Post by Alysson Gardner on May 20, 2011 9:40:35 GMT -6
Author's Note: This RP happens between Chris Gardner's "Snap" and Spike Kane's "Spit it Out".
Son of a bloody b****...
It's Monday morning and here I am, inside the hotel room's bathroom, checking the red mark Christian left me when we were exiting the arena after another Collision.
It must burn his ass to know that, despite the loss in the History books, my team - that is, me and Spike - was victorious. So he had to be the g'damn coward and smack me in the face. Yeah, Chris, nice play there. Now I have a big hematoma on my right cheek.
Alysson: You stupid bastard...
I have to spend the next 10 minutes or more covering this hedious mark in my face with heavy make-up. I hope nobody notices.
Knocks on the door. I just wish people would be more sensate about a woman's needs now and then some times.
Stagehand: Miss Gardner? The crew is waiting for you in the lobby.
Alysson: Tell them to wait a little bit, ok? I'm kind of busy.
Stagehand: Of course.
The stagehand leaves me and my marks all by themselves. It's going to take a lot of powder to cover up this bruise. Not to mention sunglasses.
Alysson: So you're finally showing the world who you truly are, Chris... A bloody sexist coward... I'm going to return you the favor in due time...
I sneer as I look to myself in the mirror... Most exactly to the bruise Chris left in my face with that punch.
Alysson: In due time, Chris...
Mercedes, Mercedes; why do you have to aggravate me so? You always knew I had more important things to care about, like getting rid of my brother, making some alliances, discussing strategies with Spike, watering the plants, feeding the fish... But you just HAD to keep poking your nasty Porteña nose on my business.
You could've done so many great things in your nCw run thus far that would prove you're as smart and dedicated as you claim. You could go try and beat Roxxxie's ass for a hat trick... You could hunt Trish Newborn and try to snatch the Women's Championship off of her... Hell, you could even try to square off with Zelda Knite, and that would be a smarter idea than clinging onto what happened so damn long ago. Because my problem never involved you. When I G-Spotted you inside the ring and left you for Zelda and Crystal to finish you off, not even then it was about you. I know you would've done the very same thing if you were to face off against friends and you were put together with a practical nobody like you. So I just chose my friends.
But nooooo, you just had to be the vengeful kind, didn't you? You had to hammer on the subject, and get in my way again and again. If you're not aware, Mercedes, I have a mission, and it involves only Christian Gardner. Tag along with him and you'll be embarrassed, stomped on and crushed along with him. And that's exactly what happened. I didn't pull any stunt to be cute, clever or funny. I did that to embarrass Chris Gardner. And it was never about you.
But you want this to be about you, don't you? Your poor, underestimated ego, choking on its significance, needs this so bad that you keep bothering me with the same thing again and again. You want to compare our glories? How about thinking that while I was the longest reigning Women's Tag Team Champion somewhere, you weren't around to be seen? Or how you were choking with your stand-up monologues around America while I was living the dream of being a Women's Hardcore Champion?
... oh, my bad, you call it "open mic night". Good thing even you recognize you fail at being witty.
Anyway, back to next sunday: you want to piss a beast off, you did it. Now you've woken it up, and it's looking directly at you. So you have two options: the smart one, that is high-tailing while you still can, be the bigger woman and just forget about it; or continue trying to piss it off with your bravado. And I don't know if you've been warned, señorita, but I'm not the kind of person that takes it lightly. And up to this very moment, I was really ignoring your existence, because I could care less about who is Mercedes Vargas. I have my eyes on you - and I'm pretty sure Spike does too, tsk, tsk, tsk; bad idea, pretty lady, taking a piss on the God of Extreme like that, it almost makes me believe you want to get Thunderstruck just like Chris did last time, and just like Chris WILL be again next time. Because, as the teacher likes to say, "History repeats itself". And with people like you in this game, that's not too hard to happen.
You want to know why most of the nCw Fanbase does predict me to hand your ass to you come the pay-per-view? Because they know who's the best between you and me. And come on - that's not too hard to realize, is it? And don't take Kelly Knite's word for it; her predictions are as correct as your tag team partner from somewhere else's. Or maybe she's just as clueless as the rest of the world about who is the actual Alysson Gardner.
For the past weeks, I haven't entered the wrestling ring to WIN MATCHES... I only wanted to screw with Christian's life. You can go ask Ashlie Ember about the last time I entered a ring to win... If you can find her. Come A Night to Remember, Mercedes, I'm coming down to the ring to defeat you. And after all is said and done, after the bells ring, after we put on a show the Starlets' fans'll never forget, one thing is certain: I'm going to have made you swallow each and every one of your words, flushed your ego down the toilet and crushed your heart like the little insolent cockroach you are.
You bothered an animal, and now I'm going to hunt you down. And once I get to you, I'm going to
ROCK
YOUR
WORLD!!!
And I'm going to savour every moment of it.
Spike: You took your time, Aly.
I finally meet Michael at the lobby of the hotel, as we get ready to fly back home. But I don't know...
Spike: ... wha'sup, babe?
Alysson: I... I don't know... I don't feel like going back to New York just now...
The words of my brother from Sunday still echo inside my head. "You're not going to make it to A Night to Remember. Mark my words". I... I swear, I've never seen that clown as pissed off as he was that Sunday. Something inside me is telling me to be careful with that man.
Alysson: Um, Mike, can I... Um... You know...
Spike: What happened, Aly? Tell me.
He puts his hands ever so softly on my shoulders, sending me some much needed human warmth. With that, I remove my sunglasses and expose to Michael the big red mark on my cheek.
Alysson: Can I spend the next few days at your house...? Please?...
Son of a bloody b****...
It's Monday morning and here I am, inside the hotel room's bathroom, checking the red mark Christian left me when we were exiting the arena after another Collision.
It must burn his ass to know that, despite the loss in the History books, my team - that is, me and Spike - was victorious. So he had to be the g'damn coward and smack me in the face. Yeah, Chris, nice play there. Now I have a big hematoma on my right cheek.
Alysson: You stupid bastard...
I have to spend the next 10 minutes or more covering this hedious mark in my face with heavy make-up. I hope nobody notices.
Knocks on the door. I just wish people would be more sensate about a woman's needs now and then some times.
Stagehand: Miss Gardner? The crew is waiting for you in the lobby.
Alysson: Tell them to wait a little bit, ok? I'm kind of busy.
Stagehand: Of course.
The stagehand leaves me and my marks all by themselves. It's going to take a lot of powder to cover up this bruise. Not to mention sunglasses.
Alysson: So you're finally showing the world who you truly are, Chris... A bloody sexist coward... I'm going to return you the favor in due time...
I sneer as I look to myself in the mirror... Most exactly to the bruise Chris left in my face with that punch.
Alysson: In due time, Chris...
Mercedes, Mercedes; why do you have to aggravate me so? You always knew I had more important things to care about, like getting rid of my brother, making some alliances, discussing strategies with Spike, watering the plants, feeding the fish... But you just HAD to keep poking your nasty Porteña nose on my business.
You could've done so many great things in your nCw run thus far that would prove you're as smart and dedicated as you claim. You could go try and beat Roxxxie's ass for a hat trick... You could hunt Trish Newborn and try to snatch the Women's Championship off of her... Hell, you could even try to square off with Zelda Knite, and that would be a smarter idea than clinging onto what happened so damn long ago. Because my problem never involved you. When I G-Spotted you inside the ring and left you for Zelda and Crystal to finish you off, not even then it was about you. I know you would've done the very same thing if you were to face off against friends and you were put together with a practical nobody like you. So I just chose my friends.
But nooooo, you just had to be the vengeful kind, didn't you? You had to hammer on the subject, and get in my way again and again. If you're not aware, Mercedes, I have a mission, and it involves only Christian Gardner. Tag along with him and you'll be embarrassed, stomped on and crushed along with him. And that's exactly what happened. I didn't pull any stunt to be cute, clever or funny. I did that to embarrass Chris Gardner. And it was never about you.
But you want this to be about you, don't you? Your poor, underestimated ego, choking on its significance, needs this so bad that you keep bothering me with the same thing again and again. You want to compare our glories? How about thinking that while I was the longest reigning Women's Tag Team Champion somewhere, you weren't around to be seen? Or how you were choking with your stand-up monologues around America while I was living the dream of being a Women's Hardcore Champion?
... oh, my bad, you call it "open mic night". Good thing even you recognize you fail at being witty.
Anyway, back to next sunday: you want to piss a beast off, you did it. Now you've woken it up, and it's looking directly at you. So you have two options: the smart one, that is high-tailing while you still can, be the bigger woman and just forget about it; or continue trying to piss it off with your bravado. And I don't know if you've been warned, señorita, but I'm not the kind of person that takes it lightly. And up to this very moment, I was really ignoring your existence, because I could care less about who is Mercedes Vargas. I have my eyes on you - and I'm pretty sure Spike does too, tsk, tsk, tsk; bad idea, pretty lady, taking a piss on the God of Extreme like that, it almost makes me believe you want to get Thunderstruck just like Chris did last time, and just like Chris WILL be again next time. Because, as the teacher likes to say, "History repeats itself". And with people like you in this game, that's not too hard to happen.
You want to know why most of the nCw Fanbase does predict me to hand your ass to you come the pay-per-view? Because they know who's the best between you and me. And come on - that's not too hard to realize, is it? And don't take Kelly Knite's word for it; her predictions are as correct as your tag team partner from somewhere else's. Or maybe she's just as clueless as the rest of the world about who is the actual Alysson Gardner.
For the past weeks, I haven't entered the wrestling ring to WIN MATCHES... I only wanted to screw with Christian's life. You can go ask Ashlie Ember about the last time I entered a ring to win... If you can find her. Come A Night to Remember, Mercedes, I'm coming down to the ring to defeat you. And after all is said and done, after the bells ring, after we put on a show the Starlets' fans'll never forget, one thing is certain: I'm going to have made you swallow each and every one of your words, flushed your ego down the toilet and crushed your heart like the little insolent cockroach you are.
You bothered an animal, and now I'm going to hunt you down. And once I get to you, I'm going to
ROCK
YOUR
WORLD!!!
And I'm going to savour every moment of it.
Spike: You took your time, Aly.
I finally meet Michael at the lobby of the hotel, as we get ready to fly back home. But I don't know...
Spike: ... wha'sup, babe?
Alysson: I... I don't know... I don't feel like going back to New York just now...
The words of my brother from Sunday still echo inside my head. "You're not going to make it to A Night to Remember. Mark my words". I... I swear, I've never seen that clown as pissed off as he was that Sunday. Something inside me is telling me to be careful with that man.
Alysson: Um, Mike, can I... Um... You know...
Spike: What happened, Aly? Tell me.
He puts his hands ever so softly on my shoulders, sending me some much needed human warmth. With that, I remove my sunglasses and expose to Michael the big red mark on my cheek.
Alysson: Can I spend the next few days at your house...? Please?...