Post by Deleted on Jan 29, 2014 18:58:44 GMT -5
By the blood in my veins,
By the skin off my nose,
By the hair off my head,
Whatever it takes.
By the sweat from my brow,
By the breath that I gasp,
By the tears dried up inside,
Whatever it takes.
By the voice in my mind,
By the glimmer in my eye,
By the remnants of my soul,
Whatever it takes.
No matter who I face,
Those who stand in my way,
I will knock them all down,
Whatever it takes.
[The bruises refuse to heal. A champion's work is never done. Three men stood before her. Those same men fell before her. At long last, Serbia has found a purpose. At long last, she has something worth fighting for. But more importantly, at long last, she has something to celebrate.]
Victory. Defeat. Two complete opposites that separate the successful from the mere survivors. I've only had one title defense, but it still feels strange being on the opposite side. And it doesn't matter what others say, without actions, they are doomed to remain on a quest merely to survive this world until death finally decides to sweep them from the face of the earth. Without actions, you cannot back up your promises. Without actions, you will never achieve anything. Next time you set yourself a goal, make sure that you are willing to risk everything, and instead of whining about how fucked up everything is, do something about it. Shut up and step up. It still hurts inside, but dwelling on it only lures you further and further into the darkness. Believe me, I know. I just wish that the souls that I have crushed since my return now realize this, maybe they will actually make something of themselves, maybe they can actually make a statement, maybe they can make their pathetic lives worth something. That's what I'm doing. That's what this title means. I am finally a success. And wow. It feels great...
[Before you begin with the presumptions, no, this is not a social gathering. That is not what Serbia is about. Sitting alone in her bedroom back in New York, with nothing but an over-sized band t-shirt on, with her stereo system blaring with the music that she loves dearly, while wasting away with a joint in hand, one of her personal favorite delectations. Retaining the television championship, her first title defense, it was a moment worth celebrating. With her hair loose and free, she sat on the floor and spread her arms across the side of her bed, after a long inhale, and she tilts her head back, closing her eyes and letting the taste soothe her.]
This feels sooooooo gggrrrreeeeaaaatttt......
[The opportunity to disappear from reality, to escape the concept of time, the chance to hide from the demons she was constantly at war with. And after that, nothing. Nothing but silence. Nothing but calm, relaxing, soothing, irresistible silence. Working out heals the agony. Cigarettes settle the nerves. Alcohol fends off the nightmares. But marijuana does something different. Something that nothing else in this existence can do, or at least something that nothing else can do anymore. For years, Serbia has been shattered. Not just tired, but emotionally, as if her soul and spirit have been battered and destroyed into a billion pieces along with the physical harm she has sustained over the years. But when she gets high, when she takes off to a new level of inner satisfaction, for a few precious hours in her life, she feels whole again.]
The air... The clouds... Oh how they shroud... Hehehe that rhymes... Oh wow. The light... Suddenly those clouds don't seem so dark... The weather must be changing. Yes of course! I've changed too. I mean look at me! Look at that...
[Her vision is blurred, but something catches her eye. A familiar glisten from the top of her drawer.
I'm a champion. Still I'm in disbelief... But why? Don't I deserve it? Don't I deserve this prize? Didn't I bust my ass for such a grand reward? Well...maybe not grand... But still, yes of course I deserve it! I've beaten so many jackasses to get here... I've earned that shit! Oohhh mmmaaannnnnn...... This tune rocks so fucking hard! Let's turn that shit up!
[Her spirit is building. Her troubles are being forgotten. Her grim facade is fading. All temporary of course, but all regular effects of her favorite pastime. She tries to climb back to her feet, using the bed for leverage, but falls forward onto all fours, almost in an intoxicated manner. She instead struggles to reach the stereo from the floor, stretching out as far as possible, until she finally takes a hold of the nuzzle, spinning it all almost all the way. The volume of the music vastly increases as she finally reaches a vertical point, sitting on her knees with her chest out and her arms spread out, just in time to join in with the vocals.]
"Single out the kids who are mean to me... Getting straight A's but they still make fun... I don't give a, I'll last laugh! Staying at home every night... Do my homework so I'll be smart... The girls all say I'm a little fucked! Mommy I'm a good boy... Mommy I'm a fucking savior... MOMMY I'M ALIVE!"
[Then comes the break down, a pause of silence as the solo vocal makes its mark...as does Serbia, still going on word for word, at the top of her smoke-dampened lungs.]
"Mommy? Can I go out and... KILL TONIGHT!?"
[She takes another spin of the volume, this time spinning the nuzzle all the way, as she finally stumbles back to her feet, ready for the pace of the track to quicken. As it does, Serbia shifts along, head banging along with the music, even jumping up and down to the beat, almost as if she is starting a one-person mosh pit. Needless to say, this attracts the attention of an unwelcome visitor. Serbia is thrown off her groove by a loud banging on the front door. Even in her state, she instantly recognizes the familiar knock on the door, but she is reluctant to answer, knowing full well what awaits her on the other side. Finally, after the banging throws her off the music completely, Serbia has no choice but to turn down the music, not completely but enough to stop the cutlery in the kitchen from rattling, and after removing the evidence of the marijuana, she dusts herself off and ensures that her t-shirt covers the more private areas of the body, she answers the door and almost immediately hides her intoxicated smile behind a look of disdain.]
"What?"
[Behind the door stood a man, possibly in his early 20's, probably even just graduated from college. He didn't look the part of a partygoer, nor does he appear to have a social life, but he still looks rather fit, even though Serbia never really saw it. Brown bushy hair and a slight stubble, almost chizzled if it weren't for his habit of staying in all the time. He is seen wearing a pair of pants and a damp old shirt, the regular attire for an anti-social painter. As Serbia peeks her head out the door and glares at the man known only thus far as Luke, he returns the favor with a stern look of his own.]
"Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Why? Do you?"
[Serbia and Luke never really got along, but then again, Luke has only been living next door to her for just over a year. Before then, she lived next to a mathematician, a middle-aged woman who she thoroughly enjoyed tormenting. Despite her history however, over the past year, Luke has proven to be bothersome himself, sharing a similar disliking to Serbia's passions.]
"Okay Shelly, I know you've had..."
"Whoa! Since when did I let you call me that?"
"Whatever. I know you've had some success lately. I've watched you on television. You're a great wrestler. But surely there's no need to resort to all this?"
"All what?"
"That awful music. The constant banging. And don't you think I know what you're smoking in there, I can smell it two floors up! I just thought that...with your success and all...maybe you'd move on from all this?"
"What's that supposed to mean? What do you think I've been doing? You have no idea what I've been through..."
"Yeah I know that. But all this? This isn't helping anyone, especially you. When are you going to change?"
[Serbia is speechless. The celebration has been ruined. With no retaliation, she quietly allows Luke to leave. She gently shuts the door behind her and stares vacantly at the floor. His words are truly sinking in. Since becoming a professional wrestler, she has been on a quest for redemption, to make something of herself and prove that she will not let life defeat her. She made a promise to step out of the shadows of her past and accomplish the goals she has set out for herself. But her lifestyle has barely changed. It is still the same pleasures that she indulges in. It is still the same nightmares that haunt her. It's even the same domain where she resided through the darkness of her life. What Luke said. When is she going to change? She thought she was, but after evaluating her room, spotting the ash tray on the desk, the burnt out joint on the side of her bed, the six pack on top of the refrigerator. An all too familiar sight.]
Maybe he's right. Wait, what am I saying? Am I actually agreeing with that douche? But look around. Everything looks the same. I may be a wrestler again, but nothing around here has changed. It's still the same bed, the same chairs, the same posters, the same wardrobe. I still resort to weed to feel whole again. I still resort to cigarettes to calm the shakes. I still wake up every morning feeling like shit after enduring the recurring nightmares again. Maybe he is right. What exactly is it that has changed?
[Silently she approaches the stereo system and switches it off, vanishing her favorite music and fading back into a lonely silence. With little else to do, after discarding the joint, she merely slides under the sheets and settles into bed for an earlier night than anticipated, but at this point, the only thing that she felt like doing, regardless of what awaited her in the unconscious world.]
He's right you know...
About the false promises...
Everything you do is futile...
Who are you kidding?
Nothing is changing...
You might as well step back in...
Let the memories consume you...
"No..."
There is no hope for you...
"NOOO!!!!!"
[Waken up by the sound of her own terror once again, Serbia refuses to muster the strength to pull herself out of bed. She doesn't want to get up, knowing that everything that she does is for nothing. She doesn't want to embark on her daily morning workout, knowing that she is hopeless. Or so she thought. Suddenly, there is a twinkle in her eye. Something catches her bloodshot eye. She struggles to focus with half of her face buried into the pillow, but finally she realizes the familiarity of the object sitting beside the bed. It is the gleam of the WCF television title belt. It is in fact a glimmer of hope, an inspiration to a damaged soul.]
There. Something new. Something different. Something that stands out. Something worth fighting for. Have I really changed? No. Not yet at least. But I am. It may be a slow process, but I am changing. My quest is changing me. I have something worth fighting for. I have something that I have already fought for, and I have something that I have earned, something that no one ever expected me to accomplish. The proof is in the gold. I am the TV champion. That means that I actually have a purpose. It is a reward for my efforts, as well as a statement to the world that I am far from finished. No, I haven't changed yet, but it has already started. Everything is changing, and everything is changing for the better...
[Motivated by this revelation, she manages to pull herself out of bed and manage her regular routine of a morning cigarette on the side of the bed, stripping down and changing into her irregular workout outfit, and customizing her hair and make-up to her common standard. She did not begin however without a gentle kiss on the television title belt, which has now become a symbol of hope for her. But before embarking on her long walk, she refreshes something that she did once before, still inspired by her recent revelation. After masking herself with her usual public attire, she switches on her laptop and activates her webcam. Positioning it in the exact same spot as before, she sits in the previous spot as before, staring deeply into the webcam as she throws another vanquished cigarette off screen. After letting the smoke sink in, and after blowing a long mist from her crimson lips, she finally addresses the camera.]
"No matter what you do, no matter how you feel, there is always someone looking to ruin everything for you. I'm not just talking about professional wrestling because quite frankly that is what the game is all about. No, I'm talking about life in general. Last night, I felt like I was on top of the world for once, but as quickly as I soared to the top of that mountain, thanks to a single individual with a few choice words, just as quickly, I came tumbling down head-first into the abyss below. It's like no matter what you do, the sacrifices that you make, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you want to prove it, and no matter how you actually prove it, it is never enough for these people. No matter how much you claim to have changed, these people will always look at you in the previous form, unwilling to believe that change actually exists in this world. And for a moment, I almost became one of these people..."
[She freezes for a moment, staring down at the floor, recollecting the events of the previous night, although her full memory is still a little hazy after being baked. She then resumes upon the remembrance of her earlier revelation.]
"But then I realized that all it takes is a little push. A little motivation. Something worth fighting for. And that's exactly what I have right here..."
[The light of the sun from the window then reflects off the gold plate of the television championship belt, which she suddenly pulls into view and drapes across her shoulder, gently caressing the plate with her black nails.]
"This title right here not only means that I belong somewhere, it doesn't just mean that my ability in the ring has been rewarded, it is a symbol of hope. A symbol of change. A few years ago, I was at my very lowest. I didn't want to breathe, I didn't want to move, I didn't want to live, not with everything that I've endured. But now look at me. Every week, I am proving the doubters wrong. Every week, my presence is becoming more and more significant. Every week, I am overcoming the odds and passing the obstacles. Every week, I grow stronger. Every week, I hold this belt high above my head. I am the WCF television champion, and I did not slumber in the darkness to obtain this title. Months of hard work and training, and since I've stepped foot here, I have dominated the opposition, and I do not plan on slowing down any time soon. I believe in change, but there's only one person who can make it happen, and that's me. This title means that I have changed for the better, and I plan to hold on to it for as long as I can. Whatever it takes..."
[The level of intensity suddenly fades slightly, although she maintains the similar level of confidence, something that has grown in her over the past couple of months.]
"But still the obstacles continue to come, and still the odds are stacked against me, but when it comes to change, there are always challenges to face to ensure that it truly happens, as well as to try and prevent it. But in case you haven't been paying attention these past couple of weeks, I'll say it again. The shit that I've been through, no longer do I linger on those nightmares. Now they drive me. They inspire me to be better. They motivate me to rise above and make something of myself. And as long as this driving force remains, I will continue to improve, and I will continue to defend. I have faced challenge after challenge, opponent after opponent, overcoming insurmountable odds, and yet here I stand, still your television champion, still fighting, and still facing the odds. Now, I face another opponent. A new opponent. Not three or four, but one. The last time I was in a singles match, I won this very title. Now I face a new challenger, one that is actually worthy for a one-on-one opportunity at this title. The self-proclaimed Shine, Brent Alpine..."
[She stops, still caressing the title belt around her shoulder, her eyes wander off screen for a moment as she thinks to herself, calculating what to say next. Her lips slightly twitch before speaking.]
"Upon hearing of my latest opponent, I presumed that he must be a worthy competitor to obtain a shot at my title alongside no one else. I've even heard through the grapevine of a new champion in the making. Of course at first, I thought to myself, not yet. I will be champion for a long time, I do not intend to lose this title anytime soon, but then I did some research. The man describes himself as a visionary, a culture vulture, a humanitarian. Obviously, all he is doing is blowing smoke, desperate for attention, a pompous asshole who wants nothing more than to have everyone else think highly of him. This Bruce Wayne-wannabe claims that he is out for gold, but unfortunately, he needs to realize that it takes more than desperate adoration to make something of yourself around here, as I've already proven, it takes hard work and determination. Professional wrestling is not a form of art to be adored. It is a way of life, and if you want to make a name for yourself in this business, you're going to have to do more than flaunt an Australian accent and portray an arrogant facade. This rambling idiot needs to realize that this is a serious business, and this week in Memphis, he is going to realize it when he steps into the ring with me..."
[She leans forward, her eyes now locked on the camera. The level of intensity has just risen once again.]
"You Alpine are a long way from home now, and no matter how sophisticated you claim to be, when you step into the ring with me, you will have to resort to some pretty drastic measures, because I have no problem in doing the same. Not that it can save you. In fact, I will take pleasure in humiliating a jackass like you. You are someone who needs to realize that all that nicey-nice trash needs to be left behind before you step into that ring. I trust that there is something more to you than this ridiculous vanity, but in order to make it out of this match with even the slightest beat in your heart, you will have no choice but to tap into that which you hide. But unfortunately, that will not be enough to ensure that you will walk out with my title in your hands. You don't need this win more than I do, and quite frankly, after what I saw at Payback, you are far from important enough to come anywhere near being a champion around here. After all, you barely made it out of your match with a cheap win at all. That Glow Worm move you perform, it was completely overshadowed by what occured after that match, your spotlight was stolen by another, an event that is bound to repeat itself as long as a rambling bore like you continues to mock this sport. Surprising how you managed to impress enough to be handed this title opportunity, but if it means another victim to be lured into the slaughter on my way to retribution, then I will be happy to oblige, and I will be happy to remind this oaf of the harsh reality of this industry..."
[She takes a slight pause, allowing her words to sink in.]
"Brent... Mate... I do not know how familiar you are with dingos, but let me ensure you, I am much worse. My light continues to grow brighter week by week, but I will take great pleasure in putting yours out. The Shine? Seriously? You are just a worthless speck, a pest, a flea that needs to be vanquished, a louse oblivious to its impending doom. You've lived in your little bubble of so-called class and aristocracy for long enough, you've had a smudge of success here so far, but now that you've been booked in a match with me, that's as far as you will go. Now that you have a shot at this title, you're going to have to kiss that bubble goodbye, because absolutely none of that is going to play a part in this match. I'm not exactly the most cultured individual, nor am I the most intellectual, nor the most sophisticated. But I love what I love, I love what I do, and I'll admit, that is the only thing that will never change. I love to smoke, I love to drink, I am passionate about the music I love, and above all else, I love to kick some ass, especially a pompous one like you. Like Onyx, like Fatel, like Fourchon, like Lassiter, and those that I have missed, you will fall as I continue to rise. Keep lining them up guys, I will knock them all down. Alpine, your shine is already fading, and I will vaporize what's left. Then there will be no shine. Only darkness for you. Only damnation for you. Only reality. Change is real, and this weekend, your bubble will pop, and there will be nothing left of you. Your fall shall be my ongoing rise. Your failure will be my salvation. Your loss shall be my redemption, and when all is said and done, I will be left standing, I will hold up my television title in victory, and I will be another step closer to completion..."
[She is about to finish, but she stops herself from reaching for the switch, remembering an encounter from the last event. She once again addresses the camera, this time removing the TV title belt from view as she shares a dire threat.]
"Before I take my leave, there is still something that I feel I must address, because quite frankly, this is not worth the effort to waste time on a frivolous social website. Lilith. You must be so proud of yourself after what you did at Payback. But you know what they say about paybacks don't you? I swear Lilith, that is the last time you will ever touch me, and that is the last time that you will call me by that degrading name. You have no idea what you're dealing with. When you play with fire, you will eventually burn yourself. I'm a lot worse than fire, and I'm certainly not as merciful. If you think of trying anything like that again, I will do a lot worse to you than I will to Alpine this weekend. But that certainly doesn't mean that I am going to go easy on you Brent. You're still a cretin that needs a reality check..."
[She leans forward again, glaring into the camera, this time with a wicked smirk on her lips as she closes.]
"So shut up and prepare yourself mate. This one's going to get ugly..."
[With that said, she switches the webcam off and resumes her morning routine. Placing the television title back in place, and now feeling refreshed after venting for her next match, an act that makes her mentally prepared for her latest challenge, she now readies herself to physically prepare herself for the task at hand. She places everything back to where it once was, particularly the laptop back under her bed, but as she made her way towards the door, she feels a vibration from the pocket of her customized running shorts. She reaches in and pulls out her cell phone, alerting her of a message from an anonymous caller.]
The beginning is ending. Our time is almost at hand. Be prepared...
A message. From her. I will make sure not to disappoint. It is only a matter of time now. I cannot back down now. I will do everything in my power...
[There is an unusual sensation that tickles her spine as she switches the cell phone back off and slides it back into her pocket before embarking on her walk. But the message still frolics around in her mind. Clearly, whoever has been sending these messages must have some significance in the life of Serbia. But only time will tell who this mysterious entity that continues to haunt her truly is and what connection she has with her. Only time will tell...]
Whatever it takes...
By the skin off my nose,
By the hair off my head,
Whatever it takes.
By the sweat from my brow,
By the breath that I gasp,
By the tears dried up inside,
Whatever it takes.
By the voice in my mind,
By the glimmer in my eye,
By the remnants of my soul,
Whatever it takes.
No matter who I face,
Those who stand in my way,
I will knock them all down,
Whatever it takes.
[The bruises refuse to heal. A champion's work is never done. Three men stood before her. Those same men fell before her. At long last, Serbia has found a purpose. At long last, she has something worth fighting for. But more importantly, at long last, she has something to celebrate.]
Victory. Defeat. Two complete opposites that separate the successful from the mere survivors. I've only had one title defense, but it still feels strange being on the opposite side. And it doesn't matter what others say, without actions, they are doomed to remain on a quest merely to survive this world until death finally decides to sweep them from the face of the earth. Without actions, you cannot back up your promises. Without actions, you will never achieve anything. Next time you set yourself a goal, make sure that you are willing to risk everything, and instead of whining about how fucked up everything is, do something about it. Shut up and step up. It still hurts inside, but dwelling on it only lures you further and further into the darkness. Believe me, I know. I just wish that the souls that I have crushed since my return now realize this, maybe they will actually make something of themselves, maybe they can actually make a statement, maybe they can make their pathetic lives worth something. That's what I'm doing. That's what this title means. I am finally a success. And wow. It feels great...
[Before you begin with the presumptions, no, this is not a social gathering. That is not what Serbia is about. Sitting alone in her bedroom back in New York, with nothing but an over-sized band t-shirt on, with her stereo system blaring with the music that she loves dearly, while wasting away with a joint in hand, one of her personal favorite delectations. Retaining the television championship, her first title defense, it was a moment worth celebrating. With her hair loose and free, she sat on the floor and spread her arms across the side of her bed, after a long inhale, and she tilts her head back, closing her eyes and letting the taste soothe her.]
This feels sooooooo gggrrrreeeeaaaatttt......
[The opportunity to disappear from reality, to escape the concept of time, the chance to hide from the demons she was constantly at war with. And after that, nothing. Nothing but silence. Nothing but calm, relaxing, soothing, irresistible silence. Working out heals the agony. Cigarettes settle the nerves. Alcohol fends off the nightmares. But marijuana does something different. Something that nothing else in this existence can do, or at least something that nothing else can do anymore. For years, Serbia has been shattered. Not just tired, but emotionally, as if her soul and spirit have been battered and destroyed into a billion pieces along with the physical harm she has sustained over the years. But when she gets high, when she takes off to a new level of inner satisfaction, for a few precious hours in her life, she feels whole again.]
The air... The clouds... Oh how they shroud... Hehehe that rhymes... Oh wow. The light... Suddenly those clouds don't seem so dark... The weather must be changing. Yes of course! I've changed too. I mean look at me! Look at that...
[Her vision is blurred, but something catches her eye. A familiar glisten from the top of her drawer.
I'm a champion. Still I'm in disbelief... But why? Don't I deserve it? Don't I deserve this prize? Didn't I bust my ass for such a grand reward? Well...maybe not grand... But still, yes of course I deserve it! I've beaten so many jackasses to get here... I've earned that shit! Oohhh mmmaaannnnnn...... This tune rocks so fucking hard! Let's turn that shit up!
[Her spirit is building. Her troubles are being forgotten. Her grim facade is fading. All temporary of course, but all regular effects of her favorite pastime. She tries to climb back to her feet, using the bed for leverage, but falls forward onto all fours, almost in an intoxicated manner. She instead struggles to reach the stereo from the floor, stretching out as far as possible, until she finally takes a hold of the nuzzle, spinning it all almost all the way. The volume of the music vastly increases as she finally reaches a vertical point, sitting on her knees with her chest out and her arms spread out, just in time to join in with the vocals.]
"Single out the kids who are mean to me... Getting straight A's but they still make fun... I don't give a, I'll last laugh! Staying at home every night... Do my homework so I'll be smart... The girls all say I'm a little fucked! Mommy I'm a good boy... Mommy I'm a fucking savior... MOMMY I'M ALIVE!"
[Then comes the break down, a pause of silence as the solo vocal makes its mark...as does Serbia, still going on word for word, at the top of her smoke-dampened lungs.]
"Mommy? Can I go out and... KILL TONIGHT!?"
[She takes another spin of the volume, this time spinning the nuzzle all the way, as she finally stumbles back to her feet, ready for the pace of the track to quicken. As it does, Serbia shifts along, head banging along with the music, even jumping up and down to the beat, almost as if she is starting a one-person mosh pit. Needless to say, this attracts the attention of an unwelcome visitor. Serbia is thrown off her groove by a loud banging on the front door. Even in her state, she instantly recognizes the familiar knock on the door, but she is reluctant to answer, knowing full well what awaits her on the other side. Finally, after the banging throws her off the music completely, Serbia has no choice but to turn down the music, not completely but enough to stop the cutlery in the kitchen from rattling, and after removing the evidence of the marijuana, she dusts herself off and ensures that her t-shirt covers the more private areas of the body, she answers the door and almost immediately hides her intoxicated smile behind a look of disdain.]
"What?"
[Behind the door stood a man, possibly in his early 20's, probably even just graduated from college. He didn't look the part of a partygoer, nor does he appear to have a social life, but he still looks rather fit, even though Serbia never really saw it. Brown bushy hair and a slight stubble, almost chizzled if it weren't for his habit of staying in all the time. He is seen wearing a pair of pants and a damp old shirt, the regular attire for an anti-social painter. As Serbia peeks her head out the door and glares at the man known only thus far as Luke, he returns the favor with a stern look of his own.]
"Do you have any idea what time it is?"
"Why? Do you?"
[Serbia and Luke never really got along, but then again, Luke has only been living next door to her for just over a year. Before then, she lived next to a mathematician, a middle-aged woman who she thoroughly enjoyed tormenting. Despite her history however, over the past year, Luke has proven to be bothersome himself, sharing a similar disliking to Serbia's passions.]
"Okay Shelly, I know you've had..."
"Whoa! Since when did I let you call me that?"
"Whatever. I know you've had some success lately. I've watched you on television. You're a great wrestler. But surely there's no need to resort to all this?"
"All what?"
"That awful music. The constant banging. And don't you think I know what you're smoking in there, I can smell it two floors up! I just thought that...with your success and all...maybe you'd move on from all this?"
"What's that supposed to mean? What do you think I've been doing? You have no idea what I've been through..."
"Yeah I know that. But all this? This isn't helping anyone, especially you. When are you going to change?"
[Serbia is speechless. The celebration has been ruined. With no retaliation, she quietly allows Luke to leave. She gently shuts the door behind her and stares vacantly at the floor. His words are truly sinking in. Since becoming a professional wrestler, she has been on a quest for redemption, to make something of herself and prove that she will not let life defeat her. She made a promise to step out of the shadows of her past and accomplish the goals she has set out for herself. But her lifestyle has barely changed. It is still the same pleasures that she indulges in. It is still the same nightmares that haunt her. It's even the same domain where she resided through the darkness of her life. What Luke said. When is she going to change? She thought she was, but after evaluating her room, spotting the ash tray on the desk, the burnt out joint on the side of her bed, the six pack on top of the refrigerator. An all too familiar sight.]
Maybe he's right. Wait, what am I saying? Am I actually agreeing with that douche? But look around. Everything looks the same. I may be a wrestler again, but nothing around here has changed. It's still the same bed, the same chairs, the same posters, the same wardrobe. I still resort to weed to feel whole again. I still resort to cigarettes to calm the shakes. I still wake up every morning feeling like shit after enduring the recurring nightmares again. Maybe he is right. What exactly is it that has changed?
[Silently she approaches the stereo system and switches it off, vanishing her favorite music and fading back into a lonely silence. With little else to do, after discarding the joint, she merely slides under the sheets and settles into bed for an earlier night than anticipated, but at this point, the only thing that she felt like doing, regardless of what awaited her in the unconscious world.]
He's right you know...
About the false promises...
Everything you do is futile...
Who are you kidding?
Nothing is changing...
You might as well step back in...
Let the memories consume you...
"No..."
There is no hope for you...
"NOOO!!!!!"
[Waken up by the sound of her own terror once again, Serbia refuses to muster the strength to pull herself out of bed. She doesn't want to get up, knowing that everything that she does is for nothing. She doesn't want to embark on her daily morning workout, knowing that she is hopeless. Or so she thought. Suddenly, there is a twinkle in her eye. Something catches her bloodshot eye. She struggles to focus with half of her face buried into the pillow, but finally she realizes the familiarity of the object sitting beside the bed. It is the gleam of the WCF television title belt. It is in fact a glimmer of hope, an inspiration to a damaged soul.]
There. Something new. Something different. Something that stands out. Something worth fighting for. Have I really changed? No. Not yet at least. But I am. It may be a slow process, but I am changing. My quest is changing me. I have something worth fighting for. I have something that I have already fought for, and I have something that I have earned, something that no one ever expected me to accomplish. The proof is in the gold. I am the TV champion. That means that I actually have a purpose. It is a reward for my efforts, as well as a statement to the world that I am far from finished. No, I haven't changed yet, but it has already started. Everything is changing, and everything is changing for the better...
[Motivated by this revelation, she manages to pull herself out of bed and manage her regular routine of a morning cigarette on the side of the bed, stripping down and changing into her irregular workout outfit, and customizing her hair and make-up to her common standard. She did not begin however without a gentle kiss on the television title belt, which has now become a symbol of hope for her. But before embarking on her long walk, she refreshes something that she did once before, still inspired by her recent revelation. After masking herself with her usual public attire, she switches on her laptop and activates her webcam. Positioning it in the exact same spot as before, she sits in the previous spot as before, staring deeply into the webcam as she throws another vanquished cigarette off screen. After letting the smoke sink in, and after blowing a long mist from her crimson lips, she finally addresses the camera.]
"No matter what you do, no matter how you feel, there is always someone looking to ruin everything for you. I'm not just talking about professional wrestling because quite frankly that is what the game is all about. No, I'm talking about life in general. Last night, I felt like I was on top of the world for once, but as quickly as I soared to the top of that mountain, thanks to a single individual with a few choice words, just as quickly, I came tumbling down head-first into the abyss below. It's like no matter what you do, the sacrifices that you make, no matter how hard you try, no matter how much you want to prove it, and no matter how you actually prove it, it is never enough for these people. No matter how much you claim to have changed, these people will always look at you in the previous form, unwilling to believe that change actually exists in this world. And for a moment, I almost became one of these people..."
[She freezes for a moment, staring down at the floor, recollecting the events of the previous night, although her full memory is still a little hazy after being baked. She then resumes upon the remembrance of her earlier revelation.]
"But then I realized that all it takes is a little push. A little motivation. Something worth fighting for. And that's exactly what I have right here..."
[The light of the sun from the window then reflects off the gold plate of the television championship belt, which she suddenly pulls into view and drapes across her shoulder, gently caressing the plate with her black nails.]
"This title right here not only means that I belong somewhere, it doesn't just mean that my ability in the ring has been rewarded, it is a symbol of hope. A symbol of change. A few years ago, I was at my very lowest. I didn't want to breathe, I didn't want to move, I didn't want to live, not with everything that I've endured. But now look at me. Every week, I am proving the doubters wrong. Every week, my presence is becoming more and more significant. Every week, I am overcoming the odds and passing the obstacles. Every week, I grow stronger. Every week, I hold this belt high above my head. I am the WCF television champion, and I did not slumber in the darkness to obtain this title. Months of hard work and training, and since I've stepped foot here, I have dominated the opposition, and I do not plan on slowing down any time soon. I believe in change, but there's only one person who can make it happen, and that's me. This title means that I have changed for the better, and I plan to hold on to it for as long as I can. Whatever it takes..."
[The level of intensity suddenly fades slightly, although she maintains the similar level of confidence, something that has grown in her over the past couple of months.]
"But still the obstacles continue to come, and still the odds are stacked against me, but when it comes to change, there are always challenges to face to ensure that it truly happens, as well as to try and prevent it. But in case you haven't been paying attention these past couple of weeks, I'll say it again. The shit that I've been through, no longer do I linger on those nightmares. Now they drive me. They inspire me to be better. They motivate me to rise above and make something of myself. And as long as this driving force remains, I will continue to improve, and I will continue to defend. I have faced challenge after challenge, opponent after opponent, overcoming insurmountable odds, and yet here I stand, still your television champion, still fighting, and still facing the odds. Now, I face another opponent. A new opponent. Not three or four, but one. The last time I was in a singles match, I won this very title. Now I face a new challenger, one that is actually worthy for a one-on-one opportunity at this title. The self-proclaimed Shine, Brent Alpine..."
[She stops, still caressing the title belt around her shoulder, her eyes wander off screen for a moment as she thinks to herself, calculating what to say next. Her lips slightly twitch before speaking.]
"Upon hearing of my latest opponent, I presumed that he must be a worthy competitor to obtain a shot at my title alongside no one else. I've even heard through the grapevine of a new champion in the making. Of course at first, I thought to myself, not yet. I will be champion for a long time, I do not intend to lose this title anytime soon, but then I did some research. The man describes himself as a visionary, a culture vulture, a humanitarian. Obviously, all he is doing is blowing smoke, desperate for attention, a pompous asshole who wants nothing more than to have everyone else think highly of him. This Bruce Wayne-wannabe claims that he is out for gold, but unfortunately, he needs to realize that it takes more than desperate adoration to make something of yourself around here, as I've already proven, it takes hard work and determination. Professional wrestling is not a form of art to be adored. It is a way of life, and if you want to make a name for yourself in this business, you're going to have to do more than flaunt an Australian accent and portray an arrogant facade. This rambling idiot needs to realize that this is a serious business, and this week in Memphis, he is going to realize it when he steps into the ring with me..."
[She leans forward, her eyes now locked on the camera. The level of intensity has just risen once again.]
"You Alpine are a long way from home now, and no matter how sophisticated you claim to be, when you step into the ring with me, you will have to resort to some pretty drastic measures, because I have no problem in doing the same. Not that it can save you. In fact, I will take pleasure in humiliating a jackass like you. You are someone who needs to realize that all that nicey-nice trash needs to be left behind before you step into that ring. I trust that there is something more to you than this ridiculous vanity, but in order to make it out of this match with even the slightest beat in your heart, you will have no choice but to tap into that which you hide. But unfortunately, that will not be enough to ensure that you will walk out with my title in your hands. You don't need this win more than I do, and quite frankly, after what I saw at Payback, you are far from important enough to come anywhere near being a champion around here. After all, you barely made it out of your match with a cheap win at all. That Glow Worm move you perform, it was completely overshadowed by what occured after that match, your spotlight was stolen by another, an event that is bound to repeat itself as long as a rambling bore like you continues to mock this sport. Surprising how you managed to impress enough to be handed this title opportunity, but if it means another victim to be lured into the slaughter on my way to retribution, then I will be happy to oblige, and I will be happy to remind this oaf of the harsh reality of this industry..."
[She takes a slight pause, allowing her words to sink in.]
"Brent... Mate... I do not know how familiar you are with dingos, but let me ensure you, I am much worse. My light continues to grow brighter week by week, but I will take great pleasure in putting yours out. The Shine? Seriously? You are just a worthless speck, a pest, a flea that needs to be vanquished, a louse oblivious to its impending doom. You've lived in your little bubble of so-called class and aristocracy for long enough, you've had a smudge of success here so far, but now that you've been booked in a match with me, that's as far as you will go. Now that you have a shot at this title, you're going to have to kiss that bubble goodbye, because absolutely none of that is going to play a part in this match. I'm not exactly the most cultured individual, nor am I the most intellectual, nor the most sophisticated. But I love what I love, I love what I do, and I'll admit, that is the only thing that will never change. I love to smoke, I love to drink, I am passionate about the music I love, and above all else, I love to kick some ass, especially a pompous one like you. Like Onyx, like Fatel, like Fourchon, like Lassiter, and those that I have missed, you will fall as I continue to rise. Keep lining them up guys, I will knock them all down. Alpine, your shine is already fading, and I will vaporize what's left. Then there will be no shine. Only darkness for you. Only damnation for you. Only reality. Change is real, and this weekend, your bubble will pop, and there will be nothing left of you. Your fall shall be my ongoing rise. Your failure will be my salvation. Your loss shall be my redemption, and when all is said and done, I will be left standing, I will hold up my television title in victory, and I will be another step closer to completion..."
[She is about to finish, but she stops herself from reaching for the switch, remembering an encounter from the last event. She once again addresses the camera, this time removing the TV title belt from view as she shares a dire threat.]
"Before I take my leave, there is still something that I feel I must address, because quite frankly, this is not worth the effort to waste time on a frivolous social website. Lilith. You must be so proud of yourself after what you did at Payback. But you know what they say about paybacks don't you? I swear Lilith, that is the last time you will ever touch me, and that is the last time that you will call me by that degrading name. You have no idea what you're dealing with. When you play with fire, you will eventually burn yourself. I'm a lot worse than fire, and I'm certainly not as merciful. If you think of trying anything like that again, I will do a lot worse to you than I will to Alpine this weekend. But that certainly doesn't mean that I am going to go easy on you Brent. You're still a cretin that needs a reality check..."
[She leans forward again, glaring into the camera, this time with a wicked smirk on her lips as she closes.]
"So shut up and prepare yourself mate. This one's going to get ugly..."
[With that said, she switches the webcam off and resumes her morning routine. Placing the television title back in place, and now feeling refreshed after venting for her next match, an act that makes her mentally prepared for her latest challenge, she now readies herself to physically prepare herself for the task at hand. She places everything back to where it once was, particularly the laptop back under her bed, but as she made her way towards the door, she feels a vibration from the pocket of her customized running shorts. She reaches in and pulls out her cell phone, alerting her of a message from an anonymous caller.]
The beginning is ending. Our time is almost at hand. Be prepared...
A message. From her. I will make sure not to disappoint. It is only a matter of time now. I cannot back down now. I will do everything in my power...
[There is an unusual sensation that tickles her spine as she switches the cell phone back off and slides it back into her pocket before embarking on her walk. But the message still frolics around in her mind. Clearly, whoever has been sending these messages must have some significance in the life of Serbia. But only time will tell who this mysterious entity that continues to haunt her truly is and what connection she has with her. Only time will tell...]
Whatever it takes...
