Post by Emma Danielson on Nov 25, 2010 14:01:26 GMT -6
We open on Emma Danielson, staring at the screen of a laptop. The video that's up is the latest Trish Newborn promo, courtesy of nCw.com. She stares at the screen for a few moments, jaw moving but no sounds coming out. Finally, she manages to vocalize something. Her words are charged with emotions, ranging from disbelief to disdain to amusement, with even a trace of anger underlying her speech.
"That was...what is this...I don't even...oh my god, words fail me when I try to describe the sheer level of boneheadedness in that combo blog post/coffee break of yours, Trish. You say you've heard everything I have to say...and then spew off the same lines about steroids and Adam's apples I've heard for the last year nonstop? That was almost Sexy Jason levels of terrible. That might have been as bad as sitting through a promo by the Ace. Not quite sure if it qualifies for that level of intolerable. If it does, though...you will have reached a level of pathetic that very few ever even glimpse. So...congratulations?"
Emma shakes her head, smirking wryly to herself. She swivels a bit, propping her feet up on another chair at the table. Emma closes her eyes, straightening out her new nCw T-shirt. She makes sure to show off the design for the folks at home before her hands move up to rest behind her head. Emma sighs, half out of consternation and half from relief.
"You don't know me, Trish. You don't know what kind of a person I can be. Do you want to know what I'll do to win? Look up a match for me. Emma Danielson vs. Cleopatra. Collision. September 5th. Watch me. I fought off an entire army of interfering jackasses and got the win. There is nothing that you can do that will make me go down for the three count. You're no Zelda. You aren't Ayla St. James. You are a worm that's only fit to be squashed under my boots."
She gets to her feet, cracking her neck as she walks away from the table. Emma idly adjusts her hair a bit, glancing down and noticing that one of her boots is untied. She kneels down, retying the laces of the black work boots. Emma speaks as she works, a faux-cheery tone in her voice.
"Oh, don't you worry, though. I'm going to give you every bit of attention you deserve. I will stomp the life out of you and put you down and out with all due haste. Will it be elegant? No. Am I going to use a bunch of breathtaking technical maneuvers to beat you? Of course not. That isn't who I am. I do power, and I do it better than anyone in nCw. You get to find out firsthand this Sunday when I drill you into the canvas for the ol' one-two-three. See if you can spot an Adam's apple when you're getting powerbombed, smartass."
Emma stands back up straight, flexing her bicep to show that her muscles are more defined than they've been in the past. She smirks, nodding knowingly, and pats her arm before turning around and walking back over to the chair. She sits down, snagging the Coke bottle sitting on the table. She opens it back up and takes a big gulp, chugging down at least half of the bottle at once before slamming it back down on the table. She's momentarily thankful that it's a wooden table before continuing.
"And the steroid thing...you're a total moron if you think I'm juicing. This is all-natural, free-range Minnesotan muscle. Fed the finest liquors and allowed to grow for twenty-eight years of powerlifting, street fighting and barroom brawling. Steroids were never an option. After all, that's cheating if you have to drug yourself up to get powerful. I'm just dedicated, and I have the right genes for it. Why is it that all the women accusing me of being a man or a gashead are all skinny, vain bitches like you? Must be envy."
Emma shakes her head, wincing as she glances back at the screen. She closes the window, shutting the laptop lid to reveal the nCw Women's Title sitting on the table behind the computer. She smiles, comforted by its presence within arm's reach, and leans back in her chair.
"I don't really care a bunch if you insult my looks. This ain't a beauty contest, it's pro wrestling. You think that your words are going to leave me in the corner, crying like some nervous wreck? You wish. I'm not just physically stronger than you, I'm mentally powerful. Words and mind games don't work with me. If you think that you can chop me down like that, you're staking your strategy on a tactic that's doomed to failure. Change gears, Trish. It ain't working. I'm not bowing under the pressure. I chased this title for eleven ***damn months of my life, and I'm not losing it to some joke like you the first time I have to defend it."
Emma looks out into the distance a bit, mind wandering. She hears the crowd cheering, her theme music blasting, and the sound of Amber Ashe doing her introduction, and sighs again. Her reverie is broken by a knock at her door, causing her to jump slightly at the noise. Annoyed, she stands up and walks over to the door, cracking it open. She opens the door all the way to reveal Andrew Jacobsen standing there, smiling weakly. Emma grabs him by his collar and drags the protesting Jacobsen inside, slamming the door behind him and glaring daggers at him.
"Okay, Andrew. I want you to give me the honest to God truth. No BS, no weaseling around it. Is Kelly lying? Did you sleep with that obnoxious little pixie? Give it to me straight. For a decade of friendship, you owe me at least that."
Andrew shakes his head, still disoriented, before catching what Emma said. His expression goes from confusion to annoyance in a heartbeat, and he steps forward, leveling an accusatory finger at Emma.
"I can't believe this. I absolutely cannot freaking believe this. I come over to see if my best friend wants to hang out, and all I get is you asking me who I've been screwing. This is a load of crap. Get out of the way, I have more productive things to be doing with my time...like figuring out ways to make Steve Awesome tap like a little bitch."
He moves to leave, but Emma stubbornly blocks the way. Andrew sidesteps, but she moves with him to make sure he can't leave. Jacobsen tries to power past, but Danielson shoves him back. He's left dumbfounded, and Emma takes the moment to start on an angry tirade directed completely at the former X-Division Champion.
"You're going to stay right here. Listen to yourself for a minute, Andrew. You said you wouldn't let the business change you. You promised that you were going to be an example for people. The guy that kids looked up to, a role model for everyone. Now look at you. You're so consumed by this pointless f***ing quest for revenge against Awesome that you're becoming what you used to speak out against. Snap out of this self-indulgent haze and remember what you used to be. Beginning of this year, there wasn't anything you couldn't do. Now? You just barely ended a losing streak. Take this momentum and ride it to the top. Be what you say you can be and not what everyone accuses you of being. I don't think you slept with her. You're not that kind of guy. Now go, if you really want to. Go off and be the hero one more time."
Emma steps aside, gesturing to the door. Andrew tentatively takes a few steps forward. When she makes no attempt to stop her, he takes another step before abruptly turning and pulling Danielson into a hug. She blinks, surprised by this unexpected show of affection, but hugs him back anyway, smiling to herself. After a few seconds, he pulls back, grinning, and ruffles her hair before walking out the door. Andrew glances back before closing the door behind him. Emma stands in the entryway of her room, staring at the door for a moment. She notices her hair finally and tries to fix it, smiling as she turns around and heads back into the room, fading out on one last sentence.
"You're going down, Newborn."
"That was...what is this...I don't even...oh my god, words fail me when I try to describe the sheer level of boneheadedness in that combo blog post/coffee break of yours, Trish. You say you've heard everything I have to say...and then spew off the same lines about steroids and Adam's apples I've heard for the last year nonstop? That was almost Sexy Jason levels of terrible. That might have been as bad as sitting through a promo by the Ace. Not quite sure if it qualifies for that level of intolerable. If it does, though...you will have reached a level of pathetic that very few ever even glimpse. So...congratulations?"
Emma shakes her head, smirking wryly to herself. She swivels a bit, propping her feet up on another chair at the table. Emma closes her eyes, straightening out her new nCw T-shirt. She makes sure to show off the design for the folks at home before her hands move up to rest behind her head. Emma sighs, half out of consternation and half from relief.
"You don't know me, Trish. You don't know what kind of a person I can be. Do you want to know what I'll do to win? Look up a match for me. Emma Danielson vs. Cleopatra. Collision. September 5th. Watch me. I fought off an entire army of interfering jackasses and got the win. There is nothing that you can do that will make me go down for the three count. You're no Zelda. You aren't Ayla St. James. You are a worm that's only fit to be squashed under my boots."
She gets to her feet, cracking her neck as she walks away from the table. Emma idly adjusts her hair a bit, glancing down and noticing that one of her boots is untied. She kneels down, retying the laces of the black work boots. Emma speaks as she works, a faux-cheery tone in her voice.
"Oh, don't you worry, though. I'm going to give you every bit of attention you deserve. I will stomp the life out of you and put you down and out with all due haste. Will it be elegant? No. Am I going to use a bunch of breathtaking technical maneuvers to beat you? Of course not. That isn't who I am. I do power, and I do it better than anyone in nCw. You get to find out firsthand this Sunday when I drill you into the canvas for the ol' one-two-three. See if you can spot an Adam's apple when you're getting powerbombed, smartass."
Emma stands back up straight, flexing her bicep to show that her muscles are more defined than they've been in the past. She smirks, nodding knowingly, and pats her arm before turning around and walking back over to the chair. She sits down, snagging the Coke bottle sitting on the table. She opens it back up and takes a big gulp, chugging down at least half of the bottle at once before slamming it back down on the table. She's momentarily thankful that it's a wooden table before continuing.
"And the steroid thing...you're a total moron if you think I'm juicing. This is all-natural, free-range Minnesotan muscle. Fed the finest liquors and allowed to grow for twenty-eight years of powerlifting, street fighting and barroom brawling. Steroids were never an option. After all, that's cheating if you have to drug yourself up to get powerful. I'm just dedicated, and I have the right genes for it. Why is it that all the women accusing me of being a man or a gashead are all skinny, vain bitches like you? Must be envy."
Emma shakes her head, wincing as she glances back at the screen. She closes the window, shutting the laptop lid to reveal the nCw Women's Title sitting on the table behind the computer. She smiles, comforted by its presence within arm's reach, and leans back in her chair.
"I don't really care a bunch if you insult my looks. This ain't a beauty contest, it's pro wrestling. You think that your words are going to leave me in the corner, crying like some nervous wreck? You wish. I'm not just physically stronger than you, I'm mentally powerful. Words and mind games don't work with me. If you think that you can chop me down like that, you're staking your strategy on a tactic that's doomed to failure. Change gears, Trish. It ain't working. I'm not bowing under the pressure. I chased this title for eleven ***damn months of my life, and I'm not losing it to some joke like you the first time I have to defend it."
Emma looks out into the distance a bit, mind wandering. She hears the crowd cheering, her theme music blasting, and the sound of Amber Ashe doing her introduction, and sighs again. Her reverie is broken by a knock at her door, causing her to jump slightly at the noise. Annoyed, she stands up and walks over to the door, cracking it open. She opens the door all the way to reveal Andrew Jacobsen standing there, smiling weakly. Emma grabs him by his collar and drags the protesting Jacobsen inside, slamming the door behind him and glaring daggers at him.
"Okay, Andrew. I want you to give me the honest to God truth. No BS, no weaseling around it. Is Kelly lying? Did you sleep with that obnoxious little pixie? Give it to me straight. For a decade of friendship, you owe me at least that."
Andrew shakes his head, still disoriented, before catching what Emma said. His expression goes from confusion to annoyance in a heartbeat, and he steps forward, leveling an accusatory finger at Emma.
"I can't believe this. I absolutely cannot freaking believe this. I come over to see if my best friend wants to hang out, and all I get is you asking me who I've been screwing. This is a load of crap. Get out of the way, I have more productive things to be doing with my time...like figuring out ways to make Steve Awesome tap like a little bitch."
He moves to leave, but Emma stubbornly blocks the way. Andrew sidesteps, but she moves with him to make sure he can't leave. Jacobsen tries to power past, but Danielson shoves him back. He's left dumbfounded, and Emma takes the moment to start on an angry tirade directed completely at the former X-Division Champion.
"You're going to stay right here. Listen to yourself for a minute, Andrew. You said you wouldn't let the business change you. You promised that you were going to be an example for people. The guy that kids looked up to, a role model for everyone. Now look at you. You're so consumed by this pointless f***ing quest for revenge against Awesome that you're becoming what you used to speak out against. Snap out of this self-indulgent haze and remember what you used to be. Beginning of this year, there wasn't anything you couldn't do. Now? You just barely ended a losing streak. Take this momentum and ride it to the top. Be what you say you can be and not what everyone accuses you of being. I don't think you slept with her. You're not that kind of guy. Now go, if you really want to. Go off and be the hero one more time."
Emma steps aside, gesturing to the door. Andrew tentatively takes a few steps forward. When she makes no attempt to stop her, he takes another step before abruptly turning and pulling Danielson into a hug. She blinks, surprised by this unexpected show of affection, but hugs him back anyway, smiling to herself. After a few seconds, he pulls back, grinning, and ruffles her hair before walking out the door. Andrew glances back before closing the door behind him. Emma stands in the entryway of her room, staring at the door for a moment. She notices her hair finally and tries to fix it, smiling as she turns around and heads back into the room, fading out on one last sentence.
"You're going down, Newborn."