Post by The Gardner Effect on May 26, 2013 22:03:27 GMT
"Are you sure you want to do this?" Michael asked me as, in a weird situation, he is taking care of Xander Kane, our little son, who is now 3 years old, as I'm working out in the facility he is used to it. As I carry the big weigths he is used to, he can see me panting and sweating, but the smile never leaving my face. "I am," I answer. "I've been stopped for far too long. It's about time I started working out and performing again."
"Admit it," Spike smirked at me. "It's because it's not NCW anymore."
"Maybe," I said. Indeed, the fact that place had closed and now we were binded to a whole new place, and having all the old friends together in a brand new place, starting over with a blank slate, was a great plan. "But I really want to perform again, simple as that. With Emma, Ayla... And you. I can't let you have all the fun by yourself."
"Heh. It's not like I can do anything to stop you, can I?"
"Nope."
He smiled, holding Xander in place so he wouldn't drift off around the gym, staying quiet until I was done with that drill. And I realized that. So when I was done, I looked straight at him, and he was smiling. "What?"
"Been a long time since I seen you do that. You always manage to look like a superhuman or something when you do."
"It's because you've been working out at this gym to stay buffed while I've been working out at home to stay in shape, so I wouldn't lose my physique. So HAH!"
Spike smirked. "And what kind of exercising would you do at home?"
"I don't know. Baby lifting, house cleaning? I mean, come on, what do you expect a family woman with a young lad to take care of to do?"
"Baby lifting." He laughed. "Ok, Aly, I'm sold. I'm gonna have to try that some time now."
"For your information, Xander weighs something close to 25 pounds right now, so it's not a shabby exercise at all."
As I get up to meet him, though, my right knee gives in. I guess I've been working out too hard for this, and I collapse right in front of his eyes, landing on my hands as I groan in pain. Michael immediately gets up from his seat and rushes up to me, trying to lift me up. "Holy freaking hell, Alysson, are you ok?!"
"I-I'm good, it's just my knee... It's gonna be fine."
"You've been exercising too hard! I told you you weren't gonna............... what?"
And then I look at him with a silly smirk. "You told me I wasn't going to survive this training session? Look at you being a silly goose."
Spike facepalms as he realizes I was toying around. Of couse my knee is ok. "Goddamnit, Alysson. I worry about you. Don't scare me like that."
"Your face was funny, you should've seen yourself in the mirror. But don't worry, I'm fine," I say as I plant a kiss on his lips, holding my laughter. "I'm unbreakable, if you don't remember."
"Oh, are you?" he said with a smirk. "Then I'm gonna have to take Iron Woman to her next exercising drill..."
And with that, he lifts me up, picking me on his lap as he spins me around playfully. The lovely couple's moment is broken as we realize Xander is walking around on his own.
"Grab that baby!" I jump from his lap, giving chase to the little rascal as he laughs at my face.
New place, same old crap, huh? I guess I should have expected that. When I got the itch that led me to come back to wrestling, I knew I was going to be faced with this. So here I am, now a "Diamond", surrounded by old friends and new faces; most of the people spewing out their load of crap, trying to impress the brother or sister across the ring; some of those can't even throw the first punch and are just waiting to get their ass handed to them in a silver tray.
Weirdly enough, this is the kind of environment I've learned to call home.
So. Imperial Wrestling Federation, huh? Pretty artsy name. Has that whole regal royalty feeling. I rather like that. But since we're all kind of... "mourning the legacy" of NCW - not really mourning, because I don't know if many people will miss it, nor legacy, because for most of us it was more of a bittersweet run rather than a stellar showing back to back -, I guess I should remind you who I am: I am Alysson Marianne Gardner. Two-time NCW Women's World Champion. Not that "Starlet" bullshit; I wouldn't and won't fit that mold. The winner of the ONLY all-female Riot Match. And a woman who turned heads whenever I entered the ring, not because I was the best wrestler or the most accomplished...
But because I knew, I've always known how to push the right buttons. Admit it, you, former NCW fan; you either love me or hate me. Heh, never a problem. I was made for that.
And since we're talking about a woman who won a 15-women Battle Royale to win her first Women's World Championship, this leads to the grand début of IWF. A five-women battle royale - or rather, one-woman-two-nutjobs-and-two-emo-pissants-who-haven't-cried-enough battle royale is the match I'm involved. I, of course, am the grown woman; the only in this line-up who doesn't need to bet on a gimmick to be a killer. "Oh, the nerve!" you say, "there goes that fucking redhead calling people names again!" Well, newsflash, sweethearts: I know all four of my opponents.
Yes, Ryleigh Knite, including you. The self-proclaimed grown-up offspring of the incredibly fairly accomplished Knite clan who came to the future to enlighten the masses. So very cute of yours to rely on said legacy of manipulation and bullshit for oyur debut; but then again, what do I know? You're a Knite. All you know how to do is manipulate, cheat, lie, piss and moan. If you have the talent to stay in the ring with me? I wouldn't doubt it. As well as I wouldn't doubt that you're nothing but a screwjob who believes you can travel through time. Either that, or you're another one of the gold diggers that infest this industry, using a barely famous last name as a crutch.
Prey tell me, Ryleigh; when will be the first time you're going to stamp your feet like the little kid you are - because, let's admit it, the last time I saw "you", you were not older than 2 years - and throw a fit because you're being taken as seriously as your other familiars are? Because that Is going to happen, and I don't have to be from the future to figure that one out. Because that's exactly what Knites do. Your bravado means absolutely nothing to me. At the end of the day, the only way for you to be accomplished in this circuit is having people to lick your boots and carry your bags around the country just like "daddy" Adam and "mommy" Kelly and "auntie" Sydney and "unkie" Xander did.
But since you're from the future, you can tell better exactly when that shit is going to start getting old. After all, you've seen it all, haven't you?
Then there are two girls who will actually end up becoming best friends or something. Eternity and Alexis Morrison. The two of you are all about pentagrams and occultism and crap, aren't you. I bet after the show the two of you are going to make a picnic in a cemetery and offer dead moths for whatever you adore. There's nothing wrong with that; it's 2013, we don't judge. What I have a problem with here is the fact that once again Alexis Morrison fails to impress. The awesome half-sister of Amy Marshall and Trish Newborn walks into a new place, looks around, pretends to fight and is forgotten, as it always happens. Where have I seen this happen before?
OH YEAH. Enough times. We don't have to wait for Sacrifice to happen to know about that. And again, I don't have to be from the future to predict that; that's what Newborns do, or whatever's the true last name of your wacky family.
I'm glad for Eternity though; sounds like a fun young lady, rathr than just a lousy professional like her other friend. But you see, Eternity, I've seen people like you in the ring. I know how you work. You want people to be afraid of you, to weird them out. You do it unconsciously. But guess what? Your number doesn't impress me. Don't be surprised; I'm sure you know it shouldn't impress me. Your chance to turn heads will be inside the ring; YOU are the wild card in this match and you have the best chance, more than any of the other women inside thiss ring, to make me eat my words.
It's not like I'm going to LET you do that anyway, but you should appreciate your chances regardless.
And finally... Kate Steele. You little pissant. You just HAVE to be where I am, right? So people can compare you to me and go ahead giving the both of us names that makes it for best memory. I know you better than I know the other three, and it's due to the fact, the simple fact... that I made you.
Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. You, with your spunky attitude, wielding a guitar while you pounce people pretending you're something dangerous, you're nothing more than a poor man's version of me. And it's going to be like this until your very last day inside the ring. You once had every chance to be yourself, a completely unique young woman, be respected and be the threat I know you want to be, but then you change your style completely to the point you have to call yourself a "punk princess". What comes next? You're going to marry a hardcorer and call yourself the "princess of Xtreme"?
Oh, no, wait. You're a bisexual young lady who prefers girls. Even that you've copied from my early days. Cheers, my mini-past self; you're going to get stomped.
Simply put, this match is going to be fun. The debut of something new that seemingly wants to be impressive. But believe me, girls... None of you are up to par. Far as I can tell, when we step inside that ring, ladies, it's going to be one Diamond and four pieces of cheap glass. One star and four wannabes. And there's nothing else I'm going to love doing the most other than
"Admit it," Spike smirked at me. "It's because it's not NCW anymore."
"Maybe," I said. Indeed, the fact that place had closed and now we were binded to a whole new place, and having all the old friends together in a brand new place, starting over with a blank slate, was a great plan. "But I really want to perform again, simple as that. With Emma, Ayla... And you. I can't let you have all the fun by yourself."
"Heh. It's not like I can do anything to stop you, can I?"
"Nope."
He smiled, holding Xander in place so he wouldn't drift off around the gym, staying quiet until I was done with that drill. And I realized that. So when I was done, I looked straight at him, and he was smiling. "What?"
"Been a long time since I seen you do that. You always manage to look like a superhuman or something when you do."
"It's because you've been working out at this gym to stay buffed while I've been working out at home to stay in shape, so I wouldn't lose my physique. So HAH!"
Spike smirked. "And what kind of exercising would you do at home?"
"I don't know. Baby lifting, house cleaning? I mean, come on, what do you expect a family woman with a young lad to take care of to do?"
"Baby lifting." He laughed. "Ok, Aly, I'm sold. I'm gonna have to try that some time now."
"For your information, Xander weighs something close to 25 pounds right now, so it's not a shabby exercise at all."
As I get up to meet him, though, my right knee gives in. I guess I've been working out too hard for this, and I collapse right in front of his eyes, landing on my hands as I groan in pain. Michael immediately gets up from his seat and rushes up to me, trying to lift me up. "Holy freaking hell, Alysson, are you ok?!"
"I-I'm good, it's just my knee... It's gonna be fine."
"You've been exercising too hard! I told you you weren't gonna............... what?"
And then I look at him with a silly smirk. "You told me I wasn't going to survive this training session? Look at you being a silly goose."
Spike facepalms as he realizes I was toying around. Of couse my knee is ok. "Goddamnit, Alysson. I worry about you. Don't scare me like that."
"Your face was funny, you should've seen yourself in the mirror. But don't worry, I'm fine," I say as I plant a kiss on his lips, holding my laughter. "I'm unbreakable, if you don't remember."
"Oh, are you?" he said with a smirk. "Then I'm gonna have to take Iron Woman to her next exercising drill..."
And with that, he lifts me up, picking me on his lap as he spins me around playfully. The lovely couple's moment is broken as we realize Xander is walking around on his own.
"Grab that baby!" I jump from his lap, giving chase to the little rascal as he laughs at my face.
New place, same old crap, huh? I guess I should have expected that. When I got the itch that led me to come back to wrestling, I knew I was going to be faced with this. So here I am, now a "Diamond", surrounded by old friends and new faces; most of the people spewing out their load of crap, trying to impress the brother or sister across the ring; some of those can't even throw the first punch and are just waiting to get their ass handed to them in a silver tray.
Weirdly enough, this is the kind of environment I've learned to call home.
So. Imperial Wrestling Federation, huh? Pretty artsy name. Has that whole regal royalty feeling. I rather like that. But since we're all kind of... "mourning the legacy" of NCW - not really mourning, because I don't know if many people will miss it, nor legacy, because for most of us it was more of a bittersweet run rather than a stellar showing back to back -, I guess I should remind you who I am: I am Alysson Marianne Gardner. Two-time NCW Women's World Champion. Not that "Starlet" bullshit; I wouldn't and won't fit that mold. The winner of the ONLY all-female Riot Match. And a woman who turned heads whenever I entered the ring, not because I was the best wrestler or the most accomplished...
But because I knew, I've always known how to push the right buttons. Admit it, you, former NCW fan; you either love me or hate me. Heh, never a problem. I was made for that.
And since we're talking about a woman who won a 15-women Battle Royale to win her first Women's World Championship, this leads to the grand début of IWF. A five-women battle royale - or rather, one-woman-two-nutjobs-and-two-emo-pissants-who-haven't-cried-enough battle royale is the match I'm involved. I, of course, am the grown woman; the only in this line-up who doesn't need to bet on a gimmick to be a killer. "Oh, the nerve!" you say, "there goes that fucking redhead calling people names again!" Well, newsflash, sweethearts: I know all four of my opponents.
Yes, Ryleigh Knite, including you. The self-proclaimed grown-up offspring of the incredibly fairly accomplished Knite clan who came to the future to enlighten the masses. So very cute of yours to rely on said legacy of manipulation and bullshit for oyur debut; but then again, what do I know? You're a Knite. All you know how to do is manipulate, cheat, lie, piss and moan. If you have the talent to stay in the ring with me? I wouldn't doubt it. As well as I wouldn't doubt that you're nothing but a screwjob who believes you can travel through time. Either that, or you're another one of the gold diggers that infest this industry, using a barely famous last name as a crutch.
Prey tell me, Ryleigh; when will be the first time you're going to stamp your feet like the little kid you are - because, let's admit it, the last time I saw "you", you were not older than 2 years - and throw a fit because you're being taken as seriously as your other familiars are? Because that Is going to happen, and I don't have to be from the future to figure that one out. Because that's exactly what Knites do. Your bravado means absolutely nothing to me. At the end of the day, the only way for you to be accomplished in this circuit is having people to lick your boots and carry your bags around the country just like "daddy" Adam and "mommy" Kelly and "auntie" Sydney and "unkie" Xander did.
But since you're from the future, you can tell better exactly when that shit is going to start getting old. After all, you've seen it all, haven't you?
Then there are two girls who will actually end up becoming best friends or something. Eternity and Alexis Morrison. The two of you are all about pentagrams and occultism and crap, aren't you. I bet after the show the two of you are going to make a picnic in a cemetery and offer dead moths for whatever you adore. There's nothing wrong with that; it's 2013, we don't judge. What I have a problem with here is the fact that once again Alexis Morrison fails to impress. The awesome half-sister of Amy Marshall and Trish Newborn walks into a new place, looks around, pretends to fight and is forgotten, as it always happens. Where have I seen this happen before?
OH YEAH. Enough times. We don't have to wait for Sacrifice to happen to know about that. And again, I don't have to be from the future to predict that; that's what Newborns do, or whatever's the true last name of your wacky family.
I'm glad for Eternity though; sounds like a fun young lady, rathr than just a lousy professional like her other friend. But you see, Eternity, I've seen people like you in the ring. I know how you work. You want people to be afraid of you, to weird them out. You do it unconsciously. But guess what? Your number doesn't impress me. Don't be surprised; I'm sure you know it shouldn't impress me. Your chance to turn heads will be inside the ring; YOU are the wild card in this match and you have the best chance, more than any of the other women inside thiss ring, to make me eat my words.
It's not like I'm going to LET you do that anyway, but you should appreciate your chances regardless.
And finally... Kate Steele. You little pissant. You just HAVE to be where I am, right? So people can compare you to me and go ahead giving the both of us names that makes it for best memory. I know you better than I know the other three, and it's due to the fact, the simple fact... that I made you.
Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. You, with your spunky attitude, wielding a guitar while you pounce people pretending you're something dangerous, you're nothing more than a poor man's version of me. And it's going to be like this until your very last day inside the ring. You once had every chance to be yourself, a completely unique young woman, be respected and be the threat I know you want to be, but then you change your style completely to the point you have to call yourself a "punk princess". What comes next? You're going to marry a hardcorer and call yourself the "princess of Xtreme"?
Oh, no, wait. You're a bisexual young lady who prefers girls. Even that you've copied from my early days. Cheers, my mini-past self; you're going to get stomped.
Simply put, this match is going to be fun. The debut of something new that seemingly wants to be impressive. But believe me, girls... None of you are up to par. Far as I can tell, when we step inside that ring, ladies, it's going to be one Diamond and four pieces of cheap glass. One star and four wannabes. And there's nothing else I'm going to love doing the most other than
ROCK
YOUR
WORLDS.
YOUR
WORLDS.
Well howdy there pardner.