Post by King on Aug 26, 2024 4:57:31 GMT
Soft, white waves tumbled in from the sea, breaking upon the sandy shores of Tatadohama Beach. A setting sun stained the sky with warm hues of red, orange and yellow. The late evening infused the landscape, which is often quieter than some of the more popular Japanese beaches, with a sense of greater tranquility.
The camera follows the Black Widow, Stephen Terrella and Portia as they walk across the beach, headed toward the large rock formations in the distance. Clothed in a white, slip style dress, and carrying her heels at her side; Portia moves hand-in-hand with Terrella as her long, blonde locks dance in the warm breeze. "Eternity, you've had an amazing career. We can't take that from you."
Portia proceeds to speak as the group continues their advance, staring at the sand beneath her feet. "No one lucks into holding the Womens Championship on five different occasions. No one has multiple tournaments wins just fall into their lap. If they dust it off, somewhere out there, there is even an Openweight Championship with your name on it. Those are yours because you earned them. For years, you've been the woman other women have been measured against. You have been the gold standard."
"So," she says, looking at the camera, "literally everyone knew it was only a matter of time until you set your sights on gold again. You may be a freak; but you're a freak that came back here for a reason. And as you and Abigail started to look our way, this match almost felt inevitable. The Winstons weren't going to stop the two of you, after all- unless we helped them to stop you. We just had no reason to help them."
The group stops. Portia and Terrella release hands, and Portia twirls around to gesture to the waves behind her. "You see, tides change. The tides in the IWF changed the moment Savage Kingdom was born in a back room of our club. Eternity... Abigail, you just haven't been paying close enough attention behind those black veils. If you were, you'd see that as good as you were -and maybe still are- times have changed, and so has the company. When you step into that ring to face Stephen and the Black Widow, you aren't just facing another good tag team, you're facing the best tag team anywhere in the world."
Stephen Terrella clutches the gold championship belt tightly over his shoulder, leaning forward to spit a mouthful of tobacco juice onto the sand. "Jester, that's what you fucking called me, ain't it?" Terrella's tone is gruff, but unusually calm, given his notice of the dig Bella Morte took at him in weeks prior. "You speak in your dumbass fucking riddles, and it's like this shit... it's like it's funny to you or something."
"I want the two of you to fucking look at me." He turns his head to spit before refocusing on the camera. His brows lower as they drift closer together. "You see me laughing?"
Without breaking eye contact with the camera, Stephen slides one of the World Tag Team Championship belts off his shoulder. Portia and Brandy fix their gaze on Terrella as he holds the title belt with one hand, chest high, so the cameraman can get a good shot of the face of the belt. "When it comes to these belts, I don't play games. I'm not here for the fans' entertainment. I fight for myself. I fight for my girl. I fight for this Kingdom. I know I'm good at what I do. I hurt people, and I enjoy it."
"This belt right here, it tells the whole fucking world I'm good at what I do though without me having to say a word." Stephen relaxes his arm just a tad, allowing the strap of the championship to graze the sand. "And you think... you think I'm going to just let you take that away from me?" He holds an intense, heavy stare on the camera. His jaw is clenched tightly as he subtly shakes his head in refusal. "Fuck no."
The other championship title lands on the sand, near Stephen's feet. Having thrown the belt there, Brandy Cvetkova -better known to the masses as the Black Widow- takes a drag off her cigarette before stepping into the forefront of the shot to address Bella Morte. "This isn't life or death though, is it? But I can't imagine it'd matter to the two of you if it was. People only shy away from that which they fear; and neither of you have shown any fear of the next life."
Brandy takes a breath through her cigarette, then exhales, releasing a small cloud of smoke from her lips. "Much the same as you don't fear us, I know." She offers a half-shrug. "But that street runs both ways, I promise-- because while you've been deciding just where," the Widow tilts her head, bearing the side of her neck so she can trace it with her fingers, "to cut in order to take my head... I've been considering starting with your fingers. One from each of you for Buck, for Spencer, for Jeb and for Ricky... and I'll keep the middle fingers for myself as a reminder of how you tried to fuck us on Odyssey." She bites down on her gloved knuckles as she flashes a chillingly coy smile.
She kneels down over the title in the sand, gliding her hand over the shiny, golden surface. "This is what you really want though. We know it, and you know it. It is the reason I can say shit like I just did, and you'll still come for us without hesitation. It is the reason you'll happily put your own bodies through hell at Legacy, in a match of our choosing -where steel chairs, barbed wire and broken glass will wage war against human flesh- in a vain attempt to slay the beast."
"But there is a place you'll find there that lies somewhere between life and the Bella Morte that you embrace, a place where we walk you to the edge of your limits. Your physical bodies will bend, they'll bleed... and you'll push until they have nothing left to give. Each of you will have to lean more and more on the woman you love, and you'll watch as her body begins to falter." The Black Widow reaches into the Earth, scooping up a handful of sand. She loosens her grip ever-so-slightly, allowing the sand to slowly drift into the breeze. "Like sands through the hourglass, you'll feel it all... slipping away from you. You'll be very much alive; but the pain you'll experience may make you wish you weren't. Some will call it the killing of a dream, without a single tear shed. They won't mourn you because they never really loved you. To them, you were always just convenient hope."
"Some may say my words are cruel... they may label the things I do as heinous." She takes one more drag off her cigarette before discarding the Marlboro with the flip of an arm. "But I am not the embodiment of evil; I am the consequence of a world that turned its back on me. And for that, I think I'll snuff out your new sun in shades of black and blood."
Terrella adjusts the championship on his shoulder, giving it a pat. "And if you ever look our way again, you let this fucking match be a reminder that you're about to fuck up. If you ever get that little voice in your head telling you what is ours, could be yours, I want you to make it crystal fucking clear to it that it can't. These belts, this division... every damn thing you've laid those cold, dead eyes of yours on... it belongs to the Savage Kingdom. If you so much as breathe in our world, you're only fucking breathing because we allow it. I'm going to beat that into you at Legacy until you can't forget it. There is nothing and no one to stop me."
He rubs at his nose, quietly boiling. "Push me to it, and I'll carve jokes in both your fucking tombstones."
The camera follows the Black Widow, Stephen Terrella and Portia as they walk across the beach, headed toward the large rock formations in the distance. Clothed in a white, slip style dress, and carrying her heels at her side; Portia moves hand-in-hand with Terrella as her long, blonde locks dance in the warm breeze. "Eternity, you've had an amazing career. We can't take that from you."
Portia proceeds to speak as the group continues their advance, staring at the sand beneath her feet. "No one lucks into holding the Womens Championship on five different occasions. No one has multiple tournaments wins just fall into their lap. If they dust it off, somewhere out there, there is even an Openweight Championship with your name on it. Those are yours because you earned them. For years, you've been the woman other women have been measured against. You have been the gold standard."
"So," she says, looking at the camera, "literally everyone knew it was only a matter of time until you set your sights on gold again. You may be a freak; but you're a freak that came back here for a reason. And as you and Abigail started to look our way, this match almost felt inevitable. The Winstons weren't going to stop the two of you, after all- unless we helped them to stop you. We just had no reason to help them."
The group stops. Portia and Terrella release hands, and Portia twirls around to gesture to the waves behind her. "You see, tides change. The tides in the IWF changed the moment Savage Kingdom was born in a back room of our club. Eternity... Abigail, you just haven't been paying close enough attention behind those black veils. If you were, you'd see that as good as you were -and maybe still are- times have changed, and so has the company. When you step into that ring to face Stephen and the Black Widow, you aren't just facing another good tag team, you're facing the best tag team anywhere in the world."
Stephen Terrella clutches the gold championship belt tightly over his shoulder, leaning forward to spit a mouthful of tobacco juice onto the sand. "Jester, that's what you fucking called me, ain't it?" Terrella's tone is gruff, but unusually calm, given his notice of the dig Bella Morte took at him in weeks prior. "You speak in your dumbass fucking riddles, and it's like this shit... it's like it's funny to you or something."
"I want the two of you to fucking look at me." He turns his head to spit before refocusing on the camera. His brows lower as they drift closer together. "You see me laughing?"
Without breaking eye contact with the camera, Stephen slides one of the World Tag Team Championship belts off his shoulder. Portia and Brandy fix their gaze on Terrella as he holds the title belt with one hand, chest high, so the cameraman can get a good shot of the face of the belt. "When it comes to these belts, I don't play games. I'm not here for the fans' entertainment. I fight for myself. I fight for my girl. I fight for this Kingdom. I know I'm good at what I do. I hurt people, and I enjoy it."
"This belt right here, it tells the whole fucking world I'm good at what I do though without me having to say a word." Stephen relaxes his arm just a tad, allowing the strap of the championship to graze the sand. "And you think... you think I'm going to just let you take that away from me?" He holds an intense, heavy stare on the camera. His jaw is clenched tightly as he subtly shakes his head in refusal. "Fuck no."
The other championship title lands on the sand, near Stephen's feet. Having thrown the belt there, Brandy Cvetkova -better known to the masses as the Black Widow- takes a drag off her cigarette before stepping into the forefront of the shot to address Bella Morte. "This isn't life or death though, is it? But I can't imagine it'd matter to the two of you if it was. People only shy away from that which they fear; and neither of you have shown any fear of the next life."
Brandy takes a breath through her cigarette, then exhales, releasing a small cloud of smoke from her lips. "Much the same as you don't fear us, I know." She offers a half-shrug. "But that street runs both ways, I promise-- because while you've been deciding just where," the Widow tilts her head, bearing the side of her neck so she can trace it with her fingers, "to cut in order to take my head... I've been considering starting with your fingers. One from each of you for Buck, for Spencer, for Jeb and for Ricky... and I'll keep the middle fingers for myself as a reminder of how you tried to fuck us on Odyssey." She bites down on her gloved knuckles as she flashes a chillingly coy smile.
She kneels down over the title in the sand, gliding her hand over the shiny, golden surface. "This is what you really want though. We know it, and you know it. It is the reason I can say shit like I just did, and you'll still come for us without hesitation. It is the reason you'll happily put your own bodies through hell at Legacy, in a match of our choosing -where steel chairs, barbed wire and broken glass will wage war against human flesh- in a vain attempt to slay the beast."
"But there is a place you'll find there that lies somewhere between life and the Bella Morte that you embrace, a place where we walk you to the edge of your limits. Your physical bodies will bend, they'll bleed... and you'll push until they have nothing left to give. Each of you will have to lean more and more on the woman you love, and you'll watch as her body begins to falter." The Black Widow reaches into the Earth, scooping up a handful of sand. She loosens her grip ever-so-slightly, allowing the sand to slowly drift into the breeze. "Like sands through the hourglass, you'll feel it all... slipping away from you. You'll be very much alive; but the pain you'll experience may make you wish you weren't. Some will call it the killing of a dream, without a single tear shed. They won't mourn you because they never really loved you. To them, you were always just convenient hope."
"Some may say my words are cruel... they may label the things I do as heinous." She takes one more drag off her cigarette before discarding the Marlboro with the flip of an arm. "But I am not the embodiment of evil; I am the consequence of a world that turned its back on me. And for that, I think I'll snuff out your new sun in shades of black and blood."
Terrella adjusts the championship on his shoulder, giving it a pat. "And if you ever look our way again, you let this fucking match be a reminder that you're about to fuck up. If you ever get that little voice in your head telling you what is ours, could be yours, I want you to make it crystal fucking clear to it that it can't. These belts, this division... every damn thing you've laid those cold, dead eyes of yours on... it belongs to the Savage Kingdom. If you so much as breathe in our world, you're only fucking breathing because we allow it. I'm going to beat that into you at Legacy until you can't forget it. There is nothing and no one to stop me."
He rubs at his nose, quietly boiling. "Push me to it, and I'll carve jokes in both your fucking tombstones."
Well howdy there pardner.