Post by Emma Danielson on Apr 27, 2010 22:38:59 GMT -6
Emma Danielson arches her eyebrow, waiting for any notification of a promo from either of her opponents at A Night to Remember. She taps F5 every few seconds, almost lazily, but she perks up when the e-mail comes. Emma opens it, grinning wickedly...and grins even wider when she digests the details of Tara Fenix's promo. A sinister coo escapes her lips, as she balls a fist and punches her other palm with it. Emma stands up, walking to her cooler and pulling out a frost-covered bottle of Rolling Rock. She cracks it open with her bare hand, taking a swig, and sighs, looking back at the computer screen. Thoughts flash through her mind as she begins speaking finally.
“Well...well...well. What have we here? Tara Fenix and Joanne Canelli, in a match with me, for the number-one contendership to the nCw Women's Title. How wonderful. I get to beat up two more women on my way to the top. Tell me, girls. Did you think you'd get this far? Did you honestly think you were going to make it to a number-one contender's match? Because I certainly didn't. And I'm pretty sure nobody else did. But I could be wrong. Let's see what you two girls are like...starting with...hmm, I don't care about which one I start with. Let's say...Tara Fenix.”
She takes another drink from her beer, chuckling to herself. Emma sits back down at her computer, pulling up Tara Fenix's bio on ncw.com. She reads it over briefly, then goes to “Match History.” Emma has to stifle a chuckle as she sees the atrophied list of matches. She muses to herself as she looks at her history as a wrestler, grinning.
“Well, Tara. 1-3. Bad record, it appears. I know you're going to point out my less-than-stellar record, but that was then. This is now. I'm on a roll...and you? You want to go and whine about how you lost when your opponents cheated? Welcome to wrestling, baby. This happens all the damn time. What you have to do is put on your big girl panties and learn how to compensate. Look, I know what you're talking about with Alex. I've been up against her time after time after time. I know how she just can't compete with the big dogs. But you need to just...GROW UP! Okay, here's my reaction to your talking. See this?”
She points to her face, which remains serious and neutral. Emma takes another drink, shaking her head. She coughs a bit, pounding her chest with a balled fist to clear her throat, and resumes her op-ed on her opponents.
“That's what it looks like when someone's giveadamner doesn't go off. That's what it looks like when all you can do is rack up a win against the other woman in this match. Beat someone who I care about. Do something here and now that makes me sit up and take notice. You wanna be an icon? You want to be Women's Champion? How about you put up or shut up?”
Anger blazes in Emma's eyes as she speaks. Clearly, something about Tara has her particularly pissed off.
“How about you show up and bring what you've got or get out of here and don't come back? This is New Championship Wrestling, Tara. It doesn't matter what you've done elsewhere. It doesn't matter who you've beaten in any other federation. All that matters is that you haven't beaten anyone of worth here. And don't expect that to change Sunday. You're getting your ass kicked, courtesy of the Queen of Extreme.”
Something clicks in Emma's mind and she chuckles once more, having found another point to exploit about the self-proclaimed Frozen Savior through her own blatant self-promotion.
“That's a title that makes sense, see. It's a little more realistic than, uh...Queen of Kings? I've already beaten the hell out of someone who calls herself the Queen of Kings. I don't make those sort of grandiose claims. I just say what I know's true. And I know that if you were in an Xtreme Rules match with me, you'd have to be STRECHERED out. And if you piss me off this week, you might end up getting strechered out anyway, hardcore match or not. Go ahead. Talk all you want. But actions speak louder than words do. And I'm going to show you how little it means for you to talk about beating someone when I beat you all up and down Madison Square.”
Emma finishes her first Heineken, lazily navigating over to Joanne Canelli's profile now. She checks out her match history, grinning. Emma reaches over and uncaps another bottle, taking a drink. She smirks at the bio, setting her beer down on a folder on the desk.
“See, this Joanne Canelli chick's someone I could get to liking. She's no-nonsense, she's tough, and she knows that sometimes you have to throw the ***damn rulebook out the window if you want to win. I can see her doing something here. WHAT she'll do is beyond me, but she's got potential. I know both of you girls have some extensive experience outside nCw, but you're relative newcomers here. Allow me to be your guide to the world of nCw's Women's Division.”
She pulls up the Women's Power Rankings, pointing out each one of the women she mentions as she goes.
“Okay, so you have the Women's Champion Zelda Knite and the Millennia Champion Ayla St. James. Top of the heap because they've got ten pounds of gold around their waists. Then right below is Julietta Lee. She's good, I'll give her that. But she's not perfect. She blew a title shot before, in the finals of the Women's Championship Tournament. Then...you've got myself and Alexandra Kane. Alex had a shot at Crossroads. Now it's my turn. I take what I want, and then the next time that belt's defended, against Zelda OR Ayla, I get what's been coming to me for a loooong time.”
She smirks, but something clicks in her head and she scrolls down some more. She points out Joanne and Tara's relatively low spots on the rankings with her mouse cursor.
“And see where you are? You're beating out the wife of Joe Everyman, the freakin' Cat Lady, the still-awesome Rayne, and Angel Kash. Of those three, only one's a legit competitor, and she's had two matches to your four, so I don't think it's exactly a fair comparison. My point is, no matter how many titles you've held in other feds, no matter what you've done ELSEWHERE...you're nobodies here. If you want to be somebody here, you've got to win here. Same goes for anyone else that tries to coast on their reputation from anywhere else. I tried that. It got me nothing. I realized that if you want to make it in the big leagues...”
Emma takes her beer up again, taking a gulp, and grins. She licks her lips, completing her thought.
“...you've got to make an impression there first. Tara, you've got to learn that no matter what your little bitchfest is with Joanne, this isn't a singles match, LIKE YOU SAID. I'm still standing here, and you're going to have to deal with me. Joanne? You haven't spoken yet, but I expect some intelligent things from you. Tara...you talk about how you think attitude can get you everywhere? Just believing you can win isn't going to get you the win. This isn't freaking Captain Planet. Heart isn't a weapon. You've got your arms and legs when you enter the ring, so use 'em and use 'em well. Not much more to say to you cretins right now. I'll be waiting for you to figuratively flail aimlessly some more at me with pathetic attempts at insults. Ciao, you two.”
Emma finishes off her second beer as the scene fades out.
“Well...well...well. What have we here? Tara Fenix and Joanne Canelli, in a match with me, for the number-one contendership to the nCw Women's Title. How wonderful. I get to beat up two more women on my way to the top. Tell me, girls. Did you think you'd get this far? Did you honestly think you were going to make it to a number-one contender's match? Because I certainly didn't. And I'm pretty sure nobody else did. But I could be wrong. Let's see what you two girls are like...starting with...hmm, I don't care about which one I start with. Let's say...Tara Fenix.”
She takes another drink from her beer, chuckling to herself. Emma sits back down at her computer, pulling up Tara Fenix's bio on ncw.com. She reads it over briefly, then goes to “Match History.” Emma has to stifle a chuckle as she sees the atrophied list of matches. She muses to herself as she looks at her history as a wrestler, grinning.
“Well, Tara. 1-3. Bad record, it appears. I know you're going to point out my less-than-stellar record, but that was then. This is now. I'm on a roll...and you? You want to go and whine about how you lost when your opponents cheated? Welcome to wrestling, baby. This happens all the damn time. What you have to do is put on your big girl panties and learn how to compensate. Look, I know what you're talking about with Alex. I've been up against her time after time after time. I know how she just can't compete with the big dogs. But you need to just...GROW UP! Okay, here's my reaction to your talking. See this?”
She points to her face, which remains serious and neutral. Emma takes another drink, shaking her head. She coughs a bit, pounding her chest with a balled fist to clear her throat, and resumes her op-ed on her opponents.
“That's what it looks like when someone's giveadamner doesn't go off. That's what it looks like when all you can do is rack up a win against the other woman in this match. Beat someone who I care about. Do something here and now that makes me sit up and take notice. You wanna be an icon? You want to be Women's Champion? How about you put up or shut up?”
Anger blazes in Emma's eyes as she speaks. Clearly, something about Tara has her particularly pissed off.
“How about you show up and bring what you've got or get out of here and don't come back? This is New Championship Wrestling, Tara. It doesn't matter what you've done elsewhere. It doesn't matter who you've beaten in any other federation. All that matters is that you haven't beaten anyone of worth here. And don't expect that to change Sunday. You're getting your ass kicked, courtesy of the Queen of Extreme.”
Something clicks in Emma's mind and she chuckles once more, having found another point to exploit about the self-proclaimed Frozen Savior through her own blatant self-promotion.
“That's a title that makes sense, see. It's a little more realistic than, uh...Queen of Kings? I've already beaten the hell out of someone who calls herself the Queen of Kings. I don't make those sort of grandiose claims. I just say what I know's true. And I know that if you were in an Xtreme Rules match with me, you'd have to be STRECHERED out. And if you piss me off this week, you might end up getting strechered out anyway, hardcore match or not. Go ahead. Talk all you want. But actions speak louder than words do. And I'm going to show you how little it means for you to talk about beating someone when I beat you all up and down Madison Square.”
Emma finishes her first Heineken, lazily navigating over to Joanne Canelli's profile now. She checks out her match history, grinning. Emma reaches over and uncaps another bottle, taking a drink. She smirks at the bio, setting her beer down on a folder on the desk.
“See, this Joanne Canelli chick's someone I could get to liking. She's no-nonsense, she's tough, and she knows that sometimes you have to throw the ***damn rulebook out the window if you want to win. I can see her doing something here. WHAT she'll do is beyond me, but she's got potential. I know both of you girls have some extensive experience outside nCw, but you're relative newcomers here. Allow me to be your guide to the world of nCw's Women's Division.”
She pulls up the Women's Power Rankings, pointing out each one of the women she mentions as she goes.
“Okay, so you have the Women's Champion Zelda Knite and the Millennia Champion Ayla St. James. Top of the heap because they've got ten pounds of gold around their waists. Then right below is Julietta Lee. She's good, I'll give her that. But she's not perfect. She blew a title shot before, in the finals of the Women's Championship Tournament. Then...you've got myself and Alexandra Kane. Alex had a shot at Crossroads. Now it's my turn. I take what I want, and then the next time that belt's defended, against Zelda OR Ayla, I get what's been coming to me for a loooong time.”
She smirks, but something clicks in her head and she scrolls down some more. She points out Joanne and Tara's relatively low spots on the rankings with her mouse cursor.
“And see where you are? You're beating out the wife of Joe Everyman, the freakin' Cat Lady, the still-awesome Rayne, and Angel Kash. Of those three, only one's a legit competitor, and she's had two matches to your four, so I don't think it's exactly a fair comparison. My point is, no matter how many titles you've held in other feds, no matter what you've done ELSEWHERE...you're nobodies here. If you want to be somebody here, you've got to win here. Same goes for anyone else that tries to coast on their reputation from anywhere else. I tried that. It got me nothing. I realized that if you want to make it in the big leagues...”
Emma takes her beer up again, taking a gulp, and grins. She licks her lips, completing her thought.
“...you've got to make an impression there first. Tara, you've got to learn that no matter what your little bitchfest is with Joanne, this isn't a singles match, LIKE YOU SAID. I'm still standing here, and you're going to have to deal with me. Joanne? You haven't spoken yet, but I expect some intelligent things from you. Tara...you talk about how you think attitude can get you everywhere? Just believing you can win isn't going to get you the win. This isn't freaking Captain Planet. Heart isn't a weapon. You've got your arms and legs when you enter the ring, so use 'em and use 'em well. Not much more to say to you cretins right now. I'll be waiting for you to figuratively flail aimlessly some more at me with pathetic attempts at insults. Ciao, you two.”
Emma finishes off her second beer as the scene fades out.