Post by Shelly Diamond on Jan 20, 2015 21:45:28 GMT
Well looky what we have here. Firenze Everett, the current IWF Ruby Champion putting it all on the line against yours truly.
Rayne.
I want to say I’m flattered that the IWF thinks highly enough of me to give me this shot but if I’m to be honest I feel disrespected that they’d even give you the opportunity to be the champion in the first place.
The One percent?
You arrogant, egotistical little shit. There’s a difference between being rich an asshole or a rich asshole. And the fact you flaunt your money is proof enough that you don’t believe in your own abilities. Padding your ego with false bravado about how money makes you better than everyone else.
Did money buy you any wins?
What about that loss to Ana Valentine?
Money couldn’t you buy the talent to lace her boot straps let alone give the Diamonds Champion a five minute match to entertain the mindless masses in the crowd.
Frankly, I think you’re an idiot and an embarrassment to the division. Throwing away whatever bright future you may have had to saddle up with the latest group of rejects who don’t even collectively have a hand full of wins in the IWF.
Pfft. You expect me to be thankful for this opportunity? To respect you? The IWF should thank me that I care enough about the integrity of the sport and our division to take that belt off of you and give it a little meaning, a little prestige. As far as I’m concerned you’re a place holder until IWF could find a better option.
You’re welcome.
I am that better option. See, unlike yourself I’m a woman who actually prides myself on skill and talent and doesn’t resort to tired insults and ridiculous clichés. And may I add while it was impressive of you to take the high road against Ana and not call her a whore I was also incredibly let down when you then resorted to tongue in cheek call her a whore by listing off her laundry list of ex lovers.
Honey, we’re all adults here, most of us have had sex with people, even a few we regret having it with and while it’s pretty hysterical the first six dozen times we all gather in a circle and point fingers it has absolutely nothing to do with in ring ability.
I’ve watched you, kept a close eye on you like I do all the women in this division because I actually pride myself on being better. I don’t just talk about, I don’t slap it on a t-shirt to make a quick buck. I actually fucking mean it. I bust my ass day in and day out at the gym, I spend hours a night watching tape from every match I can find with one you little sweeties in it. I look for the weakness, target them, because my goal isn’t to talk about being the best.
It’s to be the goddamn best.
My road ends with the Diamonds Championship and the world finally recognizing Rayne as a goddamn force to be reckoned with. You’re a step on that road, one I won’t just step on while I make my way but I one I plan to thoroughly fucking embarrass.
Rayne.
I want to say I’m flattered that the IWF thinks highly enough of me to give me this shot but if I’m to be honest I feel disrespected that they’d even give you the opportunity to be the champion in the first place.
The One percent?
You arrogant, egotistical little shit. There’s a difference between being rich an asshole or a rich asshole. And the fact you flaunt your money is proof enough that you don’t believe in your own abilities. Padding your ego with false bravado about how money makes you better than everyone else.
Did money buy you any wins?
What about that loss to Ana Valentine?
Money couldn’t you buy the talent to lace her boot straps let alone give the Diamonds Champion a five minute match to entertain the mindless masses in the crowd.
Frankly, I think you’re an idiot and an embarrassment to the division. Throwing away whatever bright future you may have had to saddle up with the latest group of rejects who don’t even collectively have a hand full of wins in the IWF.
Pfft. You expect me to be thankful for this opportunity? To respect you? The IWF should thank me that I care enough about the integrity of the sport and our division to take that belt off of you and give it a little meaning, a little prestige. As far as I’m concerned you’re a place holder until IWF could find a better option.
You’re welcome.
I am that better option. See, unlike yourself I’m a woman who actually prides myself on skill and talent and doesn’t resort to tired insults and ridiculous clichés. And may I add while it was impressive of you to take the high road against Ana and not call her a whore I was also incredibly let down when you then resorted to tongue in cheek call her a whore by listing off her laundry list of ex lovers.
Honey, we’re all adults here, most of us have had sex with people, even a few we regret having it with and while it’s pretty hysterical the first six dozen times we all gather in a circle and point fingers it has absolutely nothing to do with in ring ability.
I’ve watched you, kept a close eye on you like I do all the women in this division because I actually pride myself on being better. I don’t just talk about, I don’t slap it on a t-shirt to make a quick buck. I actually fucking mean it. I bust my ass day in and day out at the gym, I spend hours a night watching tape from every match I can find with one you little sweeties in it. I look for the weakness, target them, because my goal isn’t to talk about being the best.
It’s to be the goddamn best.
My road ends with the Diamonds Championship and the world finally recognizing Rayne as a goddamn force to be reckoned with. You’re a step on that road, one I won’t just step on while I make my way but I one I plan to thoroughly fucking embarrass.
Years Ago.
The young girl in her torn blue and white stripped dress sat crying, huddled in a corner, her wavy black around framing her tear stained cheek bones. Her face was red from crying as well as the belt and hands that has come against it.
“WHORE!”
The nun had called her, screaming in her face that the way she acted around the boys at the orphanage wasn’t acceptable.
“YOU’RE A CHILD OF GOD YOU INDECENT LITTLE BRAT!”
She had been slapped, kicked and thrown in the closet to rot, only thirteen years young and already she wished she could find a knife to bring this nightmare to it’s tragic end.
There was a light knock at the door, she pulled back, bringing her knees up under her chin and tried to make herself as small as possible. The light blinded her at first and she could only make out the silhouette of the woman standing there. She coughed, a purple mist momentarily choking her as a purple gloved hand reached out for her.
“Come, darkness is no place for the innocent.”
She hesitated, her eyes were blurry, she couldn’t focus on the face of the young woman save for her pale complexion and exceedingly curly red hair, almost like a clown she thought. The hand slowly brushed her black hair out of her face.
“Such a lovely flower.”
The gloved hand strokes the girls cheek.
“One can’t flourish without light.”
She took the hand, something in those eyes, something shining and bright, something like a new tomorrow…
The thing that really pisses me off about you is this self entitled bullshit you spew as if you actually deserve anything that’s come your way. As if you actually earned it.
Show me the years worth of scar tissue and mended bones, prove you’re actually worth the hot air you so freely waste with your bullshit. All I’ve seen from you is less than a handful of above average performances and losses that you’ve explained away to protect that fragile ego.
Firenze Everett is the hype here, not anyone else.
Women like Ana Valentine, Amber Richards, Jessica Reed, Eternity, the women who helped to build this division into the high light of the IWF and one of the most talked about divisions in the history of professional wrestling have earned the right to bury their opponents face in shit if they so chose.
But you?
What the hell have you done besides beat some green as grass rookie who can’t handle what the world of professional wrestling is really about? What have you done besides tell us how good you think you are without ever backing it up? Seriously, I’m listening because I want to know Firenze. I really want to know if your shit doesn’t stink with that nose turned up so high. I want to know if you’re actually worth my fucking time to get angry because I’m not about to waste energy on another stuck up bitch.
Professional wrestling is full of egos and superiority complexes, gods, kings, princes and princesses, you’ve got every kind of crazy you could ever hope to find but the great thing is we work in a profession that forces us to back it up. You can’t get away with a clever nick name if you lose at every single turn.
So while it’s funny to listen to an uninitiated and undeserving sack of shit like you talk about the upper echelon of women’s wrestling like any of us would be willing piss on you let alone shake your hand, shut the fuck up.
I’m curious what a clever little intellectual is going to have to say about me. I’m old? Don’t know shit about shit? Ugly? Stupid? Not as good as I claim to be? Something else I’ve heard a million times before? If I were you I’d go with ugly and old, maybe throw in some crypt keeper jokers for good measure.
Just keep in mind while you’re running your mouth I’m in the gym training, I’m watching tape of every match you’ve ever had. I’m getting ready.
Because I don’t just want to beat you to shut you up, I don’t just want to take the Ruby Championship off your pampered waist, I want to make a goddamn example of you to the whole of IWF and the Diamonds Division.
I want them to know exactly what I’m capable of when I break your pretty little face and leave bleeding out in the center of the ring.
IWF is our playground now, I’m the bully and you’re the sniveling little bitch I’m going to bury.
Rayne sat in her locker room, calm, cool and confident hours before her championship match against Firenze Everett. She was already in full wrestling gear, glad head to toe in black with red lacing, her head was bowed, her raven black hair fell along the sides of her head, her brown eyes locked on the floor as her mind raced over the upcoming match and every possible out come.
“You worry too much about things that do not matter.”
She didn’t look up, she knew Eternity would come, the mother of the flock. She didn’t move as her cold gloved hands gripped her by the shoulders, she only remained focused on the floor, on the future.
“I can’t lose.”
Rayne uttered the words quietly but confidently.
“Yes you can. You could. You may. Shhhhh…”
She felt Eternity’s hot breath on her neck and the way the air moved as she danced around her in the room followed by small puffs of purple smoke.
“Delicate flower.”
Flower, the word caught her attention, a faded memory, a dirty closet, pain and salvation…
“You wilt with all the sun in the world around her.”
Those purple gloved hands gripped her by the cheeks and pulled her head up, her deep bright eyes like a portal into another world.
“Do not wilt pretty flower. It may rain today. It may pour. But you will flourish again.”
She let go of her face now and backed up.
“Let go of what may be. Embrace today…”
Her words faded into her ears and echoed. The door suddenly opened to her right and Rayne looked over to see her protégé, Amanda Reyes in a black hooded leather jacket, jeans and training sneakers, a smile so bright and beautiful it could send men to war. Rayne looked back to where Rayne was and there was no longer anyone there, only a faint whisper of smoke.
“Hey grumpy, you getting ready for you match?”
Amanda smiled at her as she leaned against the door way and for once Rayne returned the grin.
“Holy crap, be careful, you could shatter your jaw bone doing that.”
Rayne laughed as she stood up and slowly moved across the room. Amanda stood up straight and looked a little worried, she was no stranger to Rayne’s very hands on training.
“Hey look, I was only kidding.”
“Shut up.”
Embrace today, that’s what she said. It sounded like a good idea. Rayne grabbed Amanda rather suddenly by the back of the head and pulled her close. She gently caressed the back of her head as Amanda looked up into her eyes taken back by the moment but swept away at the same time. In an instant they were kissing, she expected Amanda to pull away, to fight her in some way but she didn’t, she melted in her arms and returned the kiss with all the same passion and desire. Clumsily they both reached for the door to the locker room, Rayne twisted the lock then pressed Amanda up against the steel door, brushing the hair from her face as their tongues danced in one another’s mouth…
“Precious flower… How you bloom…”
Well howdy there pardner.