Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Jan 29, 2010 17:48:58 GMT -6
Emma sits in a hotel room on the couch, hands folded. She silently looks into the camera. Her state of dress is her usual, casual. A smirk rests on her face, no doubt from hearing what Emma English had to say about her and her actions on Sunday.
“Well well, Emma. Big surprise. You're talking tough and falling back on people your father knows. I actually rather enjoy your promos, Em. I need a good laugh every once in a while. I'm going to take one of your statements, the one about me being sloppy in the ring, and build on that. Am I sloppy to you because I favor power moves and brawling over suplexes and that sort? Grace in combat comes in many forms, Miss English. You brag about 'an English does this' and 'an English does that' and 'the Queen is dead, long live the Dutchess'. Well, let me tell you something. Better women than you have tried to kill the Queen, and they failed.”
Emma grins at the camera, an almost predatory glint in her eyes.
“I've come a long way to be where I am now. I won't let some second-generation bitch like you deny me any longer. The queen's the most powerful piece in chess, and I'm the most powerful woman in this company. But I wasn't always this way. Let me take a trip down Memory Lane with you, Emma. I'm going to educate you on this Queen's reign.”
She reaches over, grabbing a three-ring binder from the side table and flipping it open. She opens it to the first picture, Emma in mid-backflip over a prone opponent. The caption reads “MWF Women's Title Match, December 8, 2003. Suicide Blonde vs. Emilia Reyes (c)” She smiles fondly, speaking.
“The memories...I used to wrestle a crazy, death-defying high-flyer style. Called myself 'the Suicide Blonde'. That picture right there is me in the match that won me the Midwest Wrestling Federation Women's Title for the very first time. To think, there was a time I could pull off a shooting star press. When I could pull off stunts that would be right at home in the X-Division. Those were the days. Played myself as this bubbly, perky face. The fans were mediocre on it, but I felt at home doing that stuff. The adrenaline rush I got hurtling through the air...it was euphoric. I thought it'd never change. Until...”
She flips the page, this picture showing her winding up for a one-man conchairto on a bloodied woman mid-ring, a furious expression on her face and blood streaming down it. The caption reads “Women's Title Iron Maiden Match, Inaugural Edition of MWF Wednesday Showdown, June 8, 2005. Emma Danielson (c) vs. Lily Manson” Emma snickers.
“I moved to my 'Queen of Extreme' gimmick after I got properly introduced to a little outfit known as Extreme Championship Wrestling. Seeing that sort of brutality kindled a flame in me. I realized that I could go far with the hardcore style I'd seen so aptly demonstrated by the boys in Philly, and I went to the guys that ran MWF with my new gimmick. They loved it, and we got the match you saw there. An Iron Maiden match. Thirty minutes—we WERE on broadcast TV, after all—of no-holds-barred wrestling. I actually came out of that with a loss, but I ended up spinning that into what I thought was a pretty good arc detailing my supposed mental degeneration after losing the title, subsequent slide into alcoholism—that part wasn't planned, but it helped—and my frantic attempts to reclaim the title from Lily. Look it up on Youtube sometime, it's sick stuff.”
She turns the page again. This photo shows her in a black tanktop with long rolls of cloth wrapped around each arm, like bindings, and jeans, mid-ring, hugging the same woman. The caption for this one says “Photo taken at last MWF Showdown, November 12, 2008. Emma Danielson vs. Lily Manson (c), MWF Women's Title Match was the last match before the main event.” She smiles again, feeling the memories of that night come flooding back.
“And here we have it. The last time I wrestled until my appearance here in nCw. That feud between me and Lily ran for four years, and it was something to behold. Probably the best women's feud MWF had. We weren't the main event, but we still put on a main-event caliber match that night. I got her to tap to, of all things, that cloverleaf Sammie Rene tapped to. Funny how that goes, isn't it? I retired a six-time MWF Women's Champion and a three-time MWF Hardcore Champion. All in all, a good career...but then I saw AJ debut. I watched him for a few months, and when he won the X-Division belt, I knew he'd need some veteran advice. That's why I contacted him about becoming his manager. Lo and behold, not a month later, a Women's Division comes to be. And here I am. Here *we* are, sorry.”
She looks up from the binder, looking back into the camera.
“Do you know why I did this, Emma? It's to show you who you're up against. I've got a history of violence, and I've done things so sick they'd make you vomit. This match is the first step in my ascent. I may be the Queen of Extreme, but I will not rest until I'm the Queen of nCw. So, Dutchess? Either get out of my way, or prepare to get hurt. I put my best friend through a thumbtack-covered table. I damn near broke another friend's wrist in a match just like this, for the #1 contendership.”
She flips through the binder as she speaks, showing more and more scenes of hardcore bloodshed, all with her standing as the one in control.
“Ladders, chairs, kendo sticks, tables, trash cans, monitors, ring bells, title belts, turnbuckles, sledgehammers, chains, barricades. I will use everything I can get my hands on to cause you pain. That includes that sap you treasure so much. I wonder how your father would feel if I beat you senseless with it, Emma? Would that 'tarnish the English name'? I don't think so. See, you aren't going to live up to your father's legacy specifically BECAUSE you're trying to. Me? I don't have to live up to a legacy. I *am* the legacy. The pressure's off. And after Sunday, it'll be off for you, because I will END you right then and there, in that very ring. I'd do it before, but I want that #1 contender's spot.”
Emma finally sets the binder down, grinning.
“Be afraid, Emma. Be very afraid,. I finally have you one-on-one. The ref'll HAVE to pay attention this time, so you can't count on that to save you. You'd best bring everything you've got. That sap, your bodyguard—and no self-respecting wrestler needs a bodyguard, Emma—your manager, even though he's probably worse than worthless in a fight, it doesn't matter. I'm going into Metamorphosis with fire in my eyes and a hunger for gold. Beating you will just mean I'm that much closer to sating that hunger. Come this Sunday...”
Emma stands up, chuckling darkly as she smirks at the camera.
“The Hardcore Hellion is coming for you, Emma. You've unleashed an animal you can't cage. I will not stop until you're laying on that mat, bleeding and broken. When that referee counts that third count and I'm named #1 contender, I will stand over your body and you will know you have met your superior. I can only offer you this one piece of advice, Emma: Be ready. Or be dead.”
Emma walks off. Fade out to “Walk” by Pantera.
RE!
SPECT!
WALK!
What did you say?!
RE!
SPECT!
WALK!
Are you talkin' to me?!
ARE YOU TALKIN' TO ME?!
Walk on home, boy...
“Well well, Emma. Big surprise. You're talking tough and falling back on people your father knows. I actually rather enjoy your promos, Em. I need a good laugh every once in a while. I'm going to take one of your statements, the one about me being sloppy in the ring, and build on that. Am I sloppy to you because I favor power moves and brawling over suplexes and that sort? Grace in combat comes in many forms, Miss English. You brag about 'an English does this' and 'an English does that' and 'the Queen is dead, long live the Dutchess'. Well, let me tell you something. Better women than you have tried to kill the Queen, and they failed.”
Emma grins at the camera, an almost predatory glint in her eyes.
“I've come a long way to be where I am now. I won't let some second-generation bitch like you deny me any longer. The queen's the most powerful piece in chess, and I'm the most powerful woman in this company. But I wasn't always this way. Let me take a trip down Memory Lane with you, Emma. I'm going to educate you on this Queen's reign.”
She reaches over, grabbing a three-ring binder from the side table and flipping it open. She opens it to the first picture, Emma in mid-backflip over a prone opponent. The caption reads “MWF Women's Title Match, December 8, 2003. Suicide Blonde vs. Emilia Reyes (c)” She smiles fondly, speaking.
“The memories...I used to wrestle a crazy, death-defying high-flyer style. Called myself 'the Suicide Blonde'. That picture right there is me in the match that won me the Midwest Wrestling Federation Women's Title for the very first time. To think, there was a time I could pull off a shooting star press. When I could pull off stunts that would be right at home in the X-Division. Those were the days. Played myself as this bubbly, perky face. The fans were mediocre on it, but I felt at home doing that stuff. The adrenaline rush I got hurtling through the air...it was euphoric. I thought it'd never change. Until...”
She flips the page, this picture showing her winding up for a one-man conchairto on a bloodied woman mid-ring, a furious expression on her face and blood streaming down it. The caption reads “Women's Title Iron Maiden Match, Inaugural Edition of MWF Wednesday Showdown, June 8, 2005. Emma Danielson (c) vs. Lily Manson” Emma snickers.
“I moved to my 'Queen of Extreme' gimmick after I got properly introduced to a little outfit known as Extreme Championship Wrestling. Seeing that sort of brutality kindled a flame in me. I realized that I could go far with the hardcore style I'd seen so aptly demonstrated by the boys in Philly, and I went to the guys that ran MWF with my new gimmick. They loved it, and we got the match you saw there. An Iron Maiden match. Thirty minutes—we WERE on broadcast TV, after all—of no-holds-barred wrestling. I actually came out of that with a loss, but I ended up spinning that into what I thought was a pretty good arc detailing my supposed mental degeneration after losing the title, subsequent slide into alcoholism—that part wasn't planned, but it helped—and my frantic attempts to reclaim the title from Lily. Look it up on Youtube sometime, it's sick stuff.”
She turns the page again. This photo shows her in a black tanktop with long rolls of cloth wrapped around each arm, like bindings, and jeans, mid-ring, hugging the same woman. The caption for this one says “Photo taken at last MWF Showdown, November 12, 2008. Emma Danielson vs. Lily Manson (c), MWF Women's Title Match was the last match before the main event.” She smiles again, feeling the memories of that night come flooding back.
“And here we have it. The last time I wrestled until my appearance here in nCw. That feud between me and Lily ran for four years, and it was something to behold. Probably the best women's feud MWF had. We weren't the main event, but we still put on a main-event caliber match that night. I got her to tap to, of all things, that cloverleaf Sammie Rene tapped to. Funny how that goes, isn't it? I retired a six-time MWF Women's Champion and a three-time MWF Hardcore Champion. All in all, a good career...but then I saw AJ debut. I watched him for a few months, and when he won the X-Division belt, I knew he'd need some veteran advice. That's why I contacted him about becoming his manager. Lo and behold, not a month later, a Women's Division comes to be. And here I am. Here *we* are, sorry.”
She looks up from the binder, looking back into the camera.
“Do you know why I did this, Emma? It's to show you who you're up against. I've got a history of violence, and I've done things so sick they'd make you vomit. This match is the first step in my ascent. I may be the Queen of Extreme, but I will not rest until I'm the Queen of nCw. So, Dutchess? Either get out of my way, or prepare to get hurt. I put my best friend through a thumbtack-covered table. I damn near broke another friend's wrist in a match just like this, for the #1 contendership.”
She flips through the binder as she speaks, showing more and more scenes of hardcore bloodshed, all with her standing as the one in control.
“Ladders, chairs, kendo sticks, tables, trash cans, monitors, ring bells, title belts, turnbuckles, sledgehammers, chains, barricades. I will use everything I can get my hands on to cause you pain. That includes that sap you treasure so much. I wonder how your father would feel if I beat you senseless with it, Emma? Would that 'tarnish the English name'? I don't think so. See, you aren't going to live up to your father's legacy specifically BECAUSE you're trying to. Me? I don't have to live up to a legacy. I *am* the legacy. The pressure's off. And after Sunday, it'll be off for you, because I will END you right then and there, in that very ring. I'd do it before, but I want that #1 contender's spot.”
Emma finally sets the binder down, grinning.
“Be afraid, Emma. Be very afraid,. I finally have you one-on-one. The ref'll HAVE to pay attention this time, so you can't count on that to save you. You'd best bring everything you've got. That sap, your bodyguard—and no self-respecting wrestler needs a bodyguard, Emma—your manager, even though he's probably worse than worthless in a fight, it doesn't matter. I'm going into Metamorphosis with fire in my eyes and a hunger for gold. Beating you will just mean I'm that much closer to sating that hunger. Come this Sunday...”
Emma stands up, chuckling darkly as she smirks at the camera.
“The Hardcore Hellion is coming for you, Emma. You've unleashed an animal you can't cage. I will not stop until you're laying on that mat, bleeding and broken. When that referee counts that third count and I'm named #1 contender, I will stand over your body and you will know you have met your superior. I can only offer you this one piece of advice, Emma: Be ready. Or be dead.”
Emma walks off. Fade out to “Walk” by Pantera.
RE!
SPECT!
WALK!
What did you say?!
RE!
SPECT!
WALK!
Are you talkin' to me?!
ARE YOU TALKIN' TO ME?!
Walk on home, boy...