Post by Emma Danielson on Jun 1, 2010 0:23:18 GMT -6
Open on the inside of Emma Danielson's hotel room. Emma hauls in a box of liquor from the hall, setting it down carefully by her coffee table. She sits down, opening the box and ensuring that none of the fragile glass bottles broke open in transit from Canada to Michigan. Satistfied that nothing did break, Emma sits down on her table, a somber expression on her face. She shakes her head, groaning and almost reaching for a bottle out of the box, but stops herself at the last moment.
“Well...I guess Zelda fired the first shot in this war of words. And I have to say, I'm disappointed. She said right off the bat that she knew why I took offense to what she was calling me. And why the hell wouldn't you? I have feelings. I'm a reasonable person. So when I get a little girl calling me a big drunken ogre, you can understand why it pisses me off. You go on and on about how you made Adam tap out? He tapped out because you're his ***damn sister. If that were a real match and you two weren't related, Adam would have laid you out flat. And really, how can you mean calling me a gorilla in a nice way?! I get that you're trying to backpedal, I really do! It's just that you're so ***damn stupid sometimes! THINK OVER YOUR WORDS, DAMMIT!”
Once again, she reaches for her booze but stops herself. Emma looks down at her drinks, shaking her head. She chuckles to herself, looking away from the alcohol.
“Yeah, I drink quite a bit. And I think that I might start drinking less. It hasn't exactly led to a lot of success. Zelda, you don't know what it's like. The demon in the bottle. That addiction, consuming you and everything you do. You know how video games make you feel? That euphoric rush as you overcome a difficult boss or get that last percentage of completion? And that soul-draining feeling when you just can't get it done? When you get stuck on that one...damn...boss that murders your momentum and makes it so that you can't get any farther? Zelda, winning against you...you're my kryptonite. You have my number every time we meet. But remember this: you may have beaten me twice, but take a look at your record.”
Emma grins, desperately trying to work this angle as she knows it may be one of the only ones she has on the nCw Women's Champion. She keeps speaking, maintaining an air of confidence.
“That 2-1? I'm responsible for two of those. I drew a no-contest with you. I handed you your first clean loss. I might not have pinned you, but you lost all the same. Zelda, this is it for me. This is my big chance. I've been telling everyone that I deserve this match. I ran my mouth for a month, saying that I was a founder of this company's Women's Division and that I had a title shot coming to me. And you know what? I didn't. Nobody ever has anything “coming” to them. You have to earn it. And I did earn it. I won that number-one contender's match. I won match after match. I was a juggernaut...and then I run into Tara Fenix, and she trips me up. But I just get back up and keep on fighting.”
Emma kicks the box under the table, standing up and looking back at it with a mixture between longing and disgust. She shakes her head, turning her back. Emma glares forward with determination.
“I can do it. I can be strong. This week, I won't drink a single drop of alcohol. I want to stay sober for my preparation. I'm taking this seriously, Zelda. I need to have 100 percent of my mental abilities at the ready. And I need to be able to react to whatever you throw at me without missing a beat. I can't react while drunk. Not NEARLY well enough.”
Emma grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels and walks to the kitchen with it, opening the bottle and watching the liquid pour out and down, draining out. She smiles to herself, admiring her own strength. Emma speaks as the bottle empties the last few drops into the sink.
“Being around AJ for all this time's taught me a very valuable lesson: sometimes you just have to ignore what's said and what's done and move on. And I'm moving on. On from everything that you or anyone else has called me. On from the losses. And I'm focused on one thing and one thing only: being the first person to pin you cleanly. Being the one to end your historic, magnificent title run. Oh, you'll go down in the history books as the first Women's World Champion. But I want to be the one that finally took you down. Tara Fenix? No. She can wait. This is my chance. And I'm going to take it. I'm going all the way, Zelda. I will do what nobody else has been able to do. Why? Not because you've never beaten me. Not because I'm undefeated. But because I WANT this. I want it more than anything. And I will do ANYTHING to make it happen. I will do absolutely anything to hear my name announced as the new Women's Champion.”
Emma walks back out to the living room and grabs the box out from under the table. She hefts it up and walks over to the sink, setting the box on the counter and pulling out a bottle of vodka. She unscrews it and begins pouring it down the drain. With every splash of alcohol that hits the aluminum sink, it seems that Emma gets a little bit more resolute. Her arm trembles a bit, wanting to snap the bottle back and begin drinking from it, but she forces herself to resist the urge until the vodka bottle is completely empty. Emma sets aside the bottle, moving on to the next one. She thinks back to Zelda's comments, sighing exasperatedly.
“Zelda...do you know WHY I get affected as much as I do? Because it seems like, because I'm not a supermodel like Ayla or Alexandra or a cute waif like you, people have decided that I'm a worthy target for mockery. WHY? Why, people, do you insist on insulting me for my apparent lack of looks?! With all due respect, who gave YOU the power to judge? I'd bet that most of the people who get off on calling me a tranny haven't seen anyone who looks as good as me outside of the Internet. Yeah, I'm muscular. That's because I'm what's referred to as an ATHLETE. I have an ATHLETE's build. Zelda's slim because she's a different sort of athlete. I'm a lifter, a powerhouse. She's more like a gymnast. I just needed to vent about that a little bit...motherf***ers wanna hate, huh...”
Emma, frustrated by the glacial pace of the emptying process, opens up the tops of all of the alcohol in the box and tips it all over into the sink at once, sending a practical cascade of liquor spiraling down the drain. Hundreds of dollars of drink, wiped out in a few minutes. Emma watches it drain away, a relieved grin on her face. She walks away from the kitchen, moving to the door of her room. Emma pauses before the doorframe, words on the tip of her tongue but not quite coming out. After a few seconds, she manages to speak a little bit more.
“Zelda, I like you. You're a real nice person, apart from the whole “calling me an ogre” thing, and when you turn 21, I wouldn't mind taking you out for your first real night of drinking. But I'm going to leave all of that friendliness at home. This is war. And I won't surrender. I won't take no for an answer. I want that title, Knite. And I promise that I'll take it to levels you haven't seen before to get it. I PROMISE. Get ready, Zelda. Sunday, hell will be a-callin'.”
She walks out, closing the door behind herself. Fade to black.
“Well...I guess Zelda fired the first shot in this war of words. And I have to say, I'm disappointed. She said right off the bat that she knew why I took offense to what she was calling me. And why the hell wouldn't you? I have feelings. I'm a reasonable person. So when I get a little girl calling me a big drunken ogre, you can understand why it pisses me off. You go on and on about how you made Adam tap out? He tapped out because you're his ***damn sister. If that were a real match and you two weren't related, Adam would have laid you out flat. And really, how can you mean calling me a gorilla in a nice way?! I get that you're trying to backpedal, I really do! It's just that you're so ***damn stupid sometimes! THINK OVER YOUR WORDS, DAMMIT!”
Once again, she reaches for her booze but stops herself. Emma looks down at her drinks, shaking her head. She chuckles to herself, looking away from the alcohol.
“Yeah, I drink quite a bit. And I think that I might start drinking less. It hasn't exactly led to a lot of success. Zelda, you don't know what it's like. The demon in the bottle. That addiction, consuming you and everything you do. You know how video games make you feel? That euphoric rush as you overcome a difficult boss or get that last percentage of completion? And that soul-draining feeling when you just can't get it done? When you get stuck on that one...damn...boss that murders your momentum and makes it so that you can't get any farther? Zelda, winning against you...you're my kryptonite. You have my number every time we meet. But remember this: you may have beaten me twice, but take a look at your record.”
Emma grins, desperately trying to work this angle as she knows it may be one of the only ones she has on the nCw Women's Champion. She keeps speaking, maintaining an air of confidence.
“That 2-1? I'm responsible for two of those. I drew a no-contest with you. I handed you your first clean loss. I might not have pinned you, but you lost all the same. Zelda, this is it for me. This is my big chance. I've been telling everyone that I deserve this match. I ran my mouth for a month, saying that I was a founder of this company's Women's Division and that I had a title shot coming to me. And you know what? I didn't. Nobody ever has anything “coming” to them. You have to earn it. And I did earn it. I won that number-one contender's match. I won match after match. I was a juggernaut...and then I run into Tara Fenix, and she trips me up. But I just get back up and keep on fighting.”
Emma kicks the box under the table, standing up and looking back at it with a mixture between longing and disgust. She shakes her head, turning her back. Emma glares forward with determination.
“I can do it. I can be strong. This week, I won't drink a single drop of alcohol. I want to stay sober for my preparation. I'm taking this seriously, Zelda. I need to have 100 percent of my mental abilities at the ready. And I need to be able to react to whatever you throw at me without missing a beat. I can't react while drunk. Not NEARLY well enough.”
Emma grabs a bottle of Jack Daniels and walks to the kitchen with it, opening the bottle and watching the liquid pour out and down, draining out. She smiles to herself, admiring her own strength. Emma speaks as the bottle empties the last few drops into the sink.
“Being around AJ for all this time's taught me a very valuable lesson: sometimes you just have to ignore what's said and what's done and move on. And I'm moving on. On from everything that you or anyone else has called me. On from the losses. And I'm focused on one thing and one thing only: being the first person to pin you cleanly. Being the one to end your historic, magnificent title run. Oh, you'll go down in the history books as the first Women's World Champion. But I want to be the one that finally took you down. Tara Fenix? No. She can wait. This is my chance. And I'm going to take it. I'm going all the way, Zelda. I will do what nobody else has been able to do. Why? Not because you've never beaten me. Not because I'm undefeated. But because I WANT this. I want it more than anything. And I will do ANYTHING to make it happen. I will do absolutely anything to hear my name announced as the new Women's Champion.”
Emma walks back out to the living room and grabs the box out from under the table. She hefts it up and walks over to the sink, setting the box on the counter and pulling out a bottle of vodka. She unscrews it and begins pouring it down the drain. With every splash of alcohol that hits the aluminum sink, it seems that Emma gets a little bit more resolute. Her arm trembles a bit, wanting to snap the bottle back and begin drinking from it, but she forces herself to resist the urge until the vodka bottle is completely empty. Emma sets aside the bottle, moving on to the next one. She thinks back to Zelda's comments, sighing exasperatedly.
“Zelda...do you know WHY I get affected as much as I do? Because it seems like, because I'm not a supermodel like Ayla or Alexandra or a cute waif like you, people have decided that I'm a worthy target for mockery. WHY? Why, people, do you insist on insulting me for my apparent lack of looks?! With all due respect, who gave YOU the power to judge? I'd bet that most of the people who get off on calling me a tranny haven't seen anyone who looks as good as me outside of the Internet. Yeah, I'm muscular. That's because I'm what's referred to as an ATHLETE. I have an ATHLETE's build. Zelda's slim because she's a different sort of athlete. I'm a lifter, a powerhouse. She's more like a gymnast. I just needed to vent about that a little bit...motherf***ers wanna hate, huh...”
Emma, frustrated by the glacial pace of the emptying process, opens up the tops of all of the alcohol in the box and tips it all over into the sink at once, sending a practical cascade of liquor spiraling down the drain. Hundreds of dollars of drink, wiped out in a few minutes. Emma watches it drain away, a relieved grin on her face. She walks away from the kitchen, moving to the door of her room. Emma pauses before the doorframe, words on the tip of her tongue but not quite coming out. After a few seconds, she manages to speak a little bit more.
“Zelda, I like you. You're a real nice person, apart from the whole “calling me an ogre” thing, and when you turn 21, I wouldn't mind taking you out for your first real night of drinking. But I'm going to leave all of that friendliness at home. This is war. And I won't surrender. I won't take no for an answer. I want that title, Knite. And I promise that I'll take it to levels you haven't seen before to get it. I PROMISE. Get ready, Zelda. Sunday, hell will be a-callin'.”
She walks out, closing the door behind herself. Fade to black.