Post by Emma Danielson on Jun 29, 2015 21:12:05 GMT
Heya buddy. Mercy, it's been a while. God, hasn't it been a while? Nice to see you're still plugging along, still doing you. I mean that sincerely. I've always enjoyed getting in the ring with you, and this is even better because it's going to be live on py-per-view. Damn, I'm hyped!
I like kicking your ass, Mercy. It's familiar. First beer of the night familiar. When I land that first punch on your jaw, it'll almost slot into the grooves from every other time I've clocked ya one. Like a puzzle piece, but with more broken bones. Man, I can't wait. I feel like a kid in a candy store.
I mean, it could always be worse. This could be a no-DQ match. This could be Falls Count Anywhere. You could be looking down the barrel of the Hardcore Hellion in her native environment. As it sits? Eh, you're gonna hurt, but it's not as bad as it could be. So cheer up!
A month of disappointment. That's what being Women's Champion was for me before. I want it back, and I want it because the champ always gets the wildest fights. The champ always gets the nastiest, most brutal matches, with all the big options open, and those are the most fun.
'cause yeah, in case you forgot, Mercy? I have fun with this. I have fun with beating the piss out of people. I get paid to do it, and I have a great time. There's nothing like the feeling of throwing down in a wrestling ring, and I can't wait to mix it up with you again, ol' buddy.
Why am I being so chummy? I'm in a good mood. One friend got me into this tournament, and now I get to wrestle a second old coworker. It's like the most violent class reunion ever! Great times!
So bring it on, Mercedes. Talk your talk, walk your walk, and get planted like an oak tree. Once you get scraped off the canvas, we can have a drink or three, catch up on things. Hell...
First round's on me.
The smoke curls up from the end of her cigarette. Emma pours herself a shot of whiskey, leaning back and looking out at the setting sun with a grin on her face. Her phone vibrates, and without looking Emma spins it up to answer.
"Yo."
A gravelly chuckle rasps through the speaker, a testament to a life of poor choices and chain-smoking. The voice that follows is as smooth as sandpaper, but with a rough warmth and charm all its own.
"That's how you greet your father, young lady? Yo? I thought I raised you better than that. At least give me a 'What's up' first."
Emma snorts, grinning to herself.
"Okay, Dad. What's up? What brings you a-calling tonight?"
Marcus Danielson sighs, pride in every word as he speaks to Emma.
"My girl's on pay-per-view. I wanted to wish her luck from her old man and everyone back home. We're all pulling for you. But, uh...you didn't mention you got rehired. How'd you pull that off?"
Emma chuckles, shrugging and taking a drag from her cigarette. The nerves are almost completely masked...almost.
"I made a few calls, leaned on a few people."
"Ya mean you schmoozed up to the boss."
Emma sighs, nodding, and stubs out her cigarette.
"Got me. Can't fool you, can I?"
"Nope. Whatever works, kiddo. Just don't get too comfy. If the power scale shifts, you might wind up on the short end of the new order. Now go kick that Argentine girl's ass."
Emma nods, smiling to herself, though not without a wistful look in her eye.
"Yeah. Talk to you later, Dad. Love you."
"You too, sweetheart."
Emma hangs up the phone, leaning back, and sighs, staring over at the shot of whiskey. She takes a moment before grabbing the shot glass and knocking it back fully. Emma sets the glass down, shaking her head, and closing her eyes as we fade out.
I like kicking your ass, Mercy. It's familiar. First beer of the night familiar. When I land that first punch on your jaw, it'll almost slot into the grooves from every other time I've clocked ya one. Like a puzzle piece, but with more broken bones. Man, I can't wait. I feel like a kid in a candy store.
I mean, it could always be worse. This could be a no-DQ match. This could be Falls Count Anywhere. You could be looking down the barrel of the Hardcore Hellion in her native environment. As it sits? Eh, you're gonna hurt, but it's not as bad as it could be. So cheer up!
A month of disappointment. That's what being Women's Champion was for me before. I want it back, and I want it because the champ always gets the wildest fights. The champ always gets the nastiest, most brutal matches, with all the big options open, and those are the most fun.
'cause yeah, in case you forgot, Mercy? I have fun with this. I have fun with beating the piss out of people. I get paid to do it, and I have a great time. There's nothing like the feeling of throwing down in a wrestling ring, and I can't wait to mix it up with you again, ol' buddy.
Why am I being so chummy? I'm in a good mood. One friend got me into this tournament, and now I get to wrestle a second old coworker. It's like the most violent class reunion ever! Great times!
So bring it on, Mercedes. Talk your talk, walk your walk, and get planted like an oak tree. Once you get scraped off the canvas, we can have a drink or three, catch up on things. Hell...
First round's on me.
The smoke curls up from the end of her cigarette. Emma pours herself a shot of whiskey, leaning back and looking out at the setting sun with a grin on her face. Her phone vibrates, and without looking Emma spins it up to answer.
"Yo."
A gravelly chuckle rasps through the speaker, a testament to a life of poor choices and chain-smoking. The voice that follows is as smooth as sandpaper, but with a rough warmth and charm all its own.
"That's how you greet your father, young lady? Yo? I thought I raised you better than that. At least give me a 'What's up' first."
Emma snorts, grinning to herself.
"Okay, Dad. What's up? What brings you a-calling tonight?"
Marcus Danielson sighs, pride in every word as he speaks to Emma.
"My girl's on pay-per-view. I wanted to wish her luck from her old man and everyone back home. We're all pulling for you. But, uh...you didn't mention you got rehired. How'd you pull that off?"
Emma chuckles, shrugging and taking a drag from her cigarette. The nerves are almost completely masked...almost.
"I made a few calls, leaned on a few people."
"Ya mean you schmoozed up to the boss."
Emma sighs, nodding, and stubs out her cigarette.
"Got me. Can't fool you, can I?"
"Nope. Whatever works, kiddo. Just don't get too comfy. If the power scale shifts, you might wind up on the short end of the new order. Now go kick that Argentine girl's ass."
Emma nods, smiling to herself, though not without a wistful look in her eye.
"Yeah. Talk to you later, Dad. Love you."
"You too, sweetheart."
Emma hangs up the phone, leaning back, and sighs, staring over at the shot of whiskey. She takes a moment before grabbing the shot glass and knocking it back fully. Emma sets the glass down, shaking her head, and closing her eyes as we fade out.
Well howdy there pardner.