Post by Emma Danielson on Oct 23, 2010 14:54:53 GMT -6
We fade in on Emma Danielson laying in her hotel room on her bed, staring at the ceiling in despair. She hasn't slept well since she got to Vegas and spoke with Andrew, and it shows. She's wearing a very ragged black tanktop and jeans that look like they've seen thousands of miles of rough road. Somehow, she seems unaffected by her appearance, just sighing instead.
"I'm running out of patience with you, Knite. I really am. I don't know how much more of this we can do before it runs thin. I mean, I know you're just going to make fun of me by calling me a man and a troll again, so...why bother? Girls like Ayla and Rayne? Say what you will about them personally, but they know to respect me. I respect them back because they've earned it from me. You? You haven't earned a damn thing."
She rolls over onto her side, staring out on the city. Emma's crystalline blue eyes reflect the neon of the myriad hotels and casinos, and she sighs again, momentarily regretting shutting herself off from many of the pleasures that Sin City could afford someone. She shakes her head, biting her lower lip.
"You're a sanctimonious little twit. I know it seems juvenile, but that's really the best way to sum you up. Is all you can do insult my body? I'm ***damn proud of being strong. I'm proud of being this division's powerhouse. Yeah, I doubt I'll be gracing the cover of FHM or anything like that anytime soon, but I'm not losing sleep over that. It's getting kind of boring when I click on a Zelda Knite promo and all I hear is "blah blah ugly ogre blah blah hairy blah blah Sasquatch." Really, I'm ****ing sick of it. I'm sick and tired of it all. Come up with better material or just shut your Mello Yello-chugging, lie-spewing, ever so punchable mouth."
Emma sits up, eyes heavy, but she forces herself to remain conscious for the sake of...what she doesn't know, but something. She rests her head on her hands, looking at the deactivated television. Emma clicks her tongue, smiling wryly at the image she sees of herself.
"You know what eats me the most of all? It's that you won't even acknowledge anyone else as a competitor anymore. All you do is talk about merchandise sales. Do you think having more people wearing your gear is going to stop a powerbomb? Is hearing the Zombies cheer when you come out going to save you from a lariat? And it's so appropriate that you call them your Zombies: they're your brainwashed little followers, blindly agreeing with everything you say because they figure "hay guise its Zelda, she must be right!" Give me a damn break."
Emma reaches over the side of the bed, inadvertently flashing a glimpse of her black silk panties. She leans back up, pulling on one of her shoes with practiced apathy. Her free hand tucks a strand of hair behind an ear as she gets on the other one, making sure it fits properly.
"If I lose? Well, if I lose, I lose. I'll hate myself for it, but I won't be able to change anything about that fact. All I'll be able to do is take out my fury on the rest of the roster until you finally lose that title. But I won't lose. That's just not in the cards. Not again. Not to you. I can't take the agony that would be another Zelda Knite victory lap. I'm just going to win. Plain and simple."
Emma reaches over to her nightstand, pocketing her cellphone and wallet. She considers grabbing her handbag, but shakes her head, figuring she won't need it on a run to get something to drink.
"I really wish this were a street fight like your match last month. Alex was the wrong woman for that job. I would have shown you what extreme really meant. Unfortunately, we have to make do with the usual rules. Doesn't mean I won't completely shred you anyway. I love how when you're an utter asshole, it's called "being real" and "being confident", but when it's me attacking you, I'm a heartless jerk? You know what, Knite? After I beat you, I'm going to make you realize how much of a hypocritical bitch you really are. I won't warn Andrew anymore. But if he gets into crap because of you...don't say I didn't call it."
Emma walks past a big mirror on her way out of the room, and decides that she'll quickly touch up what little makeup she wears on the way out. Emma reaches over to the counter, pulling out tubes of lipstick and mascara as she turns back to the mirror and begins her refinement of her prior work.
"I used to like you. I used to respect you, because I knew that past all the insults, underneath the glib superficial image that you had, I knew you were a competitor the likes of which I had never seen before. Now, though...it feels like that image has overwhelmed you. You worked for that belt. But that Zelda Knite is dead. In her place stands a mockery of who she once was, a woman who has all the talent but none of the heart. You've become a slave to your own ego, a willing cog in the Young Gun machine. Oh, that's right. You're part of a group that billed itself as the elite group in wrestling. It's fallen far over the last few months. You're the only one who still has a belt, right? After Sunday, the Guns will fall silent. I will be their unmaking."
She smirks to herself, putting her stuff back in her purse and leaving the room. Emma makes sure the door locks as she exits, making her way methodically towards the elevator. Her clothes, previously rumpled-looking, seem to click perfectly now, completing her look.
"Jesus, I sound weird today. Shouldn't be reading those fantasy novels AJ sent me before I sleep...moving on. Zelda, this is the rivalry that's defined the Women's Division, whether you want to admit it or not. There's always been you, and there's always been me. We're the Ken and Ryu of the women. This is it, it seems. Here comes the Shoryuken to knock you to the canvas. And when I knock you down, I want you to STAY down. I may be in this alone, but that just means I won't give you an inch to work with. I give you nothing. I will take from you...everything."
She makes it to the elevator, hitting the button and pausing. A young boy and his parents walk up as she waits, and the kid looks over at her, eyes growing wide as he recognizes just who he's standing next to.
"Oh my god, you're Emma Danielson! Would you please sign something for me? Please? I'm, like, your biggest fan! Please please please? Pleeeeease?"
Emma chuckles at the kid's enthusiasm, taking his offered Sharpie and program for Road to the Gold. She signs her name, looking up to the kid for a second.
"And who am I signing this for, may I ask?"
The kid grins, showing a gap between his front two teeth. He's almost overflowing with excitement as he answers her.
"Danny, Miss Emma. Thank you so much! This is SO cool! I met a real life wrestler! I met you! Nobody's ever gonna believe this...kick some butt this week, okay? You gotta promise!"
Emma chuckles, handing the marker and program back to the boy, who clutches it to his chest tightly. She smiles, ruffling his hair and looking up to his beaming mother and father. The father speaks, smiling widely.
"Thanks, ma'am. I think you just made his day. How much do we owe you for the signature?"
Emma shakes her head, chuckling slightly to herself.
"Not a thing. He's a good kid. You all have fun in Vegas now. And keep him away from the slots, promise?"
The three share a laugh at this, and the elevator slides open, revealing it to be fairly crowded. The family gets in, Danny punching the number happily. His father motions Emma in, but she shakes her head. He shrugs as the doors slide closed and the elevator departs. Emma stands there for a moment, smiling to herself.
"Maybe I'm not in this alone."
She turns and walks towards the stairs. Fade to black.
"I'm running out of patience with you, Knite. I really am. I don't know how much more of this we can do before it runs thin. I mean, I know you're just going to make fun of me by calling me a man and a troll again, so...why bother? Girls like Ayla and Rayne? Say what you will about them personally, but they know to respect me. I respect them back because they've earned it from me. You? You haven't earned a damn thing."
She rolls over onto her side, staring out on the city. Emma's crystalline blue eyes reflect the neon of the myriad hotels and casinos, and she sighs again, momentarily regretting shutting herself off from many of the pleasures that Sin City could afford someone. She shakes her head, biting her lower lip.
"You're a sanctimonious little twit. I know it seems juvenile, but that's really the best way to sum you up. Is all you can do insult my body? I'm ***damn proud of being strong. I'm proud of being this division's powerhouse. Yeah, I doubt I'll be gracing the cover of FHM or anything like that anytime soon, but I'm not losing sleep over that. It's getting kind of boring when I click on a Zelda Knite promo and all I hear is "blah blah ugly ogre blah blah hairy blah blah Sasquatch." Really, I'm ****ing sick of it. I'm sick and tired of it all. Come up with better material or just shut your Mello Yello-chugging, lie-spewing, ever so punchable mouth."
Emma sits up, eyes heavy, but she forces herself to remain conscious for the sake of...what she doesn't know, but something. She rests her head on her hands, looking at the deactivated television. Emma clicks her tongue, smiling wryly at the image she sees of herself.
"You know what eats me the most of all? It's that you won't even acknowledge anyone else as a competitor anymore. All you do is talk about merchandise sales. Do you think having more people wearing your gear is going to stop a powerbomb? Is hearing the Zombies cheer when you come out going to save you from a lariat? And it's so appropriate that you call them your Zombies: they're your brainwashed little followers, blindly agreeing with everything you say because they figure "hay guise its Zelda, she must be right!" Give me a damn break."
Emma reaches over the side of the bed, inadvertently flashing a glimpse of her black silk panties. She leans back up, pulling on one of her shoes with practiced apathy. Her free hand tucks a strand of hair behind an ear as she gets on the other one, making sure it fits properly.
"If I lose? Well, if I lose, I lose. I'll hate myself for it, but I won't be able to change anything about that fact. All I'll be able to do is take out my fury on the rest of the roster until you finally lose that title. But I won't lose. That's just not in the cards. Not again. Not to you. I can't take the agony that would be another Zelda Knite victory lap. I'm just going to win. Plain and simple."
Emma reaches over to her nightstand, pocketing her cellphone and wallet. She considers grabbing her handbag, but shakes her head, figuring she won't need it on a run to get something to drink.
"I really wish this were a street fight like your match last month. Alex was the wrong woman for that job. I would have shown you what extreme really meant. Unfortunately, we have to make do with the usual rules. Doesn't mean I won't completely shred you anyway. I love how when you're an utter asshole, it's called "being real" and "being confident", but when it's me attacking you, I'm a heartless jerk? You know what, Knite? After I beat you, I'm going to make you realize how much of a hypocritical bitch you really are. I won't warn Andrew anymore. But if he gets into crap because of you...don't say I didn't call it."
Emma walks past a big mirror on her way out of the room, and decides that she'll quickly touch up what little makeup she wears on the way out. Emma reaches over to the counter, pulling out tubes of lipstick and mascara as she turns back to the mirror and begins her refinement of her prior work.
"I used to like you. I used to respect you, because I knew that past all the insults, underneath the glib superficial image that you had, I knew you were a competitor the likes of which I had never seen before. Now, though...it feels like that image has overwhelmed you. You worked for that belt. But that Zelda Knite is dead. In her place stands a mockery of who she once was, a woman who has all the talent but none of the heart. You've become a slave to your own ego, a willing cog in the Young Gun machine. Oh, that's right. You're part of a group that billed itself as the elite group in wrestling. It's fallen far over the last few months. You're the only one who still has a belt, right? After Sunday, the Guns will fall silent. I will be their unmaking."
She smirks to herself, putting her stuff back in her purse and leaving the room. Emma makes sure the door locks as she exits, making her way methodically towards the elevator. Her clothes, previously rumpled-looking, seem to click perfectly now, completing her look.
"Jesus, I sound weird today. Shouldn't be reading those fantasy novels AJ sent me before I sleep...moving on. Zelda, this is the rivalry that's defined the Women's Division, whether you want to admit it or not. There's always been you, and there's always been me. We're the Ken and Ryu of the women. This is it, it seems. Here comes the Shoryuken to knock you to the canvas. And when I knock you down, I want you to STAY down. I may be in this alone, but that just means I won't give you an inch to work with. I give you nothing. I will take from you...everything."
She makes it to the elevator, hitting the button and pausing. A young boy and his parents walk up as she waits, and the kid looks over at her, eyes growing wide as he recognizes just who he's standing next to.
"Oh my god, you're Emma Danielson! Would you please sign something for me? Please? I'm, like, your biggest fan! Please please please? Pleeeeease?"
Emma chuckles at the kid's enthusiasm, taking his offered Sharpie and program for Road to the Gold. She signs her name, looking up to the kid for a second.
"And who am I signing this for, may I ask?"
The kid grins, showing a gap between his front two teeth. He's almost overflowing with excitement as he answers her.
"Danny, Miss Emma. Thank you so much! This is SO cool! I met a real life wrestler! I met you! Nobody's ever gonna believe this...kick some butt this week, okay? You gotta promise!"
Emma chuckles, handing the marker and program back to the boy, who clutches it to his chest tightly. She smiles, ruffling his hair and looking up to his beaming mother and father. The father speaks, smiling widely.
"Thanks, ma'am. I think you just made his day. How much do we owe you for the signature?"
Emma shakes her head, chuckling slightly to herself.
"Not a thing. He's a good kid. You all have fun in Vegas now. And keep him away from the slots, promise?"
The three share a laugh at this, and the elevator slides open, revealing it to be fairly crowded. The family gets in, Danny punching the number happily. His father motions Emma in, but she shakes her head. He shrugs as the doors slide closed and the elevator departs. Emma stands there for a moment, smiling to herself.
"Maybe I'm not in this alone."
She turns and walks towards the stairs. Fade to black.