Post by Andrew Jacobsen on Feb 22, 2010 23:04:34 GMT -6
Emma sits in front of a banner advertising Crossroads with a smile on her face as big as Texas. She almost purrs as she speaks to the camera, bottle of Daniels in hand.
“Here we are. Crossroads. And it is in fact a crossroads, because it crosses the point where my career in nCw rockets to the stratosphere...and those three women's careers go spiraling down. Crossroads marks the point where everything changes. A Pinfall for Power Rankings match. I like the idea. This could essentially become a number-one contender's match. The way we're ranked right now, a win by any of us would put us in line for a Women's Title match. Of the four of us, three have faced the Women's Champion. We have all lost...but I've beaten two of my opponents already. I pinned Alexandra, and Julietta lost that match too. Roxi, you lost to Zelda in an Xtreme Rules match, which MUST have taken a toll on you.”
She grins wickedly, leaning forward and taking a drink from her bottle.
“Mmm, whiskey...I noticed the favorite insult of Alexandra is 'white trash'. Ignoring the fact that I could just as easily call her Euro-trash but won't, it's ridiculous. Roxi lives in a huge mansion with her obscenely wealthy husband, Julietta's not the stereotype of white trash...hell, I'm the only one that comes close, and I REVEL in those things. I don't want to be like you, Alexandra. I love how you call me underhanded. Look, I ate a Mummification from you and still came back to win, so there goes your claimed ace in the hole. I Jägerbombed you and pinned you when I got the chance. You want to whinge about losing, go cry in your wine. Me? I'll be relaxing with my bottle of Daniels and chair, watching as you unravel. It's beautiful to see someone as mad as you lose it, Alexandra. I did you one better on Sunday, and I'll do you one better at Crossroads. Be prepared to get eliminated. Be prepared to LOSE, Alex.”
She sighs, chuckling as she takes another drink from the bottle.
“To answer your question, as if I haven't already: Yes. Yes, I feel confident in my abilities, because I'm that damn good. I'm good enough to beat you and your god complex. Alexandra, I'm good enough to kick your ass all over Memphis. I'm good enough to pin you and every other woman in this match...including the woman who can legitimately challenge me for the title of 'Queen of Extreme', Julietta Lee.”
Emma grins.
“Julie, I have to say, I loved hearing what you had to say about me. It's flattering, but to honest I'm not that into you. Maybe as a friend, but not romantically. Call me sometime and maybe we can compare scars. As for the match itself, you've hurt me, but I've hurt you too. What's more, I've still got that win over you. You have any idea how good it made me feel to shut you up? Now, you're probably going to eat a Brooklyn Hangover before the night is over. But don't hold that against me, Julie. Feel free to hold your body against me, though...”
She winks, giggling.
“Ohh, it's so fun meddling with bi-curious sadomasochists. Not that I get that many opportunities to do so. When they DO come along, I gotta savor it. So, Julietta. Whips and chains won't stop me. Your PMSing won't take me down. Put the switchblade away, and let's just go at it. You've got the brawling skills and the raw power to be a good matchup for me. I'd love to take you on in a no-DQ match one of these days to determine which of us is the REAL Queen of Extreme. Until then, I'll have to settle for having two wins over you, one on a PPV stage. Hate to crush you this early on, but accept that fact now: you're going to lose. I might eliminate you first, second, last, or someone else might eliminate you. The fact is, I'm not going to let you take me down. Put up a fight anyway, but know you're not going to get me eliminated. Bring the Ugly Maskmaker and all of your tricks to the ring. I'll match you blow for blow, bomb for bomb, slam for slam and throw for throw. My star will burn brighter than ever after this match, and you...you'll just...fade away into the dark.”
Emma leans back, taking a drink from the omnipresent bottle of Jack. She smacks her lips, savoring each drop.
“Which brings me to the unknown in this match, Roxi Johnson. I've never wrestled you. You've got that edge that neither Alexandra nor Julietta has: I don't know your wrestling style. I know you've lost to Zelda Knite, which as I've said is no shame. Losing to the champ's an unsurprising occurrence. There's a reason she holds those ten pounds of gold. She is, without a doubt, one of the best wrestlers I have EVER seen, period. She put me away twice. She's put away Julietta. But here's the thing: I know that I can put you away. You're not Zelda Knite, and neither am I, but I just beat two of the meanest, most vicious women in nCw today. Can you say something like that, Rox? I don't think so. But don't take it personally. This whole elimination thing...it's strictly business. In the words of a great man, even though I'm confident that I'll win, I'm not going to take this match lightly. To do so would be less than perfect, which for me is impossible.”
She takes another drink, finishing off the bottle, and smashes it on the floor, sending glass flying everywhere. Emma stands up, staring into the camera with all the intensity of William Shatner on overacting overdrive.
“Broken Glass, Jack Daniels Busters, Heinekenranas, Grasshopper Drivers, Black Russian Legsweeps, Jägerbombs, Faceplants, Brookyln Hangovers, it's all comin', baby. And I've got those other tools up my sleeve. Aerial tricks that you won't believe. 'leastwise you won't WANT to believe them. But when you're getting moonsaulted onto, or 450 splashed, or...shooting star pressed...you'll NEED to believe them.”
Emma winks at the camera, waving.
“Bring it on, because the Queen is ready to fly. The Hardcore Hellion is ready to be unleashed upon you all. Alexandra, Julietta, Roxi, you'd better pray you get eliminated quickly, because you do NOT want to be stuck in a lengthy match with the likes of me. You could end up crippled...or worse. See y'all at Crossroads!”
She walks away perkily, the scene fading out.
------------------------------------------------------------
Open back up on Emma Danielson and Andrew Jacobsen sitting at a table in what appears to be the nCw cafeteria. In the background, Craven Moorehead and Jimmy Turner fight over a box of donuts. Andrew's got a concerned expression on his face, while Emma has a semi-loaded one.
“Did you hear about the match Temp drew?”
Emma nods, pulling a bottle of Stolichnaya from under the table and pouring herself a shot, which she slugs down.
“Yeah...looks like I'm going to have to teach our masked friend a thing or two about using his environment as a weapon. Think I should start with basic chair handling techniques or go straight to putting people through barbed-wire wrapped tables and that sort?”
Andrew winces at that thought. The scuffle between Moorehead and Turner grows louder in the background, forcing AJ to speak louder to be heard clearly.
“Stick with the basics at first. Just make sure not to hurt him. He'll need to be on top of his game and in top condition for Sunday.”
Emma nods, knocking back another shot.
“Y'damn right. I'll have to get someone for him to practice on...say, who was that guy you had me beat up again?”
Andrew's about to respond when Craven finally gets the box away from Turner and flees over their table. Emma clutches her bottle of vodka to herself, and a rampaging fat man tramples the cameraman, meaning...
Abrupt cut to black, with the sounds of an agonized cameraman muffled by the fat of one James Turner still coming into the speakers.
“...Mommy...”
“Here we are. Crossroads. And it is in fact a crossroads, because it crosses the point where my career in nCw rockets to the stratosphere...and those three women's careers go spiraling down. Crossroads marks the point where everything changes. A Pinfall for Power Rankings match. I like the idea. This could essentially become a number-one contender's match. The way we're ranked right now, a win by any of us would put us in line for a Women's Title match. Of the four of us, three have faced the Women's Champion. We have all lost...but I've beaten two of my opponents already. I pinned Alexandra, and Julietta lost that match too. Roxi, you lost to Zelda in an Xtreme Rules match, which MUST have taken a toll on you.”
She grins wickedly, leaning forward and taking a drink from her bottle.
“Mmm, whiskey...I noticed the favorite insult of Alexandra is 'white trash'. Ignoring the fact that I could just as easily call her Euro-trash but won't, it's ridiculous. Roxi lives in a huge mansion with her obscenely wealthy husband, Julietta's not the stereotype of white trash...hell, I'm the only one that comes close, and I REVEL in those things. I don't want to be like you, Alexandra. I love how you call me underhanded. Look, I ate a Mummification from you and still came back to win, so there goes your claimed ace in the hole. I Jägerbombed you and pinned you when I got the chance. You want to whinge about losing, go cry in your wine. Me? I'll be relaxing with my bottle of Daniels and chair, watching as you unravel. It's beautiful to see someone as mad as you lose it, Alexandra. I did you one better on Sunday, and I'll do you one better at Crossroads. Be prepared to get eliminated. Be prepared to LOSE, Alex.”
She sighs, chuckling as she takes another drink from the bottle.
“To answer your question, as if I haven't already: Yes. Yes, I feel confident in my abilities, because I'm that damn good. I'm good enough to beat you and your god complex. Alexandra, I'm good enough to kick your ass all over Memphis. I'm good enough to pin you and every other woman in this match...including the woman who can legitimately challenge me for the title of 'Queen of Extreme', Julietta Lee.”
Emma grins.
“Julie, I have to say, I loved hearing what you had to say about me. It's flattering, but to honest I'm not that into you. Maybe as a friend, but not romantically. Call me sometime and maybe we can compare scars. As for the match itself, you've hurt me, but I've hurt you too. What's more, I've still got that win over you. You have any idea how good it made me feel to shut you up? Now, you're probably going to eat a Brooklyn Hangover before the night is over. But don't hold that against me, Julie. Feel free to hold your body against me, though...”
She winks, giggling.
“Ohh, it's so fun meddling with bi-curious sadomasochists. Not that I get that many opportunities to do so. When they DO come along, I gotta savor it. So, Julietta. Whips and chains won't stop me. Your PMSing won't take me down. Put the switchblade away, and let's just go at it. You've got the brawling skills and the raw power to be a good matchup for me. I'd love to take you on in a no-DQ match one of these days to determine which of us is the REAL Queen of Extreme. Until then, I'll have to settle for having two wins over you, one on a PPV stage. Hate to crush you this early on, but accept that fact now: you're going to lose. I might eliminate you first, second, last, or someone else might eliminate you. The fact is, I'm not going to let you take me down. Put up a fight anyway, but know you're not going to get me eliminated. Bring the Ugly Maskmaker and all of your tricks to the ring. I'll match you blow for blow, bomb for bomb, slam for slam and throw for throw. My star will burn brighter than ever after this match, and you...you'll just...fade away into the dark.”
Emma leans back, taking a drink from the omnipresent bottle of Jack. She smacks her lips, savoring each drop.
“Which brings me to the unknown in this match, Roxi Johnson. I've never wrestled you. You've got that edge that neither Alexandra nor Julietta has: I don't know your wrestling style. I know you've lost to Zelda Knite, which as I've said is no shame. Losing to the champ's an unsurprising occurrence. There's a reason she holds those ten pounds of gold. She is, without a doubt, one of the best wrestlers I have EVER seen, period. She put me away twice. She's put away Julietta. But here's the thing: I know that I can put you away. You're not Zelda Knite, and neither am I, but I just beat two of the meanest, most vicious women in nCw today. Can you say something like that, Rox? I don't think so. But don't take it personally. This whole elimination thing...it's strictly business. In the words of a great man, even though I'm confident that I'll win, I'm not going to take this match lightly. To do so would be less than perfect, which for me is impossible.”
She takes another drink, finishing off the bottle, and smashes it on the floor, sending glass flying everywhere. Emma stands up, staring into the camera with all the intensity of William Shatner on overacting overdrive.
“Broken Glass, Jack Daniels Busters, Heinekenranas, Grasshopper Drivers, Black Russian Legsweeps, Jägerbombs, Faceplants, Brookyln Hangovers, it's all comin', baby. And I've got those other tools up my sleeve. Aerial tricks that you won't believe. 'leastwise you won't WANT to believe them. But when you're getting moonsaulted onto, or 450 splashed, or...shooting star pressed...you'll NEED to believe them.”
Emma winks at the camera, waving.
“Bring it on, because the Queen is ready to fly. The Hardcore Hellion is ready to be unleashed upon you all. Alexandra, Julietta, Roxi, you'd better pray you get eliminated quickly, because you do NOT want to be stuck in a lengthy match with the likes of me. You could end up crippled...or worse. See y'all at Crossroads!”
She walks away perkily, the scene fading out.
------------------------------------------------------------
Open back up on Emma Danielson and Andrew Jacobsen sitting at a table in what appears to be the nCw cafeteria. In the background, Craven Moorehead and Jimmy Turner fight over a box of donuts. Andrew's got a concerned expression on his face, while Emma has a semi-loaded one.
“Did you hear about the match Temp drew?”
Emma nods, pulling a bottle of Stolichnaya from under the table and pouring herself a shot, which she slugs down.
“Yeah...looks like I'm going to have to teach our masked friend a thing or two about using his environment as a weapon. Think I should start with basic chair handling techniques or go straight to putting people through barbed-wire wrapped tables and that sort?”
Andrew winces at that thought. The scuffle between Moorehead and Turner grows louder in the background, forcing AJ to speak louder to be heard clearly.
“Stick with the basics at first. Just make sure not to hurt him. He'll need to be on top of his game and in top condition for Sunday.”
Emma nods, knocking back another shot.
“Y'damn right. I'll have to get someone for him to practice on...say, who was that guy you had me beat up again?”
Andrew's about to respond when Craven finally gets the box away from Turner and flees over their table. Emma clutches her bottle of vodka to herself, and a rampaging fat man tramples the cameraman, meaning...
Abrupt cut to black, with the sounds of an agonized cameraman muffled by the fat of one James Turner still coming into the speakers.
“...Mommy...”