Post by Bonnie Blue on Feb 4, 2018 14:33:46 GMT -5
Twilight of the Gods
Illuminated by a solitary ray, Bonnie Blue treads a stage unseen amid otherwise total darkness.
“Hey, Big All-Daddy! How ya doin', sugar?
I know you're prob'ly wonderin' why it took me so damn long to cut this promo. You're thinkin' you got Bonnie Blue shook -- an' it's true, but not for the reasons you're thinkin' of.
See, I grew up hearin' all the stories 'bout the legends of Dubya-Sea-Eff. About you, Big Daddy. Can you imagine how I felt, enterin' this tournament, seein' your name in that bracket? Next to the rest of the 'competition' -- well, we both knew it'd come to this. An' I have indulged a little too much, enjoyin' the sense of anticipation; like all these other matches was just foreplay."
She traces ruby-red lips with the tip of her tongue, a gleam of mischief in her eye.
“Sunday night, in front of thousands an' thousands of WCF fans, we'll reach the climax together -- though only one of us is walkin' away truly satisfied. Spoiler alert: it's me."
Her sea-blue gaze burns with intensity as she points to herself
"But we got a ways to go before we come to that, an' I want every detail perfect, Big Daddy. Our first time should be special, memorable..."
A roguish smile plays across her lips.
"...'cause it may well be your last, Odin Balfore. You think I'm Godnilla-damned fuckin' around here? Nuh-uh. Fuck that. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for me, after years of bein' overlooked, shoved aside, an' finally I get within reach of the grandest prize in this industry; I ain't about to let you stand in my way.
You call yourself a god, but you come running like a lost little puppy the instant John Rabid calls, all waggin' your tail while you bury your nose in his crotch. That obedience trainin' must be payin' off -- you're all housebroken an' everything! -- so as a reward, you get handed a title shot. An' all ya gotta do is make it look like ya had to work for it. Reckon that's my part in all this, ain't it? Since William an' Mikey failed to put up much of a struggle, Bonnie Blue's job is to make things interestin'.
An' believe me, Big Daddy, things about to get real interestin'."
With a sly wink, Bonnie blows a kiss as the light goes out.
*******************************************
Rabid.
It always comes back to him. Why?
*WHAM!* Her fist rocked a heavy bag dangling by a chain from the ceiling.
Constantly interfering. Just in the last twelve months...
*WHUMPF!* A roundhouse kick connected with the bag next, nearly folding it in half.
...Dethwar, all the time in Denmark, and then -- actually dying, and he saved me.
Then #beachkrew ...and Wade.
Hellimination --
She punctuated each thought with another strike to the bag, each impact sinking deeper than the one before.
-- And the death of Johnny Chinlock -- which provided him the perfect excuse to torpedo the company I carried on my shoulders from the moment it opened its doors. No coincidence that he seized control of WCF almost simultaneously. All that, just to maneuver me into re-signing a full-time contract. This tournament sweetens the deal, but the fact remains, he set a trap and I walked right into it.
The worst part?
*WHAM! WHAM! WHUMPF! THUD!* Several strikes in succession tore the heavy bag from its moorings and sent it crashing to the floor.
Not just that I may have unwittingly played some part in Rabid bringing down UCI -- but that it was all for nothing. That I wasn't the one selected as the favorite to win. He goes to all the trouble to obliterate the competition and bring me back into the fold, then recruits this geriatric has-ben just because his name meant something a hundred years ago, throws all his support behind Odin.
Chest heaving with exertion, the young woman stalked to the fallen target and stood over it, staring down in contemplation.
Shoulda been me.
Gonna be me.
The heavy bag suffered kick after kick, stomp after stomp, as Bonnie's frustration found release in the violence. Canvas ripped under the onslaught, spilled sand thick like blood on the concrete gym floor. One corner of her mouth turned up as she surveyed her savage handiwork. Behind her, the door swung open, and she spun on her heel to face an unexpected intruder. Sea-blue eyes lit up with delight at the appearance of none other than Wade "Broseidon" Moor, smiling as she approached to greet him with a tender kiss.
"Hi," he said, looking past her to the fallen punching bag. "That guy giving you trouble?"
She winked at him. "Nothin' I couldn't handle."
"I know that's right," Wade told her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Glad I'm not Odin Balfore this week."
"I'm glad you're not Odin Balfore any week," Bonnie said. "But I could use a stand-in."
Wade followed her gaze to the ring that dominated the center of the gym. Then he glanced again at the sand still trickling from the split-open bag.
"I dunno, baby. You playin' a little rough today," he teased.
"Y'know ya love it," she retorted. "Besides, I gotta go all out. Ain't every day a girl finds herself in the ring with a god. 'Specially the God of War."
Bonnie frowned slightly, even as she said it. A huff of derision, a shake of her head; there was something off about that statement. Wade hopped onto the ring apron and held the ropes in a gentlemanly fashion while she climbed in.
"Some god," Bonnie continued. "Turns up at John Rabid's biddin'. Oughta have a little more dignity than that -- an' yeah, I get it, it's one of them pot an' kettle scenarios. Diff'rence bein' that I owe the man my life an' until he considers the debt discharged, I'm sorta obligated. But overall, in the greater scheme, Space Dracula is a lot lower on the heirarchy than a Time Witch or a Sea God or the All-Father his own damn self. An' maybe John ain't the best role model for a young goddess, but the fact remains that I wouldn't really be where I'm at today without the occasional guidance from the Serpent."
Swagrid shook his head. "Nah, girl, you're selling yourself short; quit giving him so much credit. Rabid didn't do shit -- your success is all you."
"Oh, hell yeah, it is. Don't get me wrong, I ain't sayin' he gave me any advantages. A nudge in the right direction here an' there, that's all. An' only when it suited his nefarious purposes or whatever. Rest of his attentions were devoted to keepin' me under his thumb, indirectly -- until now. Except now all he does is sign the paycheck. I didn't ask to be put in this tournament like everybody thinks. It was just part of the contract deal. Dune knows that, right? I wasn't tryin' to step on anybody's toes."
Wade tossed his jacket over a turnbuckle and gave her a shrug.
"Whether you asked for it or not isn't relevant. The fact is, everybody wants a piece of Bonnie Blue 'cause my girl is on a hot streak right now, and Bonnie Blue is money, dig? You see Odin Balfore headlining two shows, back to back?"
Bonnie paused, mid-stretch, and shook her head.
"Fuck no," she replied. "An' y'know why? 'Cause he ain't shit. He's the one gettin' the favor here. He got paper competitors. William the Behemoth? Dude had to let a prehistoric shark take a bite outta my Swagrid before he could claim victory -- an' that ain't no kinda winnin' at all."
"Damn right," Wade agreed, unconsciously rubbing at the scars from that night.
"Uh-huh. An' Mikey eXtreme? He's tough, sure, but it's rodeo clown tough. Boy done took his share of ass-kickin', now he knows to get out the way of a chargin' bull. High priest of a trailer park god is still a servant, no matter how you dress it up. Odin Balfore got the easy prey -- not that I'm complainin'.
'Cause I had to work to get this far, while Balfore coasted through two guys nobody gives a fuck about. I proved that I belong in this tournament an' when I put Odin's shoulders down for that one-two-three, everybody gonna know Bonnie Blue deserves her shot at 'Thievin' Stephen Singh!"
*******************************************
"God of War?"
The solitary spotlight once more cleaves away the darkness surrounding a skeptical Bonnie Blue.
"Really? 'Cause it kinda seems like way back at War X my daddy left you holdin' your dick while he went on to win an' claim the WCF World Championship for the third time. Six years later -- War XVI -- your ass can't even finish top ten; hardly an improvement. Shit, man, you didn't even start cleanin' house until half the damn competition was danglin' a hundred feet in the air. Before that? What was it that kept you otherwise occupied, All-Daddy?
Oh, right. You'd done got your ass knocked the fuck out! By a member of Zero Tolerance, no less! If you were a man, Odin -- anatomically correct, I mean -- your shame would be boundless. What sort of god allows Salem Shepard (a person who's name everyone now has to go look up because he was so imminently forgettable) to humiliate him like that?
Kinda gives the lie to your claims of bein'... well, much of anythin'. Everybody talkin' 'bout what a BAD MOTHERFUCKER you are. Watch out, y'all! Here come Odin Balfore! We got us a real bonafide badass right here!"
With a dramatic roll of sea-blue eyes, Bonnie scoffs.
"Man, fuck that load of bullshit an' the truck you brung it in! I ain't sayin' you ain't one tough sonofabitch -- everybody knows you are, an' that's what's gonna make pinnin' your ancient Norse ass so Godnilla-damned satisfyin'. We both know what they all thinkin': that this is the mismatch to end all! That little Miss Bonnie might be a scrapper, but she don't know what she's walkin' into.
Like as if I never stepped to the Monster, Oblivion -- an' made him my bitch. Seriously. Y'all ever see him fuck with me again after I stomped his face until he looked like Sloth from Goonies? You damn right he don't step to Bonnie Blue no more!
Or maybe everybody forgot that time me an' the Sandman went at it; how he dropped me on a chair with his Sandstorm, then had to do it again to keep me down for that three-count!"
Blonde and blue locks sway as the young goddess shakes her head, a trace of nostalgia playing at her lips.
"That's all old news, though. That's shit I did as a rookie, 'fore I ever had gold of any kind around my waist. Before I led the most successful faction in professional wrestlin' to at least half a dozen title reigns at You-Sea-Eye. Man, that's all shit I did before I had my way with David Sanchez at Aftermath -- an' I mean, I split them cheeks like I was ZMAC on a coke binge at the Bunny Ranch, metaphorically speakin'.
I ain't just hype, Big All-Daddy -- Bonnie Blue got it goin' on, ya feel me?
Uh-huh. I know ya do. Wanna say you got me shook, but it's the other way around. You gonna try so hard to reduce me to nothin' more than a little bit of quiverin' Slick -- waitin' for your Thick. That about sum it up?
Lemme tell ya about that Slick, old man. Lemme show ya what it do. Slick keeps goin' when Thick is spent. Slick gotta work twice as hard for the same nut. Slick take a beatin', get right back up. That Slick seems soft an' yieldin', but it's a Venus flytrap ready to snap shut. You come hard at me with all the Thick you can bring, baby, 'cause that's just the way Bonnie Blue likes it. You play rough, sugar, an' I play rougher. In the end, the Slick gonna drown the Thick, an' the #DeepBlueSea claim another victim on her way to the top of this company at last."
One corner of her mouth turns up in a knowing smirk.
"Come to think of it, maybe you ain't the chosen one, after all. I mean, look at you -- all venerable an' shit, but what have you actually done recently? Aside from defeating two complete wastes of talent in this tournament, not a motherfuckin' thing. Your major contributions to War were havin' a nap an' eliminatin' dudes nobody pays attention to anyway. Go your hands on me all of once, an' while I'm sure it was the thrill of a lifetime for you, those efforts proved... impotent.
Thoughts of gold probably put a little stiff back in the ol' Limp Thick-scuit, but sugar, you ain't got the stamina to keep up with Bonnie Blue. I been held back for too long, always so close, never quite gettin' all the way there; an' Jam Willy Jesus, do I got that blue bean for some WCF gold! Right now, the only thing standin' between me an' my shot is you, Odin. If you ain't gonna rub my nub (spoiler: nope) then get the fuck outta my way."
A cold, arrogant sneer twists ruby-red lips
"These fans -- you think they want you at the top of this company? Same ol' bullshit they been gettin' force-fed for the last sixteen years? You got all this hype, but there's no substance to back it up. Your entire career is based on the fact that you're a big motherfucker. That don't take skill or talent or even any charisma. You step into the ring an' let your size do the talkin'. Let intimidation do the hard work. Then all ya really gotta do is knock these poor bastards around until they fall down an' choose not to get back up.
Deep down, underneath that godlike exterior, you ain't no diff'rent from nobody else in that ring. Size is all you got an' that -- well, that ain't gonna matter. See, I know you frontin'. Way on down inside, where it counts, you just as shook as you wanna pretend I am. In your heart, you know you ain't reppin' Poon Guinea like the All-Father should, 'cause you ain't quite Thick enough anymore. Nah, baby, somethin' been lost. You gone soft all these years without no real battles to fight.
Parade yourself around as a god because you're afraid folks are gonna finally see the man behind the mask. A man who fears the impermanence of mortality, being forgotten. What are you without your godhood, Odin?
Me? I can drop all these cute nicknames, the whole time lady gimmick, an' what have I got? My name. My reputation. My successes. Every damn time I set foot in a ring, I make a statement! I make history! An' come Sunday night, I'm gonna make Odin Balfore a part of that history.
This ain't the mismatch to end all -- this is the mismatch to end the All-Father; an' when the dust clears an' that bell rings, won't be nothin' left of Odin but Thought an' Memory."
*******************************************
Sunday night, and the roar of a nearly sold-out arena funnels through the gorilla area. Bonnie Blue paces, riding a wave of nervous excitement; the air, electric with anticipation. When Hank Brown inevitably tracks her down, the distraction is almost welcome.
Hank Brown: A few words, if you don't mind, Bonnie?
Bonnie Blue: Anything for you, Hank.
The smile on her glossy pink lips does little to reassure him, his recollections of their previous encounters still fresh in his mind. Forcing a wan smile of his own, Hank stays carefully just out of Bonnie's reach.
Hank Brown: Let me start by saying welcome back. Mr. Rabid was uncharacteristically effusive about the renegotiation of your status as a full time member of the roster, in spite of the many doubts publically expressed by wrestling pundits -- and in the last two weeks, you've shown us exactly why. There is, however, some controversy surrounding your first-round tournament match against Teo Del Sol.
Bonnie Blue: Of course there is, Hank. I used a devious tactic an' I ain't the littlest bit ashamed of it. Teddy Blaze didn't take me seriously -- he barely showed up that night, an' in doin' so, he disrespected not only me, but the ring, the tournament, an' the whole WCF Galaxy! Teo Del Sol got exactly what he deserved, an' so did Kyle Kemp. Only I'm not gonna whine about the underhanded sneaky shit Kemp pulled. Least he took me serious enough to know he needed an edge.
Lemme tell ya somethin' else, Hank -- I'll give that big motherfucker Odin a face full of sea spray, too, if I get a chance. I will do whatever it takes to claim my place at the top of this company. Odin Balfore is a legend in this company. He ain't got shit left to prove. But me? Shit, Hank, even with the World Title around my waist, people gonna be doubtin'.
Hank Brown: This is the closest you've ever gotten to the World Title here in WCF. There are a lot of people saying your friendship with new WCF owner John Rabid is the sole reason you were given this opportunity ahead of more deserving competitors.
Bonnie Blue: Show me one motherfucker deserves this more than me! Anybody? Maybe Dune shoulda been in the tournament like he pointed out, an' he sure as hell deserved it more than Teo or William or Mikey or Kemp -- but not me. Real talk though, to characterize me an' Rabid as "friends" is probably a little bit ambitious; to claim that he's doin' me any kinda favor in the process? Fuck that. All he done was stir up the haters.
Hank Brown: I guess that's fair. You are literally minutes away from stepping into the ring with Odin Balfore. Do you have anything else you want to add?
A slow, viperous smile slithers across Bonnie's lips. Sea-blue eyes gleam with focused intensity. The young goddess ascendant, this moment is hers to seize, and she knows it. Hank Brown wisely cowers away.
Bonnie Blue: All of Time is mine to shape as I will -- but this time, here an' now; this ever-windin', ever-narrowin' path that brings us to the inevitable collision of two unstoppable forces -- these moments, more than any others, belong especially to Bonnie Blue. Each week, one step closer to bein' able to reach out an' claim that WCF World Title.
You call this Ragnarok, Odin Balfore; an' since I put down the Sun in Round One, I reckon that makes me Fenris.
Bring your armies, War God! Summon to you every Valkyrie an' shieldmaiden; raise the Dead from Valhalla and rally the forces of Asgard. Call in every favor you're owed. Dig up ol' Zombie McMorris, an' his asshole son, Crow, to; got a bone to pick with him anyway. You gonna need 'em all to stand against the Daughter of Time!
Bring all your might to bear, for you face Bonnie Blue, the #DeepBlueSea -- the tide is risin', an' even Odin Balfore must #BendTheKnee.
Illuminated by a solitary ray, Bonnie Blue treads a stage unseen amid otherwise total darkness.
“Hey, Big All-Daddy! How ya doin', sugar?
I know you're prob'ly wonderin' why it took me so damn long to cut this promo. You're thinkin' you got Bonnie Blue shook -- an' it's true, but not for the reasons you're thinkin' of.
See, I grew up hearin' all the stories 'bout the legends of Dubya-Sea-Eff. About you, Big Daddy. Can you imagine how I felt, enterin' this tournament, seein' your name in that bracket? Next to the rest of the 'competition' -- well, we both knew it'd come to this. An' I have indulged a little too much, enjoyin' the sense of anticipation; like all these other matches was just foreplay."
She traces ruby-red lips with the tip of her tongue, a gleam of mischief in her eye.
“Sunday night, in front of thousands an' thousands of WCF fans, we'll reach the climax together -- though only one of us is walkin' away truly satisfied. Spoiler alert: it's me."
Her sea-blue gaze burns with intensity as she points to herself
"But we got a ways to go before we come to that, an' I want every detail perfect, Big Daddy. Our first time should be special, memorable..."
A roguish smile plays across her lips.
"...'cause it may well be your last, Odin Balfore. You think I'm Godnilla-damned fuckin' around here? Nuh-uh. Fuck that. This is the opportunity of a lifetime for me, after years of bein' overlooked, shoved aside, an' finally I get within reach of the grandest prize in this industry; I ain't about to let you stand in my way.
You call yourself a god, but you come running like a lost little puppy the instant John Rabid calls, all waggin' your tail while you bury your nose in his crotch. That obedience trainin' must be payin' off -- you're all housebroken an' everything! -- so as a reward, you get handed a title shot. An' all ya gotta do is make it look like ya had to work for it. Reckon that's my part in all this, ain't it? Since William an' Mikey failed to put up much of a struggle, Bonnie Blue's job is to make things interestin'.
An' believe me, Big Daddy, things about to get real interestin'."
With a sly wink, Bonnie blows a kiss as the light goes out.
*******************************************
Rabid.
It always comes back to him. Why?
*WHAM!* Her fist rocked a heavy bag dangling by a chain from the ceiling.
Constantly interfering. Just in the last twelve months...
*WHUMPF!* A roundhouse kick connected with the bag next, nearly folding it in half.
...Dethwar, all the time in Denmark, and then -- actually dying, and he saved me.
Then #beachkrew ...and Wade.
Hellimination --
She punctuated each thought with another strike to the bag, each impact sinking deeper than the one before.
-- And the death of Johnny Chinlock -- which provided him the perfect excuse to torpedo the company I carried on my shoulders from the moment it opened its doors. No coincidence that he seized control of WCF almost simultaneously. All that, just to maneuver me into re-signing a full-time contract. This tournament sweetens the deal, but the fact remains, he set a trap and I walked right into it.
The worst part?
*WHAM! WHAM! WHUMPF! THUD!* Several strikes in succession tore the heavy bag from its moorings and sent it crashing to the floor.
Not just that I may have unwittingly played some part in Rabid bringing down UCI -- but that it was all for nothing. That I wasn't the one selected as the favorite to win. He goes to all the trouble to obliterate the competition and bring me back into the fold, then recruits this geriatric has-ben just because his name meant something a hundred years ago, throws all his support behind Odin.
Chest heaving with exertion, the young woman stalked to the fallen target and stood over it, staring down in contemplation.
Shoulda been me.
Gonna be me.
The heavy bag suffered kick after kick, stomp after stomp, as Bonnie's frustration found release in the violence. Canvas ripped under the onslaught, spilled sand thick like blood on the concrete gym floor. One corner of her mouth turned up as she surveyed her savage handiwork. Behind her, the door swung open, and she spun on her heel to face an unexpected intruder. Sea-blue eyes lit up with delight at the appearance of none other than Wade "Broseidon" Moor, smiling as she approached to greet him with a tender kiss.
"Hi," he said, looking past her to the fallen punching bag. "That guy giving you trouble?"
She winked at him. "Nothin' I couldn't handle."
"I know that's right," Wade told her, slipping an arm around her shoulders. "Glad I'm not Odin Balfore this week."
"I'm glad you're not Odin Balfore any week," Bonnie said. "But I could use a stand-in."
Wade followed her gaze to the ring that dominated the center of the gym. Then he glanced again at the sand still trickling from the split-open bag.
"I dunno, baby. You playin' a little rough today," he teased.
"Y'know ya love it," she retorted. "Besides, I gotta go all out. Ain't every day a girl finds herself in the ring with a god. 'Specially the God of War."
Bonnie frowned slightly, even as she said it. A huff of derision, a shake of her head; there was something off about that statement. Wade hopped onto the ring apron and held the ropes in a gentlemanly fashion while she climbed in.
"Some god," Bonnie continued. "Turns up at John Rabid's biddin'. Oughta have a little more dignity than that -- an' yeah, I get it, it's one of them pot an' kettle scenarios. Diff'rence bein' that I owe the man my life an' until he considers the debt discharged, I'm sorta obligated. But overall, in the greater scheme, Space Dracula is a lot lower on the heirarchy than a Time Witch or a Sea God or the All-Father his own damn self. An' maybe John ain't the best role model for a young goddess, but the fact remains that I wouldn't really be where I'm at today without the occasional guidance from the Serpent."
Swagrid shook his head. "Nah, girl, you're selling yourself short; quit giving him so much credit. Rabid didn't do shit -- your success is all you."
"Oh, hell yeah, it is. Don't get me wrong, I ain't sayin' he gave me any advantages. A nudge in the right direction here an' there, that's all. An' only when it suited his nefarious purposes or whatever. Rest of his attentions were devoted to keepin' me under his thumb, indirectly -- until now. Except now all he does is sign the paycheck. I didn't ask to be put in this tournament like everybody thinks. It was just part of the contract deal. Dune knows that, right? I wasn't tryin' to step on anybody's toes."
Wade tossed his jacket over a turnbuckle and gave her a shrug.
"Whether you asked for it or not isn't relevant. The fact is, everybody wants a piece of Bonnie Blue 'cause my girl is on a hot streak right now, and Bonnie Blue is money, dig? You see Odin Balfore headlining two shows, back to back?"
Bonnie paused, mid-stretch, and shook her head.
"Fuck no," she replied. "An' y'know why? 'Cause he ain't shit. He's the one gettin' the favor here. He got paper competitors. William the Behemoth? Dude had to let a prehistoric shark take a bite outta my Swagrid before he could claim victory -- an' that ain't no kinda winnin' at all."
"Damn right," Wade agreed, unconsciously rubbing at the scars from that night.
"Uh-huh. An' Mikey eXtreme? He's tough, sure, but it's rodeo clown tough. Boy done took his share of ass-kickin', now he knows to get out the way of a chargin' bull. High priest of a trailer park god is still a servant, no matter how you dress it up. Odin Balfore got the easy prey -- not that I'm complainin'.
'Cause I had to work to get this far, while Balfore coasted through two guys nobody gives a fuck about. I proved that I belong in this tournament an' when I put Odin's shoulders down for that one-two-three, everybody gonna know Bonnie Blue deserves her shot at 'Thievin' Stephen Singh!"
*******************************************
"God of War?"
The solitary spotlight once more cleaves away the darkness surrounding a skeptical Bonnie Blue.
"Really? 'Cause it kinda seems like way back at War X my daddy left you holdin' your dick while he went on to win an' claim the WCF World Championship for the third time. Six years later -- War XVI -- your ass can't even finish top ten; hardly an improvement. Shit, man, you didn't even start cleanin' house until half the damn competition was danglin' a hundred feet in the air. Before that? What was it that kept you otherwise occupied, All-Daddy?
Oh, right. You'd done got your ass knocked the fuck out! By a member of Zero Tolerance, no less! If you were a man, Odin -- anatomically correct, I mean -- your shame would be boundless. What sort of god allows Salem Shepard (a person who's name everyone now has to go look up because he was so imminently forgettable) to humiliate him like that?
Kinda gives the lie to your claims of bein'... well, much of anythin'. Everybody talkin' 'bout what a BAD MOTHERFUCKER you are. Watch out, y'all! Here come Odin Balfore! We got us a real bonafide badass right here!"
With a dramatic roll of sea-blue eyes, Bonnie scoffs.
"Man, fuck that load of bullshit an' the truck you brung it in! I ain't sayin' you ain't one tough sonofabitch -- everybody knows you are, an' that's what's gonna make pinnin' your ancient Norse ass so Godnilla-damned satisfyin'. We both know what they all thinkin': that this is the mismatch to end all! That little Miss Bonnie might be a scrapper, but she don't know what she's walkin' into.
Like as if I never stepped to the Monster, Oblivion -- an' made him my bitch. Seriously. Y'all ever see him fuck with me again after I stomped his face until he looked like Sloth from Goonies? You damn right he don't step to Bonnie Blue no more!
Or maybe everybody forgot that time me an' the Sandman went at it; how he dropped me on a chair with his Sandstorm, then had to do it again to keep me down for that three-count!"
Blonde and blue locks sway as the young goddess shakes her head, a trace of nostalgia playing at her lips.
"That's all old news, though. That's shit I did as a rookie, 'fore I ever had gold of any kind around my waist. Before I led the most successful faction in professional wrestlin' to at least half a dozen title reigns at You-Sea-Eye. Man, that's all shit I did before I had my way with David Sanchez at Aftermath -- an' I mean, I split them cheeks like I was ZMAC on a coke binge at the Bunny Ranch, metaphorically speakin'.
I ain't just hype, Big All-Daddy -- Bonnie Blue got it goin' on, ya feel me?
Uh-huh. I know ya do. Wanna say you got me shook, but it's the other way around. You gonna try so hard to reduce me to nothin' more than a little bit of quiverin' Slick -- waitin' for your Thick. That about sum it up?
Lemme tell ya about that Slick, old man. Lemme show ya what it do. Slick keeps goin' when Thick is spent. Slick gotta work twice as hard for the same nut. Slick take a beatin', get right back up. That Slick seems soft an' yieldin', but it's a Venus flytrap ready to snap shut. You come hard at me with all the Thick you can bring, baby, 'cause that's just the way Bonnie Blue likes it. You play rough, sugar, an' I play rougher. In the end, the Slick gonna drown the Thick, an' the #DeepBlueSea claim another victim on her way to the top of this company at last."
One corner of her mouth turns up in a knowing smirk.
"Come to think of it, maybe you ain't the chosen one, after all. I mean, look at you -- all venerable an' shit, but what have you actually done recently? Aside from defeating two complete wastes of talent in this tournament, not a motherfuckin' thing. Your major contributions to War were havin' a nap an' eliminatin' dudes nobody pays attention to anyway. Go your hands on me all of once, an' while I'm sure it was the thrill of a lifetime for you, those efforts proved... impotent.
Thoughts of gold probably put a little stiff back in the ol' Limp Thick-scuit, but sugar, you ain't got the stamina to keep up with Bonnie Blue. I been held back for too long, always so close, never quite gettin' all the way there; an' Jam Willy Jesus, do I got that blue bean for some WCF gold! Right now, the only thing standin' between me an' my shot is you, Odin. If you ain't gonna rub my nub (spoiler: nope) then get the fuck outta my way."
A cold, arrogant sneer twists ruby-red lips
"These fans -- you think they want you at the top of this company? Same ol' bullshit they been gettin' force-fed for the last sixteen years? You got all this hype, but there's no substance to back it up. Your entire career is based on the fact that you're a big motherfucker. That don't take skill or talent or even any charisma. You step into the ring an' let your size do the talkin'. Let intimidation do the hard work. Then all ya really gotta do is knock these poor bastards around until they fall down an' choose not to get back up.
Deep down, underneath that godlike exterior, you ain't no diff'rent from nobody else in that ring. Size is all you got an' that -- well, that ain't gonna matter. See, I know you frontin'. Way on down inside, where it counts, you just as shook as you wanna pretend I am. In your heart, you know you ain't reppin' Poon Guinea like the All-Father should, 'cause you ain't quite Thick enough anymore. Nah, baby, somethin' been lost. You gone soft all these years without no real battles to fight.
Parade yourself around as a god because you're afraid folks are gonna finally see the man behind the mask. A man who fears the impermanence of mortality, being forgotten. What are you without your godhood, Odin?
Me? I can drop all these cute nicknames, the whole time lady gimmick, an' what have I got? My name. My reputation. My successes. Every damn time I set foot in a ring, I make a statement! I make history! An' come Sunday night, I'm gonna make Odin Balfore a part of that history.
This ain't the mismatch to end all -- this is the mismatch to end the All-Father; an' when the dust clears an' that bell rings, won't be nothin' left of Odin but Thought an' Memory."
*******************************************
Sunday night, and the roar of a nearly sold-out arena funnels through the gorilla area. Bonnie Blue paces, riding a wave of nervous excitement; the air, electric with anticipation. When Hank Brown inevitably tracks her down, the distraction is almost welcome.
Hank Brown: A few words, if you don't mind, Bonnie?
Bonnie Blue: Anything for you, Hank.
The smile on her glossy pink lips does little to reassure him, his recollections of their previous encounters still fresh in his mind. Forcing a wan smile of his own, Hank stays carefully just out of Bonnie's reach.
Hank Brown: Let me start by saying welcome back. Mr. Rabid was uncharacteristically effusive about the renegotiation of your status as a full time member of the roster, in spite of the many doubts publically expressed by wrestling pundits -- and in the last two weeks, you've shown us exactly why. There is, however, some controversy surrounding your first-round tournament match against Teo Del Sol.
Bonnie Blue: Of course there is, Hank. I used a devious tactic an' I ain't the littlest bit ashamed of it. Teddy Blaze didn't take me seriously -- he barely showed up that night, an' in doin' so, he disrespected not only me, but the ring, the tournament, an' the whole WCF Galaxy! Teo Del Sol got exactly what he deserved, an' so did Kyle Kemp. Only I'm not gonna whine about the underhanded sneaky shit Kemp pulled. Least he took me serious enough to know he needed an edge.
Lemme tell ya somethin' else, Hank -- I'll give that big motherfucker Odin a face full of sea spray, too, if I get a chance. I will do whatever it takes to claim my place at the top of this company. Odin Balfore is a legend in this company. He ain't got shit left to prove. But me? Shit, Hank, even with the World Title around my waist, people gonna be doubtin'.
Hank Brown: This is the closest you've ever gotten to the World Title here in WCF. There are a lot of people saying your friendship with new WCF owner John Rabid is the sole reason you were given this opportunity ahead of more deserving competitors.
Bonnie Blue: Show me one motherfucker deserves this more than me! Anybody? Maybe Dune shoulda been in the tournament like he pointed out, an' he sure as hell deserved it more than Teo or William or Mikey or Kemp -- but not me. Real talk though, to characterize me an' Rabid as "friends" is probably a little bit ambitious; to claim that he's doin' me any kinda favor in the process? Fuck that. All he done was stir up the haters.
Hank Brown: I guess that's fair. You are literally minutes away from stepping into the ring with Odin Balfore. Do you have anything else you want to add?
A slow, viperous smile slithers across Bonnie's lips. Sea-blue eyes gleam with focused intensity. The young goddess ascendant, this moment is hers to seize, and she knows it. Hank Brown wisely cowers away.
Bonnie Blue: All of Time is mine to shape as I will -- but this time, here an' now; this ever-windin', ever-narrowin' path that brings us to the inevitable collision of two unstoppable forces -- these moments, more than any others, belong especially to Bonnie Blue. Each week, one step closer to bein' able to reach out an' claim that WCF World Title.
You call this Ragnarok, Odin Balfore; an' since I put down the Sun in Round One, I reckon that makes me Fenris.
Bring your armies, War God! Summon to you every Valkyrie an' shieldmaiden; raise the Dead from Valhalla and rally the forces of Asgard. Call in every favor you're owed. Dig up ol' Zombie McMorris, an' his asshole son, Crow, to; got a bone to pick with him anyway. You gonna need 'em all to stand against the Daughter of Time!
Bring all your might to bear, for you face Bonnie Blue, the #DeepBlueSea -- the tide is risin', an' even Odin Balfore must #BendTheKnee.