Post by Bonnie Blue on Jan 5, 2019 15:10:15 GMT -5
SAFARI
Open savanna spreads as far as the eye can see in all directions; winter-brown grasses bent in dormant slumber. A pride of lions lazes beneath the meagre shade of an acacia tree, watching the slow progress of an elephant herd ambling along in search of water. The spring rains won't arrive for months, and winter has turned the savanna into a hot, dry wasteland -- a perfect metaphor for the WCF talent pool.
Standing in the bed of her 2017 Ford Ranchero -- dressed in knee-high brown boots, skin-tight khaki jodhpurs, a white shirt knotted just above the navel, and a domed pith helmet -- Bonnie Blue scans the horizon through a pair of binoculars. A pair of gazelles leap up and down amid the tall grass, repetitive motion that fails even to draw the attention of the lions.
Here we stand on the very cusp of professional wrestling’s seminal event of the year -- the greatest show on Earth, taking place on the grandest stage -- and I've got my rifle loaded for the biggest game in the business. The king of beasts, Odin Balfore, is a lion among men, to be sure. But a lion whose claws are long since blunted, whose fangs are dulled beyond usefulness, and who has nothing left but his roar. Sound without fury, without significance -- and the poor old bastard can't even manage to mark his territory anymore.
Oh, he tried. He thought he had ya girl right where he wanted her. Alone in that ring, entirely at his mercy; a big cat toying with his prey. It looked like it was over nearly as soon as it started. He walked into the arena that night a champion defending -- but hardly on the defensive. He walked in that night, at Payback, fully prepared to break my bones, smash me, humiliate me, grind me to dust. And yes, he did try. He took his shots. Tendons snapped. My ribs were crushed. My nose broken, my face brutally pulverized under the onslaught. But bones mend and humiliation is fleeting unless you succumb to it, and I was gonna be damned if I let him make a mockery of Bonnie Blue again!
Odin Balfore unloaded everything he had and it wasn't enough. Not that night. Not ever again! Because I was just as prepared to do whatever it took to win that WCF World Championship! And for every strike, every slam, every stomp, I paid him back in full! Because THAT is what a champion does!
I wasn't strong enough, I got stronger. That's what Champions do. They find solutions. You Odin, you find excuses.
You're not a champion, Odin. You're just a bunch of statistics that add up to a genetic advantage. That doesn't match you a champion, it just makes to a bigger prize on my wall. The worst part is, I used to think beating Odin Balfore would be the pinnacle of my career -- instead it was more like a mercy killing. I almost feel bad about it.
Almost. Until I see you in that ring, running your mouth, like you got a damn thing worth saying. Like you gonna say anything profound that we ain't never heard come out your mouth before. Your greatest sin, Odin Balfore, is repetition.
You ain't a record-breaker; you're just a broken record.
I couldn't let WCF suffer the same boring old Grandpa Simpson rants week after week. And bad enough when it's you, alone, shaking your fist at a cloud you senile old fuck. But it's infinitely more pathetic when you have to drag a living legend -- a real one, unlike yourself -- to do your talking for you.
What's the matter, Odin? Can't get it up no more, so ya gotta have creepy Uncle Cairo hold it for ya? Or is it just that you ain't got the stamina -- no staying power -- to keep going once you eventually do get a rise outta the little All-Daddy? Emphasis on little.
Trust me, I don't blame ya if ya can't salute Bonnie Blue no more, after that ass beating I gave you at Payback. Ell-oh-ell except I know you can. I know, in spite that bluff and bluster, way deep down inside -- you liked it. You're a kinky motherfucker like that, Odin. On the one hand, you can't stand the thought of a SLICK as tough, as mean, as HARD as your -- heh -- “THICK”; and at the same time, the very idea gets you so hot, you lose focus, can't think about nothing except the next time. You like the brutality, Odin. You like the pain and you like it more when it comes from me. Yes, baby, I know how you do.
I know, ‘cause I seen it in your eyes. I seen it in the way you laid down and submitted to me. You don't want me to simply dominate you; that ain't enough for your pervy little fantasies -- nah, you want me to debase and abuse you. Because you, Odin Balfore, are the human equivalent of a urinal cake.
That's why you hide behind comparatively better men -- men like Bobby Cairo and Zombie McMorris -- which ain't really saying much about you, neither as a former champion, nor as a man; and damn sure not as the “hero” the gibbering, drooling mental deficients who cheer your name see you as. You can't take the heat, so you hide until you can't anymore. Until you have to face the consequences of your actions.
You're a death row inmate on your way to the chair -- and I'm the one fixing to throw the switch.
The fact that you sent your crack whore sock puppet to go fish for material just goes to prove what I already knew about you, Odin. That you're not the hero you claim to be, that you've never been the hero you've claimed to be. That there's no difference between the Odin Balfore that thought it was funny to cave Diablo Calzone's skull as part of The Thickness and the One that walks into the Wells Fargo Arena today. You're still a cunt. And you'll always be a cunt. Nobody that been through these doors more than five minutes likes you, Odin. You're nothing but a seven foot tall cancer that likes to poke and prod behind the pants of his Zombie bitch. You're not even in Stephen Singh's league when it comes down to it. No class, that's your problem. No class at all.
Tell me Odin, when you spent YEARS being Seth Lerch's personal lapdog, was that fun for you? You want to say I'm Rabid's lackey, but you? You made a career out of it, and what did you get in return? You got to spend five minute here and there out of retirement, elevating other talent and looking like a chump in the process. Me? I have a world heavyweight belt around my waist. You? You once earned the prestigious right to lose to Scarecrow. That's how utterly pathetic you are.
You know exactly what's going to happen sooner or later, Lerch will come back and take over and you'll be back to sweeping floors and emptying trash. Because Lerch sees in you what I see in you. You're a beast of burden Odin, you're a mule with girly hair and nothing more.
Y'know, I thought with three other competitors coming after my World Title, this was gonna be a big game hunt. Instead, I'm just shooting fish in a barrel.
As if to emphasize her statement, a gust of wind blows across the grassland. The lions, oddly still since the start of Bonnie's statement, topple right over; revealing that they were never more than cardboard cutouts -- just like her competition.
************************************************
H E A R T of Darkness:
Part One
Part One
November 19, 2018
Her footsteps echoed loudly through the cavernous concrete levels of the Madison Square Garden parking garage as Bonnie Blue rummaged through the chaos of her duffel bag, searching for her car keys. Distracted by the activity, and still fuming over having surrendered to a humiliating loss to Sam McPherson -- of all people, seriously? -- she stormed right past the emerald-green Ranchero and up another ramp before the Time Witch realized her mistake.
With an exasperated sigh, she turned back.
Bonnie was tired. Weary to the bone, exhausted in body and soul. Bad enough she'd had to fight management every step of the way for one solitary opportunity at the World Title -- a shot handed out far more readily to nearly anyone else on the roster, in spite of the years she'd put in paying her dues, the legendary names she'd put down already. And worse, that she'd agreed to management's bizarre need to appease the crybaby fuckwit McPherson -- another “fuck you”” from Corey Black -- had left her feeling drained and hollow. Even if she hadn't taken that dive, Bonnie couldn't be quite certain she'd have won.
It was the same fatigue that had seized and crippled her back at Hellimination two weeks ago. The same emptiness that had enabled Gravedigger to get the drop on her that night and eliminate her from the very match meant to secure her next title shot; and the same weariness that had cost her the World Title at War -- though she'd been so close to capturing the title, even now she could almost literally taste gold.
Cold, metallic, and bitter on her tongue -- no.
Wait.
Her brow furrowed as Bonnie lifted a hand to her face and felt something warm and wet that left her fingers stained crimson. As she approached the Ranchero, she gasped at her reflection in the windshield. Face pale and drawn, a steady trickle of blood flowed from her nose.
Worse than usual.
It had been happening for months, off and on. The young woman had kept it carefully hidden from WCF medical and her Guardians alike. No one could suspect she had such a weakness; not when she was so close.
A wave of dizziness buckled her knees. Bonnie clutched at the car for support and prayed that she wouldn't black out. But her plea came too late, and there were no gods to answer it anyway.
She woke to the steady beep of a heart monitor and the rough feel of starched linen on the skin of her cheek. Sea-blue eyes fluttered open, only to squeeze shut against the harsh overhead fluorescent light. A tube gently pumped oxygen into her nose, while a needle in her forearm fed a saline solution through her veins.
Still lightheaded, Bonnie tried to sit up, but even that small effort was too great, and she slumped back on the pillow, feeling more defeated than ever before. How could she compete with Odin Balfore in this condition? How could she hope to get anywhere near that championship?
Determination warred with despair as she tried once more to lever herself upright. The beeping of the heart monitor sped up, became erratic, and triggered an alarm somewhere distant. In moments, a nurse was at her side; a soothing voice urging her to relax while a firm hand pushed her down onto the thin foam mattress. Bonnie watched a syringe inject something into her IV line, and without warning, she was overcome by drowsiness. She slurred some kind of protest, her words incomprehensible, as she sank into a deep slumber.
The next several hours, once she was conscious again, were a series of needle pokes and blood tests; electrodes and EKG's; x-rays and CT scans; and endless questions. Eventually the physician returned, his face a carefully arranged mask of concern, as he told her the very prognosis she dreaded to hear: something about catastrophic organ failure, a cause they couldn't isolate, and no viable treatment. She was advised to get her affairs in order.
But my affairs were already in order! she thought. Everything about to finally go exactly right! This can't be happening! Not now!
They discharged her, then. Bonnie peeled a couple of large bills from the fat stack in the envelope and passed them to the nurse with the admonition that Bonnie Blue had never been there. They’d treated a Jane Doe, and that was all.
On her way out the door, she pulled up a contact from her phone; one she'd vowed never to use, except in most dire need -- this definitely fell under that heading -- and sent a message:
“We need to talk.”
************************************************
Heart of Gold -- Will of Iron
Over the span of a three-year professional wrestling career, WCF World Champion Bonnie Blue has won multiple titles, headed up one of the most successful factions in recent memory, made herself a household name, and fought her way to the top of not one, but TWO highly rated, internationally recognized wrestling promotions: United Championship Infinite and Wrestling Championship Federation.
A feminist icon, record-breaker, trendsetter, and global superstar -- but also one of the most controversial figures in combat sports today -- Bonnie Blue joins The SWERVE for an exclusive one-on-one interview.
SWERVE: As a newly-minted World Champion, we know there must be a lot of demand on your time, Bonnie, so thank you for taking a few moments out of your busy schedule to talk to us here at the SWERVE. Let's just jump right in. First of all, congratulations on your huge upset victory over Odin Balfore. This makes you only the second woman in WCF’s seventeen year history to hold the World Championship -- these opportunities don't come along often, do they?
BONNIE BLUE: No, they certainly don't -- particularly not when you're told over and over that you'll never get a World Title shot. First, it was ‘cause I “wasn't good enough”, and then afterward it was just -- well, evidently a lot of empty talk, ‘cause here we are. Y'know my daddy, Johnny Reb, held this title three times in his career and -- even though Seth Lerch never seen fit to include him in the Hall of Fame -- it's a real honor to follow in those same footsteps.
SWERVE: And your father had his own conflicts with Odin Balfore, but finally defeated him at WAR X -- coincidentally for one of those three title reigns. But we're not here to talk about Johnny Reb. We're here to talk about the hottest young superstar on the World Championship Federation roster -- Bonnie Blue.
BB: Aw, now you're makin’ me blush. It's true, though. Ain’t nobody on my level right now -- not Alex Richards, not Noble Savage, and damn sure not Odin Balfore! Not only does he deny losing to me fair and square, but he bitches and whines about it incessantly! I never knew the Norse gods were such enormous crybabies. I knew the guy was a bad loser -- just didn't expect him to be this bad a loser. Then again, he ain’t much good for nothin’ else, neither. Odin Balfore’s greatest skill is throwing a tantrum, like the world's biggest three-year-old, over the fact that he got his ass beat -- by a woman.
He didn't cry near this hard when Stephen Singh whooped his ass for the World Title all them months back. But let Bonnie Blue get her hands on this gold one damn time, and all of a sudden this dude needs his blankie and his pacifier. And by pacifier, I mean Corey Black’s dick -- because how the fuck else is that loser getting his rematch already, when ONE was billed as Noble Savage alone challenging whoever had the World Title come 2019? Yeah, ‘cause this company expected -- wanted it to be Odin “the Big Crybaby” Balfore stompin’ that ass into the canvas, instead of Bonnie Blue.
Yeah? Well, fuck that! This is MY time, and I'mma be goddess-damned if I let any of these assholes ruin it. This is a goal I've been working toward for three long, grueling years; paying my dues, slogging through worthless matches, and getting stepped on by people like Jared Holmes and Joey Flash -- and where are those guys now? Three years! Not a couple of months like Brandi Noble, who -- yes, won WAR -- but only because I was busy pursuing my first World Title shot that night. And not the six or seven lackluster years of Alex Richards, who just basically fucked around until he saw me workin’ my pretty little ass off for this Championship and decided to step up his game; thinkin’ if Bonnie can do it, why not Alex, too?
Because fuck y'all, that's why not! This has been my one and only dream since the first contract I signed with the Dub back in 2015! Cockblocked every goddamn step of the way by Seth Lerch and Corey Black; by every single member of #beachkrew -- who all disappeared at the first sign of actual competition; and by Odin Balfore himself, with his constant whining that I “don't deserve” what I've worked toward every day of my career!
Even all the things I achieved at United Championship Infinite were done with an eye toward getting my hands on that WCF World Title. And now I finally have -- and I ain't about to let it go this fucking easy!
It's pretty damn obvious to anyone with half a brain that management is trying to fuck me out of the title I worked so hard for -- the title I EARNED -- just because they can't stand to see it around my waist. Or maybe, if history is any indication, they can't stand a woman having it. But the fact remains that WCF management has always had something against me, personally, and now that I'm representing the company, they're trying to do everything in their power to get this belt off me again.
See, Corey Black thought he'd give me a title shot or two to shut me up about inequality; that I'd get my ass kicked, and go to the back of the line, where I “belong.” But shit didn't work out that way, and instead of supporting his new Champion -- the way he did Odin, or Michael X, or Stephen Singh, or Dune -- he's over here trying to do me dirty, and not in the fun way.
SWERVE: Are you saying the ONE main event is a setup?
BB: That's precisely what I'm saying, and it serves Corey Black’s misogynist agenda in two ways: one -- get the WCF Title off Bonnie Blue, and two -- take the spotlight off the two most deserving wrestlers on the roster -- simply because we both happen to have vaginas.
If you look at the way Corey himself has traditionally treated women -- from his on-again, off-again “relationship” with Nikki Venus to his ongoing affair with Taylor Swift and his dalliances with various female members of the roster, most notably Fourgasm --
SWERVE: Who?
BB: My point exactly. You see a history of treating women like second-class citizens. Once he gets what he wants, he's done with them, and they vanish into obscurity. The difference here is that neither Brandi Noble nor Bonnie Blue ever gave a blow job in exchange for a title shot -- we both earned it the right way -- and Corey can't abide that in his little empire of chauvinism. That's why he wants a manchild like Odin Balfore representing this company.
Instead of making history with the first-ever all-female main event on the biggest stage in professional wrestling, he chooses the ultra-regressive path and muddies the water by tossing in two men, and excusing it by claiming that women can't carry a pay-per-view -- when an overwhelming majority of fans bought advance tickets specifically for the promise of witnessing the quintessential historical moment in this industry! Even pro-wrestling pundit Brofessor Coach, who has long maintained an irrational dislike of me, brought up his own objections to changing the main event from a female-dominated one-on-one title match to a meaningless fatal four-way intended to take the spotlight away from Savage versus Blue.
It's not as if Odin wasn't going to get his rematch at the next pay-per-view, anyway -- or, for that matter, however many rematches it would take for him to get this World Title away from me again. It's not as if Alex Richards wasn't going to get his shot eventually -- the roster is finite, and even the court jester might be offered the throne.
No, this entire four-way match is orchestrated strictly to maintain WCF’s status-quo. And in spite of all this, I can promise y'all two things: one -- Savage and Blue fixing to steal the show, and two -- I'm walking outta that ring STILL the WCF World Champion!
SWERVE: We can believe that! Now, Odin Balfore aside, how do you answer people who claim you somehow cheated your way to victory with the help of John Rabid?
BB: I mean, did y'all see him gettin’ in the ring? Nah, y'all didn't -- ‘cause it never happened! He was in commentary while I was beating the shit outta that fake-ass “God of War”. Rabid didn't get anywhere near the ring until after the bell done rung, and if he was a little enthusiastic about my victory, well, who can blame him?
Now -- did John Rabid agree to coach me? Yes, yes he did.
I went to him because he was a former World Champion in his own right, and knew exactly what it would take to overcome a challenge like Odin Balfore. Everybody knows me and Rabid got a lot of history -- most of it not on the best of terms -- but he agreed to train me, give me advice, and be there to support me that night. That was it. Anyone who can watch that match and still say he cheated on my behalf is a fucking liar, pure and simple. Anyone who says I compromised my principles or betrayed some unspoken trust is flat out wrong. All I did was seek out someone to help me improve my skills in the ring; someone who could take me outside of my comfort zone and push me past my own limits. Would anyone else, faced with the same odds, do any less?
Now, I'm sorry I had to hide that from my friends, but I couldn't afford the distraction that would have come from that same condemnation I got from Alex Richards after the fact. The same Alex Richards who had virtually no problem with my prior tag team affiliation with David Sanchez -- who he has a lot more reason to resent, I might add. That's hypocrisy at its most obvious, and it's complete bullshit. But in the long run, I ain't gotta defend myself or my actions. I did what I needed to win, and I did it without cheating -- regardless of what a bunch of lesser talents try to say just to get the press they otherwise wouldn't.
SWERVE: Your path to the top has been fraught with setbacks and plagued by controversy -- not just in WCF, but in UCI as well. In fact, your first World Title in UCI was surrounded by the same type of buzz and coincidentally also involved John Rabid, as part of #beachkrew. Is there a connection?
BB: The only connection that matters is that I won both World Title matches on my own. Nobody interfered. Nobody put in the work for me. Just like that night when I deep-fried Kevin Bishop in that electrified cage -- I'm the one who did it! Not #beachkrew, not the Guardians, not nobody but Bonnie Blue! Only difference is, you didn't hear Kevin Bishop crying about it for three weeks after. He handled his shit like a man. He stepped to me, lost his rematch, and went about earning another shot like a fucking adult.
Yeah, my path to the top has been long and steep and full of obstacles -- and the trail behind, littered with the bodies of every motherfucker thought they could stand in my way. I AM the WCF World Champion and that's exactly how it's gonna stay.
Bonnie Blue is the champion the WCF needs -- but damn sure not the one y'all deserve. I saved this company from the same boring, unimaginative booking that has plagued it for the last year. Who needs to see Odin Balfore versus Stephen Singh for the three-hundredth time? Who honestly wants to watch the belt get traded between the same three or four guys, month after month, all year without nobody else ever getting a chance? Lame.
You know what happens when Bonnie Blue gets in that ring? Everybody shuts up and pays attention.
But you know what happens when Bonnie Blue headlines a pay-per-view? Them buyrates go through the roof!
Yeah, y'all expect to see ol’ Odin in whatever main event -- but someone like ya girl gets involved, people sit up and take notice! That's just one difference between my championship reign and his: Odin Balfore is the expected. The mundane. The everyday. You see ol’ Odin in a match and I know you can safely take a bathroom break, and when you get back, you ain't missed nothing.
Bonnie Blue, though, is anything but mundane. Bonnie Blue gets between them ropes and all y'all know to expect is that y'all gonna see something new, something magical -- every damn time! And not once have I failed to provide the WCF Galaxy a spectacle unlike anything y'all ever seen! I am, hands down, the best wrestler on this roster -- in this whole damn industry -- and at ONE, I'm fixing to prove it all over again!
SWERVE: Well, you certainly proved it at Payback, executing not one, but three finishers outside of your usual repertoire: the Burning Hammer, the Kingdom Destroyer, and the Mark of Odin -- twice! Odin Balfore claims you couldn't put him away with your own moveset and had to borrow someone else's. How do you answer that?
BB: With scorn and derision. Anybody else using one of Odin’s own moves against him would be taken in the context of sending a message -- that message being “I'm so much better than you, I'm even better at being you!” -- but because I do it, it's a sign of weakness somehow? Tell me how a chokeslam on a man twice my size indicates weakness! Tell me how dropping that giant asshole with a Kingdom Destroyer means I can't get it done! Nobody would bitch if Odin had conquered me with a Weeping Angel or a Sonic Screwdriver; so why is it different when I use a move I spent weeks training to perfect under the very man who pioneered it; or finish the match by using his own techniques against him? Plain and simple, it ain’t no different at all, except for the fact that I'm “just a woman.”
Yeah, just a woman -- who took the WCF World Title right outta the hands of one of the most dominant champs in wrestling history. Just a woman who used Odin Balfore to send a message to Corey Black and every man in that locker room who thinks I'm not every bit the athlete they are, and more! How y'all like me now? Huh?
But sure, fact remains, I coulda used my own finishers. I coulda planted Odin Balfore right through the canvas with my Sonic Screwdriver or made him submit to me with that Timestopper like his name was Kevin Bishop -- but y'all seen all that before. Hell, I've made Odin tap out before, no big deal. But for my first World Title victory in WCF, the fans deserved more than that. The occasion called for something bigger -- something the WCF Galaxy didn't expect; the thrill of a lifetime -- and I delivered exactly that!
That's why Bonnie Blue is the definitive WCF World Champion, and why I'm still gonna be Champ after ONE!
SWERVE: Well, if anyone can retain under these conditions, our money would be on Bonnie Blue. Final thoughts on the competition?
BB: What “competition”? I'm walking into ONE to face a washed-up old man who can't stop crying about how unfair it is that I took his favorite toy away; an alcoholic never-was who could've made something of himself if he wasn't too busy leeching off the success of others; and a lump of raw cookie dough with a ton of potential and absolutely no discipline. That's the one overriding factor they all have in common. Balfore’s hubris takes the place of actual talent, effort, or dedication. Alex Richards is too concerned with my personal life and what he feels is a personal betrayal to recognize that this is his opportunity -- not to take the World Title, but to step up and prove he might be worthy of it one day. And Noble Savage is exactly what her name describes: a force of Nature, wild and uncontrolled; passion and talent, untempered -- a weapon only half forged. Her moment is coming, but not at ONE.
2019 is the year of the Time Witch, and that ain't about to change. This is my time, my World Championship, my WCF -- and there's no power on Earth can stop me now.
