Post by Deleted on Jan 16, 2014 8:24:35 GMT -5
The first step is always the hardest.
The first win is always the brightest.
The first victim's always the sweetest,
But there's still a long way ahead.
The next step always seems the longest.
The next win always seems the toughest.
The next victim must be courageous,
Because as I've already said...
I'm far from what you'd call the weakest.
Though I may not be the strongest,
I most certainly am the wisest,
As I'm sure you've already read.
And though I am far from the biggest,
And I may not be fastest,
You try to put me down like the rest,
Then you might just end up dead...
[New York City. The darkness of the night sky does little to cloud the ever active lighting of the cluttered city. Even in the darkest hour of the evening, there are crowds of life rummaging through the streets. And the noise. The constant noise continues to remain. Even the thuds of rain smacking the concrete below does nothing to drain the sound. If anything, it encourages it.]
I love the rain. The chaos in the sky caused by such tiny droplets. There's something about the rain. Even in a place as hectic as New York, it seems to soothe the soul...
[The dreary thoughts of this woman is the only thing that floods her room. I'm sure you've already come to learn that this woman is no ordinary woman. These were the thoughts of Serbia, a damaged soul on a quest for redemption. A resident of New York since her birth, she has grown to loathe the city she grew up in. Her childhood shall remain a mystery to you for now, for it is far too crippling for her to recollect the tragic memories of her youth, the naivety that eventually led to her maturity, or as she would put it, her transformation. For now, let's just say that her parents are no longer with us, and she has since resided in a small flat deep in the heart of the city. In the later stories of the flat, her abode can be found. The walls are painted pitch black with posters all over, each representing the things she remains passionate about. A combination of neon colored accessories brighten up the rooms of her home, a single-sized bed with a black and hot pink checkered sheet in the bedroom, and a collection of valuables scattered everywhere to complete the vision that is her home.]
If only the rain could soothe the agony. But alas, it does not. That, I must do myself. Even though the pain is gone, the nightmares continue to linger, reminding me of what I must do. I may have been victorious last week, but there is still a long way to go. But this week, there is truly a light at the end of the tunnel...
[On this night, you will find Serbia, perched upon her beloved bed with her legs crossed, the only light in the room provided by the screen of her customized laptop. There is a warmth coming from the machine upon her lap, something that she has gotten used to, even despite the coldness of her body caused by the years of damage and torture. She is used to the cold. In fact, all she is wearing is an over-sized Alkaline Trio t-shirt to cover up her naked body, a common evening attire that she has grown fond of since she has lived by herself, even through the harshest of winters. After waving her dark hair back, clearing her vision and exposing her natural face untouched by her usual make-up, she rolls her eyes back to stare at the bright screen and concludes with her final activity of the late evening.]
The first win is always the brightest.
The first victim's always the sweetest,
But there's still a long way ahead.
The next step always seems the longest.
The next win always seems the toughest.
The next victim must be courageous,
Because as I've already said...
I'm far from what you'd call the weakest.
Though I may not be the strongest,
I most certainly am the wisest,
As I'm sure you've already read.
And though I am far from the biggest,
And I may not be fastest,
You try to put me down like the rest,
Then you might just end up dead...
[New York City. The darkness of the night sky does little to cloud the ever active lighting of the cluttered city. Even in the darkest hour of the evening, there are crowds of life rummaging through the streets. And the noise. The constant noise continues to remain. Even the thuds of rain smacking the concrete below does nothing to drain the sound. If anything, it encourages it.]
I love the rain. The chaos in the sky caused by such tiny droplets. There's something about the rain. Even in a place as hectic as New York, it seems to soothe the soul...
[The dreary thoughts of this woman is the only thing that floods her room. I'm sure you've already come to learn that this woman is no ordinary woman. These were the thoughts of Serbia, a damaged soul on a quest for redemption. A resident of New York since her birth, she has grown to loathe the city she grew up in. Her childhood shall remain a mystery to you for now, for it is far too crippling for her to recollect the tragic memories of her youth, the naivety that eventually led to her maturity, or as she would put it, her transformation. For now, let's just say that her parents are no longer with us, and she has since resided in a small flat deep in the heart of the city. In the later stories of the flat, her abode can be found. The walls are painted pitch black with posters all over, each representing the things she remains passionate about. A combination of neon colored accessories brighten up the rooms of her home, a single-sized bed with a black and hot pink checkered sheet in the bedroom, and a collection of valuables scattered everywhere to complete the vision that is her home.]
If only the rain could soothe the agony. But alas, it does not. That, I must do myself. Even though the pain is gone, the nightmares continue to linger, reminding me of what I must do. I may have been victorious last week, but there is still a long way to go. But this week, there is truly a light at the end of the tunnel...
[On this night, you will find Serbia, perched upon her beloved bed with her legs crossed, the only light in the room provided by the screen of her customized laptop. There is a warmth coming from the machine upon her lap, something that she has gotten used to, even despite the coldness of her body caused by the years of damage and torture. She is used to the cold. In fact, all she is wearing is an over-sized Alkaline Trio t-shirt to cover up her naked body, a common evening attire that she has grown fond of since she has lived by herself, even through the harshest of winters. After waving her dark hair back, clearing her vision and exposing her natural face untouched by her usual make-up, she rolls her eyes back to stare at the bright screen and concludes with her final activity of the late evening.]
There is something about you. Something different...
I can say the same thing about you my love...
No cute names. Sorry...
I believe you can make an exception for me my dear...
I don't think so...
Only time will tell. I look forward to meeting with you again.
Of course. You've already witnessed what I'm capable of. And now I'm already in for a title match. Seems like I've already got their attention...
As expected.
The change has already started. There's much more in the works, and no one suspects a thing...
Well what did you expect? You aren't exactly your typical "anti-diva"
I've already been called that since signing up. They're all gonna eat their words...
Such passion. I certainly hope you claim your prize this weekend...
Of course I will. That carnival freak is just a joke. It'll give me great pleasure to rip that belt from the hands of his battered corpse after I'm doing with him...
Yes. And this is only the beginning. We shall meet again tomorrow. Now take a rest. You're going to need it...
Sure...
[The last comment of the chatbox, and the laptop is switched off. It is pretty late, already close to the break of the morning, but still haunted by the nightmares of old, she has been an insomniac for several years, and she is used to staying up so late at night. In fact, she prefers the night, but tonight, she decided to take a rest. After her triumphant debut last week, she felt that she deserved it. But of course, something happened often, and on this night, it was no different.]
Silver. A slight rust gently dabbed into the steel. A reminder of the things I've done. I was not alone. No one helped me through the pain, but I had no problem dishing it right back. The blade. A common enemy as well as a trusted ally. Stings as much as it soothes. A cut to the touch, and a relish of the blood it spills. So relatable. My only friend. My only enemy. But it won't be this way for much longer. Not anymore. No more hiding in the shadows. No more feeding my old enemy. No more caressing my old friend. It needs to be this way, for my sake. No more pain. No more misery. Only vengeance. I cast the blade aside, because that is no longer me. No more silver. Only gold...
[These are her final thoughts before the slumber calls her name and carefully carries her to sleep. Thoughts of the future outweighing the past. This was what she wanted, since the day she decided to resume her professional wrestling career. No more dwelling on the past. She knew what she wanted, and she is determined to obtain it.]
Silver. A slight rust gently dabbed into the steel. A reminder of the things I've done. I was not alone. No one helped me through the pain, but I had no problem dishing it right back. The blade. A common enemy as well as a trusted ally. Stings as much as it soothes. A cut to the touch, and a relish of the blood it spills. So relatable. My only friend. My only enemy. But it won't be this way for much longer. Not anymore. No more hiding in the shadows. No more feeding my old enemy. No more caressing my old friend. It needs to be this way, for my sake. No more pain. No more misery. Only vengeance. I cast the blade aside, because that is no longer me. No more silver. Only gold...
[These are her final thoughts before the slumber calls her name and carefully carries her to sleep. Thoughts of the future outweighing the past. This was what she wanted, since the day she decided to resume her professional wrestling career. No more dwelling on the past. She knew what she wanted, and she is determined to obtain it.]
You are alone...
No one shares your pain...
No one understands your misery...
The shadows have found you again...
"No..."
No one shares your pain...
No one understands your misery...
The shadows have found you again...
"No..."
The creatures are here...
To remind you of the past...
To remind you of the past...
"No!"
Let the scars and the tears consume you...
Let the scars and the tears consume you...
"No!!"
Only then will you be free at last...
"NOOO!!!!!"
Only then will you be free at last...
"NOOO!!!!!"
[The room is suddenly filled with a bright light. She opens her eyes as she rolls her head off the pillow of her bed. Another nightmare had struck. It is evident that a single victory is not enough. It is evident that she needs to win again. The nightmares continue to wreak havoc in what little sleep she had. That was just a mere glimpse, for the real nightmares that she would endure were far more indescribable...and far more haunting...far too terrible to share here, and yet far too common for Serbia.]
Another nightmare. Not the worst I've had however, probably even the least terrible I've had in the past few weeks. Things must truly be changing. Although they still exist to remind me of the terrors I've faced, surely they must be fading. It is hard to tell right now, but at long last, after years of negativity, it is relaxing to finally have a positive though in my mind. Perhaps it is a sign of things to come. No. It is a sign. Things are changing, and now, I am a step closer to accomplishing the first of my goals. I am in line for a championship opportunity. And I do not intend to let it slip from my grasp...
[Rolling out of bed, planting her feet on the crimson red circular rug covering a small portion of the black carpet, she leans out of bed and sits on the edge, reaching for a small box and a lighter sitting on top of the drawer beside the head of the bed. She pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. A long drag to calm the nerves, a homemade remedy to put the mind at ease. A regular treat after what little sleep she had. Pulling herself out of bed, she hazily approached her bedroom window, a small narrow window with an advantageous view of a bleak street in the heart of the city. The skies were gray, gloomy clouds hung high above the landscape, but the calming rain from the night before had since disappeared without a trace. Another silent morning, or at least as quiet as New York could be. It is the perfect atmosphere for Serbia to embark on her morning walk, a regular activity to maintain her physique.]
I love a good drink. I cannot go through a day without a smoke. And there's nothing like a good trip. But even despite these self-destructive habits, I actually enjoy my workouts. Of course, with the line of work I'm in, it's necessary, but there's something in a long walk that makes me feel...productive...
[Productive. Progressive. Moving on. Moving forward. Such a desirable term. With the desired walk in mind, Serbia proceeded to strip herself of the t-shirt and explore her wardrobe. There are several garments to be found, some loose and some tight, some long and some short, some torn and some intact, some soft and some with a leathery feel. But for this morning, she decided to pick out her usual walking attire. A pair of black Misfits sneakers, a black Nirvana tank-top and a pair of black running shorts customized with several stitched patches, not to mention a pair of black and white checkered wristbands. Not the most common of attires, and hardly the most appropriate, but Serbia didn't care. She was used to the ridicule and the remarks from passersby, all a part of growing up in New York City. After styling her hair to her preferred pair of pigtails, and after completing her make-up, applying the finishing touches to her look, she is now ready to go. But before setting off however, there is still something that she must do. She pulls out her laptop from the night before, now revealed to have various stickers covering the back of the screen, and places it on her writing desk in the corner of the lounge. After switching it on, plugging in the charger of course, she activates the built-in webcam. Almost instantly, her pale face reflects on the face. She reels in her desk chair and sits in front of the screen. Only a few posters on the walls can be seen in the background, but the focus is on her. In front of the webcam, she pulls out another cigarette and lights it up. She then presses the record button, just as she inhaled. With a passive look on her face, she exhales, a thin gray fog streams from her lips, just as she is about to speak.]
"Nothing beats a good smoke in the morning. But not everyone would agree. In fact, there are thousands of people who want to try and ban cigarettes. Thousands of people trying to get rid of what thousands of people cannot live without. The dreaded cancer stick. If you don't like smoking, that's just too bad. But people like them. Are these people really that oppressive that they want to vanquish the freedom of these individuals? No matter what you do, no matter what you say, at the end of the day, you can't get rid of them. They have too much of a purpose in the world. Thinking about it now, they do actually sound similar..."
[She pauses, just to hold the cigarette in front of the webcam and squeeze it in between her thumb and index finger, dowsing the little flame and throwing it aside, right into an ashtray sitting on the edge of the desk.]
"That's certainly what it's been feeling like since I made my debut here in the Wrestling Championship Federation. The WCF, a new home under a new light. I've already put the place on notice, I've already bested a team of rookies, but the bottom line is that as long as my name is not engraved in stone here, that win doesn't mean squat. But it appears that I've already gained enough attention to be involved in a championship bout this Sunday. Not the biggest prize in the company granted, but a prize nonetheless. I've only just began my quest for redemption, and already I have an opportunity to complete the first of my goals. Championship gold. You see, I've had opportunities like this before, back in the days of old, back in the days of the old me, and back then, I not only squandered those opportunities, but I've also been held back from achieving them. In the years that I've been in this awful business, I've never had anything to show for it, and already, in just my second match with this company, my second match since resuming my professional wrestling career, I've already earned an opportunity to rectify that mistake. I'm already in line for a title match here in the WCF, and do you know what? The recognition feels good. The light is certainly looking brighter, and the darkness behind has already faded..."
[There's a slight pause at the thought of inner peace, a rare thought of pleasantries, but upon a brief ponder, she returns to a more serious demeanor.]
"And yet, despite all that, it still feels like the others around here are not convinced. I've been hearing the rumors and the predictions. People are doubting me. They don't think that I have what it takes to defeat the Cajun Crippler, or they think that the special guest referee will have something to do with the outcome of the match. Either way, even after overcoming four other wrestlers, no one thinks that I have what it takes. No one except one, and although she may not exactly be the sanest, and although she may not believe I can win that title for the same reason that should be expected, the fact that she knows that I can, quite frankly, that must make her the smartest person in the entire roster! No, I'm not using her as an excuse, or anything like that, because I do not need excuses. Quite frankly, I don't care in the slightest what you people think, whether they think I don't have what it takes to battle the beast, or if they think that I might actually pull of an upset of all things. I don't pull off upsets. I just destroy people. But I don't care, because it will just be that much more satisfying wiping the smirks from your faces and achieving my retribution once and for all..."
[The thought of actually complimenting said individual made her a little queezy, but she knew that she had endured worse, and after shrugging it off, she resumed speaking.]
"But I can understand where these people are coming from. The odds are certainly stacked against me. I mean we're talking about a match between a five foot four and a hundred and twenty odd pound woman taking on a six foot eight and two hundred and seventy seven mammoth of a man. Statistically, this has the potential of a very short match. But need I say it again? Believe me, I am not like anyone you've ever faced. I'll make those alligators you used to wrestle look like plush dolls. Stepping in the ring with me, you'll be wishing to go back to that carnival you grew up in. You see Caleb, it doesn't matter where you came from or what your background is. I've abandoned my past, starting anew, starting fresh, stepping out of the shadows. Oh sure, I do mention it from time to time, but it doesn't revolve around me anymore. Unlike you, I don't embrace it. I don't turn it into a gimmick. I look at you Caleb, and I see much more beyond the filth and the grease. You're a man of great potential. But unfortunately, you've allowed your background to dominate who you are. You speak terrible English. You're not exactly the brightest individual around here, and you are by far the least dignified. You're a joke Caleb. A clown stuck with the same routine. How you managed to become a champion around here, as many times as I'll watch the tape over and over again, I'll never know, but if you think you're going to be walking out this Sunday with that title belt around your waist, you've got another thing coming. You're only saving grace is that moron of a boss instigating regular rules for every match. As if it matters...the only difference that decision makes is that now I can't hit you with weapons. The outcome will be the same. The outcome will always be the same..."
[She takes a long sigh to catch her breath, as the tone of her voice is reduced.]
"Caleb Fourchon. My time has come. Your time is ending. Grasp onto that title belt while you can. Cherish it, caress it. Just don't kiss it. I'd rather not have to disinfect it when it comes home. You see Caleb, you've allowed your past to dominate you, and now you cannot escape. You'll always be recognized as this carnival freak of nature, and quite frankly, there is nothing special about you. Granted, that routine has done you well, but it is hardly worth the representation of television, and there's only so far you can go before you become stale and people realize just how abysmal of an athlete you really are. You don't deserve to call yourself a TV star. No, I don't claim to be one either. In fact, I'm not exactly what you'd call parental friendly, but it's not like I give a fuck. All I care about is that gold. Gold has eluded me all my life, but now under a new light, it is finally time to accomplish the first of my goals. And while I'll hold the title, unlike you, I will not resort to feuding with a brightly colored pimp, stealing his ridiculous hat and parading around as if it was an even bigger accomplishment than actually winning that title. You're more than a joke Caleb. You're a piece of garbage. You're a disgrace to those who actually take this sport seriously. You might claim to be successful, but your five minutes of fame are over. The television title is mine, and if I have to stomp that stupid hat in the process, then so be it. I don't care who it belongs to, whatever this insignificant feud is about, it doesn't matter to me..."
[She leans forward, glaring into the screen, clearly addressing her next target.]
"Don't think I haven't forgotten about you Steve Orbit. You've been assigned as the special guest referee for this match, but the problem is I've never been one to let the authority dictate my business. I don't care about your illustrious history in this company, and I certainly have little interest in your gross legacy as a pimp, perhaps the most disgusting industry ever conceived. Just remember your role in this match. You'd better remember your role in this match. For your sake. I don't give two shits about your wrestling legacy. You mess with me, and in a single instance, your entire legacy will be destroyed. I'm not going to let something as frivolous as that clown stealing your over-sized hat get in the way of my prize. The first step to my redemption is close at hand. What I did to Turner, Onyx and the other two was only a preview. Believe me, the worst is yet to come, and if you let this golden opportunity escape my grasp, you may very well end up as the first casualty. I don't care who you are or what you've done, in this match, you're nothing but a referee. Keep your personal issues to yourself, and you may very well live to reach retirement..."
[With a slight smirk creeping on her crimson lips, she leans back into the chair, now with a less serious attitude.]
"An opportunity like this has been a long time coming. I can't tell you how much I deserve it. Agreed, most of you probably think I don't deserve it. If that's the case, then clearly you don't know me at all. You still have no idea what I've been through, nor can you possibly understand what I've endured. But after going through all that, you'd expect to come out with something at the end of it. But did I? No. But as I've already explained, things have changed. The nightmares are fading. The light is shining. My purification is at hand. All that is left is the touch of gold. Championship gold. The odds are stacked against me. A community of doubters, a gigantic monster of a champion and an official with his own inflated ego amidst a pitiful war with said champion. Although I have been through more challenging circumstances, it seems that fate is taunting me. It seems like the universe has learned of my quest for redemption and has taken it upon itself to try and thwart me once again. But I'm not the woman I once was. I have nothing more to lose, and I have everything to gain. I will achieve my quest, starting by winning my first championship, even if I have to die trying, because I'm not scared..."
[She then raises her hand, holding a razorblade in between her thumb and her index finger. As she holds it up in front of the webcam, she slowly and carefully begins twirling it around her fingers.]
"You see this? This is the tool that has haunted me through the dark ages. It used to bring both comfort and agony. You can see the dry blood soaked into the rusting steel. But that isn't just my blood...you see the blade makes to be a wonderful weapon. But this...this is now nothing more than a reminder. A mirror that faintly reflects past pain and punishment. I look at this blade, and I don't see my blood. I see the blood of other people. I see the blood of a different woman. The woman I used to be. I look at it now, and all I see is a small chunk of metal slowly turning blunt. This blade has no more use to me...but that doesn't mean that I must stop using it. I no longer see my own blood upon it. All I see is the blood of others. Oh, how I would love to continue such a tradition. To tear apart the skin of others, to attach fresh new blood, and to let others feel what I've endured for so many years..."
[She suddenly throws the blade onto the floor, as if she is tossing it with authority.]
"But that would mean embracing the past. Don't you see? Reducing others to my previous level? That would be like reliving it all over again. That's not who I am anymore. I'm done. Finished with all that. I've already moved on, and my quest has already begun. Fate is already against me, but I will never back down. I've already been damaged enough. I've already been through the worst. Now there is nothing standing in my way. Not Caleb. Not Orbit. Not Lerch. No one will stop me from unleashing my full potential. Caleb, that's the main difference between you and I. Not the size. Not the gender. Not the history. Not the support of others. The television championship is about as far as you will ever go. Week by week, I am growing stronger. I now actually have a purpose in life. You are only here to draw in the freakshow crowd. I am here for something far more significant. You call yourself a champion? All I see is an obstacle, and a simple one at that. After Sunday, you can go right ahead and keep parading around like a fool, stealing people's hats and pretending that you are actually entertaining people, but this Sunday, I will be taking that title from you, and if you enter the new week with a missing chunk of your soul after facing someone like me, then that's just your own fault for standing in my way. After you've endured my reign of terror, I promise that you will never be the same again. You may claim to be a dangerous man, but I'm telling you right now, danger has nothing on me. You may call yourself a monster, but I'm telling you right now, I've slayed three times as fierce. I've been hearing the conversations in the back, people saying how much they want to see Fourchon versus Orbit. But now I'm involved. Things are different, and I don't care what differences you two cretins have with each other, you'd better not make the same mistake as those people and underestimate me. After I'm done, you two can go back to stealing each other's clothes or whatever, but this Sunday, my presence will be felt, and I will walk away with that title. One way or another, that TV championship will be around my waist..."
[There's another slight pause, now with a blaring look of intensity in her eyes.]
"That's all I've got to say for now. There's only so much one can say, now all that's left to do is live up to these words. It's time to take action. Caleb, just prepare yourself, because I, Serbia, will ensure that you will never leave under your own power, I will ensure that everyone will see you as the unfunny clown that you are, and I will ensure that I will walk away with the gold. And Orbit, consider yourself lucky you're not a participant in this match, but consider yourself unfortunate to witness what I do to the so-called crippler so close and so personal, and be sure not to get in my way. Cajun Crippler... Prepare to feel the terror..."
[With that said, the screen turns black. The webcam is switched off and the laptop is unplugged. Serbia has indeed spoken, but as stated, the time for words is over. She has said what needed to be said, to put the doubters in their place, to pose the threat to the guest referee, and to make sure that the champion realizes that his days are numbered. This is Serbia's first championship opportunity since the dark times, and she is determined to unleash hell just to obtain the prize. After shoving the laptop away and storing the charger back down the side of her bed, she is now ready to start her workout. Her fierce tongue enraged a blazing spark inside, and now she is pumped. Bring on Sunday, for Serbia is ready to finally steal the spot and make sure that her career actually means something.]
That felt good. But nowhere near how I want to feel. Nowhere near how I will feel this Sunday. But right now, let's just get on with this walk. Time is running out for Fourchon, but right now, preparations are at hand. To ensure my victory, I must prepare myself. I only hope that Fourchon will be prepared for me. I hope he doesn't underestimate me...
[You've just had a peek into her mind. Richmond is coming closer, and it is time to make her words a reality. A step closer to freedom, a step closer to redemption, a step closer to purification.]
...he might just end up dead.
Another nightmare. Not the worst I've had however, probably even the least terrible I've had in the past few weeks. Things must truly be changing. Although they still exist to remind me of the terrors I've faced, surely they must be fading. It is hard to tell right now, but at long last, after years of negativity, it is relaxing to finally have a positive though in my mind. Perhaps it is a sign of things to come. No. It is a sign. Things are changing, and now, I am a step closer to accomplishing the first of my goals. I am in line for a championship opportunity. And I do not intend to let it slip from my grasp...
[Rolling out of bed, planting her feet on the crimson red circular rug covering a small portion of the black carpet, she leans out of bed and sits on the edge, reaching for a small box and a lighter sitting on top of the drawer beside the head of the bed. She pulls out a cigarette and lights it up. A long drag to calm the nerves, a homemade remedy to put the mind at ease. A regular treat after what little sleep she had. Pulling herself out of bed, she hazily approached her bedroom window, a small narrow window with an advantageous view of a bleak street in the heart of the city. The skies were gray, gloomy clouds hung high above the landscape, but the calming rain from the night before had since disappeared without a trace. Another silent morning, or at least as quiet as New York could be. It is the perfect atmosphere for Serbia to embark on her morning walk, a regular activity to maintain her physique.]
I love a good drink. I cannot go through a day without a smoke. And there's nothing like a good trip. But even despite these self-destructive habits, I actually enjoy my workouts. Of course, with the line of work I'm in, it's necessary, but there's something in a long walk that makes me feel...productive...
[Productive. Progressive. Moving on. Moving forward. Such a desirable term. With the desired walk in mind, Serbia proceeded to strip herself of the t-shirt and explore her wardrobe. There are several garments to be found, some loose and some tight, some long and some short, some torn and some intact, some soft and some with a leathery feel. But for this morning, she decided to pick out her usual walking attire. A pair of black Misfits sneakers, a black Nirvana tank-top and a pair of black running shorts customized with several stitched patches, not to mention a pair of black and white checkered wristbands. Not the most common of attires, and hardly the most appropriate, but Serbia didn't care. She was used to the ridicule and the remarks from passersby, all a part of growing up in New York City. After styling her hair to her preferred pair of pigtails, and after completing her make-up, applying the finishing touches to her look, she is now ready to go. But before setting off however, there is still something that she must do. She pulls out her laptop from the night before, now revealed to have various stickers covering the back of the screen, and places it on her writing desk in the corner of the lounge. After switching it on, plugging in the charger of course, she activates the built-in webcam. Almost instantly, her pale face reflects on the face. She reels in her desk chair and sits in front of the screen. Only a few posters on the walls can be seen in the background, but the focus is on her. In front of the webcam, she pulls out another cigarette and lights it up. She then presses the record button, just as she inhaled. With a passive look on her face, she exhales, a thin gray fog streams from her lips, just as she is about to speak.]
"Nothing beats a good smoke in the morning. But not everyone would agree. In fact, there are thousands of people who want to try and ban cigarettes. Thousands of people trying to get rid of what thousands of people cannot live without. The dreaded cancer stick. If you don't like smoking, that's just too bad. But people like them. Are these people really that oppressive that they want to vanquish the freedom of these individuals? No matter what you do, no matter what you say, at the end of the day, you can't get rid of them. They have too much of a purpose in the world. Thinking about it now, they do actually sound similar..."
[She pauses, just to hold the cigarette in front of the webcam and squeeze it in between her thumb and index finger, dowsing the little flame and throwing it aside, right into an ashtray sitting on the edge of the desk.]
"That's certainly what it's been feeling like since I made my debut here in the Wrestling Championship Federation. The WCF, a new home under a new light. I've already put the place on notice, I've already bested a team of rookies, but the bottom line is that as long as my name is not engraved in stone here, that win doesn't mean squat. But it appears that I've already gained enough attention to be involved in a championship bout this Sunday. Not the biggest prize in the company granted, but a prize nonetheless. I've only just began my quest for redemption, and already I have an opportunity to complete the first of my goals. Championship gold. You see, I've had opportunities like this before, back in the days of old, back in the days of the old me, and back then, I not only squandered those opportunities, but I've also been held back from achieving them. In the years that I've been in this awful business, I've never had anything to show for it, and already, in just my second match with this company, my second match since resuming my professional wrestling career, I've already earned an opportunity to rectify that mistake. I'm already in line for a title match here in the WCF, and do you know what? The recognition feels good. The light is certainly looking brighter, and the darkness behind has already faded..."
[There's a slight pause at the thought of inner peace, a rare thought of pleasantries, but upon a brief ponder, she returns to a more serious demeanor.]
"And yet, despite all that, it still feels like the others around here are not convinced. I've been hearing the rumors and the predictions. People are doubting me. They don't think that I have what it takes to defeat the Cajun Crippler, or they think that the special guest referee will have something to do with the outcome of the match. Either way, even after overcoming four other wrestlers, no one thinks that I have what it takes. No one except one, and although she may not exactly be the sanest, and although she may not believe I can win that title for the same reason that should be expected, the fact that she knows that I can, quite frankly, that must make her the smartest person in the entire roster! No, I'm not using her as an excuse, or anything like that, because I do not need excuses. Quite frankly, I don't care in the slightest what you people think, whether they think I don't have what it takes to battle the beast, or if they think that I might actually pull of an upset of all things. I don't pull off upsets. I just destroy people. But I don't care, because it will just be that much more satisfying wiping the smirks from your faces and achieving my retribution once and for all..."
[The thought of actually complimenting said individual made her a little queezy, but she knew that she had endured worse, and after shrugging it off, she resumed speaking.]
"But I can understand where these people are coming from. The odds are certainly stacked against me. I mean we're talking about a match between a five foot four and a hundred and twenty odd pound woman taking on a six foot eight and two hundred and seventy seven mammoth of a man. Statistically, this has the potential of a very short match. But need I say it again? Believe me, I am not like anyone you've ever faced. I'll make those alligators you used to wrestle look like plush dolls. Stepping in the ring with me, you'll be wishing to go back to that carnival you grew up in. You see Caleb, it doesn't matter where you came from or what your background is. I've abandoned my past, starting anew, starting fresh, stepping out of the shadows. Oh sure, I do mention it from time to time, but it doesn't revolve around me anymore. Unlike you, I don't embrace it. I don't turn it into a gimmick. I look at you Caleb, and I see much more beyond the filth and the grease. You're a man of great potential. But unfortunately, you've allowed your background to dominate who you are. You speak terrible English. You're not exactly the brightest individual around here, and you are by far the least dignified. You're a joke Caleb. A clown stuck with the same routine. How you managed to become a champion around here, as many times as I'll watch the tape over and over again, I'll never know, but if you think you're going to be walking out this Sunday with that title belt around your waist, you've got another thing coming. You're only saving grace is that moron of a boss instigating regular rules for every match. As if it matters...the only difference that decision makes is that now I can't hit you with weapons. The outcome will be the same. The outcome will always be the same..."
[She takes a long sigh to catch her breath, as the tone of her voice is reduced.]
"Caleb Fourchon. My time has come. Your time is ending. Grasp onto that title belt while you can. Cherish it, caress it. Just don't kiss it. I'd rather not have to disinfect it when it comes home. You see Caleb, you've allowed your past to dominate you, and now you cannot escape. You'll always be recognized as this carnival freak of nature, and quite frankly, there is nothing special about you. Granted, that routine has done you well, but it is hardly worth the representation of television, and there's only so far you can go before you become stale and people realize just how abysmal of an athlete you really are. You don't deserve to call yourself a TV star. No, I don't claim to be one either. In fact, I'm not exactly what you'd call parental friendly, but it's not like I give a fuck. All I care about is that gold. Gold has eluded me all my life, but now under a new light, it is finally time to accomplish the first of my goals. And while I'll hold the title, unlike you, I will not resort to feuding with a brightly colored pimp, stealing his ridiculous hat and parading around as if it was an even bigger accomplishment than actually winning that title. You're more than a joke Caleb. You're a piece of garbage. You're a disgrace to those who actually take this sport seriously. You might claim to be successful, but your five minutes of fame are over. The television title is mine, and if I have to stomp that stupid hat in the process, then so be it. I don't care who it belongs to, whatever this insignificant feud is about, it doesn't matter to me..."
[She leans forward, glaring into the screen, clearly addressing her next target.]
"Don't think I haven't forgotten about you Steve Orbit. You've been assigned as the special guest referee for this match, but the problem is I've never been one to let the authority dictate my business. I don't care about your illustrious history in this company, and I certainly have little interest in your gross legacy as a pimp, perhaps the most disgusting industry ever conceived. Just remember your role in this match. You'd better remember your role in this match. For your sake. I don't give two shits about your wrestling legacy. You mess with me, and in a single instance, your entire legacy will be destroyed. I'm not going to let something as frivolous as that clown stealing your over-sized hat get in the way of my prize. The first step to my redemption is close at hand. What I did to Turner, Onyx and the other two was only a preview. Believe me, the worst is yet to come, and if you let this golden opportunity escape my grasp, you may very well end up as the first casualty. I don't care who you are or what you've done, in this match, you're nothing but a referee. Keep your personal issues to yourself, and you may very well live to reach retirement..."
[With a slight smirk creeping on her crimson lips, she leans back into the chair, now with a less serious attitude.]
"An opportunity like this has been a long time coming. I can't tell you how much I deserve it. Agreed, most of you probably think I don't deserve it. If that's the case, then clearly you don't know me at all. You still have no idea what I've been through, nor can you possibly understand what I've endured. But after going through all that, you'd expect to come out with something at the end of it. But did I? No. But as I've already explained, things have changed. The nightmares are fading. The light is shining. My purification is at hand. All that is left is the touch of gold. Championship gold. The odds are stacked against me. A community of doubters, a gigantic monster of a champion and an official with his own inflated ego amidst a pitiful war with said champion. Although I have been through more challenging circumstances, it seems that fate is taunting me. It seems like the universe has learned of my quest for redemption and has taken it upon itself to try and thwart me once again. But I'm not the woman I once was. I have nothing more to lose, and I have everything to gain. I will achieve my quest, starting by winning my first championship, even if I have to die trying, because I'm not scared..."
[She then raises her hand, holding a razorblade in between her thumb and her index finger. As she holds it up in front of the webcam, she slowly and carefully begins twirling it around her fingers.]
"You see this? This is the tool that has haunted me through the dark ages. It used to bring both comfort and agony. You can see the dry blood soaked into the rusting steel. But that isn't just my blood...you see the blade makes to be a wonderful weapon. But this...this is now nothing more than a reminder. A mirror that faintly reflects past pain and punishment. I look at this blade, and I don't see my blood. I see the blood of other people. I see the blood of a different woman. The woman I used to be. I look at it now, and all I see is a small chunk of metal slowly turning blunt. This blade has no more use to me...but that doesn't mean that I must stop using it. I no longer see my own blood upon it. All I see is the blood of others. Oh, how I would love to continue such a tradition. To tear apart the skin of others, to attach fresh new blood, and to let others feel what I've endured for so many years..."
[She suddenly throws the blade onto the floor, as if she is tossing it with authority.]
"But that would mean embracing the past. Don't you see? Reducing others to my previous level? That would be like reliving it all over again. That's not who I am anymore. I'm done. Finished with all that. I've already moved on, and my quest has already begun. Fate is already against me, but I will never back down. I've already been damaged enough. I've already been through the worst. Now there is nothing standing in my way. Not Caleb. Not Orbit. Not Lerch. No one will stop me from unleashing my full potential. Caleb, that's the main difference between you and I. Not the size. Not the gender. Not the history. Not the support of others. The television championship is about as far as you will ever go. Week by week, I am growing stronger. I now actually have a purpose in life. You are only here to draw in the freakshow crowd. I am here for something far more significant. You call yourself a champion? All I see is an obstacle, and a simple one at that. After Sunday, you can go right ahead and keep parading around like a fool, stealing people's hats and pretending that you are actually entertaining people, but this Sunday, I will be taking that title from you, and if you enter the new week with a missing chunk of your soul after facing someone like me, then that's just your own fault for standing in my way. After you've endured my reign of terror, I promise that you will never be the same again. You may claim to be a dangerous man, but I'm telling you right now, danger has nothing on me. You may call yourself a monster, but I'm telling you right now, I've slayed three times as fierce. I've been hearing the conversations in the back, people saying how much they want to see Fourchon versus Orbit. But now I'm involved. Things are different, and I don't care what differences you two cretins have with each other, you'd better not make the same mistake as those people and underestimate me. After I'm done, you two can go back to stealing each other's clothes or whatever, but this Sunday, my presence will be felt, and I will walk away with that title. One way or another, that TV championship will be around my waist..."
[There's another slight pause, now with a blaring look of intensity in her eyes.]
"That's all I've got to say for now. There's only so much one can say, now all that's left to do is live up to these words. It's time to take action. Caleb, just prepare yourself, because I, Serbia, will ensure that you will never leave under your own power, I will ensure that everyone will see you as the unfunny clown that you are, and I will ensure that I will walk away with the gold. And Orbit, consider yourself lucky you're not a participant in this match, but consider yourself unfortunate to witness what I do to the so-called crippler so close and so personal, and be sure not to get in my way. Cajun Crippler... Prepare to feel the terror..."
[With that said, the screen turns black. The webcam is switched off and the laptop is unplugged. Serbia has indeed spoken, but as stated, the time for words is over. She has said what needed to be said, to put the doubters in their place, to pose the threat to the guest referee, and to make sure that the champion realizes that his days are numbered. This is Serbia's first championship opportunity since the dark times, and she is determined to unleash hell just to obtain the prize. After shoving the laptop away and storing the charger back down the side of her bed, she is now ready to start her workout. Her fierce tongue enraged a blazing spark inside, and now she is pumped. Bring on Sunday, for Serbia is ready to finally steal the spot and make sure that her career actually means something.]
That felt good. But nowhere near how I want to feel. Nowhere near how I will feel this Sunday. But right now, let's just get on with this walk. Time is running out for Fourchon, but right now, preparations are at hand. To ensure my victory, I must prepare myself. I only hope that Fourchon will be prepared for me. I hope he doesn't underestimate me...
[You've just had a peek into her mind. Richmond is coming closer, and it is time to make her words a reality. A step closer to freedom, a step closer to redemption, a step closer to purification.]
...he might just end up dead.
