Post by Deleted on Jun 9, 2013 16:56:44 GMT -5
Scandinavia - Sometime in the 13th Century
Dim rays of sunlight peak over the mountainous wilderness and trickle their way down into the valley at dawn's first light. The air is still, and the eerie absence of chatter among the creatures that inhabited the landscape foretold of the brutal end that was to come. Just beyond the valley, there in the distance stood a castle. Thick stone walls and heavy iron gates surround the structure as a seemingly impenetrable fortress. Archers armed and ready at each watchtower. The kingdom that is hidden behind the iron and stone remains at alert. Vendors hide away their goods. Peasants in their tattered cloth cower in fear and soldiers remain at the ready, iron plated vests, iron shields, imposing spears, heavy battle maces, axes and bastard swords make up a vast majority of their armament. Back in the valley, an army of warriors are assembled to thwart what seems like an expected attempt on the castle. The men number in the hundreds, perhaps even thousands. Their beards are rugged, their eyes are focused and the heart of a warrior beats within each of them as they prepare for battle. Those leading the charge into battle sit upon horseback and round their men into position as they wait there in the valley. Hoof beats can be heard as they draw close, swiftly. A woman, dressed for battle with two great battle axes sheathed at her sides rides onto the battlefield. She comes to an abrupt halt as she reaches the gathering of men. One of the warriors approaches her.
Warrior: Lady Brünhilde! I mean no disrespect, but I must insist that you return to the castle at once. Your presence here shall not be permitted.
The woman looks down upon him with a sense of disdain and resentment for his statements.
Brünhilde: On what authority do you dare to give me orders Siegfried?
Siegfried: On the authority of your father, the King. With Fafnir the dragon awakened, you know that Ragnarök is upon us.
Brünhilde: Indeed, the Twilight of the Gods is upon us. My father would wish for nothing more than Odin's honor to be upheld...even in matters of certain death. As his daughter, I carry that crest of honor. And I shall take my place on the battlefield where I see fit.
Siegfried: M'lady. I too must uphold the wishes of your father. He shant permit his daughter a place upon the battlefield. Your place is required with the people of our kingdom as your father prepares you a suitor to take the throne beside you on his passing.
Again, she seems angered by the statements made toward her.
Brünhilde: Not a single man in this land, nor any other has bested me in battle. Until one does, a suitor I shall not take. I restate my intent to remain here and as King Mordi's daughter I lay my charge. Do we understand one another, Siegfried?
Siegfried seems to be displeased with her answers. Though as the King's daughter, he has no recourse but to accept her position...reluctantly.
Siegfried: I urge that this is a terrible mistake. However, as your loyal servant in battle, I can do no more to dissuade you. As you wish, m'lady.
He kneels before her. The men upon the battlefield follow his lead and do so as well. Just then, the soundings of a stampede startle the warriors. Just ahead of the clearing in the valley, the leaves upon the various trees and bushes begin to rustle violently as the earth beneath them almost seems to quake as if the very depths of soil, rock and crust below were to collapse upon itself. There from the foliage emerges hundreds of deer, elk, even wolves and bears. All of them in a frightened state of panic as they rush to escape whatever it was that had scared them out of their habitat. Siegfried rises to his feet and holds his bastard sword high above his head as he addresses his men.
Siegfried: THE DRAGON FAFNIR RISES! THE BATTLE OF RAGNARÖK HAS BEGUN!!!
The warriors ready their arms and watch the horizon near the tops of the treeline, waiting for the emergence of their enemy. It does not take long for the beast to make its presence known as a dark shadow begins to shade over the trees. Finally the men can see their adversary. The dragon is enormous. It's deep black, scaled skin is thick and crusted with a thousand years of callouses. Jewels line part's of it's underbelly, undoubtedly lodged there as it slept for centuries, guarding the treasures it had once horded. The dragon's eyes are as red as blood and burned with the hatred of the endless list tortured souls locked away in the halls of Valhalla. Its pupils as black and as evil as nothing ever witnessed before by man. The veins of it's wings twitch as it flies overhead, bubbling with the blood of ages. The monster's wings themselves took a span of a thousand gulls and its tail whips back and forth violently as it propels itself toward the wave of men. Think, gray smoke puffed from its nostrils and the valley fills with the echoes of its roar. Perhaps a battle cry as it bares its teeth just before descending upon the men.
In one fell swoop it ravages the warriors as it plows through them with such force that it tears some of the men straight in half. Others are thrown hundreds of feet by the sheer velocity of the attack. Some have their limbs torn from them and bone attached to skin by a thread. The screams of agony that follow are unforgettable. Though these men that remain, and Brünhilde, they are unwavering and attack with their weapons. Each, having little effect on the hard skin of the beast. Brünhilde manages to cleave one of her axes into the dragon's wing as she tears through one of the veins. It lets out a monstrous roar as it too now feels some extent of pain. In retaliation it plucks one of the men from the crowd of warriors and clutches him tightly within it's front claws. Fafnir stops mid flight as he ascends toward the sky again and turns to look upon the remaining warriors. Without hesitation the beast lowers its snout and bites the head clean from the warrior. It discards the rest of the body as he drops it down into the crowd of men. A sickening series of cracks, pops and crunches can be heard as the man's headless body crumbles into the ground below. Surely turning all of his bones to dust upon impact. Siegfried, seeing his men are in danger, makes the only decision that he can.
Siegfried: RETREAT!! RETREAT AT ONCE!
Then men gather, along with Brünhilde and begin up the valley toward the castle. However, Fafnir was not finished with them. The monster gives chase as it makes another swoop toward the men who are running in fear of their seemingly unstoppable adversary. Their is a rumbling coming from within the belly of the dragon. A sound like no other that grows louder and louder. As if thunder were rolling in from the sky and making landfall the rumbling increases just behind them. Finally, Fafnir rears back his head and opens his fearsome mouth to emit a giant ball of fire that descends upon the men. The searing heat of the flames leave the landscape charred and full of death. Hundreds more of the men are consumed by the fireball and turned to ash by the intensity of the heat. The remaining warriors, weak in number continue to retreat. Fafnir intends to finish them all off, however and he follows after them, swopping down into the mass of them once more for the coup de grace. Siegfried has other plans for the beast as he takes grip of his sword, forged from Odin's falling star some years ago and perhaps by luck, or perhaps by fate he finds the only soft spot on Fafnir's underbelly. There among the thick scales and seemingly indestructible beats there was a weak spot...an Achilles heel. With all of his might he thrusts the full blade of the sword up into the dragon's chest and the best roars ferociously in agony. When Siegfried finally pulls his blade from the beast, dripping in its blood, Fafnir retreats to the sky. Though he does not get far. Siegfried had delivered the fatal blow and Fafnir falls from the sky and crashes into the earth...dead. The ground quakes and trembles with the force of a hundred volcanoes as the black dragon makes impact with the ground. The remaining warriors cheer triumphantly at the demise of the monster.
Brünhilde: You've done it! You have slayed the black dragon of Burgund's Ridge! Only the chosen should be capable of such a feat. That makes you...
Brünhilde kneels before Siegfried out of a humbled respect for his astonishing accomplishment.
Brünhilde: May Odin's wisdom guide you m'lord.
Siegfried: Please, Lady Brünhilde. Do not bow in my presence. I am but a humble servant to your kingdom. I did only what could be expected of any man in such a predicament.
Brünhilde: Your bravery shall be rewarded. I shall inform my father of your deeds and you shall be treated accordingly. You have done a great service to this land, Siegfried.
As Siegfried is acknowledged for his feat, the remaining warriors collect the carcass of Fafnir and begin to haul it back toward th castle as a trophy of their first victory in the battle of Ragnarök. They use lumber and stone to create a makeshift, and enormous wagon to cart off the lifeless beast. Siegfried and Brünhilde ride at the forefront of the now cheerful men.
They arrive at the castle some number of hours later as trumpets are sounded as guards at the watchtowers notice the giant carcass. Vendors open their wares and festivities begin throughout the kingdom. They are truly greeted to a hero's welcome as the iron gates are opened and everyone is there to get a glimpse of the dragon slayer. Brünhilde makes certain that everyone knows exactly upon who's blade the beats fell.
Brünhilde: Lay your eyes upon the man who fell the dragon of Burgund's Ridge. Siegfried of Saxon!
Everyone in the kingdom bows in Siegfried's pressence as he passes them. King Mordi's royal advisor calls for the proper celebrations to begin.
Royal Advisor: Let the mead flow! Let there be a feast like none other! Tonight, we celebrate in the honor of Siegfried of Saxon, the dragon slayer!
The crowds of villagers and soldiers within the kingdom walls begin to cheer. A young woman rushes to one of the returning warriors and wraps her arms around him tightly.
Woman: Leonis you're safe! You've returned to me as you promised.
The young warrior Leonis, one of the few clean shaven men smiles. He is a handsome man by all regards and he embraces his love as she cries with joy of his return.
Leonis: Of course, Kriemhilde. I could not possibly allow myself to lay down in battle and miss the chance to return to such beauty.
Kriemhilde: Oh Leonis. You do melt my heart.
Leonis: Love enough to melt the heart of a dragon just the same.
He comments jokingly which encouranges a round of raucous laughter. The lightbhearted mood is interrupted however as King Mordi himself emerges onto the village square. Silence immediatey follows. The King walks directly toward Siegfried.
King Mordi: You are the Dragon Slayer I hear of?
Siegfried nods and bows down before the king along with everyone else.
King Mordi: On your feet, lad. I am deeply indebted to you for your service. You have returned my daughter safely to me and for that, you have my gratitude.
King Mordi turns toward the crowds of people and addresses them.
King Mordi: Let the celebrations commence!
There are many cheers and everyone resumes their festivities in honor of the slaying of Fafnir. The King, now safely guised by the commotion speaks quietly to Siegfried, and his men...as not to create a panic among the rest of his kingdom.
King Mordi: Enjoy the food and drink. But remain prepared. Invaders from the north shall strike at any time. We must remain steadfast, lest we forget the prophecies.
With that, King Mordi retreats back into the castle, surrounded by his personal guards. Everyone is left to consider the words he had spoken. Leonis looks toward Siegfried, a bit puzzled.
Leonis: What madness is this that our King speak of?
"He speaks of the propchecy yet to be fulfilled. The battle of Ragnarök has only just begun. It has only just begun my child."
A raspy voice comments out of nowhere. Leonis and the others turn to see the old, disheleved man. He is known throughout the kingdom as Hagen, a man of sorcery and deceit. His white hair spreads wildly over his scalp and his face unshaven and unkempt. The man wears dark brown robes and worn down sandles upon his feet. His eyes surrounded by endless wrinkles and his teeth...what remains of them are stained and decaying. Though in his eyes, the lust of power and magic persists, even in his advanced age. The warriors' instincts are to laugh him off...however some of them had heard the prophetic teachings and could not help but to listen. Leonis is most of all intrigued by the tale.
Hagen: It has been written that after the fall of Fafnir, the bloodthirty vikings of Iceland shall march into the valleys of Burgund and overthrow the King. Their numbers shall be great and the King's men shall have been reduced by two thirds during the battle with the black dragon.
The men listen on intently, though a few of them take quite a bit of exception to the notion that their king would be killed.
Hagen: Only the chosen will escape death along with his bride. The chosen who must bathe in the blood of the black dragon, shall become invunerable. It is then that Odin himself will ride from Asgard triumphantly upon his eight legged steed, Sleipnir to join in the final battle of Ragnarök. Odin shall not survive the Twilight of the Gods. He shall fall with the others in battle. This cannot be changed.
Siegfried shakes his head and does not accept Hagen's story at all.
Siegfried: No. Odin lives through the battle of Ragnarök.
Hagen: Look dude, he dies, okay?
Wait...did someone just say 'dude' in thirteenth century Scandinavia? Suddenly everything about the scene changes. The valleys look more like a field....a not so very big one. The sounds of honking cars and the day to day sounds of modern life are heard everywhere. Hagen, the old sorcerer more resembles a dork in his mid twenties wearing a wig and a badly made Halloween costume. Siegfried and Leonis, as well as Brünhilde and Kriemhilde are also men and women in their early to mid twenties who are wearing badly made costumes and carrying nerf tipped swords, axes and spears. The castle, was nothing more than a large prop made of cardboard, styrofoam and wood set up in the field and had no real significance at all other than the fact it was intricately detailed and even had places for people to stand as if they were truly at a watchtower. Hagen and Siegfried continue to argue.
Siegfried: Odin doesn't die. Where does it even say that?
Hagen: Look man, I have it right here in the manual. Odin dies, along with Thor, Loki and like half the other Gods. You are so ruining this, man!
Siegfried: Me?! You are telling me Odin dies and he has to have like ten times the hit points that anyone in the battle of Ragnarök has!
Hagen: Look, if we are doing this, we are doing it right. Odin dies. That's it.
"This is fucking ridiculous, the entire thing."
We hear a familiar voice as all of the costumed kids turn to look toward the source as we see WCF World Heavyweight Champion, Sarah Twilight standing there with her arms folded. She is not dressed like any of the others. She is wearing a black crop top tee, a pair of medium blue denim jeans, a pair of white Nike sneakers with black trim and Swoosh, a pair of rayban sunglasses, and of course the silver pentacle charm that she always wore. She taps her foot and shakes her head at the group of roleplayers and AS IT TURNS OUT we of course aren't in thirteenth ccentury Scandinavia...
Instead, judging by the line of traffic jammed as far as the eye can see just west of the field, and by the patrol agents and checkpoints that each of the cars are moving through...we are instead somewhere in Southern California along the U.S./Mexican border. But, how did we get here?
One Hour Earlier.
Sarah is seated in her 2013 jet black Mustang GT Convertible among HUNDREDS of other cars just ahead of the border checkpoint. The flashing indicator above informs everyone stuck in this mess that there will be about a two hour delay in getting people through the checkpoint. With some Mexican Federalis and American DEA agents swarming the area, it's safe to assume that someone got busted with a shitload of illegal drugs trying to smuggle them over the border. Sarah slams her hands on the steering wheel in disgust.
Sarah: Why? WHY, Sarah did you think it'd be a good idea to just DRIVE into Mexico?
She shakes her head, still scolding herself.
Sarah: Oh, we're already in San Diego...it's not that far. Oh, it'll be faster than going all the way back to L.A. and getting on the jet. Fucking hell! Look at this shit?! I'm going to be sitting here for HOURS now.
Sarah leans back in her seat and places her left hand on her forehead impatiently as she knew she'd be sitting in this traffic that wasn't going to move at all until border agents were done with whatever the fuck it is they were doing now. She glances out to the east, as she really had nothing much to do but look around at the vast emptiness beyond the road and loads of cars around her. Though instead of seeing nothing, she sees what looks like some kind of a big fight going on. People running at each other and swinging sticks or something at each other. and some kind of a little fort or something seemed to be the centerpiece of it all. Being in the lane furthest left on the road, and knowing she had nothing better to do, she drives toward the gathering of people to have a look as to what was going on.
Back to Present Time.
Siegfried and Hagen realize they have dropped character and assume that is what has angered Sarah, their only actual spectator. Both of them immediately return themselves to character and continue on as if the little spat ever happened.
Siegfried: We stand to defend this kingdom, Hagen. And defend it we shall. The invaders shall come from the north at dusk, and we shall be ready for them!
He points towards the Mexican border as he comments and Sarah just shakes her head at him.
Sarah: You idiots are going to fight Mexicans who cross the border...with foam swords? That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard in my life.
Hagen: What are these Mexicans you speak of maiden? The invaders shall be Icelandic vikings and come from the north.
Sarah: That...
She points at the border.
Sarah: Is Mexico, and it is SOUTH of you, moron.
Siegfried: Do not insult us maiden. We stand at the ready for Odin's honor.
Sarah smirks as she shakes her head at them once again.
Sarah: Sorry to tell ya, but Odin is going to get his ass handed to him.
Leonis: She is a traitor! There is a traitor among us! She sullies the good name of our God, Odin!
As Leonis says this, one of the random nerds in the group of roleplayers charges at Sarah with his nerf sword. She simply takes a step to the side, extends her arm and clotheslines the geek as he runs into it. The poor dork is dazed and out of it as he hits the ground.
Siegfried: She is a formidable foe! We must surround the workings of such sorcery and deliver her to our King!
Sarah: Take one fucking step toward me nerd, and I will rip your fucking face off!
Leonis gasps.
Leonis: She is a shapeshifter!
Brünhilde: I shall handle this abomination!
The nerdy girl with glasses swings her foam axe at Sarah's arm...it really does nothing at all because well, it's foam. However, Sarah did set her warnings so she uses the arm that was hit with the foam axe and puches Brünhilde hard. The roleplayer holds her shoulder and a few tears roll down her cheek. Siegfried takes exception to this.
Siegfried: You broke the rules!
Sarah shrugs.
Sarah: So what?
Siegfried: She hit your arm with her axe, so it's gone. You can't use it.
Sarah: I'm not playing your stupid fucking games, idiot.
As the conversation continues another dweeb walks into the picture. This one wears a plastic crown on his head and has a red cape around him as well as a ridiculous king's costume. He tries very hard to look prominent and important.
King Mordi: What is this commotion I hear of a traitor amongst us?
Siegfried points at Sarah accussingly.
Siegfried: The woman Sire, she sullies Odin!
King Mordi: How dare you, wench!
He again tries to aseert himself, and as the entire debacle continues...you get the sense that these people actually believe they are in thirteenth century Scandinavia.
King Mordi: The great Odin, ruler of Asgard is to be feared and respected. He shall accompany us in the final battle of Ragnarök. You shall be hung for treason, wench!
Sarah steps foward toward the 'king' and narrows her eyes at him.
Sarah: You open your mouth to me again and you will need an ass guard or whatever the fuck you just said because I will take that plastic piece of shit on your head and shove it up your rectum!
King Mordi: This insolence shall not be tolerated! Bow to your king at once!
Sarah: Okay, I've had as much as I can deal with of this.
Sarah grabs King Mordi by the arm and forces him down to the ground with ease. She pulls back on his arm and he cries out in pain.
Sarah: You gonna shut up with your Dungeons and Dragons bullshit?
King Mordi: YES! YES! PLEASE LET ME GO!
Sarah lets his arm go and shakes her head as she gets back to her feet. She looks around and every single person in the field is staring at her. One by one they begin kneeling down in front of her, and she just rolls her eyes at this. Even now, these idiots were staying with it.
Siegfried: She has defeated our King in battle. Behold the new Queen of Burgund!
"King Mordi" removes his plastic crown and attempt to respectful place it on Sarah's head. She swats the crown away in disgust.
Sarah: Get that thing away from me! Ugh, this is so fucking stupid.
Leonis: But m'lady. You must be our Queen. We need a worthy leader to bring us to battle, for Odin's sake.
Sarah looks at the nerd as if he had ten heads. She places her hands on her hips and just stares at him before finally responding to such idiocy.
Sarah: I don't know what the fuck you people are on. But the only thing I am going to do for Odin Balfore is beat him to within an inch of his fucking life. You are you warcraft dungeons and dragons fantasy land bullshit sum up everything that he is...a deluded, fake waste of space who hasn't figured out yet that he is irrelevant. He matters about as much as your stupid Norse myths and whatever the fuck you are all doing out here just off of the highway.
Hagen respectfully raises his hand as he asks a question.
Hagen: Uhm, who is Odin Balfore?
Kriemhilde: I'm googling it!
Finally, one of these idiots returns to the real world as the young woman reaches for her iphone and processes a search on Odin Balfore.
Kriemhilde: Odin Balfore is a professional wrestler who is currently contracted to Wrestling Championship Federation. Blah blah blah, blah blah....newest information is that he is set to challenge for the WCF World Championship against the champion, Sarah Twilight this Sunday.
There is some chatter among the roleplayers as they hear the information. Siegfried seems to have an epiphany as he realizes who the woman is that they have been speaking with.
Siegfried: It all makes sense! Twilight of the Gods...Odin's demise. It is here! Ragnarök shall end as prophecied!
Sarah has no idea what the hell any of the are talking about still because well...they're all nerds...and they are all still bowing before her like idiots.
Sarah: I have GOT to get out of here.
Hagen: But you are our Queen! You mustn't leave.
Sarah: As much as I'd like to stay and laugh at you idiots, I have places to be. But I'll tell you this much; you all have just confirmed for me what I already knew. All those people who talk about slaying dragons or ridding the world of Ice Trolls...or playing dumb dumb shit in a field have one thing in common. They are overcompensating for a lack of testicles and tiny penises. The people who invented all that Norse shit would love to think they are all strong and powerful and tell us these bullshit fairytales. In reality they were just a bunch of old pussies who never mattered at all...JUST like Odin Balfore.
She shakes her head with disgust. Kriemhilde now raises her hand to speak.
Kriemhilde: But...I'm a girl.
Sarah: And that changes what? ... Fuck this, I'm out of here.
Sarah begins stepping over the bowing nerds as she makes her way toward her car. Siegfried calls out to her.
Siegfried: We are ready to serve you, Queen Twilight.
Sarah: Whatever, geeks.
Sarah gets to her Mustang and peels out, kicking up dirt and dust as she makes her way back toward the road. The crowd of roleplayers rejoice and begin to celebrate again. This time, embracing the way the Norse mythology ends...with Odin falling to the Twilight of the Gods.
Roleplayers: Hail Sarah! Hail Sarah!
This portion of the scene fades.
Later that Night.
Mexico City - Mexico
Gran Hotel Ciudad De Mexico
"What Makes a Champion"
It is dark. The shades drawn, covering the light of the moon high above. Only a tiny fragment of light is able to peek it's way in from the side of the shade, illuminating just barely the chair in which WCF World Champion, Sarah Twilight sits. Only the outline of her silhouette can be seen in the darkness. She remains secluded in this dreary room to evaluate her thoughts as she reaches into her duffle bag and removes the WCF World Championship, placing it on her lap and looking down upon it. This championship that she had worked so hard to attain. This championship that saw her blood, sweat and tears poured onto the canvas countless nights as she chased it for over a year. Finally it was in her grasp...it was hers and she had earned the right to carry it proudly. As the moonlight peeks in, Sarah moves her left arm to shine in its light and she looks down at the scar formed over, caused by the stabbing she'd endured at Aftermath. She reaches up to her left ear and runs her fingers over the cartilage. Even though it has since been hidden, she remembers well the wounds. Having half of her ear spipped off by a pair of hedgeclippers some years ago. Even having been reattached, the memory was still there. She gazes down at her hands, her legs, her stomach and remembers well the wounds inflicted by people such as Famine of the Vile, Eric Price, Nathan von Liebert and many others over the course of her career. Sarah was the picture of beauty...though her scars ran deep. Each of them a form of payment for her success. Every bumps, every brutal beating she has endured over the years has served as her debt for the success she enjoys now. That success has been earned tenfold. She gazes upon the championship she had coveted for so long, knowing that it belonged to her...and she smiles.
Sarah: I have earned my place after a long and arduous journey. A journey that has felt the bitter pill of defeat, and finally the sweet taste of victory. The road had many obstacles and many challenges...and I have endured them all. I have endured everything that has been hurled at me so that I can call myself the very best that this business has to offer. What I have earned, will not be taken from me.
She holds the World Championship closely, staring at it.
Sarah: Odin Balfore believes that attacking me just as I was crowned champion has earned him the right to stand among the elite and call himself a contender to what I have worked so very hard for? To attack someone after they emerge from a brutal battle is cowardice and are not the actions of a champion. But Odin knows well that had he attempted to take the road that I had, he would never be in a place to call himself into contention. Because Odin is of the past, and this is the future. I am the future. So he callously inserted himself into my affairs in order to reignite some of his past glories. A glory that has come and gone with the sands of time. Odin Balfore wishes to place himself on a pedestal and declare himself a God among men. He wishes to hold onto a reputation long forgotten and he intends to do so by taking from me what is rightfully mine. What I have earned and what he has NOT.
She stands from the chair and walks to the window, drawing the shade back and gazing out into the endless night.
Sarah: Odin does not realize that I have a reputation as well. And it is not the reputation he would like to believe. I am the WCF World Champion. I have not had my shoulders pinned, nor have I submitted since my return...and he feels he is a threat to me? I am a threat to Odin Balfore. I am a bigger threat than he has ever known. Odin does not understand my will...my desire. He does not understand the lengths that I will go in order to achieve victory. Odin thinks of himself as a Bad Motha Fucka...I think of him as cannon fodder. He is but another name on the long list of those who have assumed they could achieve glory by using me as a stepping stone. And each of them have been crushed along with their dreams. Odin is no different. He is but a man...a man who hasn't come to grips with reality. The reality that he isn't cut out for this anymore.
The moon shines down upon Sarah's face as she continues to stare out into the night. Perhaps she wasn't staring at anything at all. Her thoughts and ideas poured from her as she collected and prepared for her next battle.
Sarah: Odin is all about hype...and I am about result. If he can ramble on about everything and anything, he feels accomplished. I feel accomplished when I drive someone's head into the canvas and have my arm raised in victory. Odin wants to become champion just to do it. He has no respect for the championship that I hold. He wants something more to list in his meaningless book of past accomplishments. I, on the other hand am not content with just having won the WCF Championship. I intend to keep it and defend it with everything that I have inside of me each and every time I step into the ring. I am PROUD to be the first ever woman to become WCF World Heavyweight Champion. And I am not going to allow anyone to assume it was a fluke. When I emerge victorious against Odin Balfore and Skyler Striker...people are going to take notice. You saw but a GLIMPSE of what I am capable of when I destroyed Eric Price. You will see the core of my will to thrive and my desire to remain the very best when I step into that ring here in Mexico.
Sarah smirks a little bit as she glances at her WCF World Title again.
Sarah: My battle scars are many, but my spirit remains unscathed. You Odin Balfore...and you Skyler Striker are in the most dangerous place in all of WCF. You are stepping into the ring with the very first female WCF World Champion....and I intend to keep it that way for a long time to come. So ramble on about nothing. Convince yourselves that you are somehow relevant in 2013, and pat yourselves on the back in joy that you are facing a woman because you think it'll be so easy....
She laughs.
Sarah: I have proven myself as a champion and I will do so again when we step into the ring. You on the other hand have only proven that you are desperate because you know that your time has passed. To be a champion, you must endure every obstacle. To be a champion, you must earn that right. You stepped in front of the line out of place...and I will be sure to kick your ass RIGHT back down to the bottom where you belong. Odin, you bring as much "Bad Motha Fucka" as you want...bring your Norse myths, your Trojan Horse and your stupid old ugly ass. When the dust settles...you WILL have experienced the Twilight of the Gods. That is...when I take your old retarded ass to The Twilight Zone!
Sarah grins devilishly as she turns from the window. The shade drops down over it once again and our scene fades to black.
Dim rays of sunlight peak over the mountainous wilderness and trickle their way down into the valley at dawn's first light. The air is still, and the eerie absence of chatter among the creatures that inhabited the landscape foretold of the brutal end that was to come. Just beyond the valley, there in the distance stood a castle. Thick stone walls and heavy iron gates surround the structure as a seemingly impenetrable fortress. Archers armed and ready at each watchtower. The kingdom that is hidden behind the iron and stone remains at alert. Vendors hide away their goods. Peasants in their tattered cloth cower in fear and soldiers remain at the ready, iron plated vests, iron shields, imposing spears, heavy battle maces, axes and bastard swords make up a vast majority of their armament. Back in the valley, an army of warriors are assembled to thwart what seems like an expected attempt on the castle. The men number in the hundreds, perhaps even thousands. Their beards are rugged, their eyes are focused and the heart of a warrior beats within each of them as they prepare for battle. Those leading the charge into battle sit upon horseback and round their men into position as they wait there in the valley. Hoof beats can be heard as they draw close, swiftly. A woman, dressed for battle with two great battle axes sheathed at her sides rides onto the battlefield. She comes to an abrupt halt as she reaches the gathering of men. One of the warriors approaches her.
Warrior: Lady Brünhilde! I mean no disrespect, but I must insist that you return to the castle at once. Your presence here shall not be permitted.
The woman looks down upon him with a sense of disdain and resentment for his statements.
Brünhilde: On what authority do you dare to give me orders Siegfried?
Siegfried: On the authority of your father, the King. With Fafnir the dragon awakened, you know that Ragnarök is upon us.
Brünhilde: Indeed, the Twilight of the Gods is upon us. My father would wish for nothing more than Odin's honor to be upheld...even in matters of certain death. As his daughter, I carry that crest of honor. And I shall take my place on the battlefield where I see fit.
Siegfried: M'lady. I too must uphold the wishes of your father. He shant permit his daughter a place upon the battlefield. Your place is required with the people of our kingdom as your father prepares you a suitor to take the throne beside you on his passing.
Again, she seems angered by the statements made toward her.
Brünhilde: Not a single man in this land, nor any other has bested me in battle. Until one does, a suitor I shall not take. I restate my intent to remain here and as King Mordi's daughter I lay my charge. Do we understand one another, Siegfried?
Siegfried seems to be displeased with her answers. Though as the King's daughter, he has no recourse but to accept her position...reluctantly.
Siegfried: I urge that this is a terrible mistake. However, as your loyal servant in battle, I can do no more to dissuade you. As you wish, m'lady.
He kneels before her. The men upon the battlefield follow his lead and do so as well. Just then, the soundings of a stampede startle the warriors. Just ahead of the clearing in the valley, the leaves upon the various trees and bushes begin to rustle violently as the earth beneath them almost seems to quake as if the very depths of soil, rock and crust below were to collapse upon itself. There from the foliage emerges hundreds of deer, elk, even wolves and bears. All of them in a frightened state of panic as they rush to escape whatever it was that had scared them out of their habitat. Siegfried rises to his feet and holds his bastard sword high above his head as he addresses his men.
Siegfried: THE DRAGON FAFNIR RISES! THE BATTLE OF RAGNARÖK HAS BEGUN!!!
The warriors ready their arms and watch the horizon near the tops of the treeline, waiting for the emergence of their enemy. It does not take long for the beast to make its presence known as a dark shadow begins to shade over the trees. Finally the men can see their adversary. The dragon is enormous. It's deep black, scaled skin is thick and crusted with a thousand years of callouses. Jewels line part's of it's underbelly, undoubtedly lodged there as it slept for centuries, guarding the treasures it had once horded. The dragon's eyes are as red as blood and burned with the hatred of the endless list tortured souls locked away in the halls of Valhalla. Its pupils as black and as evil as nothing ever witnessed before by man. The veins of it's wings twitch as it flies overhead, bubbling with the blood of ages. The monster's wings themselves took a span of a thousand gulls and its tail whips back and forth violently as it propels itself toward the wave of men. Think, gray smoke puffed from its nostrils and the valley fills with the echoes of its roar. Perhaps a battle cry as it bares its teeth just before descending upon the men.
In one fell swoop it ravages the warriors as it plows through them with such force that it tears some of the men straight in half. Others are thrown hundreds of feet by the sheer velocity of the attack. Some have their limbs torn from them and bone attached to skin by a thread. The screams of agony that follow are unforgettable. Though these men that remain, and Brünhilde, they are unwavering and attack with their weapons. Each, having little effect on the hard skin of the beast. Brünhilde manages to cleave one of her axes into the dragon's wing as she tears through one of the veins. It lets out a monstrous roar as it too now feels some extent of pain. In retaliation it plucks one of the men from the crowd of warriors and clutches him tightly within it's front claws. Fafnir stops mid flight as he ascends toward the sky again and turns to look upon the remaining warriors. Without hesitation the beast lowers its snout and bites the head clean from the warrior. It discards the rest of the body as he drops it down into the crowd of men. A sickening series of cracks, pops and crunches can be heard as the man's headless body crumbles into the ground below. Surely turning all of his bones to dust upon impact. Siegfried, seeing his men are in danger, makes the only decision that he can.
Siegfried: RETREAT!! RETREAT AT ONCE!
Then men gather, along with Brünhilde and begin up the valley toward the castle. However, Fafnir was not finished with them. The monster gives chase as it makes another swoop toward the men who are running in fear of their seemingly unstoppable adversary. Their is a rumbling coming from within the belly of the dragon. A sound like no other that grows louder and louder. As if thunder were rolling in from the sky and making landfall the rumbling increases just behind them. Finally, Fafnir rears back his head and opens his fearsome mouth to emit a giant ball of fire that descends upon the men. The searing heat of the flames leave the landscape charred and full of death. Hundreds more of the men are consumed by the fireball and turned to ash by the intensity of the heat. The remaining warriors, weak in number continue to retreat. Fafnir intends to finish them all off, however and he follows after them, swopping down into the mass of them once more for the coup de grace. Siegfried has other plans for the beast as he takes grip of his sword, forged from Odin's falling star some years ago and perhaps by luck, or perhaps by fate he finds the only soft spot on Fafnir's underbelly. There among the thick scales and seemingly indestructible beats there was a weak spot...an Achilles heel. With all of his might he thrusts the full blade of the sword up into the dragon's chest and the best roars ferociously in agony. When Siegfried finally pulls his blade from the beast, dripping in its blood, Fafnir retreats to the sky. Though he does not get far. Siegfried had delivered the fatal blow and Fafnir falls from the sky and crashes into the earth...dead. The ground quakes and trembles with the force of a hundred volcanoes as the black dragon makes impact with the ground. The remaining warriors cheer triumphantly at the demise of the monster.
Brünhilde: You've done it! You have slayed the black dragon of Burgund's Ridge! Only the chosen should be capable of such a feat. That makes you...
Brünhilde kneels before Siegfried out of a humbled respect for his astonishing accomplishment.
Brünhilde: May Odin's wisdom guide you m'lord.
Siegfried: Please, Lady Brünhilde. Do not bow in my presence. I am but a humble servant to your kingdom. I did only what could be expected of any man in such a predicament.
Brünhilde: Your bravery shall be rewarded. I shall inform my father of your deeds and you shall be treated accordingly. You have done a great service to this land, Siegfried.
As Siegfried is acknowledged for his feat, the remaining warriors collect the carcass of Fafnir and begin to haul it back toward th castle as a trophy of their first victory in the battle of Ragnarök. They use lumber and stone to create a makeshift, and enormous wagon to cart off the lifeless beast. Siegfried and Brünhilde ride at the forefront of the now cheerful men.
They arrive at the castle some number of hours later as trumpets are sounded as guards at the watchtowers notice the giant carcass. Vendors open their wares and festivities begin throughout the kingdom. They are truly greeted to a hero's welcome as the iron gates are opened and everyone is there to get a glimpse of the dragon slayer. Brünhilde makes certain that everyone knows exactly upon who's blade the beats fell.
Brünhilde: Lay your eyes upon the man who fell the dragon of Burgund's Ridge. Siegfried of Saxon!
Everyone in the kingdom bows in Siegfried's pressence as he passes them. King Mordi's royal advisor calls for the proper celebrations to begin.
Royal Advisor: Let the mead flow! Let there be a feast like none other! Tonight, we celebrate in the honor of Siegfried of Saxon, the dragon slayer!
The crowds of villagers and soldiers within the kingdom walls begin to cheer. A young woman rushes to one of the returning warriors and wraps her arms around him tightly.
Woman: Leonis you're safe! You've returned to me as you promised.
The young warrior Leonis, one of the few clean shaven men smiles. He is a handsome man by all regards and he embraces his love as she cries with joy of his return.
Leonis: Of course, Kriemhilde. I could not possibly allow myself to lay down in battle and miss the chance to return to such beauty.
Kriemhilde: Oh Leonis. You do melt my heart.
Leonis: Love enough to melt the heart of a dragon just the same.
He comments jokingly which encouranges a round of raucous laughter. The lightbhearted mood is interrupted however as King Mordi himself emerges onto the village square. Silence immediatey follows. The King walks directly toward Siegfried.
King Mordi: You are the Dragon Slayer I hear of?
Siegfried nods and bows down before the king along with everyone else.
King Mordi: On your feet, lad. I am deeply indebted to you for your service. You have returned my daughter safely to me and for that, you have my gratitude.
King Mordi turns toward the crowds of people and addresses them.
King Mordi: Let the celebrations commence!
There are many cheers and everyone resumes their festivities in honor of the slaying of Fafnir. The King, now safely guised by the commotion speaks quietly to Siegfried, and his men...as not to create a panic among the rest of his kingdom.
King Mordi: Enjoy the food and drink. But remain prepared. Invaders from the north shall strike at any time. We must remain steadfast, lest we forget the prophecies.
With that, King Mordi retreats back into the castle, surrounded by his personal guards. Everyone is left to consider the words he had spoken. Leonis looks toward Siegfried, a bit puzzled.
Leonis: What madness is this that our King speak of?
"He speaks of the propchecy yet to be fulfilled. The battle of Ragnarök has only just begun. It has only just begun my child."
A raspy voice comments out of nowhere. Leonis and the others turn to see the old, disheleved man. He is known throughout the kingdom as Hagen, a man of sorcery and deceit. His white hair spreads wildly over his scalp and his face unshaven and unkempt. The man wears dark brown robes and worn down sandles upon his feet. His eyes surrounded by endless wrinkles and his teeth...what remains of them are stained and decaying. Though in his eyes, the lust of power and magic persists, even in his advanced age. The warriors' instincts are to laugh him off...however some of them had heard the prophetic teachings and could not help but to listen. Leonis is most of all intrigued by the tale.
Hagen: It has been written that after the fall of Fafnir, the bloodthirty vikings of Iceland shall march into the valleys of Burgund and overthrow the King. Their numbers shall be great and the King's men shall have been reduced by two thirds during the battle with the black dragon.
The men listen on intently, though a few of them take quite a bit of exception to the notion that their king would be killed.
Hagen: Only the chosen will escape death along with his bride. The chosen who must bathe in the blood of the black dragon, shall become invunerable. It is then that Odin himself will ride from Asgard triumphantly upon his eight legged steed, Sleipnir to join in the final battle of Ragnarök. Odin shall not survive the Twilight of the Gods. He shall fall with the others in battle. This cannot be changed.
Siegfried shakes his head and does not accept Hagen's story at all.
Siegfried: No. Odin lives through the battle of Ragnarök.
Hagen: Look dude, he dies, okay?
Wait...did someone just say 'dude' in thirteenth century Scandinavia? Suddenly everything about the scene changes. The valleys look more like a field....a not so very big one. The sounds of honking cars and the day to day sounds of modern life are heard everywhere. Hagen, the old sorcerer more resembles a dork in his mid twenties wearing a wig and a badly made Halloween costume. Siegfried and Leonis, as well as Brünhilde and Kriemhilde are also men and women in their early to mid twenties who are wearing badly made costumes and carrying nerf tipped swords, axes and spears. The castle, was nothing more than a large prop made of cardboard, styrofoam and wood set up in the field and had no real significance at all other than the fact it was intricately detailed and even had places for people to stand as if they were truly at a watchtower. Hagen and Siegfried continue to argue.
Siegfried: Odin doesn't die. Where does it even say that?
Hagen: Look man, I have it right here in the manual. Odin dies, along with Thor, Loki and like half the other Gods. You are so ruining this, man!
Siegfried: Me?! You are telling me Odin dies and he has to have like ten times the hit points that anyone in the battle of Ragnarök has!
Hagen: Look, if we are doing this, we are doing it right. Odin dies. That's it.
"This is fucking ridiculous, the entire thing."
We hear a familiar voice as all of the costumed kids turn to look toward the source as we see WCF World Heavyweight Champion, Sarah Twilight standing there with her arms folded. She is not dressed like any of the others. She is wearing a black crop top tee, a pair of medium blue denim jeans, a pair of white Nike sneakers with black trim and Swoosh, a pair of rayban sunglasses, and of course the silver pentacle charm that she always wore. She taps her foot and shakes her head at the group of roleplayers and AS IT TURNS OUT we of course aren't in thirteenth ccentury Scandinavia...
Instead, judging by the line of traffic jammed as far as the eye can see just west of the field, and by the patrol agents and checkpoints that each of the cars are moving through...we are instead somewhere in Southern California along the U.S./Mexican border. But, how did we get here?
One Hour Earlier.
Sarah is seated in her 2013 jet black Mustang GT Convertible among HUNDREDS of other cars just ahead of the border checkpoint. The flashing indicator above informs everyone stuck in this mess that there will be about a two hour delay in getting people through the checkpoint. With some Mexican Federalis and American DEA agents swarming the area, it's safe to assume that someone got busted with a shitload of illegal drugs trying to smuggle them over the border. Sarah slams her hands on the steering wheel in disgust.
Sarah: Why? WHY, Sarah did you think it'd be a good idea to just DRIVE into Mexico?
She shakes her head, still scolding herself.
Sarah: Oh, we're already in San Diego...it's not that far. Oh, it'll be faster than going all the way back to L.A. and getting on the jet. Fucking hell! Look at this shit?! I'm going to be sitting here for HOURS now.
Sarah leans back in her seat and places her left hand on her forehead impatiently as she knew she'd be sitting in this traffic that wasn't going to move at all until border agents were done with whatever the fuck it is they were doing now. She glances out to the east, as she really had nothing much to do but look around at the vast emptiness beyond the road and loads of cars around her. Though instead of seeing nothing, she sees what looks like some kind of a big fight going on. People running at each other and swinging sticks or something at each other. and some kind of a little fort or something seemed to be the centerpiece of it all. Being in the lane furthest left on the road, and knowing she had nothing better to do, she drives toward the gathering of people to have a look as to what was going on.
Back to Present Time.
Siegfried and Hagen realize they have dropped character and assume that is what has angered Sarah, their only actual spectator. Both of them immediately return themselves to character and continue on as if the little spat ever happened.
Siegfried: We stand to defend this kingdom, Hagen. And defend it we shall. The invaders shall come from the north at dusk, and we shall be ready for them!
He points towards the Mexican border as he comments and Sarah just shakes her head at him.
Sarah: You idiots are going to fight Mexicans who cross the border...with foam swords? That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard in my life.
Hagen: What are these Mexicans you speak of maiden? The invaders shall be Icelandic vikings and come from the north.
Sarah: That...
She points at the border.
Sarah: Is Mexico, and it is SOUTH of you, moron.
Siegfried: Do not insult us maiden. We stand at the ready for Odin's honor.
Sarah smirks as she shakes her head at them once again.
Sarah: Sorry to tell ya, but Odin is going to get his ass handed to him.
Leonis: She is a traitor! There is a traitor among us! She sullies the good name of our God, Odin!
As Leonis says this, one of the random nerds in the group of roleplayers charges at Sarah with his nerf sword. She simply takes a step to the side, extends her arm and clotheslines the geek as he runs into it. The poor dork is dazed and out of it as he hits the ground.
Siegfried: She is a formidable foe! We must surround the workings of such sorcery and deliver her to our King!
Sarah: Take one fucking step toward me nerd, and I will rip your fucking face off!
Leonis gasps.
Leonis: She is a shapeshifter!
Brünhilde: I shall handle this abomination!
The nerdy girl with glasses swings her foam axe at Sarah's arm...it really does nothing at all because well, it's foam. However, Sarah did set her warnings so she uses the arm that was hit with the foam axe and puches Brünhilde hard. The roleplayer holds her shoulder and a few tears roll down her cheek. Siegfried takes exception to this.
Siegfried: You broke the rules!
Sarah shrugs.
Sarah: So what?
Siegfried: She hit your arm with her axe, so it's gone. You can't use it.
Sarah: I'm not playing your stupid fucking games, idiot.
As the conversation continues another dweeb walks into the picture. This one wears a plastic crown on his head and has a red cape around him as well as a ridiculous king's costume. He tries very hard to look prominent and important.
King Mordi: What is this commotion I hear of a traitor amongst us?
Siegfried points at Sarah accussingly.
Siegfried: The woman Sire, she sullies Odin!
King Mordi: How dare you, wench!
He again tries to aseert himself, and as the entire debacle continues...you get the sense that these people actually believe they are in thirteenth century Scandinavia.
King Mordi: The great Odin, ruler of Asgard is to be feared and respected. He shall accompany us in the final battle of Ragnarök. You shall be hung for treason, wench!
Sarah steps foward toward the 'king' and narrows her eyes at him.
Sarah: You open your mouth to me again and you will need an ass guard or whatever the fuck you just said because I will take that plastic piece of shit on your head and shove it up your rectum!
King Mordi: This insolence shall not be tolerated! Bow to your king at once!
Sarah: Okay, I've had as much as I can deal with of this.
Sarah grabs King Mordi by the arm and forces him down to the ground with ease. She pulls back on his arm and he cries out in pain.
Sarah: You gonna shut up with your Dungeons and Dragons bullshit?
King Mordi: YES! YES! PLEASE LET ME GO!
Sarah lets his arm go and shakes her head as she gets back to her feet. She looks around and every single person in the field is staring at her. One by one they begin kneeling down in front of her, and she just rolls her eyes at this. Even now, these idiots were staying with it.
Siegfried: She has defeated our King in battle. Behold the new Queen of Burgund!
"King Mordi" removes his plastic crown and attempt to respectful place it on Sarah's head. She swats the crown away in disgust.
Sarah: Get that thing away from me! Ugh, this is so fucking stupid.
Leonis: But m'lady. You must be our Queen. We need a worthy leader to bring us to battle, for Odin's sake.
Sarah looks at the nerd as if he had ten heads. She places her hands on her hips and just stares at him before finally responding to such idiocy.
Sarah: I don't know what the fuck you people are on. But the only thing I am going to do for Odin Balfore is beat him to within an inch of his fucking life. You are you warcraft dungeons and dragons fantasy land bullshit sum up everything that he is...a deluded, fake waste of space who hasn't figured out yet that he is irrelevant. He matters about as much as your stupid Norse myths and whatever the fuck you are all doing out here just off of the highway.
Hagen respectfully raises his hand as he asks a question.
Hagen: Uhm, who is Odin Balfore?
Kriemhilde: I'm googling it!
Finally, one of these idiots returns to the real world as the young woman reaches for her iphone and processes a search on Odin Balfore.
Kriemhilde: Odin Balfore is a professional wrestler who is currently contracted to Wrestling Championship Federation. Blah blah blah, blah blah....newest information is that he is set to challenge for the WCF World Championship against the champion, Sarah Twilight this Sunday.
There is some chatter among the roleplayers as they hear the information. Siegfried seems to have an epiphany as he realizes who the woman is that they have been speaking with.
Siegfried: It all makes sense! Twilight of the Gods...Odin's demise. It is here! Ragnarök shall end as prophecied!
Sarah has no idea what the hell any of the are talking about still because well...they're all nerds...and they are all still bowing before her like idiots.
Sarah: I have GOT to get out of here.
Hagen: But you are our Queen! You mustn't leave.
Sarah: As much as I'd like to stay and laugh at you idiots, I have places to be. But I'll tell you this much; you all have just confirmed for me what I already knew. All those people who talk about slaying dragons or ridding the world of Ice Trolls...or playing dumb dumb shit in a field have one thing in common. They are overcompensating for a lack of testicles and tiny penises. The people who invented all that Norse shit would love to think they are all strong and powerful and tell us these bullshit fairytales. In reality they were just a bunch of old pussies who never mattered at all...JUST like Odin Balfore.
She shakes her head with disgust. Kriemhilde now raises her hand to speak.
Kriemhilde: But...I'm a girl.
Sarah: And that changes what? ... Fuck this, I'm out of here.
Sarah begins stepping over the bowing nerds as she makes her way toward her car. Siegfried calls out to her.
Siegfried: We are ready to serve you, Queen Twilight.
Sarah: Whatever, geeks.
Sarah gets to her Mustang and peels out, kicking up dirt and dust as she makes her way back toward the road. The crowd of roleplayers rejoice and begin to celebrate again. This time, embracing the way the Norse mythology ends...with Odin falling to the Twilight of the Gods.
Roleplayers: Hail Sarah! Hail Sarah!
This portion of the scene fades.
Later that Night.
Mexico City - Mexico
Gran Hotel Ciudad De Mexico
"What Makes a Champion"
It is dark. The shades drawn, covering the light of the moon high above. Only a tiny fragment of light is able to peek it's way in from the side of the shade, illuminating just barely the chair in which WCF World Champion, Sarah Twilight sits. Only the outline of her silhouette can be seen in the darkness. She remains secluded in this dreary room to evaluate her thoughts as she reaches into her duffle bag and removes the WCF World Championship, placing it on her lap and looking down upon it. This championship that she had worked so hard to attain. This championship that saw her blood, sweat and tears poured onto the canvas countless nights as she chased it for over a year. Finally it was in her grasp...it was hers and she had earned the right to carry it proudly. As the moonlight peeks in, Sarah moves her left arm to shine in its light and she looks down at the scar formed over, caused by the stabbing she'd endured at Aftermath. She reaches up to her left ear and runs her fingers over the cartilage. Even though it has since been hidden, she remembers well the wounds. Having half of her ear spipped off by a pair of hedgeclippers some years ago. Even having been reattached, the memory was still there. She gazes down at her hands, her legs, her stomach and remembers well the wounds inflicted by people such as Famine of the Vile, Eric Price, Nathan von Liebert and many others over the course of her career. Sarah was the picture of beauty...though her scars ran deep. Each of them a form of payment for her success. Every bumps, every brutal beating she has endured over the years has served as her debt for the success she enjoys now. That success has been earned tenfold. She gazes upon the championship she had coveted for so long, knowing that it belonged to her...and she smiles.
Sarah: I have earned my place after a long and arduous journey. A journey that has felt the bitter pill of defeat, and finally the sweet taste of victory. The road had many obstacles and many challenges...and I have endured them all. I have endured everything that has been hurled at me so that I can call myself the very best that this business has to offer. What I have earned, will not be taken from me.
She holds the World Championship closely, staring at it.
Sarah: Odin Balfore believes that attacking me just as I was crowned champion has earned him the right to stand among the elite and call himself a contender to what I have worked so very hard for? To attack someone after they emerge from a brutal battle is cowardice and are not the actions of a champion. But Odin knows well that had he attempted to take the road that I had, he would never be in a place to call himself into contention. Because Odin is of the past, and this is the future. I am the future. So he callously inserted himself into my affairs in order to reignite some of his past glories. A glory that has come and gone with the sands of time. Odin Balfore wishes to place himself on a pedestal and declare himself a God among men. He wishes to hold onto a reputation long forgotten and he intends to do so by taking from me what is rightfully mine. What I have earned and what he has NOT.
She stands from the chair and walks to the window, drawing the shade back and gazing out into the endless night.
Sarah: Odin does not realize that I have a reputation as well. And it is not the reputation he would like to believe. I am the WCF World Champion. I have not had my shoulders pinned, nor have I submitted since my return...and he feels he is a threat to me? I am a threat to Odin Balfore. I am a bigger threat than he has ever known. Odin does not understand my will...my desire. He does not understand the lengths that I will go in order to achieve victory. Odin thinks of himself as a Bad Motha Fucka...I think of him as cannon fodder. He is but another name on the long list of those who have assumed they could achieve glory by using me as a stepping stone. And each of them have been crushed along with their dreams. Odin is no different. He is but a man...a man who hasn't come to grips with reality. The reality that he isn't cut out for this anymore.
The moon shines down upon Sarah's face as she continues to stare out into the night. Perhaps she wasn't staring at anything at all. Her thoughts and ideas poured from her as she collected and prepared for her next battle.
Sarah: Odin is all about hype...and I am about result. If he can ramble on about everything and anything, he feels accomplished. I feel accomplished when I drive someone's head into the canvas and have my arm raised in victory. Odin wants to become champion just to do it. He has no respect for the championship that I hold. He wants something more to list in his meaningless book of past accomplishments. I, on the other hand am not content with just having won the WCF Championship. I intend to keep it and defend it with everything that I have inside of me each and every time I step into the ring. I am PROUD to be the first ever woman to become WCF World Heavyweight Champion. And I am not going to allow anyone to assume it was a fluke. When I emerge victorious against Odin Balfore and Skyler Striker...people are going to take notice. You saw but a GLIMPSE of what I am capable of when I destroyed Eric Price. You will see the core of my will to thrive and my desire to remain the very best when I step into that ring here in Mexico.
Sarah smirks a little bit as she glances at her WCF World Title again.
Sarah: My battle scars are many, but my spirit remains unscathed. You Odin Balfore...and you Skyler Striker are in the most dangerous place in all of WCF. You are stepping into the ring with the very first female WCF World Champion....and I intend to keep it that way for a long time to come. So ramble on about nothing. Convince yourselves that you are somehow relevant in 2013, and pat yourselves on the back in joy that you are facing a woman because you think it'll be so easy....
She laughs.
Sarah: I have proven myself as a champion and I will do so again when we step into the ring. You on the other hand have only proven that you are desperate because you know that your time has passed. To be a champion, you must endure every obstacle. To be a champion, you must earn that right. You stepped in front of the line out of place...and I will be sure to kick your ass RIGHT back down to the bottom where you belong. Odin, you bring as much "Bad Motha Fucka" as you want...bring your Norse myths, your Trojan Horse and your stupid old ugly ass. When the dust settles...you WILL have experienced the Twilight of the Gods. That is...when I take your old retarded ass to The Twilight Zone!
Sarah grins devilishly as she turns from the window. The shade drops down over it once again and our scene fades to black.
