady reminder of the fragile balance between life and death.
Hours passed in a blur of activity, but still, Brooklyn refused to leave Rowan's side. April stayed close, offering words of encouragement and support as Brooklyn drifted in and out of consciousness. And as the first light of dawn filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow upon their faces, Brooklyn felt a glimmer of hope amidst the darkness.
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The memory of her brutal encounter with Jennie Fenix in the Dragon's Den match lingered like a bitter taste in her mouth. It had been a war, a savage battle fought amidst a cage of steel and weaponry, where every blow landed with bone-crushing force and every moment was a struggle for survival. In the end, it was Jennie who emerged victorious, claiming both the victory and the Women's World title.
But Brooklyn refused to dwell on her defeat. She may have lost the battle, but she hadn't lost her spirit. If anything, the fire burning within her had only been stoked by the flames of adversity. She may not have the title around her waist anymore, but she still had her pride, her resilience, and her unyielding determination to succeed.
And now, as fate would have it, she found herself thrust back into the fray sooner than she had anticipated. Teaming up with Vivienne against the formidable duo of Eternity and Abby Spencer was not a challenge she had expected to face so soon after her grueling match with Jennie. But Brooklyn was nothing if not adaptable, and she welcomed the opportunity to prove herself once again.
"It's funny, really," Brooklyn continued, her voice tinged with a hint of irony. "Here I am, barely able to stand after my last match, and yet, I find myself right back in the thick of it. But you know what? That's just the way it goes in this business. There's no time to rest on your laurels, no time to wallow in defeat. You pick yourself up, you dust yourself off, and you get back in the ring."
She paused, her gaze hardening as she spoke. "It’s a pity, though, that my first time squaring off against Abby and ‘Terny and I’m not exactly at my best. I mean, you’ve got a pair like this with all of their accolades, titles, their reputation, a pair of walking highlight reels. I sure as hell don’t mind taking them on, but thank Angel I’ve got Vivi by my side this week ‘cause there isn’t another member of the Murder I’d want to go into battle with against these two."
Brooklyn's eyes flickered with a dangerous intensity as she mentioned her tag team partner. Vivienne was a force to be reckoned with in her own right, a fierce competitor with a ruthless streak that matched Brooklyn's own. Together, they formed a formidable alliance, a lethal combination of skill, strength, and sheer determination.
"And trust me, it’s going to be a battle …" Brooklyn continued, her voice dropping to a low, menacing growl, " and while I may not be at my best right now, that doesn't make me any less dangerous. Hell, the way I see it, it just means I've got nothing to lose. So, ‘Terny, Abby, if you think you can take advantage of a wounded animal, you've got another thing coming. Because whether I'm at 80%, 50%, or even 30%, I'm still the most dangerous woman in this company. And when you add Vivienne to the mix, well, let's just say the forecast for Bella Morte isn't looking too good."
With a defiant glare, Brooklyn squared her shoulders, steeling herself for the battle that lay ahead. She may have lost her title, but she hadn't lost her drive, her determination, her hunger for victory.
Well howdy there pardner.