Post by Serenity Holmes on Oct 27, 2024 23:30:13 GMT
I've had enough of the usual antics. I am the Invictus Champion. There's nothing more to say. The IWF promotion has put their faith in me, and yet everyone is ready to dispel my actions that are supposed to help the future of this company. If that's the case, my generosity has run its course.
HOME.
Houston. Her birthplace, family territory, and where she once became a professional wrestler and mixed martial artist. It was the monument to her successful career, where she was raised into the woman she is now, which meant returning home was similar to a reset. To simplify it, Serenity always appreciated her family, although the history was clogged with the shadow of her mother's terror and her father's frequent absences. She never understood the complex dynamic; when attending her schools, she fathomed the idea of being different. Her family was average objectively, but the subjective discussion was the opposite.
It was dark at night. Her old bedroom was untouched, but she still had a place here, and it was a comfort to know that. Serenity lay in her bed, underneath the sheets, and listened to the beat of the raindrops against the window. Hurricane season always struck in the southern portion of Texas, but here she was, admiring the storm's end washing away at her window, and she remembered some prevalent memories.
On the rug, she watched her father perform from an old promotion, becoming the world champion, or spending time at her desk doing homework she wished she could burn in the family's living room. Catastrophe struck when she heard her mother's footsteps approaching her room, her heartbeat racing from the uncertainty of peace or chaos harming her. Some days, she would be the home of a mother; the rest were imprisoned to a tyrant.
Yet.
She was alone. Serenity struggled to fall asleep after turning the light off on the lamp next to her bed. Empty bliss, dark silence, and resonating within the echoing beat of the thunder were her mind resting in peaceful bliss. Maybe being home was better than nowhere; the traveling under Verona's measures was kind, but being back here was soothing to her.
Serenity struggled to rest until turning the lamp on again. She removed the sheets from her body and sat in her old pajamas before sitting at her desk again. An old notebook, her Diary still untouched. Left on the shelf above, she pulled it down and opened the pages, re-reading the journal entries that described her intimate thoughts daily.
Well, it wasn't easy to get ready. Who would want to be reminded of the horrifying moments she had to endure at a place she called her home?
No one. It had to be her at this moment. She flipped through the pages until she found a blank one, where she removed a pen from a cup holder. After testing the ink, which surprisingly still worked, Serenity leaned forward on the desk and got to writing the penmanship on the page.
Dear Diary, It's been three years since I last wrote here. Things are way different than last time. I'm a successful professional wrestler and mixed martial artist. I have proven to be free from my mother's grasp, and in the end, I've shown I can live a happy life without her.
Nothing is stopping me from conquering Imperium Wrestling Federation since I am the Invictus Champion who has proven to be the best damn wrestler on the planet. However, I have to be squandering my time doing charity work for pathetic wrestlers who have no hope of breaking through the mold that the company loves to call Gladiator.
Although I don't like Shea O'Hara, I'm glad she realized how much of a backstabbing fake friend Charlotte Shimizu truly is.
She has understood this business. People will do everything to take advantage of you, and the easiest way to do it is to become "friends" with someone. The rule of thumb is never to mix business with pleasure because it always backfires.
This will happen in Sacrifice: these two unfortunate people, the Gladiators known as Candy Kane and Ciara O'Connor. I hate doing this. I am in a position where we're supposed to shed light on these people, but it makes me sick. I am doing being a charity case; I've been elevating this entire women's division from the jump.
I'm tired of everyone thinking I wasn't the one who put this division on the map when I joined. So let me speak to Candy, Ciara, Shea, and me. We're not here to help you. We don't want to teach you anything. Get that through your head and understand that we are simply here to put an end to it.
So, with that said, do you girls want to show up?
Do you know what it means to be inside the ring against the odds stacked against you? How will you define yourselves when the opportunity comes to beat a former IWF Womens World Champion and the greatest IWF Invictus Champion of all time?
The answer is correct before you. Nothing. There's no way you have what it takes to put everything on the line. You know what is going to hurt? When you realize where your place is, beneath us. We no longer have to be the mentors of future generations; we are simply in business for ourselves.
That is what professional wrestling is. That's the only lesson I'll give you so you don't make the stupid mistakes like Tytus Rost or Charlotte Shimizu have done. I am going to beat the living piss out of both of you for even thinking you have what it takes to compete in my ring. You can blame IWF, but understand that it starts with me, Shea, so prepare to be disappointed, ladies.
Well howdy there pardner.