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Post by Eʟʏsɪᴜᴍ Pʀᴏ on Oct 31, 2018 11:59:30 GMT -8
| WORLD CHAMPIONSHIP |
•30 MINUTE BROADWAY MATCH•
F.M. YOUNG w/ Jake Archer vs. ALYSSA DANIELS (c)
The wrestler with the most decisions in their favour after 30 minutes is the winner.
Deadline: Saturday November 10th, 2018 @ 11:59pm EST
Limits: 1000 Words / 2 Promos Max
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Post by Alyssa Daniels on Nov 2, 2018 11:31:35 GMT -8
___________________________________________________________
Nothing. ___________________________________________________________ Pitch dark. Empty void. It doesn’t matter what you call it. All that matters is that you see it. Not a single outline can be seen no matter how well your eyes adjust.
“Talk, Young.”
You can see a faint outline, so faint in fact that you have to look at it for several seconds just to be sure it’s not a trick of the light. It’s humanoid in shape but that’s all you’re able to discern.
“Talk to me about violence. Educate me on brutality. Give me the faintest glimpse into the mind of a self-proclaimed predator. Tell me how small, how frail, how weak I am. Tell me that I am your prey, your target. Call me a pixie, an anime character. Call me Raggedy Ann. Tell me how strong you are, how you’ll toss me all around like you did at Chapter II.”
Her scoff is audible.
“Like I was nothing at all.”
The outline becomes more opaque now. The figure appears to be feminine in stature but the details are still too hazy to make out. Considering the voice you hear, what you see isn’t much of a mystery.
“Now I want you to deceive me. I want you to tell me that you’re somehow still undefeated even if I’ve pinned you twice since the return of the Last Kingdom. I want you to tell me how easy it will be to defeat me. I want you to tell me how honor has gotten me, the Elysium World Champion, nowhere. And where that’s concerned, I want you to tell me how a championship is meaningless if I didn’t beat anyone for it when I beat you, among others, to take it. I want you to make more excuses about your autonomy, or lack thereof. Rather than find room for improvement, I want you to make excuses for twice failing to beat me, then I want you to downplay its significance. I want you to tell everyone how I haven’t put in the hard work to get to where I am today. I want you to tell everyone that I haven’t faced adversity in life, not nearly as much as you have. I want you to try to discredit me with every breath.”
Inhale. Exhale.
“Like I mean absolutely nothing to you.”
Light begins to shine from the back of the outline, but not enough to illuminate the room. The magenta hair is now noticeable but not much else.
“Honor isn’t easy. It’s easy, so easy, to end up feeling hopeless and jaded. That leads to phrases like ‘don’t trust anybody’ and ‘it’s a dog-eat-dog world.’ That’s exactly how the cycle continues. It’s why you feel you need to be vicious and cut corners to get where you want to go, where you feel you need to be. You’ve tricked yourself into thinking it’s the only answer. And though I'm but one candle in the storm, I will keep that fire lit. I must be the change if I hope to ever see the change. I must come up with other answers.”
From the visible head of hair, you can tell Alyssa is shaking her head.
“But that means nothing to you, I’m sure.”
She steps closer now. The whites of her eyes and some facial detail can now be seen. Her black Paramore tanktop is clearly visible, as are her ripped jeans. The brand new Elysium World Championship is secured around her waist.
“So what now, Young? Something something destroy everything something something? You defeated the first ever World Champion and earned this opportunity. It’s not lost on me how impressive a victory over Erik Holland is. That man might shrug off a nuclear explosion. But you only needed three seconds and you got them. But for as much respect as I have for Mr. Holland and his abilities, that does not guarantee a victory over me. You and I? We’re in this for the long haul. You need to find a way to survive thirty minutes against me. And yeah, I know your typical rhetoric. ‘I’m big and strong, you’re a frail little girl!’ If it’s that simple in your mind, I want you to justify how you were the last entrant into the War of Attrition match and the second to be eliminated. Then I want you to find a way to discredit how I was able to enter at number one and survive four incredibly talented and dangerous competitors for twenty nine minutes and twenty two seconds to win. I know how to go the distance and survive. I proved it when I won Guerrilla Warfare in Union Battleground and I’ve proven it here.”
Alyssa unbuckles the championship belt and pulls it into her right hand.
“So go ahead, think of me as nothing, as a ‘pup,’ a frail little girl who can’t take a licking and keep on ticking. At Chapter IV, you’re going to have thirty minutes to reflect on all that bravado. You’re going to have thirty minutes to witness the nothing that I am.”
She holds up the championship belt, making it the focus of the shot.
“If you want this, you’re going to have to earn every bit of it just like I did. You’re going to have scrape and claw for thirty minutes like I did. So go ahead, chick. Fill the air with your rants about destruction. Tell me that I’m whatever flavor of unworthy you can think of this week. Tell me that nothing can stop you from becoming the fourth Elysium World Champion. Because you will inevitably and inadvertently speak the truth through your deception.”
She lowers the title slowly, her fiery glare replacing it.
“I am the nothing that will stop you.”
The feed slowly fades.
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Post by F.M. Young on Nov 9, 2018 18:30:19 GMT -8
We're back in the junkyard, the scene lit only by barrels of fire, pouring smoke and flame that flicker, intensify and pulse like the beat of a heart. FM Young walks languidly into the frame, her arms slung over a car axle that she holds across her shoulders.
"Did you know that I won my Iron Championship on my second attempt at it? In my third match involving Anthony Xavier? I was considered a joke before that, the happy go lucky goof trying to be Wonder Woman. The only match I'd won, was when I lost my control against Maddison. It's amazing to me, how life tends to rhyme, how it comes full circle when you least expect it. I can feel it the pressure building, my focus and resolve crystalizing, I can feel it just like I did before that match, my will clearing. Just like then, I'd lost a furious multiman match, something I've never claimed to be good at. Multiman matches are a different animal, less vicious competitors tend to win, they manage to skirt the outside and wait for their opportunity. That's not my strong suit."
Young lifts the axle above her head, spinning it in her hands as if it were a quarterstaff. Her movements are a slow, restrained and deliberate show of her strength as she tosses the car part over her head and catches it, humming a tune, the entire thing almost meditative.
"Here you are, acting exactly like that, you've already started your victory speech. So sure I can't topple you, so sure you know exactly what I'm going to say. Look at you, sitting in the dark. No theatrics this time, dear Daniels? No movie sets? Something under your skin this time, pup? I don't have to answer your questions, chapter 3 should have answered them for you. What is a Champion, they are not the belt around their waists. They are their deeds, their matches, how they win or lose. I became the nuclear explosion that kept Erik Holland's shoulders on the mat. You...Embarrassed everyone in that arena. Finale shouldn't have been the one apologizing for that disgrace, in an echo of something I had another Champion. Just because you respect your opponents doesn't make beating them accomplishments. All your attempts to build Elina up, all your talk of Mountains and Mole Hills. It ended in shame for both of you, and I knew it would."
FM spins the axle again, bringing it down this time to loop under her arm, and when she swings it up again with the practiced ease of a master, she drives the momentum of the thing a little harder and slams it into the hood of the car still suspended from last time. The dark haired woman raises the bar and swings at the car again, causing a thunderous roar of clanking chains and ringing steel. When she speaks again it's with a barely repressed snarl, lips pulling up over her teeth.
"Mi Papa once told me, you don't always have to fight but when it's time to fight, fight like the third monkey on the ramp to Noah's ark and girl, it's starting to rain. I'm dangerous not just because I'm big and strong, it helps, but because generally to win...You have to damn near kill me. There is no quit. I fight every match like I'd be happy for it to be my last and I always will. I know what I'm capable of, and you may have gotten the best of me last time. That was last time, and I was kicking your ass from corner to corner in that ring. You got three seconds, you managed to hold my shoulders to the mat for three seconds. That’s all it took to win in that match. This match is different.”
Young beat the axle against the suspended car's hood, one end, then swinging it around her back to smash the other end into the aluminum, causing rips and tears in the dented metal. There's a glistening sheen to her tanned skin, muscles flexing with only the most minor effort as she swung the heavy car part around, reintroducing it to the car's frame over and over again. The tiger of a woman stops, only to stare panting at the camera with intense golden eyes.
"This match, you're trapped in there with me, a nuclear explosion given form, a hurricane of force. One pin won't be enough this time and you might just get one. Or a few. It won't matter, because there won't be anywhere to run and you're too stupidly determined to hide. In a way, I respect that, but I'm going to kick you from one corner of that ring to the other all over again. When you grow tired, when you start to slip up, I'm going to take advantage. I'm focused this time, and there's no one else in the way. I am going to become Champion and an Embressement isn't going to stop me. When I'm Champion, the only matches Finale will have to apologize for, will be the ones I'm not in. If I'm fed unworthy opponents, the crowd will know it and they will be able to cheer my brutality."
FM chuckled as she set the axle down, panting, wiping sweat from her forehead, popping her neck.
"I've never said this was going to be easy, just that I'm willing to do anything and everything it's going to take. Just that I will be relentless and a monster, you've always been right about that. I am a monster, it's just I'm not lost. I'm very focused and ready to sink my teeth into a clear goal. I will be Elysium Pro World Champion, and you, and all the nothing in Fantasia can't change that."
FM Young smirks and tosses the axle at the camera, causing the camera to fall over and short out as the part smashes against it.
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Post by Alyssa Daniels on Nov 10, 2018 11:20:14 GMT -8
___________________________________________________________
Everything. ___________________________________________________________ The Elysium World Championship sits on a plain black podium. The light shines from the gold plates fastened to the black leather strap. The embossed letters of ELYSIUM sparkle just a bit brighter than the rest. A figure in a black dress circles around the podium. As the view zooms out showing her unmistakable magenta hair tied back in a ponytail and her black lipstick. Alyssa circles behind the podium.
“Such a shame.”
She walks in front of the podium and to the other side.
“In another battle, when everything is on the line, you still seem to stutter through your ‘doom and destruction’ speeches like you understand the gravity of your situation. Yet here you are, getting it all wrong all over again. You deny your state of existence as I’ve laid it out for you, yet you rephrase it to say the exact same thing in a way that is more palatable to you. You needed to be told that it was OK to be a monster, but not because you needed permission. You just needed to be alright with it. You didn’t like one side of the coin so you flipped it to the other, acting like it wasn’t the same exact coin. You insist you’re not lost but I disagree.”
Alyssa smiles.
“My dear, you’ve lost everything.”
She withdraws her hand from the championship on the podium.
“Which seems so strange for a woman who is so close to reaching the apex of her fighting career. You have the opportunity to compete for the highest award in this industry and you still seem so empty and hollow, so hopeless. Your words are brave, valiant even, but that tone is unmistakable. You appear ready to throw yourself from that apex if you disappoint yourself yet again. This match means everything to you and your career. You’re willing to do whatever it takes to rise to the occasion this time, in ways you couldn’t twice before now. Yet you blame the distractions of multiple competitors in a single match. Yet you blame me for winning the match. Isn’t that the goal? You claim you’ll do whatever it takes now when you didn’t do it before. What makes this so special?”
With that, Alyssa looks down at the World Championship and laughs.
“Oh, that’s right. This means everything to you.”
She waves a hand dismissively.
“When Wideawake ended, you saw me holding the World Championship and that drove you insane. You saw someone who doesn’t win simply by brutalizing their competition holding the top prize that you feel was always meant to be yours. You couldn’t stand seeing this tiny tactician representing your company. So when you had the opportunity to do something about that, to prove your ‘dominance,’ you set out to do just that.”
Alyssa nods in thought.
“You did everything you could to dominate me, but you forgot to win.”
Shrug.
“And that’s why people like you fall apart when you have those big opportunities. You focus on brutality and destruction. Your match with Holland was exactly that. The two of you are similar in style that way. And you were able to come out on top, earning yourself another chance to prove that your style works, that you work. One win, and you think that everything’s different now. One win, and you think everything is and should be yours.”
She holds up a single finger.
“One win and I’m nothing but a thirty minute playtoy for you, right?”
Alyssa shakes her head, her expression darkening.
“No, Young. You still feel that sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach despite knocking off Elysium’s first champion. You still aren’t quite sure who you are, who you’re supposed to be, and what it’ll take to improve. Because my dear, the more everything changes, the more it stays the same.”
She places her hand on the podium and narrows her eyes.
“This means everything to me. Just because you’re some hulked-up psychopath does not mean the notion of spending thirty minutes in a fight with you frightens me. This, Young? This is where I show everyone exactly what Elysium stands for. This is where I show that we fight the very best and despite all odds, we emerge victorious! This is where the monsters come to lay waste to everything around them, all intimidating and powerful. And this is where those with the strongest hearts and brightest minds put down those monsters to earn our place! I beat Elina Cartel, a two-time Hybrid Champion, in just under four minutes to retain this championship, and you think I should be embarrassed? I did what a champion should do and gave everything. And my everything left Elina overwhelmed and outmatched. And you think this is simply going to be thirty minutes of your domination? Then you haven’t seen anything yet, you bitch! The moment you came out and punched me in the jaw, your fortune changed. Maybe once, I’d have given you a chance to emerge victorious, but now?”
Alyssa glares at the camera.
“No.”
Her lip curls into a snarl.
“Unlike you, I know exactly who I am. I don’t need anyone to be alright with how I behave. I don’t need to know it’s OK. I believe in me, and that got me here. Now, I believe in doing everything in my power to break your heart at Chapter IV. There’s absolutely no quit in me. You can brutalize me to your heart’s content but you better stay up for all thirty minutes because I’m never finished until that bell rings.”
Alyssa takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. She exhales slowly.
“Young versus Daniels II. And this time, it’s for everything.”
Her eyes shoot open.
“Enough talk. Let’s fight.”
The scene fades.
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Post by F.M. Young on Nov 10, 2018 18:31:43 GMT -8
FM Young walks into frame, the video this time in a beautiful sunny vineyard, with ranch style buildings and fields of grapes in the background. The big woman has a glass of wine half full in one long-fingered hand. She stops to lean against the rail of a lattice fence, taking a drink as she thinks.
"Knock, Knock, let the devil in, running on adrenaline, to face the demons I’m bonded too. They're chasing me, but we can be a part of you. Daniels seems very concerned with my emotional state, frankly, it’s a bit touching. Not enough to just date my ex-wife then dump her? So very focused on what I’m feeling, not what I can do. Wake up Princess, it’s a wrestling match, not a therapy session. For all the claims you make about me rewriting history, you’ve made some glaring omissions yourself. Do you understand why Finale had to apologize for that match? Let me educate you...As loathe as I am to admit it, first and foremost we are entertainers and your fight? Just wasn’t entertaining sweetheart, and whose fault is that? Elina’s I’m sure you’ll say because you won and that’s what matters isn’t it? But see, Elina is one of those types the audience would love to see get her comeuppance.”
Another deep slow breath and the big woman seems to barely hold back a snarl of disgust before taking another long slow sip of her wine. Young closes her eyes to savor the flavor, hand swirling the wine around in the glass.
“The two of you wandered around that ring like a pair of confused penguins in mating season. Until Elina eventually fell into prime position for your finisher. You could have dominated that match, you could have used her to make a splash, a statement with all your flippy flappy maneuvers. Yet you didn’t, it wasn’t that it was a sub-four-minute match, it’s that it was a drag of a match. I’d have made a show of thrashing her, the heart of infinity and the mind of a tactician. You lack my killer instinct and the ambition to execute. The reason Finale set this match was that us going to war will be entertaining. You do everything you can to build Elina up, and really? If that poor showing was your all, then I’m laughing my way to the engraver to get my name on that belt already. You’re so desperately fixated on what I might be thinking and feeling that you’ve lost sight of what’s important, and that’s the fight.”
FM watches the sunset, lighting up that long raven mane of hers and making the horizon glow orange. Another contemplate sip of wine before she pulls down her shades and looks at the camera.
“I’ll tell the truth, even though you won’t hear it, I don’t need that belt for validation, I want that belt to validate it. So far, all it’s been is a plaything for children. I’m too good to be in a company with a meaningless tin trophy where its top prize should be. You try to tell everyone that all that matters is that you know what who you are. I know what I can do. You do that because deep down, you know everything you’ve done so far has rung hollow, you won that title in a multi-man match and good for you. Your first defense was pathetic and against me, you only put up enough of a fight to manage to scrape out the win. That’s the important bit though isn’t it? Not how you got there. Everyone gets in their own head and I admit, I’ve gotten into mine a time or two, but unlike you, I’ve crashed and burned. I’ve been down to the place inside to face my fears and I’ve clawed my way back up here. I’d been losing last time too. It doesn’t scare me, because I know what I can do. I got here, like I’ll get that belt from you, a gin-clear mind and absolute intent. You mistake my drive for desperation because you're desperate to matter and it’s got you mad. I can harness my anger and use it, as the sharpest of tools, can you?”
The shades go back over her eyes and Young moves off the fence, no longer in an easy lean that predatory grin in place on dark red lips as she watches the camera for a moment.
“Thirty minutes can change lives and yours is about to change. One pin isn’t going to cut it this time this time, this is thirty minutes with me. The glorified deathmatch wrestler, but if someone rending my flesh and bleeding me can’t put me down in less time than thirty minutes. What hope does a daredevil have with more time and less omph have? I’m not afraid of the time limit, because it’s not the time limit that matters. It’s making it so the longer you go, the less you can fight. It’s keeping you down, for more than three seconds. That, I can do. This isn’t going to be a quick death for you, either of us really and that’s why I’m going to enjoy it. Oh, dear puppy, it was always going to be a fight and I don’t need any extra motivation to make it one.”
One last long drink of wine, she empties her glass and tilts it in a salute to the camera with an utter certainty to her actions. FM turns around after that, walking off with long purposeful strides, parting words floating carelessly over her shoulder.
“Puts on some black lipstick starts swearing and thinks suddenly she’s badass.”
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