Last Known Survivor (F15teen RP 2)
Jan 31, 2016 14:13:24 GMT -5
Logan, Doc Henry, and 2 more like this
Post by Bonnie Blue on Jan 31, 2016 14:13:24 GMT -5
The camera focuses in on a delicate, feminine face, cheeks kissed with the blush of youth. But her blue-green eyes blaze with cold fury, pink lips compressed into a tight line.
Bonnie Blue: I will not be taken lightly, gentlemen. At your own peril, you dismiss me. Among you, only two actually man enough to speak of me without blatant disrespect -- and those, the biggest womanizers in this company, aside from Bobby Cairo. There is somethin' fundamentally wrong here.
A slow retreat, widening the frame to show Bonnie perched atop a ladder; illuminated by an offset spotlight. Everything behind her is cast in deepest shadow.
Bonnie Blue: Are y'all really so blind? So petty? Each an' every one of y'all has disregarded my achievements as somehow irrelevant. Because I didn't rise to superstardom overnight? Let me tell y'all somethin'. This is Twenty-Sixteen. S'posed to be all progressive an' enlightened -- but it's still hell on a woman in this business; everythin' a man can expect as a matter of course, i gotta fight twice as hard to prove myself worthy of.
Like when I had to fight two men --
She jabs two fingers into the air, the back of her hand facing outward, to emphasize her words.
Bonnie Blue: -- just to have the opportunity to grace the Final Destination match with my presence. Do y'all honestly think I fought that hard to come this far, an' then just what? Suddenly lose heart? No.
A short, sardonic laugh escapes through a mocking smile.
Bonnie Blue: No, no, no. Y'see, Spencer, y'had a point. 'Bout that TV Title, an' how I keep on failin' to obtain it. Now, I could be a cunt an' say I didn't really want it anyway. That's what you'd do, ain't it? Like that little douchebag, Lucious Starr, kept claimin' he lost to Rebellution on purpose.
She rolls her eyes at the recollection.
Bonnie Blue: I'll take "People Who Make #BeachKrew Look Virtuous" for two-hundred, Alex. 'Cause, see, there's the flaw in your reasonin' -- thinkin' that there was ever a legit shot at that Television Title in the first place. That first time, with AJ, sure. An' that was the time Oblivion took it upon hisself to knock AJ out with a chair an' get me disqualified. But how 'bout that only time I went one on one with Leave it to Beaver? Y'know, when he straight up tried to murder me? But you're an egocentric dick, you don't watch my matches, I get it. How else would you be so ill-informed?
You talk all this shit about how I ain't got what it takes to be in the ring with Wade Moor. Wade Moor, who's been duckin' me every single week; who refuses to give me one tiny, little, insignificant match. Wade Moor, who masterminded a pretense to alter a tag match into a handicap match; myself against the World Champ and the Monster, Oblivion. How'd that come out again?
The Daughter of Time pauses, pretending to think it over.
Bonnie Blue: Oh! Right! I fucking won -- against two of the biggest motherfuckers in the WCF, bitch! An' then you bring up how I had to earn my spot in this upcomin' enterprise, like it's a negative thing? Yeah, I proved my worth to the entire WCF Galaxy. You just admitted all you're doin' is ridin' your own momentum. Well, let me tell ya somethin', Spencer For Hire... entropy's gonna catch up with you, so enjoy that momentum while ya got it. 'Cause I'm puttin' a stop to it at Final Destination. That World Title shot is mine.
The fire in her eyes smolders; two blue stars shining against a pale sky, marking the turn of her thoughts.
Bonnie Blue: Fifteen years, this company has lived, an' breathed, an' changed; a livin' thing, the WCF. Torn asunder a dozen times, an' rebuilt stronger with each demolition. This is not a celebration of a company. Not a testament to the will, the fortitude, the business acumen of Seth Lerch. No, not solely those things. Fifteen encompasses and transcends all that to become a monument to immortality. The Wrestlin' Championship Federation is a force of nature in its own right; it touches us each, changes us at our core; reveals us to ourselves.
Here, truth an' fantasy collide. Fact an' fiction, but two sides of the same coin. It is my greatest honor to be included in the event at all -- let alone this partic'lar match. An' with no less a competitor than the cornerstone; the man who helped form the reality of WCF from the void, Logan. A man so well-known, he needs no name but one.
Another smile, more sincere this time, settles on her lips.
Bonnie Blue: I was, perhaps, too hasty in my assessment of you, Logan. One hears the rumors, you know. You've been a hot mess for years. You've achieved a level of depravity an' vulgarity to which Charlie Sheen could only hope to aspire. Good gods, man, you ran 'round in a hot dog costume at one point, from what I been given to understand. An' in spite of all that, there's somethin' beneath that crazed, addled exterior that's kinda appealin'.
But if ya think I'm gonna be a pushover, Logan, or that I'm gonna stay outta your way 'cause you're the ol' stallion come back to reclaim your place in the herd, you got another think comin'. I don't care who y'are, how important ya used to be. I don't care how much pull ya got with Mr. Lerch. I have fought tooth an' nail for every inch of ground I've gained, an' I'll be goddamned if'n I'm gonna let ya take this away from me for the sake of nostalgia.
Bonnie's brow furrows slightly.
Bonnie Blue: I gotta wonder... which Logan are we gettin', come Sunday night? This new, mature an' contemplative Logan -- the king in exile, our very own Aragorn, come to restore light, to banish the dark. A man who's finally laid his demons to rest, after all these years. I fervently hope it's true, Logan; but hist'ry has a tendency to repeat itself.
Don't mistake me, Logan. I see the same problems you do; an' if you still wanna have that sit-down after the dust clears, I'm ya girl. That's then. First we deal with this shit. Just 'cause I got mad respect for what you built here, that don't mean I'm not gonna unleash my entire arsenal. I will do everythin' in my power to get to the top of that ladder. For one night, freed the constraints of rules, I will rain destruction like an avatar of Kali Herself on any man who crosses my path!
Her fist clenches; and at that moment, the camera lens picks up a refraction that gives the illusion of a multitude of arms, just for an instant. Then the angle shifts and the illusion fades.
Bonnie Blue: That's not just a World Title shot on the line -- that's a World Title shot, guaranteed, whenever I choose to claim it. A Sword of Damocles to dangle over the current Champion's head, were I inclined to such vexations. A single, shining moment of triumph given physical form; next best thing to the belt itself. An' when I walk out of that Final Destination match victorious, won't be no more comparin' me with ol' Johnny Reb.
The young woman's expression hardens, the fires cooling, as her lip curls just perceptibly.
Bonnie Blue: There's folks who wanna say I ain't nothin' but Reb's... echo. A ghost of the past, with no place in the present. Maybe I was, once. I was lost -- first, literally lost in time an' space -- then, in a metaphorical sense. When I wound up here, my own past utterly annihilated; my future bleak an' meanin'less... It was the WCF that saved me. Gave me purpose again. Gave me a chance. That one chance was all I needed... an' from that first moment under those lights, the fans embraced me. I knew then, whatever else I mighta been, this is what I was born to do.
This is my chance to escape, at last, the shadow of my predecessor. To finally carve my own niche, to be recognized for who I am rather than who my father was. Johnny Reb's legacy doesn't end with his apotheosis. Like Kyle Rayner, I am the torchbearer; and from the ashes I will build anew.
Johnny Reb is then; Bonnie Blue is now. But y'all refuse, still, to see it.
A tightening of her jaw, passion reignited.
Bonnie Blue: Y'all perceive me as no more than a petty annoyance. But if I'm so damned irrelevant, how am I even in this match? Why would Seth Lerch -- demented as he may be -- let me anywhere near so prestigious an opportunity, when there are others who have striven longer, an' might arguably be more deservin'?
I'm the only competitor in this match who ain't had a single title yet. Y'all think that makes me less than all of you.
She shakes her head.
Bonnie Blue: What it makes me, gentlemen, is focused an' driven. More than ever. I've had the TV Title dangled in front of me four fucking times! An' every time, yes, I fell short. Now I've got a chance at the highest prize in this comp'ny -- in the world! -- an' y'all think I'm gonna let that slip through my fingers, too...
Not this time. This one night allows -- even calls for -- savage brutality; that's a side of Bonnie Blue y'all ain't often seen. Because there's lines I won't cross, not even for gold. I'm not like Spencer Adams, hidin' behind a facade of righteousness while I wait for an excuse reveal an altogether uglier truth. Yeah, Spence, ya got under my skin. Now I want your hide more'n I wanted Rabid's. He ain't goin' anywhere in a hurry. But you, Spencey-boy... your witty observations on my shortcomin's got me all riled up. I hope that's what ya wanted. Maybe if I introduce my fist to your throat, you'll learn to check your facts before you go runnin' your mouth.
I reckon it ain't fair to just blame Spencer. Least he had the balls to say somethin', even if it was ninety percent bullshit. Bein' generally ignored is what got me riled up. The Oakland Mack's entire comment on my participation was somethin' about how he'd "knock my sweet ass out." That's nice of ya to say, Mr. Orbit, but let's face it -- I could use a little more paddin' back there; an' if'n ya think that's the part of my anatomy subject to bein' knocked out, I'd have to question your qualifications as a practitioner of the fightin' arts.
For the first time, Bonnie offers the camera a grin.
Bonnie Blue: I hope ya won't take it personal, whatever might happen in that ring. Ain't necessarily my intention to cause you no harm, Mr. Orbit, but the second you put yourself in my path, you're an obstacle to be removed. I won't tell ya to stay outta my way; you're too seasoned a veteran, too great a ...legend.
An' speakin' of old men, Gravedigger himself decides to Steve Corino his way into this match for one last shot at glory. Couple of years ago, I'd have worried. I mean, we're talkin' 'bout a guy who once demanded -- and got -- his own, personal taco stand at ringside. If that ain't the height of slothfulness, I don't know what is. I'm sure I could find a dozen things to say on the subject, but nothin' anyone else ain't already said, an' probably better. I don't have the long hist'ry with Gravedigger some folks do, like Logan or Orbit. I know his opinion of me, he makes that plain enough in commentary week after week.
Bottom line is, Gravedigger's wrestlin' career is long since done. He shoulda stayed at the broadcast table where his big ass belongs.
The camera moves near again, centering Bonnie in the frame, her expression one of cool determination.
Bonnie Blue: We meet at Fifteen, equals when the bell rings. And I alone depart exalted...
From off-camera a voice yells "Cut!" and the scene goes black.
The hewn walls of the vast cavern glow with their own phosphorescence to highlight the stalactites dripping from a cathedral ceiling; rivulets of stone like melted candles on a gargantuan scale. Below, on the smooth stone floor, is a twenty-by-twenty square of half-inch thick mats. Bonnie Blue and Johnny Reb face one another across the intervening space, while Chuy and Brian Setzer look on.
Johnny Reb: You talk a good game, girl, but can ya back it up? Can ya be as vicious, as savage as you'll need to be to win this match?
Bonnie Blue: Ya bet your ass I can!
He looks her over, head to toe, an imperious expression on his face.
Johnny Reb: Show me.
Bonnie launches herself at Reb, who catches her and efficiently executes a hip toss, leaving the young woman on her back. He reaches down to help her up; Bonnie grasps his hand and allows him to pull her to her feet. Without letting go, she wrenches him into an armbar. Johnny's response is a kick to the back of her leg that forces her to release the hold as she drops to one knee. He paces a wide circle around her, lip curled into a sneer of derision.
Johnny Reb: Some warrior. Get up!
Glaring at him, she rises to her feet, rubbing the spot where he'd kicked her. That look -- something about his demeanor reminds her of -- No. That's over with.
Johnny Reb: Again.
Bonnie obliges, rushing him once more. This time, he knocks her back with a well-placed forearm. She stays on her feet and approaches again, cautious now, and more subtle. She feints left, ducks under his reach, and fires a knee into his midsection. With Reb doubled over, Bonnie throws an arm around his neck and plants him with a DDT. Satisfied, Bonnie stands and starts to walk away -- when Reb grabs her ankle and pulls her down. In an instant, he's on top of her, raining down a flurry of punches.
In that same instant, her mind is cast back, and once more, her vision is filled with spaceborne flotsam, the bodies of the dead drifting alongside pieces of lifeless machinery; expressions of terror on the artificially aged faces of her former friends and classmates. She feels again the initial shock of the discovery. Rage and despair war for dominance, a welling of emotion she couldn't process then, had buried deep in the interest of survival. Now it hits her with full, unadulterated force. Bonnie snaps back to the moment and knocks Reb in the head with an elbow, then shoves him off.
She stands, takes a steadying breath, and stalks the Inveterate Confederate. Her mind conjures recollections, unbidden, of the Dark Timekeeper, of her time as his captive; a shudder of revulsion courses through her body and she forces the memories back into the depths of her subconscious. By the time she's regained control, Reb is on his feet and closing with her. They tie up in a classic collar-and-elbow.
Johnny Reb: Come on, Bonnie... stop holdin' back!
For answer, she kicks his legs and follows up with a wild haymaker. Reb dodges easily, unimpressed, and counters with an armdrag. He plants a knee on Bonnie's chest.
Johnny Reb: What're ya gonna do when you're face-to-face with Johnny Rabid? You wanted to pick a fight with him, you know what he's capable of. Is it any wonder he doesn't think you're a threat? He could erase you with a single word. You'd be no more'n an afterthought. Just 'cause you whooped Oblivion don't make ya the toughest bitch in the pack.
Gritting her teeth, Bonnie struggles to dislodge Reb.
Johnny Reb: Ain't me y'oughta be mad at. You wanted this -- you better rise to the occasion. You're gonna need more'n a couple of fancy moves an' a chip on your shoulder to get through this. Time to dig deep, Bonnie Blue. Time to show me what ya really got...
A sudden warmth begins around Bonnie's midsection and spreads until it encompasses her body in a coccoon, a subtle glowing aura of silvery light. And Johnny Reb's weight is at once negligible. She pushes him aside as easily as if he were made of air. In fact, there is an insubstantial quality to everything around her; the others are nearly motionless, caught in a field of dilated time. An instant later, Johnny Reb shakes off the effects of the phenomenon, though their friends remain suspended in slow motion.
Johnny Reb: That. That's what you tap into. That's what you keep with you, here.
He taps on his chest.
Johnny Reb: Remember how this feels. Now that your powers have awakened, you're vulnerable. Won't be long 'fore someone else catches on, maybe start thinkin' they can take advantage. You're gonna have to learn to use your abilities, an' quick.
The young woman frowns. This is an extra complication she doesn't need.
Bonnie Blue: I don't care 'bout that right now. What I care about is Fifteen, Final Destination, an' gettin' that title shot.
Reb breaks into a wide grin.
Johnny Reb: You just remember everythin' I told ya about ladder matches, an' you'll do fine. Now...
He waves a hand, nullifying the time dilation effects. Chuy and Brian Setzer don't seem to realize anything has happened.
Johnny Reb: Get out there, kick some ass, an' start buildin' your own legacy.
And the Bell of Time is thrice struck before Bonnie can even react. Everything becomes a colorless blur for the barest instant before she finds herself deposited just outside the Wells Fargo Center, as the sound of the third strike fades away. With every beat of her heart, anticipation builds, and she gazes ahead, entranced as she moves toward the doors. A whisper comes to her lips, like a prayer, uttered on the threshold of fate.
Bonnie Blue: Deo vindice...
Bonnie Blue: I will not be taken lightly, gentlemen. At your own peril, you dismiss me. Among you, only two actually man enough to speak of me without blatant disrespect -- and those, the biggest womanizers in this company, aside from Bobby Cairo. There is somethin' fundamentally wrong here.
A slow retreat, widening the frame to show Bonnie perched atop a ladder; illuminated by an offset spotlight. Everything behind her is cast in deepest shadow.
Bonnie Blue: Are y'all really so blind? So petty? Each an' every one of y'all has disregarded my achievements as somehow irrelevant. Because I didn't rise to superstardom overnight? Let me tell y'all somethin'. This is Twenty-Sixteen. S'posed to be all progressive an' enlightened -- but it's still hell on a woman in this business; everythin' a man can expect as a matter of course, i gotta fight twice as hard to prove myself worthy of.
Like when I had to fight two men --
She jabs two fingers into the air, the back of her hand facing outward, to emphasize her words.
Bonnie Blue: -- just to have the opportunity to grace the Final Destination match with my presence. Do y'all honestly think I fought that hard to come this far, an' then just what? Suddenly lose heart? No.
A short, sardonic laugh escapes through a mocking smile.
Bonnie Blue: No, no, no. Y'see, Spencer, y'had a point. 'Bout that TV Title, an' how I keep on failin' to obtain it. Now, I could be a cunt an' say I didn't really want it anyway. That's what you'd do, ain't it? Like that little douchebag, Lucious Starr, kept claimin' he lost to Rebellution on purpose.
She rolls her eyes at the recollection.
Bonnie Blue: I'll take "People Who Make #BeachKrew Look Virtuous" for two-hundred, Alex. 'Cause, see, there's the flaw in your reasonin' -- thinkin' that there was ever a legit shot at that Television Title in the first place. That first time, with AJ, sure. An' that was the time Oblivion took it upon hisself to knock AJ out with a chair an' get me disqualified. But how 'bout that only time I went one on one with Leave it to Beaver? Y'know, when he straight up tried to murder me? But you're an egocentric dick, you don't watch my matches, I get it. How else would you be so ill-informed?
You talk all this shit about how I ain't got what it takes to be in the ring with Wade Moor. Wade Moor, who's been duckin' me every single week; who refuses to give me one tiny, little, insignificant match. Wade Moor, who masterminded a pretense to alter a tag match into a handicap match; myself against the World Champ and the Monster, Oblivion. How'd that come out again?
The Daughter of Time pauses, pretending to think it over.
Bonnie Blue: Oh! Right! I fucking won -- against two of the biggest motherfuckers in the WCF, bitch! An' then you bring up how I had to earn my spot in this upcomin' enterprise, like it's a negative thing? Yeah, I proved my worth to the entire WCF Galaxy. You just admitted all you're doin' is ridin' your own momentum. Well, let me tell ya somethin', Spencer For Hire... entropy's gonna catch up with you, so enjoy that momentum while ya got it. 'Cause I'm puttin' a stop to it at Final Destination. That World Title shot is mine.
The fire in her eyes smolders; two blue stars shining against a pale sky, marking the turn of her thoughts.
Bonnie Blue: Fifteen years, this company has lived, an' breathed, an' changed; a livin' thing, the WCF. Torn asunder a dozen times, an' rebuilt stronger with each demolition. This is not a celebration of a company. Not a testament to the will, the fortitude, the business acumen of Seth Lerch. No, not solely those things. Fifteen encompasses and transcends all that to become a monument to immortality. The Wrestlin' Championship Federation is a force of nature in its own right; it touches us each, changes us at our core; reveals us to ourselves.
Here, truth an' fantasy collide. Fact an' fiction, but two sides of the same coin. It is my greatest honor to be included in the event at all -- let alone this partic'lar match. An' with no less a competitor than the cornerstone; the man who helped form the reality of WCF from the void, Logan. A man so well-known, he needs no name but one.
Another smile, more sincere this time, settles on her lips.
Bonnie Blue: I was, perhaps, too hasty in my assessment of you, Logan. One hears the rumors, you know. You've been a hot mess for years. You've achieved a level of depravity an' vulgarity to which Charlie Sheen could only hope to aspire. Good gods, man, you ran 'round in a hot dog costume at one point, from what I been given to understand. An' in spite of all that, there's somethin' beneath that crazed, addled exterior that's kinda appealin'.
But if ya think I'm gonna be a pushover, Logan, or that I'm gonna stay outta your way 'cause you're the ol' stallion come back to reclaim your place in the herd, you got another think comin'. I don't care who y'are, how important ya used to be. I don't care how much pull ya got with Mr. Lerch. I have fought tooth an' nail for every inch of ground I've gained, an' I'll be goddamned if'n I'm gonna let ya take this away from me for the sake of nostalgia.
Bonnie's brow furrows slightly.
Bonnie Blue: I gotta wonder... which Logan are we gettin', come Sunday night? This new, mature an' contemplative Logan -- the king in exile, our very own Aragorn, come to restore light, to banish the dark. A man who's finally laid his demons to rest, after all these years. I fervently hope it's true, Logan; but hist'ry has a tendency to repeat itself.
Don't mistake me, Logan. I see the same problems you do; an' if you still wanna have that sit-down after the dust clears, I'm ya girl. That's then. First we deal with this shit. Just 'cause I got mad respect for what you built here, that don't mean I'm not gonna unleash my entire arsenal. I will do everythin' in my power to get to the top of that ladder. For one night, freed the constraints of rules, I will rain destruction like an avatar of Kali Herself on any man who crosses my path!
Her fist clenches; and at that moment, the camera lens picks up a refraction that gives the illusion of a multitude of arms, just for an instant. Then the angle shifts and the illusion fades.
Bonnie Blue: That's not just a World Title shot on the line -- that's a World Title shot, guaranteed, whenever I choose to claim it. A Sword of Damocles to dangle over the current Champion's head, were I inclined to such vexations. A single, shining moment of triumph given physical form; next best thing to the belt itself. An' when I walk out of that Final Destination match victorious, won't be no more comparin' me with ol' Johnny Reb.
The young woman's expression hardens, the fires cooling, as her lip curls just perceptibly.
Bonnie Blue: There's folks who wanna say I ain't nothin' but Reb's... echo. A ghost of the past, with no place in the present. Maybe I was, once. I was lost -- first, literally lost in time an' space -- then, in a metaphorical sense. When I wound up here, my own past utterly annihilated; my future bleak an' meanin'less... It was the WCF that saved me. Gave me purpose again. Gave me a chance. That one chance was all I needed... an' from that first moment under those lights, the fans embraced me. I knew then, whatever else I mighta been, this is what I was born to do.
This is my chance to escape, at last, the shadow of my predecessor. To finally carve my own niche, to be recognized for who I am rather than who my father was. Johnny Reb's legacy doesn't end with his apotheosis. Like Kyle Rayner, I am the torchbearer; and from the ashes I will build anew.
Johnny Reb is then; Bonnie Blue is now. But y'all refuse, still, to see it.
A tightening of her jaw, passion reignited.
Bonnie Blue: Y'all perceive me as no more than a petty annoyance. But if I'm so damned irrelevant, how am I even in this match? Why would Seth Lerch -- demented as he may be -- let me anywhere near so prestigious an opportunity, when there are others who have striven longer, an' might arguably be more deservin'?
I'm the only competitor in this match who ain't had a single title yet. Y'all think that makes me less than all of you.
She shakes her head.
Bonnie Blue: What it makes me, gentlemen, is focused an' driven. More than ever. I've had the TV Title dangled in front of me four fucking times! An' every time, yes, I fell short. Now I've got a chance at the highest prize in this comp'ny -- in the world! -- an' y'all think I'm gonna let that slip through my fingers, too...
Not this time. This one night allows -- even calls for -- savage brutality; that's a side of Bonnie Blue y'all ain't often seen. Because there's lines I won't cross, not even for gold. I'm not like Spencer Adams, hidin' behind a facade of righteousness while I wait for an excuse reveal an altogether uglier truth. Yeah, Spence, ya got under my skin. Now I want your hide more'n I wanted Rabid's. He ain't goin' anywhere in a hurry. But you, Spencey-boy... your witty observations on my shortcomin's got me all riled up. I hope that's what ya wanted. Maybe if I introduce my fist to your throat, you'll learn to check your facts before you go runnin' your mouth.
I reckon it ain't fair to just blame Spencer. Least he had the balls to say somethin', even if it was ninety percent bullshit. Bein' generally ignored is what got me riled up. The Oakland Mack's entire comment on my participation was somethin' about how he'd "knock my sweet ass out." That's nice of ya to say, Mr. Orbit, but let's face it -- I could use a little more paddin' back there; an' if'n ya think that's the part of my anatomy subject to bein' knocked out, I'd have to question your qualifications as a practitioner of the fightin' arts.
For the first time, Bonnie offers the camera a grin.
Bonnie Blue: I hope ya won't take it personal, whatever might happen in that ring. Ain't necessarily my intention to cause you no harm, Mr. Orbit, but the second you put yourself in my path, you're an obstacle to be removed. I won't tell ya to stay outta my way; you're too seasoned a veteran, too great a ...legend.
An' speakin' of old men, Gravedigger himself decides to Steve Corino his way into this match for one last shot at glory. Couple of years ago, I'd have worried. I mean, we're talkin' 'bout a guy who once demanded -- and got -- his own, personal taco stand at ringside. If that ain't the height of slothfulness, I don't know what is. I'm sure I could find a dozen things to say on the subject, but nothin' anyone else ain't already said, an' probably better. I don't have the long hist'ry with Gravedigger some folks do, like Logan or Orbit. I know his opinion of me, he makes that plain enough in commentary week after week.
Bottom line is, Gravedigger's wrestlin' career is long since done. He shoulda stayed at the broadcast table where his big ass belongs.
The camera moves near again, centering Bonnie in the frame, her expression one of cool determination.
Bonnie Blue: We meet at Fifteen, equals when the bell rings. And I alone depart exalted...
From off-camera a voice yells "Cut!" and the scene goes black.
===========================================================================
Rock of Ages, Abode of the Timekeeper
Yesterday
The hewn walls of the vast cavern glow with their own phosphorescence to highlight the stalactites dripping from a cathedral ceiling; rivulets of stone like melted candles on a gargantuan scale. Below, on the smooth stone floor, is a twenty-by-twenty square of half-inch thick mats. Bonnie Blue and Johnny Reb face one another across the intervening space, while Chuy and Brian Setzer look on.
Johnny Reb: You talk a good game, girl, but can ya back it up? Can ya be as vicious, as savage as you'll need to be to win this match?
Bonnie Blue: Ya bet your ass I can!
He looks her over, head to toe, an imperious expression on his face.
Johnny Reb: Show me.
Bonnie launches herself at Reb, who catches her and efficiently executes a hip toss, leaving the young woman on her back. He reaches down to help her up; Bonnie grasps his hand and allows him to pull her to her feet. Without letting go, she wrenches him into an armbar. Johnny's response is a kick to the back of her leg that forces her to release the hold as she drops to one knee. He paces a wide circle around her, lip curled into a sneer of derision.
Johnny Reb: Some warrior. Get up!
Glaring at him, she rises to her feet, rubbing the spot where he'd kicked her. That look -- something about his demeanor reminds her of -- No. That's over with.
Johnny Reb: Again.
Bonnie obliges, rushing him once more. This time, he knocks her back with a well-placed forearm. She stays on her feet and approaches again, cautious now, and more subtle. She feints left, ducks under his reach, and fires a knee into his midsection. With Reb doubled over, Bonnie throws an arm around his neck and plants him with a DDT. Satisfied, Bonnie stands and starts to walk away -- when Reb grabs her ankle and pulls her down. In an instant, he's on top of her, raining down a flurry of punches.
In that same instant, her mind is cast back, and once more, her vision is filled with spaceborne flotsam, the bodies of the dead drifting alongside pieces of lifeless machinery; expressions of terror on the artificially aged faces of her former friends and classmates. She feels again the initial shock of the discovery. Rage and despair war for dominance, a welling of emotion she couldn't process then, had buried deep in the interest of survival. Now it hits her with full, unadulterated force. Bonnie snaps back to the moment and knocks Reb in the head with an elbow, then shoves him off.
She stands, takes a steadying breath, and stalks the Inveterate Confederate. Her mind conjures recollections, unbidden, of the Dark Timekeeper, of her time as his captive; a shudder of revulsion courses through her body and she forces the memories back into the depths of her subconscious. By the time she's regained control, Reb is on his feet and closing with her. They tie up in a classic collar-and-elbow.
Johnny Reb: Come on, Bonnie... stop holdin' back!
For answer, she kicks his legs and follows up with a wild haymaker. Reb dodges easily, unimpressed, and counters with an armdrag. He plants a knee on Bonnie's chest.
Johnny Reb: What're ya gonna do when you're face-to-face with Johnny Rabid? You wanted to pick a fight with him, you know what he's capable of. Is it any wonder he doesn't think you're a threat? He could erase you with a single word. You'd be no more'n an afterthought. Just 'cause you whooped Oblivion don't make ya the toughest bitch in the pack.
Gritting her teeth, Bonnie struggles to dislodge Reb.
Johnny Reb: Ain't me y'oughta be mad at. You wanted this -- you better rise to the occasion. You're gonna need more'n a couple of fancy moves an' a chip on your shoulder to get through this. Time to dig deep, Bonnie Blue. Time to show me what ya really got...
A sudden warmth begins around Bonnie's midsection and spreads until it encompasses her body in a coccoon, a subtle glowing aura of silvery light. And Johnny Reb's weight is at once negligible. She pushes him aside as easily as if he were made of air. In fact, there is an insubstantial quality to everything around her; the others are nearly motionless, caught in a field of dilated time. An instant later, Johnny Reb shakes off the effects of the phenomenon, though their friends remain suspended in slow motion.
Johnny Reb: That. That's what you tap into. That's what you keep with you, here.
He taps on his chest.
Johnny Reb: Remember how this feels. Now that your powers have awakened, you're vulnerable. Won't be long 'fore someone else catches on, maybe start thinkin' they can take advantage. You're gonna have to learn to use your abilities, an' quick.
The young woman frowns. This is an extra complication she doesn't need.
Bonnie Blue: I don't care 'bout that right now. What I care about is Fifteen, Final Destination, an' gettin' that title shot.
Reb breaks into a wide grin.
Johnny Reb: You just remember everythin' I told ya about ladder matches, an' you'll do fine. Now...
He waves a hand, nullifying the time dilation effects. Chuy and Brian Setzer don't seem to realize anything has happened.
Johnny Reb: Get out there, kick some ass, an' start buildin' your own legacy.
And the Bell of Time is thrice struck before Bonnie can even react. Everything becomes a colorless blur for the barest instant before she finds herself deposited just outside the Wells Fargo Center, as the sound of the third strike fades away. With every beat of her heart, anticipation builds, and she gazes ahead, entranced as she moves toward the doors. A whisper comes to her lips, like a prayer, uttered on the threshold of fate.
Bonnie Blue: Deo vindice...
