Post by The Black Widow on May 14, 2024 2:46:36 GMT
Having already found the darkest alleyway in Berlin that she could, the Black Widow leans against a wall and slides her back down the brick until she finds herself seated on the ground. Stretching one leg out in front of her torso, she digs into the pocket of her leather jacket for a pack of smokes. She taps the top against her hand, making it easier to pull one from the pack. She places the unlit cigarette in her mouth, blankly staring ahead as her mind begins to wander…
The sound of someone yelling in German in the distance brings Brandy's mind back to the moment. Her heart beats a little faster as she flicks her lighter, casting her face in an orange glow.
"One of the biggest sicknesses this world has is expectation. We all expect other people to be a certain way or to do a certain thing. Most people, they spend their whole lives under the wants of other people." A brief pause allows the Black Widow to bring her lit cigarette to her lips. Slowly, she takes in another calming breath through the Marlboro Red. She exhales, partially hiding her face behind a curtain of smoke.
"I know about expectations first hand. I've been just as guilty of it in the past as anyone else. I once expected my parents to love me unconditionally. That love waxed and waned, but often I was left wanting for something that never came." Brandy's head falls backwards, the back of her cranium lightly tapping against the unforgiving brick backdrop.
"My father had obligations. Alcohol; pills; and titles to defend among them. He wasn't just a champion, he was the champion. Multiple times he held the grandest golden trinket in his day, and I was expected to be okay with it while he traveled from city to city, leaving pieces of himself behind as people tried to pry the trinket from his grasp." Ashes fall softly as Brandy taps her cigarette, prepping to take another drag. "In his absence, I got a present in the mail for my birthday, and a few holidays to look forward to."
"What my mother really wanted was a piece of clay she could mold in their image. I remember how hard she pushed me to be her. No matter what I did, it was never quite enough. She expected something beyond greatness. She wanted -she demanded- perfection. Elena wanted a flawless machine. And I…" Brandy's voice trails off, almost amused. "was a mistake of her own creation."
With a loud sound, Brandy draws flehm from her lungs. She crudely hocked a loogie, which lands out of the camera's scope of vision. "How is that for fucking irony?"
"But you, more than anyone, should understand what I'm talking about, Jennie. The first time you wore that title around your waist, you practically begged for a woman to challenge you. You expected women to step up, all for what… for fear of how people might perceive you? You had this insatiable desire to prove yourself, to prove you were worthy of being called a champion. You had the sickness inside of you, and it ate at you."
With a flick of her cigarette, the Black Widow opines: "And it cost you what you held so dear. Your hubris cost you the validation you were so desperate for."
"Tell me, little bird, who is it you want to prove yourself to? You don't strike me as the type that craves her name on the posters. So, is it for them, or is it for you?"
The tip of the Black Widow's cigarette emits a small, round circle of light in the dark of the night as she takes another drag. "The simple truth is they'll never accept you the way you want to be accepted, any of them. They'll never acknowledge you the way you want to be acknowledged. And I'll tell you why, Jennie: because they will never be as good as you. Live with it."
"You allow yourself to carry this burden, where you feel like you need to help elevate other women to your level. Just as Brooklyn did before you, and you before her… you seek to build what you should want to destroy. You expect they'll be appreciative of your kindness, but the faces they wear are to hide their jealousy."
"You possess what they covet."
A slight shrug of the Black Widow's right shoulder casually dismisses fact. "Given our history, Jennie, I'd understand if what I've said has fallen on deaf ears. A predator sometimes toys with its prey, and maybe you might believe this is me trying to crawl inside your head before our fight. But if this is me simply looking for a psychological advantage, answer me this… why has Charlie publicly disrespected you at every given turn? The footage doesn't lie. I’m not terribly impressed with her, those were her words. She, little of nothing, isn't impressed by you, after everything you've accomplished."
"I know you're expecting Charlie to give you a good, clean fight at Night of the Immortals… and you believe you will prevail, and all will be right with the world because in your fairytales everyone comes out holding hands, all the better for the competition. But you need to wake the fuck up, Jennie. This world doesn't work that way. It takes, and it takes, and it takes, and it takes… until the heart turned stone has no more blood to give."
"She would need to fight the fight of her life to beat you on her own, but with her flock behind her… it just takes a bit of creativity. And she is well aware of all of that, Jennie."
Long, wet strands of the Widow's jet-black hair fall before her eyes as she bows her head. "Before the world starts to believe I actually care about Jennie Fenix, let me assure you, I don't. A predator's greatest gift is it feels nothing for its prey."
"I don't care about your golden trinket, Jennie." Reaching to her side, the Black Widow lifts one of the tag team championship belts off the filthy sidewalk, holding it up in view of the camera. "I have one. Only mine doesn't come with the same burden as yours does, because I share it. It is a means to lead my prey to me. Bait, if you will. And I have no intention of lifting any of them up. I'd much rather pluck their wings, and watch them suffer."
"No matter what you think of me, I do care about Madjinn though, Jennie. He is what binds us. And I know how deeply he cares for you. I cannot let him walk into Night of the Immortals worried about you, even if I know he'd never admit it."
"So, I have to sacrifice myself, Jennie, and lift the burdens of expectation that have been placed upon you by the people that adore you, as well as you, yourself. I am willing to take your trinket, not out of want, but out of mercy. I will walk forward into Night of Immortals, not to do what you can't do, but to do what you won't do because of who you are."
"All you have to do is give in, Jennie. It is as easy as it sounds. Let me stain my hands with Charlie's blood. I'm suited, because I know what I am. I am the monster the world made, a reflection of its own ugliness… and oh how pure, and unbridled its hatred already is for me because it can't stomach the sight."
Softly laughing, The Black Widow seems almost amused. "But I don't imagine you'll do that. I anticipate you'll fight because you're prideful, and calling yourself the Women's World Champion means something to you. Part of me hopes you do because I may have promised I wouldn't carve your face up, but the rest of you was never brought up. The unknown of it all excites me though. Will it be you? Will it be me? There is beauty in that chaos."
Closing her eyes, she momentarily loses herself in thought. She exhales as her eyes open. "And if I should fail, which I might, it won't be for not. There is but one lesson I can teach you, Jennie. There is one gift I can give you to carry forward. But you must suffer me to go my own dark way."
"Atkal!" It had been the slightest of mistakes, but the stern tone in Brandy's mother's voice reflected her level of disapproval. Brandy watched as her mother -professionally known as the Black Rose- motioned for young Brandy to get up off of the canvas, but her energy was spent. A mere ninety-seven pounds at the age of eighteen, Brandy did not believe she had either the size or the strength to perform a rolling German Suplex on a young man more than a hundred pounds heavier than her the first time her mother insisted that she try the move. Twelve tries later, nothing had changed other than the fact that she may have stumbled upon a bit of luck in the form of at least being able to get him over.
"Fuck!" The frustration in her voice was apparent as Brandy pounded on the canvas in frustration.
"Language, Brandy." A casual scolding, but one Brandy had her many times before from her mother.
"Tell me how I am supposed to pick him up, Elena." Brandy knew how much her mother despised it when her own daughter used her given name, which was exactly why she said it. "If you think it is so damn easy, you do it."
The young man is on two legs again- but bent over and holding his neck as he prepares himself to go again. Feeling the gentle touch from the Black Rose's hand land on his spine, the young man knew he would be receiving a well-earned breather, however. An overwhelming sense of relief overcame the youngster, who Brandy only knew as Scotty.
The Black Rose stood over her daughter, looking down on her from above. "I know it is not easy, Brandy. That is why you must practice it. Do you think I became as good as I am in a single day?" The Black Rose offers her daughter a hand up off the canvas, but Brandy swats it away.
Choosing to stand on her own, Brandy looks her mother squarely in the eyes. "I don't want to be you; don't you fucking get that!? I don't even want to wrestle."
"Nonsense, Brandy." Her mother's tone is completely dismissive of Brandy's objections. "You were born to do this. Wrestling is in your blood. You are capable of becoming a champion one day if you dedicate yourself to this, which is why your laziness disappoints me so much."
"Fuck. You." Angered by her mother's words, Brandy lunges forward, planting both hands on her mother's chest and giving her a hard shove. "You've always pretended you're so perfect, and you treat me like I'm a complete waste! You can't even see you're living a lie! Dad won the championships; Dad made the money; Dad bought the big house; Dad bought this gym. You laid on your back, spread your legs, and you had me. I'm sorry that disappoints you, Elena--"
Brandy is cutoff by a hard, backhand slap across the mouth from her mother -the Black Rose- that forces Brandy to take a step back. Her tongue finds its way to the corner of her mouth, tasting the small trickle of blood the slap had drawn.
"You will not disrespect me, Brandy." Flooded with emotions, the Black Rose's voice quavered. "I built my legacy on my own. All I have ever wanted to do was pass on some of my knowledge to you, my ungrateful daughter, and you vilify me for it. Your attitude is why you'll never amount to anything in life."
"Fuck!" The frustration in her voice was apparent as Brandy pounded on the canvas in frustration.
"Language, Brandy." A casual scolding, but one Brandy had her many times before from her mother.
"Tell me how I am supposed to pick him up, Elena." Brandy knew how much her mother despised it when her own daughter used her given name, which was exactly why she said it. "If you think it is so damn easy, you do it."
The young man is on two legs again- but bent over and holding his neck as he prepares himself to go again. Feeling the gentle touch from the Black Rose's hand land on his spine, the young man knew he would be receiving a well-earned breather, however. An overwhelming sense of relief overcame the youngster, who Brandy only knew as Scotty.
The Black Rose stood over her daughter, looking down on her from above. "I know it is not easy, Brandy. That is why you must practice it. Do you think I became as good as I am in a single day?" The Black Rose offers her daughter a hand up off the canvas, but Brandy swats it away.
Choosing to stand on her own, Brandy looks her mother squarely in the eyes. "I don't want to be you; don't you fucking get that!? I don't even want to wrestle."
"Nonsense, Brandy." Her mother's tone is completely dismissive of Brandy's objections. "You were born to do this. Wrestling is in your blood. You are capable of becoming a champion one day if you dedicate yourself to this, which is why your laziness disappoints me so much."
"Fuck. You." Angered by her mother's words, Brandy lunges forward, planting both hands on her mother's chest and giving her a hard shove. "You've always pretended you're so perfect, and you treat me like I'm a complete waste! You can't even see you're living a lie! Dad won the championships; Dad made the money; Dad bought the big house; Dad bought this gym. You laid on your back, spread your legs, and you had me. I'm sorry that disappoints you, Elena--"
Brandy is cutoff by a hard, backhand slap across the mouth from her mother -the Black Rose- that forces Brandy to take a step back. Her tongue finds its way to the corner of her mouth, tasting the small trickle of blood the slap had drawn.
"You will not disrespect me, Brandy." Flooded with emotions, the Black Rose's voice quavered. "I built my legacy on my own. All I have ever wanted to do was pass on some of my knowledge to you, my ungrateful daughter, and you vilify me for it. Your attitude is why you'll never amount to anything in life."
The sound of someone yelling in German in the distance brings Brandy's mind back to the moment. Her heart beats a little faster as she flicks her lighter, casting her face in an orange glow.
"One of the biggest sicknesses this world has is expectation. We all expect other people to be a certain way or to do a certain thing. Most people, they spend their whole lives under the wants of other people." A brief pause allows the Black Widow to bring her lit cigarette to her lips. Slowly, she takes in another calming breath through the Marlboro Red. She exhales, partially hiding her face behind a curtain of smoke.
"I know about expectations first hand. I've been just as guilty of it in the past as anyone else. I once expected my parents to love me unconditionally. That love waxed and waned, but often I was left wanting for something that never came." Brandy's head falls backwards, the back of her cranium lightly tapping against the unforgiving brick backdrop.
"My father had obligations. Alcohol; pills; and titles to defend among them. He wasn't just a champion, he was the champion. Multiple times he held the grandest golden trinket in his day, and I was expected to be okay with it while he traveled from city to city, leaving pieces of himself behind as people tried to pry the trinket from his grasp." Ashes fall softly as Brandy taps her cigarette, prepping to take another drag. "In his absence, I got a present in the mail for my birthday, and a few holidays to look forward to."
"What my mother really wanted was a piece of clay she could mold in their image. I remember how hard she pushed me to be her. No matter what I did, it was never quite enough. She expected something beyond greatness. She wanted -she demanded- perfection. Elena wanted a flawless machine. And I…" Brandy's voice trails off, almost amused. "was a mistake of her own creation."
With a loud sound, Brandy draws flehm from her lungs. She crudely hocked a loogie, which lands out of the camera's scope of vision. "How is that for fucking irony?"
"But you, more than anyone, should understand what I'm talking about, Jennie. The first time you wore that title around your waist, you practically begged for a woman to challenge you. You expected women to step up, all for what… for fear of how people might perceive you? You had this insatiable desire to prove yourself, to prove you were worthy of being called a champion. You had the sickness inside of you, and it ate at you."
With a flick of her cigarette, the Black Widow opines: "And it cost you what you held so dear. Your hubris cost you the validation you were so desperate for."
"Tell me, little bird, who is it you want to prove yourself to? You don't strike me as the type that craves her name on the posters. So, is it for them, or is it for you?"
The tip of the Black Widow's cigarette emits a small, round circle of light in the dark of the night as she takes another drag. "The simple truth is they'll never accept you the way you want to be accepted, any of them. They'll never acknowledge you the way you want to be acknowledged. And I'll tell you why, Jennie: because they will never be as good as you. Live with it."
"You allow yourself to carry this burden, where you feel like you need to help elevate other women to your level. Just as Brooklyn did before you, and you before her… you seek to build what you should want to destroy. You expect they'll be appreciative of your kindness, but the faces they wear are to hide their jealousy."
"You possess what they covet."
A slight shrug of the Black Widow's right shoulder casually dismisses fact. "Given our history, Jennie, I'd understand if what I've said has fallen on deaf ears. A predator sometimes toys with its prey, and maybe you might believe this is me trying to crawl inside your head before our fight. But if this is me simply looking for a psychological advantage, answer me this… why has Charlie publicly disrespected you at every given turn? The footage doesn't lie. I’m not terribly impressed with her, those were her words. She, little of nothing, isn't impressed by you, after everything you've accomplished."
"I know you're expecting Charlie to give you a good, clean fight at Night of the Immortals… and you believe you will prevail, and all will be right with the world because in your fairytales everyone comes out holding hands, all the better for the competition. But you need to wake the fuck up, Jennie. This world doesn't work that way. It takes, and it takes, and it takes, and it takes… until the heart turned stone has no more blood to give."
"She would need to fight the fight of her life to beat you on her own, but with her flock behind her… it just takes a bit of creativity. And she is well aware of all of that, Jennie."
Long, wet strands of the Widow's jet-black hair fall before her eyes as she bows her head. "Before the world starts to believe I actually care about Jennie Fenix, let me assure you, I don't. A predator's greatest gift is it feels nothing for its prey."
"I don't care about your golden trinket, Jennie." Reaching to her side, the Black Widow lifts one of the tag team championship belts off the filthy sidewalk, holding it up in view of the camera. "I have one. Only mine doesn't come with the same burden as yours does, because I share it. It is a means to lead my prey to me. Bait, if you will. And I have no intention of lifting any of them up. I'd much rather pluck their wings, and watch them suffer."
"No matter what you think of me, I do care about Madjinn though, Jennie. He is what binds us. And I know how deeply he cares for you. I cannot let him walk into Night of the Immortals worried about you, even if I know he'd never admit it."
"So, I have to sacrifice myself, Jennie, and lift the burdens of expectation that have been placed upon you by the people that adore you, as well as you, yourself. I am willing to take your trinket, not out of want, but out of mercy. I will walk forward into Night of Immortals, not to do what you can't do, but to do what you won't do because of who you are."
"All you have to do is give in, Jennie. It is as easy as it sounds. Let me stain my hands with Charlie's blood. I'm suited, because I know what I am. I am the monster the world made, a reflection of its own ugliness… and oh how pure, and unbridled its hatred already is for me because it can't stomach the sight."
Softly laughing, The Black Widow seems almost amused. "But I don't imagine you'll do that. I anticipate you'll fight because you're prideful, and calling yourself the Women's World Champion means something to you. Part of me hopes you do because I may have promised I wouldn't carve your face up, but the rest of you was never brought up. The unknown of it all excites me though. Will it be you? Will it be me? There is beauty in that chaos."
Closing her eyes, she momentarily loses herself in thought. She exhales as her eyes open. "And if I should fail, which I might, it won't be for not. There is but one lesson I can teach you, Jennie. There is one gift I can give you to carry forward. But you must suffer me to go my own dark way."
Well howdy there pardner.