Post by Deleted on Jan 23, 2014 18:40:05 GMT -5
I dared to slay the monster.
I dared to cut his veins.
I dared to strangle the beast,
And yet the pain remains.
I dared to take on the odds.
I dared to step beyond.
I dared to trick the doubters,
But still it lingers on.
I dared to change your mind.
I dared to bring the fight.
I dared to claim the prize,
Thought it doesn't shine so bright.
I dared to see through my goal.
I dared to start anew.
I dared chase away my fears,
And now one question for you...
Do you dare?
[Payback. An appropriate name for an event. Regardless of everything that is happening around her, the sinister woman known only as Serbia continues to battle the darkness inside herself. Even now, after accomplishing the first of her personal tasks on her path of inner peace and redemption. Despite the glimmer of light that has come into reality in the form of the WCF television championship, the memories continue to burn what is left of her scarred soul. Yes, she has her own ways of coping, and she continues to dwell on a much brighter future ahead of her, but when the demons return to prey on her very existence, she is the type of woman who will not let them ravage her. She has many ways of fending them off, but like most others, she prefers to take them head on in the alternate dimension known as intoxication.]
Miami. Normally a sunny spot, but the winter is proving a formidable foe tonight. It's not exactly the place I'd like to call home, but then again, it sure beats the snow back home. A humid night. Good enough for a drink...
[The bar is already crowded when she arrives. The bar isn't too big or popular, but several locals seem to enjoy calling it their second home. Serbia was never really keen on large gatherings, or almost any kind of social gathering, but this did not stop her. The allure of alcohol was too great. But please do not mistake her for an alcoholic, for she has tremendous control over her urges. But to her, alcohol, cigarettes, illegal substances, these are not addictions to her. They are merely pleasantries to a hardened life. There, outside the building, Serbia stands, truly a black sheep in the already colorful herd, donning a thick and heavily studded leather jacket customized with a large Misfits skull stitched into the back, as well as a pair of green ripped tartan punk pants and a heavily enforced pair of black boots underneath. She stares through the transparent front doors, ignorant of the gazing eyes of those who sat with their drinks by the tables outside, visibly mustering the courage to step inside.]
So busy. So hectic. And yet so...boring. Nothing even remotely worth my attention. Though these days, not much is. The putrid stench of urine mixed with depression is enough to rival that of the local bars back home. Still, it will have to do. Yet another night out in the life of Serbia. Yet another night of sustenance. Do I dare to expect a little respect for a change? Or should I expect a few more bruises to emerge upon my knuckles? Only time will tell...
[She enters, pushing the doors from her path, and already, she is greeted with a few or more turning heads, people looking twice at the outlandish individual stepping into their domain, unattended and unafraid. Men and women alike look appalled at the mere glimpse of such a terrifying looking woman, let alone allow her to barge her way past them through the crowd. The sea of overly tanned youth, combined with ridiculously gelled hair and a dominating aroma of falsehood, it is almost too much for Serbia to bare. But then again, she has seen a lot worse scrapped from the bottom of barrels. Regardless of the hatred garnished by confusion, Serbia makes her way towards the bar. She takes a seat upon one of the vacant stools, oblivious to those who she shoved out of her way, and immediately grabbed the attention of the barmaid, who almost had to rub her eyes at the sight of the customer shrouded by a unique outfit.]
"Yes? Can I help you...errr...m'am?"
[Serbia notices the stutter in the bubbly young barmaid's voice, but rather than exploit it, she decides to spare her in favor of the bottle.]
"Give me two of the strongest you've got."
[The barmaid is slow to reply.]
"Sure. I'll get right on it..."
[She clearly has no idea how to respond. Serbia just watches idly by as she privately speaks to another more experienced worker, clearly with no clue of her own inventory. Despite such an unusual request, the barmaid eventually returns with her order, although Serbia did have to endure a wait that would have made the most impatient individual lose their mind. Nonetheless, Serbia got what she desired, and after tossing her cash at the bimbo waitress, finding amusement in doing so, she took her first sip from the glass. The coldness that tickles her lips is only matched by the venomous whip of the taste. It isn't the strongest drink that she's ever had, but again, it would have to do. She leans forward, resting her elbow upon the bar as she takes another sip.]
Soothing. Despite the obviously confused imbeciles behind me, all I can say is soothing. A drink worthy of a champion. Yes, that is correct. I am a champion. At long last, I matter. I am making a difference. But still these demons haunt me. There is still a long road ahead before everything can be at peace. I can only hope that...
[Suddenly, something happened that is neither wise...or healthy...]
"Out of the way goth!"
[She feels a rough palm slightly scratch her shoulder as she is suddenly flung off the stool. She lands hard on the damp floor, the feet of the crowd slightly breaking her fall. Serbia was prepared for anything, but even she was caught off guard by such a ruthless shove. She sits up, dusting the dirt from the arm of her jacket, ignorant to the sniggering laughter of the people stood above her. She looks up, biting her lip in frustration, and sees a small group of men, much larger and wearing much more accessories than her, giggling among themselves as two of them order their drinks. Serbia immediately recognizes the one who shoved her, not personally of course, but it didn't take a genius to know which of these four obnoxious assholes was bold enough to lay their hand on her. He looks down back at her, and continues to show no remorse.]
"Hey, haven't I seen you somewhere before?"
[Serbia clenches her fists. She isn't too keen on physical contact with strangers. To her, she was the only one entitled to put herself in harm, but in a setting as pathetic as a lowly bar, she struggles to contain her anger. She is certainly not new to this emotion, and has even endured it in a similar situation once or twice before, but tonight, she is determined to rise above it. For once, she believed in a fight that was just not worth her time. She stood up, her usual pale face now glowing bright red, and is about to leave. But then, matters went even worse, as the man then reaches and grabs her by the arm, stopping her dead in her tracks. Rather than resist however, she stands in place, slightly tensing her muscles, and she closes her eyes, clearly battling to urge to respond in an offensive manner.]
"Oh shit yeah! You're that chick on TV. That wrestler chick, right? Can't remember the name, but you really do look like her. You beat that retard in the shorts! Shame. I liked that guy..."
This douche is just asking for it. The last thing you want to do is remind me of the shit I've had to deal with. Go on you asshole. Do you dare?
[Serbia tries to remain quiet as she is now reeled in close. The man pulls her in, and even has the audacity to grab her by the waist, until he has her trapped in his arms, looking at the facial features up close and personal for her liking. This is it. Serbia could no longer contain herself. Perhaps the alcohol was taking effect, or she was engaging a fit of rage. Either way, he will shortly regret his actions.]
"You know what? Lose this graveyard crap you've got going here, and you might be a nice choice of ass. What'ya say doll-face? Wanna hook up in the back?"
Do you dare? Do you fucking dare? Because if you do...
"Or do you wanna do it right now?"
...bad things will happen.
CRACK!
[The sound of snapping fingers can be heard from outside the building. A collective silence floods the entire place as the thug relinquishes his grip. He tries to limp away like a scolded dog, but this is not good enough. After a quick smirk to herself, Serbia suddenly kicks him right in between the legs, right in the weak spot of every man. This did not sit too well with the others. The three remaining men carefully surrounded her on the spot as the fourth fell to the floor, nurturing his privates. But surrounded by three angry men, is Serbia worried?]
"So...who else wants to try one on me?"
[No. In fact, Serbia is daring them on. Despite being cornered at the bar, Serbia is ready to fight. Little do they realize is that she is secretly reaching behind her back, but only until it is too late when they find out. The one to the right pounces, but in a flash, Serbia catches him coming, smashing the bottle she was drinking earlier across his head. He falls to the floor, covering his bloody forehead, as the others now appear more hesitant to charge at her. She practically dares them on, even leaving herself open for attack. She manages to boot one hard in the gut and take a swing across the cheek of the other before an even larger man wraps his massive arms around her from behind and lifts her off her feet. He is joined by an equally large men. Serbia has seen many similar men in the past, and almost instantly, recognizes them as security. These were the men who would escort troublemakers from the premises, even in the lowliest of taverns. Serbia continues to lash out, kicking her legs and trying to slip from their grasp, making sure that she will not go down without a fight. In the end, as the people jeer her on, the two large men finally manage to drag her through the doors and out of the building. They violently throw her onto the ground and slam the door back into her face. She is about to fight back once again, her fists clenched and prepared to pound the glass, but rather than raise her fist, she stops herself, and after a brief pause, she brushes herself off, turns around and leaves, without a single glance back, ignoring the commotion coming from inside.]
I've had my fill. I've just overstayed my welcome. It's the same wherever I go. The demons I face are indeed real. But I don't let them oppress me. Not anymore. I fight back. I raise hell just as much as they do. I stand my ground. I dare...
[Hands in the pocket of her slightly stained leather jacket,, and pulling out the hood from the hoodie she wore underneath, the street lights shrouds over the misty night sky, and her fingers played with the knife in her pocket, the knife she managed to refrain from pulling out earlier. The lone figure continues to walk down the vacant curb, oblivious to the youthful locals carelessly wandering and gallivanting around the neighborhood. She continues to walk until at last she finds silence down an empty alleyway. To a normal individual, just a glimpse of the eerie alley would be enough to make them turn and take another less dangerous route. Serbia just presses on, no stranger of danger nor afraid of what might be waiting for her.]
I've already been through the worst. There is nothing that the shadows can do to me anymore. I may be moving on from my past, but everything else isn't, and there isn't anything I can do about that. I may be starting again, but if I have to step back into the shadows to progress, then so be it...
[Without even the slightest hesitation, she steps forward into the dark alleyway. She didn't expect anything as bad as she had already faced in her past. Fortunately, nothing emerged. She made it to the other end without a hair out of place, or a breath of relief. It is only a short stroll back to her apartment now. Now was a good time. As she slowed her pace down, she pulls out her phone and once again switches the camera mode on to face herself. Her pale face, still showing feint inaccuracy after her scrap from earlier, stares back at her on the screen. Still with her hood over her head, she sets the phone to record before speaking.]
"The night is still young. The darkness is slow to consume the sky tonight. But it matters little. No matter how long the night lasts, the morning light always returns to shine upon us. Whether hidden behind dark clouds or the fall of snow, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. No matter how dark and gruesome the shadows are, there is always ray of light shining in the direction of my retribution. But does this mean I will be sparred? No. Does this mean that things will finally change? No. You see, I've learned that no matter what I do, nothing ever really changes. The only difference I've really made is that I've moved on and I've stepped out from my shadows, but even now, the nightmares continue to haunt me. These scars, they're with me for life. Yes, there is a light. But that doesn't mean that the darkness is dead..."
[There is a slight pause as she catches a glance of the beyond, unseen from the screen. But it is nothing significant enough to stop her from talking.]
"When I got back into this business, I assigned myself with several goals, all in the name of redemption. Only until these tasks are complete will my soul be finally at peace. I don't intend to let this unforgiving world defeat me. Last week, I accomplished the first of these tasks. For the first time ever, I am a champion. My name has finally been engraved in the record books, and at long last, my career actually means something. But it is far from enough. Granted, I am proud to be the champion, but let's face it. This title makes me a god among insects. The lowest title in the federation. And I can happily admit that I'm not exactly the most appropriate individual to hold the title representing the broadcast of the show itself. Of course, it is only the first step, there is a long way to go, but even with this title in my grasp, I am still considered the unexpected. Everyone continues to believe that I have not got what it takes. I've dealt with these criticisms throughout my entire career, and even now, with that title belt in my hands, nothing has changed. I'm still considered a rookie by these people, these so-called legends. That is my next goal. People think very little of this championship belt. People think that it doesn't matter. I will make it matter. I will restore prestige to this title. The past is behind us. It is time to move on, and it is time to move on for the better. It's time to make an impact. It's time to make a stand..."
[The television title means more to Serbia than she would like to lead on. She looks upon it, but she doesn't see gold. She stares into the gold, and she sees her reflection. There is a connection, something much deeper than she would like to admit. After a slight pause, she resumes.]
"This title seems to be the objective of every newcomer in the federation. That is probably why I am already putting it on the line. But of course, the show in which my first title defense will take place, it is not just another episode of Slam. This is Payback. How appropriate. The very thing that I've dedicated myself to. The very thing that I am fighting for. I was robbed of my innocence a long time ago. Now it's payback time, and at Payback, I will hold the television title belt above my head, and I will stick my middle finger up to the sister of fates, for they showed me no pride or respect, and I shall show them none. I will overcome every obstacle that will come in my way, of course, starting with my first three challengers..."
[There is a sarcastic smirk that creeps onto her face upon the thought of her upcoming match.]
"It seems awfully suspicious that I must put the title on the line against more than one challenger, whereas the previous champion only had to deal with me, excluding that pompous pimp of course, but then again, as I've already proven, I'm more than capable of overcoming multiple opponents, and at Payback, it will be no different, and if you don't believe me, just ask one of the three challengers. Lupus Onyx. We meet again. Only this time, under different circumstances. Last time we faced off, you expected to walk through me like a lamb in the slaughter. But what did you get Onyx? No, you didn't get a wolf in sheep's clothing. You got something much worse. You got me. You underestimated me, and although you were not the victim of my Reign of Terror, you would have still suffered the same fate as Mr. Turner. And of course, why did you underestimate me? Because I refused to join your little cult? Because you thought I was making a mistake. I refused your help, and what happened? I became the new television champion, and you barely managed to escape the clutches of a college graduate bitch with a larger bark than her bite. I hate to steal a quote from you, but I must admit, you disappoint me. Hopefully this time however, you will provide more of a fight. Just don't expect to win. I plan to hold on to this title for a very long time..."
[Something suddenly sneaks into her mind, referring to other, less significant matters.]
"Oh, and one more thing. The more that creature continues to call me that disgusting name online, the more she digs a pit of snakes for herself, a pit that she will never emerge from. I advise that you don't do the same, because the next time we face, I may not be in such a generous mood..."
[She steals another glance off screen, this time longer than before, as if she is keeping an eye on something off screen, but once again, she thinks nothing of it, looks back into the screen and continues speaking, this time in a more unpleasant tone.]
"Onyx, the fate you will suffer at Payback will be no different to our first encounter, only this time, you will realize why I hold this television title and you do not. But of course, you are by far not the only individual to oppose me in my first title defense. As I've just mentioned, you expected a sheep, but you did not get a wolf in sheep's clothing. I am far worse than a wolf, and believe me, this James Fatel character is no different. No doubt he earned his spot in this match by defeating Jayden Thunder this past week, but at Payback, he will be knee-deep in way too much that he can handle. No, I don't hold a grudge against you, nor do I have a reason to. In fact, we both share a similar view of this bleak world. The difference between us however is that he has this ridiculous notion that he can save it. He calls everyone but himself a disease, and he calls himself the cure. Yes, this world is indeed falling apart. In fact, it is already beyond the point of saving. But there's nothing that you, me, or anyone can do about it, and quite frankly, the more you promise to fix it, the more painful it will be when reality finally sinks its fangs into your neck. I know full well how terrifying this world can be. Believe me. But I've already seen the story before. People thinking that the world can be saved, by cleaning the slate and starting anew, but the bottom line is that no matter what you do to try to fix the problem, a new problem always emerges. Face it Fatel, the problem with this planet is the human race, and you're no more of a human than me or anyone else, so you're just as much of the problem as me. Don't kid yourself kid. The world cannot be saved, but I've learned a long time ago how to survive, and believe me, the shit that you're spouting, you're going to end up six feet under very soon. Heck, I might even put you out of your misery myself..."
[She gently rubs her chin upon the thought of her next victim as a gust of wind slightly tickles her hood.]
"Now onto the enigma. Lassiter. The most intriguing of the three I must admit, but please don't mistake that for anything flattering. I have little concern of your past, as I'm sure you do of mine. You call yourself the lone ranger. That seems to be the theme of this entire match. We are all outcasts, all with our own agendas. But just like Fatel, you are so demented that you honestly believe that you have some form of superiority in this world, when in reality, you clearly do not. We both have our paths, but I am willing to step into the abyss to accomplish my tasks. You seem to believe that you have already accomplished them even though you haven't even taken the first step on your quest. You call yourself the best. You've only beat two nobodies so far. At Payback, you will face a real challenge. Me. And quite frankly, as long as I hold this title, I will always be better than you, no matter what you say, and no matter what you do. You may be the enigma of this match, but your confidence will be your undoing. You can keep hiding your intentions, because quite frankly, I don't care in the slightest. Not you, not Fatel, not Onyx, no one will stop me from achieving vengeance. The shit I've dealt with, the things I've endured, it will not be worth it, goddammit, I will make a statement. Heck, I already have. But no, it is still not enough. I will continue to fight, and I will continue to succeed, because for once in my life, I have a purpose. This television title makes me matter, not in the eyes of everyone, but my name is now in the history books, and even if I died tomorrow, at least I'd be remembered for something, at least I didn't die for nothing, at least this world did not completely defeat me. But believe me, there is more to come, and there is no one that can stop you. Not a cult. Not a wolf. Not a ranger. Not even god. Lassiter, you may be the finest in your craft, but read my lips. As long as I live and breathe, you will never rule me. You think that you are prepared for everything. You know nothing..."
[Her lips cringe. She is clearly tapping into her earlier encounters, reminding herself of how much anger she felt back at the bar, and how much similar her first title defense will be to the earlier situation, only with a slight few differences, including the setting, the number of opponents, and of course, the competition. Regardless, she is ready, even more so than when she first stepped into that bar. After a moment of hesitation, clearly to avoid an obstacle of sorts off screen, but once again she faces the screen with a slightly less aggressive attitude.]
"No, I don't claim to be one, but you know what they say about paybacks don't you? And believe me, I am far worse. Do I care what experience my challengers have in this business? No. Does it matter that I'm the only woman involved in this match? No. All I care about is holding on to this title for as long as possible, because for the first time in my life, I have something to lose. Something to fight for. Something to help me finally achieve inner peace. It is a long way ahead, but I will plunge into whatever stands before me head-first, because nothing, and I mean nothing, will stop me from gaining retribution, from exacting my revenge, from getting payback. Now I only have one question left..."
[She tilts her head down, her eyes displaying more white than dark green, and expresses her next phrase in a much more intimidating tone.]
"Onyx. Fatel. Lassiter. My light is your darkness. Do you dare to take the plunge?"
[With that said, she switches off her phone, and just in time, as her apartment finally reaches her sights. She knows full well what to expect as the new television champion. She knows that every newcomer will be gunning for her and the belt that she carries. But she is unafraid. The deed is done, but the hunger remains. She may be the champion now, but she plans on keeping the gold for a very long time, and she will never go down without a fight. She is the television champion, and everyone, all the doubters, all the rookies, all the legends, all the board members, all the fans, they just have to deal with it. She cares little about the product. She cares little about television. She cares very much about being a champion.]
Not quite home, but at last, it is great to escape from the public eye once more. I've fended off the demons once again, although I did not get enough liquid that I wanted, but that matters not. Besides, I have a few bottles in the mini fridge. A few drinks before bed couldn't hurt. At least they'll fend off the monsters in my dreams for another night. But first...
[After the long climb up the staircase, she finally reaches her room in the apartment. It isn't much, not as luxurious as most veterans of the WCF roster, but to her, a bed is a bed. But what attracts her eyes is the television title belt itself, perched upon the small desk besides the bed. After stripping down to her underwear and pulling an over-sized Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt over herself, she grabs a bottle from the mini fridge and sits on the side of the belt, gulping down her alcohol and gazing at the title belt that stood by the head of the bed.]
This title is a part of me. Almost like a patch stitched into what's left of my heart. I can't let this title go. It's mine to keep, and I'm not letting anyone take it without a fight. And I will fight to the end if that's what it takes...
[Everything has gotten heavy. Serbia almost drunk the rest of the entire night away, just staring vacantly at the title she won last week. She finally stretches out across the bed, dropping the empty bottle onto the floor, but before passing into unconsciousness, she takes one last glance at the title, and motions a goodnight kiss. Perhaps the sign of the first good sleep in a very long time? Perhaps things are changing after all? We'll just have to see.]
I dare anyone to try and take it from me. Anyone...
I dared to cut his veins.
I dared to strangle the beast,
And yet the pain remains.
I dared to take on the odds.
I dared to step beyond.
I dared to trick the doubters,
But still it lingers on.
I dared to change your mind.
I dared to bring the fight.
I dared to claim the prize,
Thought it doesn't shine so bright.
I dared to see through my goal.
I dared to start anew.
I dared chase away my fears,
And now one question for you...
Do you dare?
[Payback. An appropriate name for an event. Regardless of everything that is happening around her, the sinister woman known only as Serbia continues to battle the darkness inside herself. Even now, after accomplishing the first of her personal tasks on her path of inner peace and redemption. Despite the glimmer of light that has come into reality in the form of the WCF television championship, the memories continue to burn what is left of her scarred soul. Yes, she has her own ways of coping, and she continues to dwell on a much brighter future ahead of her, but when the demons return to prey on her very existence, she is the type of woman who will not let them ravage her. She has many ways of fending them off, but like most others, she prefers to take them head on in the alternate dimension known as intoxication.]
Miami. Normally a sunny spot, but the winter is proving a formidable foe tonight. It's not exactly the place I'd like to call home, but then again, it sure beats the snow back home. A humid night. Good enough for a drink...
[The bar is already crowded when she arrives. The bar isn't too big or popular, but several locals seem to enjoy calling it their second home. Serbia was never really keen on large gatherings, or almost any kind of social gathering, but this did not stop her. The allure of alcohol was too great. But please do not mistake her for an alcoholic, for she has tremendous control over her urges. But to her, alcohol, cigarettes, illegal substances, these are not addictions to her. They are merely pleasantries to a hardened life. There, outside the building, Serbia stands, truly a black sheep in the already colorful herd, donning a thick and heavily studded leather jacket customized with a large Misfits skull stitched into the back, as well as a pair of green ripped tartan punk pants and a heavily enforced pair of black boots underneath. She stares through the transparent front doors, ignorant of the gazing eyes of those who sat with their drinks by the tables outside, visibly mustering the courage to step inside.]
So busy. So hectic. And yet so...boring. Nothing even remotely worth my attention. Though these days, not much is. The putrid stench of urine mixed with depression is enough to rival that of the local bars back home. Still, it will have to do. Yet another night out in the life of Serbia. Yet another night of sustenance. Do I dare to expect a little respect for a change? Or should I expect a few more bruises to emerge upon my knuckles? Only time will tell...
[She enters, pushing the doors from her path, and already, she is greeted with a few or more turning heads, people looking twice at the outlandish individual stepping into their domain, unattended and unafraid. Men and women alike look appalled at the mere glimpse of such a terrifying looking woman, let alone allow her to barge her way past them through the crowd. The sea of overly tanned youth, combined with ridiculously gelled hair and a dominating aroma of falsehood, it is almost too much for Serbia to bare. But then again, she has seen a lot worse scrapped from the bottom of barrels. Regardless of the hatred garnished by confusion, Serbia makes her way towards the bar. She takes a seat upon one of the vacant stools, oblivious to those who she shoved out of her way, and immediately grabbed the attention of the barmaid, who almost had to rub her eyes at the sight of the customer shrouded by a unique outfit.]
"Yes? Can I help you...errr...m'am?"
[Serbia notices the stutter in the bubbly young barmaid's voice, but rather than exploit it, she decides to spare her in favor of the bottle.]
"Give me two of the strongest you've got."
[The barmaid is slow to reply.]
"Sure. I'll get right on it..."
[She clearly has no idea how to respond. Serbia just watches idly by as she privately speaks to another more experienced worker, clearly with no clue of her own inventory. Despite such an unusual request, the barmaid eventually returns with her order, although Serbia did have to endure a wait that would have made the most impatient individual lose their mind. Nonetheless, Serbia got what she desired, and after tossing her cash at the bimbo waitress, finding amusement in doing so, she took her first sip from the glass. The coldness that tickles her lips is only matched by the venomous whip of the taste. It isn't the strongest drink that she's ever had, but again, it would have to do. She leans forward, resting her elbow upon the bar as she takes another sip.]
Soothing. Despite the obviously confused imbeciles behind me, all I can say is soothing. A drink worthy of a champion. Yes, that is correct. I am a champion. At long last, I matter. I am making a difference. But still these demons haunt me. There is still a long road ahead before everything can be at peace. I can only hope that...
[Suddenly, something happened that is neither wise...or healthy...]
"Out of the way goth!"
[She feels a rough palm slightly scratch her shoulder as she is suddenly flung off the stool. She lands hard on the damp floor, the feet of the crowd slightly breaking her fall. Serbia was prepared for anything, but even she was caught off guard by such a ruthless shove. She sits up, dusting the dirt from the arm of her jacket, ignorant to the sniggering laughter of the people stood above her. She looks up, biting her lip in frustration, and sees a small group of men, much larger and wearing much more accessories than her, giggling among themselves as two of them order their drinks. Serbia immediately recognizes the one who shoved her, not personally of course, but it didn't take a genius to know which of these four obnoxious assholes was bold enough to lay their hand on her. He looks down back at her, and continues to show no remorse.]
"Hey, haven't I seen you somewhere before?"
[Serbia clenches her fists. She isn't too keen on physical contact with strangers. To her, she was the only one entitled to put herself in harm, but in a setting as pathetic as a lowly bar, she struggles to contain her anger. She is certainly not new to this emotion, and has even endured it in a similar situation once or twice before, but tonight, she is determined to rise above it. For once, she believed in a fight that was just not worth her time. She stood up, her usual pale face now glowing bright red, and is about to leave. But then, matters went even worse, as the man then reaches and grabs her by the arm, stopping her dead in her tracks. Rather than resist however, she stands in place, slightly tensing her muscles, and she closes her eyes, clearly battling to urge to respond in an offensive manner.]
"Oh shit yeah! You're that chick on TV. That wrestler chick, right? Can't remember the name, but you really do look like her. You beat that retard in the shorts! Shame. I liked that guy..."
This douche is just asking for it. The last thing you want to do is remind me of the shit I've had to deal with. Go on you asshole. Do you dare?
[Serbia tries to remain quiet as she is now reeled in close. The man pulls her in, and even has the audacity to grab her by the waist, until he has her trapped in his arms, looking at the facial features up close and personal for her liking. This is it. Serbia could no longer contain herself. Perhaps the alcohol was taking effect, or she was engaging a fit of rage. Either way, he will shortly regret his actions.]
"You know what? Lose this graveyard crap you've got going here, and you might be a nice choice of ass. What'ya say doll-face? Wanna hook up in the back?"
Do you dare? Do you fucking dare? Because if you do...
"Or do you wanna do it right now?"
...bad things will happen.
CRACK!
[The sound of snapping fingers can be heard from outside the building. A collective silence floods the entire place as the thug relinquishes his grip. He tries to limp away like a scolded dog, but this is not good enough. After a quick smirk to herself, Serbia suddenly kicks him right in between the legs, right in the weak spot of every man. This did not sit too well with the others. The three remaining men carefully surrounded her on the spot as the fourth fell to the floor, nurturing his privates. But surrounded by three angry men, is Serbia worried?]
"So...who else wants to try one on me?"
[No. In fact, Serbia is daring them on. Despite being cornered at the bar, Serbia is ready to fight. Little do they realize is that she is secretly reaching behind her back, but only until it is too late when they find out. The one to the right pounces, but in a flash, Serbia catches him coming, smashing the bottle she was drinking earlier across his head. He falls to the floor, covering his bloody forehead, as the others now appear more hesitant to charge at her. She practically dares them on, even leaving herself open for attack. She manages to boot one hard in the gut and take a swing across the cheek of the other before an even larger man wraps his massive arms around her from behind and lifts her off her feet. He is joined by an equally large men. Serbia has seen many similar men in the past, and almost instantly, recognizes them as security. These were the men who would escort troublemakers from the premises, even in the lowliest of taverns. Serbia continues to lash out, kicking her legs and trying to slip from their grasp, making sure that she will not go down without a fight. In the end, as the people jeer her on, the two large men finally manage to drag her through the doors and out of the building. They violently throw her onto the ground and slam the door back into her face. She is about to fight back once again, her fists clenched and prepared to pound the glass, but rather than raise her fist, she stops herself, and after a brief pause, she brushes herself off, turns around and leaves, without a single glance back, ignoring the commotion coming from inside.]
I've had my fill. I've just overstayed my welcome. It's the same wherever I go. The demons I face are indeed real. But I don't let them oppress me. Not anymore. I fight back. I raise hell just as much as they do. I stand my ground. I dare...
[Hands in the pocket of her slightly stained leather jacket,, and pulling out the hood from the hoodie she wore underneath, the street lights shrouds over the misty night sky, and her fingers played with the knife in her pocket, the knife she managed to refrain from pulling out earlier. The lone figure continues to walk down the vacant curb, oblivious to the youthful locals carelessly wandering and gallivanting around the neighborhood. She continues to walk until at last she finds silence down an empty alleyway. To a normal individual, just a glimpse of the eerie alley would be enough to make them turn and take another less dangerous route. Serbia just presses on, no stranger of danger nor afraid of what might be waiting for her.]
I've already been through the worst. There is nothing that the shadows can do to me anymore. I may be moving on from my past, but everything else isn't, and there isn't anything I can do about that. I may be starting again, but if I have to step back into the shadows to progress, then so be it...
[Without even the slightest hesitation, she steps forward into the dark alleyway. She didn't expect anything as bad as she had already faced in her past. Fortunately, nothing emerged. She made it to the other end without a hair out of place, or a breath of relief. It is only a short stroll back to her apartment now. Now was a good time. As she slowed her pace down, she pulls out her phone and once again switches the camera mode on to face herself. Her pale face, still showing feint inaccuracy after her scrap from earlier, stares back at her on the screen. Still with her hood over her head, she sets the phone to record before speaking.]
"The night is still young. The darkness is slow to consume the sky tonight. But it matters little. No matter how long the night lasts, the morning light always returns to shine upon us. Whether hidden behind dark clouds or the fall of snow, there is always a light at the end of the tunnel. No matter how dark and gruesome the shadows are, there is always ray of light shining in the direction of my retribution. But does this mean I will be sparred? No. Does this mean that things will finally change? No. You see, I've learned that no matter what I do, nothing ever really changes. The only difference I've really made is that I've moved on and I've stepped out from my shadows, but even now, the nightmares continue to haunt me. These scars, they're with me for life. Yes, there is a light. But that doesn't mean that the darkness is dead..."
[There is a slight pause as she catches a glance of the beyond, unseen from the screen. But it is nothing significant enough to stop her from talking.]
"When I got back into this business, I assigned myself with several goals, all in the name of redemption. Only until these tasks are complete will my soul be finally at peace. I don't intend to let this unforgiving world defeat me. Last week, I accomplished the first of these tasks. For the first time ever, I am a champion. My name has finally been engraved in the record books, and at long last, my career actually means something. But it is far from enough. Granted, I am proud to be the champion, but let's face it. This title makes me a god among insects. The lowest title in the federation. And I can happily admit that I'm not exactly the most appropriate individual to hold the title representing the broadcast of the show itself. Of course, it is only the first step, there is a long way to go, but even with this title in my grasp, I am still considered the unexpected. Everyone continues to believe that I have not got what it takes. I've dealt with these criticisms throughout my entire career, and even now, with that title belt in my hands, nothing has changed. I'm still considered a rookie by these people, these so-called legends. That is my next goal. People think very little of this championship belt. People think that it doesn't matter. I will make it matter. I will restore prestige to this title. The past is behind us. It is time to move on, and it is time to move on for the better. It's time to make an impact. It's time to make a stand..."
[The television title means more to Serbia than she would like to lead on. She looks upon it, but she doesn't see gold. She stares into the gold, and she sees her reflection. There is a connection, something much deeper than she would like to admit. After a slight pause, she resumes.]
"This title seems to be the objective of every newcomer in the federation. That is probably why I am already putting it on the line. But of course, the show in which my first title defense will take place, it is not just another episode of Slam. This is Payback. How appropriate. The very thing that I've dedicated myself to. The very thing that I am fighting for. I was robbed of my innocence a long time ago. Now it's payback time, and at Payback, I will hold the television title belt above my head, and I will stick my middle finger up to the sister of fates, for they showed me no pride or respect, and I shall show them none. I will overcome every obstacle that will come in my way, of course, starting with my first three challengers..."
[There is a sarcastic smirk that creeps onto her face upon the thought of her upcoming match.]
"It seems awfully suspicious that I must put the title on the line against more than one challenger, whereas the previous champion only had to deal with me, excluding that pompous pimp of course, but then again, as I've already proven, I'm more than capable of overcoming multiple opponents, and at Payback, it will be no different, and if you don't believe me, just ask one of the three challengers. Lupus Onyx. We meet again. Only this time, under different circumstances. Last time we faced off, you expected to walk through me like a lamb in the slaughter. But what did you get Onyx? No, you didn't get a wolf in sheep's clothing. You got something much worse. You got me. You underestimated me, and although you were not the victim of my Reign of Terror, you would have still suffered the same fate as Mr. Turner. And of course, why did you underestimate me? Because I refused to join your little cult? Because you thought I was making a mistake. I refused your help, and what happened? I became the new television champion, and you barely managed to escape the clutches of a college graduate bitch with a larger bark than her bite. I hate to steal a quote from you, but I must admit, you disappoint me. Hopefully this time however, you will provide more of a fight. Just don't expect to win. I plan to hold on to this title for a very long time..."
[Something suddenly sneaks into her mind, referring to other, less significant matters.]
"Oh, and one more thing. The more that creature continues to call me that disgusting name online, the more she digs a pit of snakes for herself, a pit that she will never emerge from. I advise that you don't do the same, because the next time we face, I may not be in such a generous mood..."
[She steals another glance off screen, this time longer than before, as if she is keeping an eye on something off screen, but once again, she thinks nothing of it, looks back into the screen and continues speaking, this time in a more unpleasant tone.]
"Onyx, the fate you will suffer at Payback will be no different to our first encounter, only this time, you will realize why I hold this television title and you do not. But of course, you are by far not the only individual to oppose me in my first title defense. As I've just mentioned, you expected a sheep, but you did not get a wolf in sheep's clothing. I am far worse than a wolf, and believe me, this James Fatel character is no different. No doubt he earned his spot in this match by defeating Jayden Thunder this past week, but at Payback, he will be knee-deep in way too much that he can handle. No, I don't hold a grudge against you, nor do I have a reason to. In fact, we both share a similar view of this bleak world. The difference between us however is that he has this ridiculous notion that he can save it. He calls everyone but himself a disease, and he calls himself the cure. Yes, this world is indeed falling apart. In fact, it is already beyond the point of saving. But there's nothing that you, me, or anyone can do about it, and quite frankly, the more you promise to fix it, the more painful it will be when reality finally sinks its fangs into your neck. I know full well how terrifying this world can be. Believe me. But I've already seen the story before. People thinking that the world can be saved, by cleaning the slate and starting anew, but the bottom line is that no matter what you do to try to fix the problem, a new problem always emerges. Face it Fatel, the problem with this planet is the human race, and you're no more of a human than me or anyone else, so you're just as much of the problem as me. Don't kid yourself kid. The world cannot be saved, but I've learned a long time ago how to survive, and believe me, the shit that you're spouting, you're going to end up six feet under very soon. Heck, I might even put you out of your misery myself..."
[She gently rubs her chin upon the thought of her next victim as a gust of wind slightly tickles her hood.]
"Now onto the enigma. Lassiter. The most intriguing of the three I must admit, but please don't mistake that for anything flattering. I have little concern of your past, as I'm sure you do of mine. You call yourself the lone ranger. That seems to be the theme of this entire match. We are all outcasts, all with our own agendas. But just like Fatel, you are so demented that you honestly believe that you have some form of superiority in this world, when in reality, you clearly do not. We both have our paths, but I am willing to step into the abyss to accomplish my tasks. You seem to believe that you have already accomplished them even though you haven't even taken the first step on your quest. You call yourself the best. You've only beat two nobodies so far. At Payback, you will face a real challenge. Me. And quite frankly, as long as I hold this title, I will always be better than you, no matter what you say, and no matter what you do. You may be the enigma of this match, but your confidence will be your undoing. You can keep hiding your intentions, because quite frankly, I don't care in the slightest. Not you, not Fatel, not Onyx, no one will stop me from achieving vengeance. The shit I've dealt with, the things I've endured, it will not be worth it, goddammit, I will make a statement. Heck, I already have. But no, it is still not enough. I will continue to fight, and I will continue to succeed, because for once in my life, I have a purpose. This television title makes me matter, not in the eyes of everyone, but my name is now in the history books, and even if I died tomorrow, at least I'd be remembered for something, at least I didn't die for nothing, at least this world did not completely defeat me. But believe me, there is more to come, and there is no one that can stop you. Not a cult. Not a wolf. Not a ranger. Not even god. Lassiter, you may be the finest in your craft, but read my lips. As long as I live and breathe, you will never rule me. You think that you are prepared for everything. You know nothing..."
[Her lips cringe. She is clearly tapping into her earlier encounters, reminding herself of how much anger she felt back at the bar, and how much similar her first title defense will be to the earlier situation, only with a slight few differences, including the setting, the number of opponents, and of course, the competition. Regardless, she is ready, even more so than when she first stepped into that bar. After a moment of hesitation, clearly to avoid an obstacle of sorts off screen, but once again she faces the screen with a slightly less aggressive attitude.]
"No, I don't claim to be one, but you know what they say about paybacks don't you? And believe me, I am far worse. Do I care what experience my challengers have in this business? No. Does it matter that I'm the only woman involved in this match? No. All I care about is holding on to this title for as long as possible, because for the first time in my life, I have something to lose. Something to fight for. Something to help me finally achieve inner peace. It is a long way ahead, but I will plunge into whatever stands before me head-first, because nothing, and I mean nothing, will stop me from gaining retribution, from exacting my revenge, from getting payback. Now I only have one question left..."
[She tilts her head down, her eyes displaying more white than dark green, and expresses her next phrase in a much more intimidating tone.]
"Onyx. Fatel. Lassiter. My light is your darkness. Do you dare to take the plunge?"
[With that said, she switches off her phone, and just in time, as her apartment finally reaches her sights. She knows full well what to expect as the new television champion. She knows that every newcomer will be gunning for her and the belt that she carries. But she is unafraid. The deed is done, but the hunger remains. She may be the champion now, but she plans on keeping the gold for a very long time, and she will never go down without a fight. She is the television champion, and everyone, all the doubters, all the rookies, all the legends, all the board members, all the fans, they just have to deal with it. She cares little about the product. She cares little about television. She cares very much about being a champion.]
Not quite home, but at last, it is great to escape from the public eye once more. I've fended off the demons once again, although I did not get enough liquid that I wanted, but that matters not. Besides, I have a few bottles in the mini fridge. A few drinks before bed couldn't hurt. At least they'll fend off the monsters in my dreams for another night. But first...
[After the long climb up the staircase, she finally reaches her room in the apartment. It isn't much, not as luxurious as most veterans of the WCF roster, but to her, a bed is a bed. But what attracts her eyes is the television title belt itself, perched upon the small desk besides the bed. After stripping down to her underwear and pulling an over-sized Avenged Sevenfold t-shirt over herself, she grabs a bottle from the mini fridge and sits on the side of the belt, gulping down her alcohol and gazing at the title belt that stood by the head of the bed.]
This title is a part of me. Almost like a patch stitched into what's left of my heart. I can't let this title go. It's mine to keep, and I'm not letting anyone take it without a fight. And I will fight to the end if that's what it takes...
[Everything has gotten heavy. Serbia almost drunk the rest of the entire night away, just staring vacantly at the title she won last week. She finally stretches out across the bed, dropping the empty bottle onto the floor, but before passing into unconsciousness, she takes one last glance at the title, and motions a goodnight kiss. Perhaps the sign of the first good sleep in a very long time? Perhaps things are changing after all? We'll just have to see.]
I dare anyone to try and take it from me. Anyone...
