Post by metallicaevans on Mar 2, 2012 22:21:45 GMT -5
Triple threat. What a great way to debut in one of the most promising new federations in the last few years. Saturday night I’ll be taking on both Lindsey Calaway and Laura Tavares. I’ll be honest here, I’m going into this match having no idea who either opponent is. I don’t know anything about these women other than they’re both incredible sluts. I can tell that by just looking at them. They wear revealing costumes, heck, Lindsey will probably grind her arse on the second rope just like that blonde bimbo in “the fed of which we do not speak”.
Urgh, have some self respect. No offense here but you both look like hookers. Showing off your cleavage and your tight little booties. God, you should be ashamed of yourselves! I don’t even really want to try and pin you, I’d probably pop those fake breasts or something. Stupid little sluts. Plus the pervs in the audience might get off on it, dirty little wankers.
When it comes down to RAW talent, I’m the best. But I’ll bet you guys any amount of money that they’ll end up getting title shots simply by looking sexy and sucking the dicks of the NYCCW board of directors. I’ll tell you guys something. I’m not gonna be doing that. I’m not gonna show off cleavage or grind my arse on a rope like a little slag. ‘Cause I’m not. I’m a twenty nine year old WRESTLER, not a twenty nine year old prostitute like lindseycalaway Laura Tavares. #The truth.
So ... ladies, no, that’s wrong. So ... skanks, I’m going to be looking forward to what you’re gonna bring to Bright Lights, maybe you’ll surprise me. Maybe not. Of cause I’ll win that match, possibly the only decent women’s match in history and then proceed to beat the living shit out of ya. Remember, I’m Irish, I’ll be drinking a pint of larger and looking forward to punching you bitches right in the fucking face. ‘Cause I’m not the kind of person to bring my fists to a fist fight. I’m the type of person that brings a sword to a fist fight. And you know that’s the damn truth ... I’m irish, remember. We love to fight.
See you cumgozzlers at Bright Lights, and do me a favour. Don’t bother teaming up, I can easily beat two little pussies myself ... wait ... that sounded wrong ... oh god that sounded so wrong. But you get what I mean.
METALLICA EVANS
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Title: The Women's Toilets
Place: The NYCCW HQ in New York City
I enter the women’s toilets not too far inside NYCCW HQ in New York City. I instantly turn to the mirrors and lean against the sink bellow the one to the far right. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, looking rather exhausted or maybe a bit angry. I was wearing one of my t-shirts based on the day of the week. Maroon monday, Turqouise tuesday, wpurple wednesday, Thunder Thursday, Flaming Friday, Shadow Saturday and Snow sunday. Today was the day that I wore a red shirt for flaming friday. Today I was wearing a red shirt with the words “I’m red!” printed onto it with dark skinnie jeans and black and white emo sneakers with my lip piercing and my glasses on.
I lower my head and begin to breathe approprietly again. I should explain. Last night me and Rye met on twitter and we got talking. He invited me to team with him, so I just went with it thinking “what the heck, I’ll give it a try”.
Now ever since I’ve entered the building he’s been following me around like a lost puppy making these corny jokes, flirting with me and feeling me up every few minutes. It’s starting to get annoying. I don’t like being touched! At least not by him. Rye’s a good guy underneath all of the confidence but seriously, if he slaps my arse again, I’ll punch the prick in the face.
I take one more deep breath before raising my head up to get the fright of my life. A slim man dressed in a block hoodie, paintball mask and armour appeared in the mirror. I jumped back in fright, nearly falling over but I was caught by the man in the mask. He just held me, stopping me from falling and stared at me in that blank emotionless paintball mask.
Suddenly the man in the mask raised me up to my feet. I took a few steps back, finding myself clinging to the wall behind me ever so quickly. I was speachless, Who was this man? How did he get in? What does he want with me? Oh god, what is he going to do to me? The man slowly strolled up to me, coming closer and closer and closer ... and closer. He pulled himself towards me, his face came within inches of mine. I was so scared. Suddenly I hear a voice coming from the mask, it was rather muffled. It sounded like this man was using a voice changer or something.
“So beautiful ... what a shame I’m already taken.”
The man raised his right hand up and grabbed my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter, I could barely breathe.
“Help ... me”
Suddenly one of the toilets flush and the man in the mask makes a run for it, obviously he didn’t want anybody else to see him. My body slumped down to the floor as I tried to catch my breath, I began to caugh before being helped up by an unknown person. Without looking, I thank them.
“Thanks”
I look up from the floor to see the face of my enemy, Lindsey Calaway wearing a black cardigan over a grey top with light jeans and high heels. God, I had been saved by a little skank. Oh how embarrassing is that? I should have been ready, I shouldn’t have shown her how weak I can be. I just gotta show her I’m not weak. ‘Cause I’m not!
“Are you okay?”
“Get the fuck off me.”
“... okay, I heard a guy in here. What happened?”
“I was blindsided. It was that little prick off twitter, what’s his name?”
“Stytch?”
“No, the one with the hood.”
“Oh, the guy that’s been hacking everyone? H4ck3r, right?”
“Yeah, yeah that’s him.”
“Oh my ... wait, he was here?”
“Yeah, I dunno how he got in but he just said I’m beautiful and that it was a shame he was already taken.”
“Sounds like he should be called R4p15t not H4ck3r.”
“Funny ... now fuck off and leak some naked pictures online or something.”
Lindsey just looks at me with a rather annoyed facial expression. She either didn’t like what I said, actually did have naked pictures online or just ate a bad shrimp. She grabs me by my colar and pushes me towards the same wall I had previously been pushed up against. She keeps holding on tight whilst she begins to speak in a rather angry tone.
“I’m not a “little skank” as you put it. I’m a WRESTLER just like you. I’m not gonna grind my ass on the ropes or do bikini contests. Because I’m better than that, so are you.”
I smile before pushing Lindsey away from me, even though she was right and I was wrong about her, she still annoyed me. I don’t like beautiful women, they piss me off. She continued to berate me as I just stared at her, trying not to lose my temper.
“Back in high school we used to have a word for girls like you. We called them hypocrites.”
I look on, smile and just do a “keep going" hand jesture.
“I’m not a skank, I’m a wrestler. After our match you can either shake my hand or stab me in the back, you’re choice. Friend or foe.”
I just walk up to Lindsey, smirking. Suddenly I find myself staring at her, still smirking. I lower my head for a few moment before rising it up again and looking into Lindsey’s eyes. I get up real close and say just one more sentence.
“You ... are ... a ...”
Suddenly Laura tavares walks in wearing a black women’s vest, some bracelets, a ring, a necklace, jeans and dark brown boots. She smiles as she enters the bathroom.
“Am I interupting anything?”
She must have thought we were doing something nasty. We were like just centimeters away from eachother, Laura must have thought something nasty was going on. As if!
“No ... we ... we were just talking.”
“Right, well ladies. Let me tell you this ... I’m not gonna go easy on you at Bright Lights, I gotta prove I’m not just a pretty face.”
“So do we ... I mean, So do I”
So do we? I bet she wants me to team up with her during the match. It would make things easier on both of us.
“Same”
“Well ladies ... see you Saturday”
“See you saturday”
The scene fades to black as Laura and Lindsey exit the women's toilets, Lindsey looks back at Metallica with a strange facial expression before walking away.
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METALLICA EVANS
Title: House Show
Place: Undisclosed Club, New York City
We open up with the camera positioned inside a rather medium sized club, on one half of the club the ring and ramp is positioned with a barricade around them and on the opposite side is the tint-lighted bar and dancefloor where some attendees were watching from their chairs as others surrounded the barricade and other were in the background dancing and drinking away. Music was playing in the background, it was a mixture of club, rock and pop music featuring such bands and artists as EvanEscence, Rhiannah and custom music in between songs from the house DJ. The DJ was working with NYCCW so he would play the theme tune of whatever wrestler came out. The DJ was a strange man, he wore a tight black baraclava with a black beanie cap. He was very pale and seemed to be wearing dark clothes with a black and orange glowing watch on his left hand. He seemed very familiar, very familiar indeed.
NYCCW officials thought it was a good idea to set this place as the venue for a house show. I was promised a huge arena full of fans screaming my name, instead I got a bunch of drunks dancing, drinking and watching the wrestling show packed into the medium sized club. I’ll admit it was pretty cool to see other guys wrestle with music in the background. This may not be a big show but I feel like it’s my chance to get things off my chest ... and not in a dirty way. Drake had just finished off a local competitor, now it was my turn to go out there and entertain. I had no match, just my mind and the words that flow out of my mouth.
Suddenly Sad But True by Metallica begins to play and out I come from the back, looking as hothothothothot as ever. I was wearing a mixture of my wrestling attire and the outfit I wore when I was a tarot card reader. I was wearing a black sports bra covered in a cotton layer with black tights, a black and red belt and fluffy dark brown wrestling boots. I had my usual panda eyes makeup on, never really liked going out without my panda eyes.
I come walking out through the purple smoke, holding my hair in my hands and raising it up, allowing it to fall down into my face. I fling back my hair and raise my right hand in the air, grabbing my pinkie finger with my thumb to create the “W” sign with my fingers. Of cause the W could mean anything. Wicked. Witch. Witchcraft. Wombles. Can mean anything you want it to mean. I stroll up towards the ring and enter in a strange way, climbing up the turnbuckle and taking a short glance at the people surrounding the barricades. All eyes was on me. I jump over into the ring and catch a mic thrown in by Carl Farmer. I smile at the crowd before beginning my little rant. I walked around the ring getting whistles from the men in the audience before I eventually spoke a single word.
The fans cheer for the newest diva in NYCCW.ME.
“So, saturday night I’ll be facing two “athletes”, Lindsey Calaway and Laura Tavares. These women aren’t athletes. One’s a bimbo who thinks she can wrestle just because she can do a flip and the other is only in the NYCCW because of her husband.”
The fans just keep looking on.
“In a recent rant in another house show Lindsey claimed we were in the same boat. Both newbies trying to impress the board of directors, trying to make womens wrestling mean something more than just push up bras, revealing clothing and perverts watching at home cracking one out over the little skanks in the ring. She’s right. We’re both newbies here in NYCCW but we’re not the same. Oh no no no no no!”
The fans keep on watching, intrigued.
“See, I thought her out to be a skank, showing off her body to get ahead in the business. I’m woman enough to say I was wrong. From what I’ve heard she doesn’t like the term “eye candy” being attached to womens wrestling. Neither do I. That’s one thing we DO have in common. I thought she was the type of girl that would suck a director’s dick just to get a title shot. I was wrong. If she’s watching somewhere or listening from the back, I’m sorry. I was wrong. But it won’t stop me from kicking the shit out of ya.”
I giggle at the thought of beating Lindsey up, rolling out of the ring and making my way to the back, finishing my little rant and apology to Lindsey.
After exiting through to the back, I begin to get changed into my normal clothes. Removing my boots, my tights, the black sports bra and the black cotton layer and putting back on my flaming friday shirt, my grey beanie cap, my dark brown coat, my skinnie jeans and my emo sneakers. I make my way to the exit carrying a courier bag full of my wrestling clothes and some of the things I brought with me from Ireland.
I headed towards the back exit in quite a hurry. I just wanted to get back to my hotel and ... erm ... “relieve myself”. Don’t judge me, I’m a woman, I have needs too.
I opened up the exit door and took a few steps forward. The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the dark street. It was just me ... wasn’t it? I began to walk down the street, tucking some of my hair into my hat and pulling my coat tighter as I began to look around, feeling like I was being watched. I began to get a little scared.
I decided to take the quick way to my hotel, through a series of alleyways that lead up to the hotel’s street. The first alleyway was pitch black. I couldn’t see anything. I switched on my phone and pressed the camera option, switching to night vision so I could tell if there was anybody lurking around. No one. No one but a small black cat and a drunk homeless guy passed out near the dumpster. I quickly fast-walked through the alleyway. I was a little scared of being attacked, ever since H4ck3r’s visit earlier I’ve been on my tippy toes. I’m being paranoid.
I stroll down the street leading up to the second alleyway, this alleyway was a bit more bright but it was home to several homeless people. They were nice though, this one guy called Kevin played music during the day for money to feed him and his dog. Me and him were friends of sorts, I always passed him when on my way to work or to have drinks with other NYCCW employees. I’ve been giving him a dollar every day now, he’s a nice guy. Maybe I’ll invite him for a cup of coffee some time.
Oh god, am I planning on making a date with a 37 year old homeless guy? Urgh. God no.
I entered the alleyway, realizing that nobody was here. What happened to all the homeless people that was camped out here? Suddenly a pair of hands brought me in from the darkness and covered my mouth. Oh god, is it him again? I hope so, I’d prefer to be attacked by someone I know than be attacked by a complete stranger. Better to know your enemy, right?
Tears made their way down my face, making their way from my eyes to my cheeks. Oh god, what was he going to do to me? My attacker spun me around before slamming me into the wall and staring at me. I just looked the other way. I couldn’t bare to try and see who it was. He forced me, grabbing onto my face with his right hand and turning my head towards him. Oh god. It was him ... it was H4ck3r.
Why was he doing this to me? It’s Drake he wants!
Again, H4ck3r had a voice changer. I couldn’t make out who it was. I just couldn’t recognize the voice. Who was he?
“Do me a favour, pretty girl ...”
Fuck that, I’m not givng anyone a “favour”!
H4ck3r leans in and whispers something into my ear.
“(whispers)”
Oh ... he meant like a real favour. I’ve got such a dirty mind. Shame on me.
H4ck3r lets go of my face and exits the alleyway, turning a corner and making a run for it. By the time I got to the corner, he was gone. Maybe he lived in one of the apartments on that street? Or maybe he just scaled a building? It was like he just vanished into thin air.
The DJ ... it was him. I knew he looked familiar.
I took out my phone again, dialing Alexander Krossa A.K.A. Drake Hunter’s mobile phone number. I raised my phone up to my ear whilst my tears dried up on my cheeks. The phone rang for a few moments before he eventually answered.
“Hello?”
“H4ck3r ... he ... he attacked me.”
“Oh my god, are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. He just grabbed my face and told me to tell you something.”
“What?”
“He ... he said ...”
“Calm down, Met, now ... what did he say?”
“He said ... remember her ... and remember him.”
“I ... I don’t understand.”
“Drake, just sort this out. I got attacked because of you. Now please just ... sort it out.”
“I’ll try.”
“Bobye.”
“Bye”
Time to go back to the hotel, Sonic needs his feeding and I need a nice cup of tea and some “alone time” with my vibrating toothbrush. Being strangled really gets me going.
God I'm so weird.
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METALLICA EVANS
Title: W/\
Place: Backstage @ Madison Square Garden, NYCCW Bright Lights return arena.
What does it mean to be wicked? What does it mean to be an assassin? I suppose for each individual person there’s an individual belief. So that’s roughly seven million people and seven million individual beliefs. For me, being wicked means to be evil, to be the darkness that takes over half of the light and shades alongside the white to create the grey. Of cause I’m talking about alignment. The white being the good, the grey being the neutral and the darkness being ... well ... evil.
Now if you asked me what it meant to be an assassin I would just say “being named ezio”. But to Rye, this nickname means something more than a series of Ubisoft games. To Rye, the nickname assassin is meant because he’s just like an assassin when in the ring. Waits for the right moment ... and BANG, target down.
Asking Rye what being wicked meant, he would say “it’s like a slang thing, init?”. So there you go. Proof that everybody has different oponions. Also proof that me and Rye agree on absolutely nothing.
It had been a few hours after the incident earlier this morning. He was still following me around like a lost puppy. He kept making these corny-arse jokes, flirting around and putting his hands on me.
I DON’T LIKE BEING TOUCHED!
Seriously, he bought me like twenty cups of coffee today. I don’t even drink coffee, I like tea. Or better yet, some strawberry flavoured fizzy water. I can’t get enough of that stuff.
He says all these corny lines like “if I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?”, “people call me Rye but you can call me tonight, here’s my number!”, “are those space pants? Cause your ass is out of this world!”, “if you were a burger at mcdonalds you’d be mcgorgeous!” and “I’m going outside to make out, care to join me?”.
Urgh, I get shivvers just thinking about how gross that is.
Oh yeah, and he keeps feeling me up. This morning he pretended there was an eyelash on my cheek, sweeped it off with his thumb and tried to kiss me. I headbutted him in the nose and told him to piss off. God, when will he take the hint? JUST FRIENDS.
Urgh, I’d rather get bummed by a great dane than get in the sack with Rye. He’s an alright guy but ... I have a certain “type”. And he’s definately not it.
I think that wraps up the epilogue doesn’t it? Okey dokey.
The camera fades in as Rye and myself are backstage at Bright Lights, looking forward to the big return of NYCCW. Oh, just a few more hours and ... SHOWTIME! Hahaha, I love saying that. SHOWTIME! Oh no, I’m turning into Percy Watson now -_-
Rye had gotten dressed a few minutes ago and now ... well ... he was trying to watch me getting dressed. The other girls weren’t here yet, I guess there was traffic or something. Or maybe just a shoe sale.
I was trying to get dressed but quite frankly, I didn’t want Rye to see any part of my body. He’s been practically humping my leg all day, god knows what he’ll do when I show a bit of skin.
“Could you please go away? I gotta get changed.”
“I know, I just wanna watch.”
“Rye ... stop it. Nothing’s gonna happen between us. So get your dick back in your underpants and stop following me around.”
“I thought we were a team.”
“Oh, so you’d be humping Johnny’s leg if you were his tag team partner too, huh?”
“Erm ... no. but I get your point.”
“And I can see yours, now piss off.”
“Fine, I’ll see you later. Maybe a cup of coffee?”
“Fine. As friends.”
“Sure.”
Rye exited the room, leaving me alone to get changed. Oh, I just realized something. Raven isn’t here either. I’m a fan of hers, I know she wouldn’t be late. Oh crap, I’m early. I’ve never been early before. Allways late. Looks like it’s a new start afterall.
I begin to remove my clothing one by one, removing my dark brown zip-up hoodie, then my black t-shirt, then my fluffy boots and finally my dark jeans. At this point I was pretty much naked, I had my underwear on but I felt like I had literally nothing on. It had been so long since anyone had seen me naked. The last time ... I was used. That’s why I don’t like showing skin. It brings back bad memories. Memories of my dickhead exes.
I proceeded to stuff my clothes in my locker, locking it shut and returning to my original position. I bend over to pick up my wrestling attire, pulling the clothes up and down onto my bare skin. First the black sports bra, then the cotton layer that covers it. Then the black tights, the black and red belt, my fluffy wrestling boots and of cause my bracelets.
I stroll over to the mirror on the far side of the room and take a look at myself in the mirror. One thing missing. Makeup. I placed the eyeliner over my eyes, I was already wearing some makeup so I didn’t have to go too heavy with the makeup. Sometimes I do a little too much but this time, they looked pretty damn good. I’m surprised. I’ve never been really good at this. Seems like I’m always getting better nowadays, wouldn’t you agree?
I look around, nobody’s here.
Who the hell am I talking to in my head? Myself? Oh, that’s weird. I should get a therapist or something. Oh I forgot, the last therapist of mine went mad. I wonder why.
Anyways, it’s a couple of hours till showtime (SHOWTIME!) and now all I’ve got to do is wait. Wait for my opponents to turn up and possibly beat the crap out of me. We’ll see though. I’ll put up a fight. Just like always.
No matter how bruised, battered or down right broken I am, I will never accept defeat. Victory is mine, it always will be.
Tonight I grow a pair (of tits) and face possibly my most intriguing opponents ever. The wife of a man way past his prime and someone that’s ... just like me. Trying to prove that womens wrestling means something more than cleavage, hair pulling and photoshoots. Tonight, we make history. The first of many historical battles here in NYCCW.
Here comes the pain.
Suddenly Rye pops his head through the door and begins to shout down the locker room at me.
“Hey, it’s Gareth’s birthday, I got you a slice of cake if you want one.”
“Thanks, Rye”
Rye enters the room , walking down to me whilst trying to balance the two plates on his hands. He wasn’t very good at balancing. Not very good at all.
We sat on one of the benches and began eating our cake slices. I tried not to eat like a pig, I didn’t want to go out to millions of people with chocolate cake all around my face. That’d be funny though.
“Who the hell is Gareth anyway?”
“I think he’s one of the security guards. Big fella, kinda looks like a tank had a child with a space station, a train and a rhino.”
“Hehe”
“Hey!”
“What?”
“I finally made you laugh.”
“Thanks”
“For what?”
“Being a good friend”
“I don’t have much choice when I’m beign friendzoned now do I?”
“Hehe”
We talked for a while after that ... before eventually Raven, Lindsey and Laura arrived and threw him out for being a pervert, hehe. Thanks for the cake, Rye.
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Urgh, have some self respect. No offense here but you both look like hookers. Showing off your cleavage and your tight little booties. God, you should be ashamed of yourselves! I don’t even really want to try and pin you, I’d probably pop those fake breasts or something. Stupid little sluts. Plus the pervs in the audience might get off on it, dirty little wankers.
When it comes down to RAW talent, I’m the best. But I’ll bet you guys any amount of money that they’ll end up getting title shots simply by looking sexy and sucking the dicks of the NYCCW board of directors. I’ll tell you guys something. I’m not gonna be doing that. I’m not gonna show off cleavage or grind my arse on a rope like a little slag. ‘Cause I’m not. I’m a twenty nine year old WRESTLER, not a twenty nine year old prostitute like lindseycalaway Laura Tavares. #The truth.
So ... ladies, no, that’s wrong. So ... skanks, I’m going to be looking forward to what you’re gonna bring to Bright Lights, maybe you’ll surprise me. Maybe not. Of cause I’ll win that match, possibly the only decent women’s match in history and then proceed to beat the living shit out of ya. Remember, I’m Irish, I’ll be drinking a pint of larger and looking forward to punching you bitches right in the fucking face. ‘Cause I’m not the kind of person to bring my fists to a fist fight. I’m the type of person that brings a sword to a fist fight. And you know that’s the damn truth ... I’m irish, remember. We love to fight.
See you cumgozzlers at Bright Lights, and do me a favour. Don’t bother teaming up, I can easily beat two little pussies myself ... wait ... that sounded wrong ... oh god that sounded so wrong. But you get what I mean.
METALLICA EVANS------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Title: The Women's Toilets
Place: The NYCCW HQ in New York City
I enter the women’s toilets not too far inside NYCCW HQ in New York City. I instantly turn to the mirrors and lean against the sink bellow the one to the far right. I close my eyes and take a deep breath, looking rather exhausted or maybe a bit angry. I was wearing one of my t-shirts based on the day of the week. Maroon monday, Turqouise tuesday, wpurple wednesday, Thunder Thursday, Flaming Friday, Shadow Saturday and Snow sunday. Today was the day that I wore a red shirt for flaming friday. Today I was wearing a red shirt with the words “I’m red!” printed onto it with dark skinnie jeans and black and white emo sneakers with my lip piercing and my glasses on.
I lower my head and begin to breathe approprietly again. I should explain. Last night me and Rye met on twitter and we got talking. He invited me to team with him, so I just went with it thinking “what the heck, I’ll give it a try”.
Now ever since I’ve entered the building he’s been following me around like a lost puppy making these corny jokes, flirting with me and feeling me up every few minutes. It’s starting to get annoying. I don’t like being touched! At least not by him. Rye’s a good guy underneath all of the confidence but seriously, if he slaps my arse again, I’ll punch the prick in the face.
I take one more deep breath before raising my head up to get the fright of my life. A slim man dressed in a block hoodie, paintball mask and armour appeared in the mirror. I jumped back in fright, nearly falling over but I was caught by the man in the mask. He just held me, stopping me from falling and stared at me in that blank emotionless paintball mask.
Suddenly the man in the mask raised me up to my feet. I took a few steps back, finding myself clinging to the wall behind me ever so quickly. I was speachless, Who was this man? How did he get in? What does he want with me? Oh god, what is he going to do to me? The man slowly strolled up to me, coming closer and closer and closer ... and closer. He pulled himself towards me, his face came within inches of mine. I was so scared. Suddenly I hear a voice coming from the mask, it was rather muffled. It sounded like this man was using a voice changer or something.
“So beautiful ... what a shame I’m already taken.”
The man raised his right hand up and grabbed my throat, squeezing tighter and tighter, I could barely breathe.
“Help ... me”
Suddenly one of the toilets flush and the man in the mask makes a run for it, obviously he didn’t want anybody else to see him. My body slumped down to the floor as I tried to catch my breath, I began to caugh before being helped up by an unknown person. Without looking, I thank them.
“Thanks”
I look up from the floor to see the face of my enemy, Lindsey Calaway wearing a black cardigan over a grey top with light jeans and high heels. God, I had been saved by a little skank. Oh how embarrassing is that? I should have been ready, I shouldn’t have shown her how weak I can be. I just gotta show her I’m not weak. ‘Cause I’m not!
“Are you okay?”
“Get the fuck off me.”
“... okay, I heard a guy in here. What happened?”
“I was blindsided. It was that little prick off twitter, what’s his name?”
“Stytch?”
“No, the one with the hood.”
“Oh, the guy that’s been hacking everyone? H4ck3r, right?”
“Yeah, yeah that’s him.”
“Oh my ... wait, he was here?”
“Yeah, I dunno how he got in but he just said I’m beautiful and that it was a shame he was already taken.”
“Sounds like he should be called R4p15t not H4ck3r.”
“Funny ... now fuck off and leak some naked pictures online or something.”
Lindsey just looks at me with a rather annoyed facial expression. She either didn’t like what I said, actually did have naked pictures online or just ate a bad shrimp. She grabs me by my colar and pushes me towards the same wall I had previously been pushed up against. She keeps holding on tight whilst she begins to speak in a rather angry tone.
“I’m not a “little skank” as you put it. I’m a WRESTLER just like you. I’m not gonna grind my ass on the ropes or do bikini contests. Because I’m better than that, so are you.”
I smile before pushing Lindsey away from me, even though she was right and I was wrong about her, she still annoyed me. I don’t like beautiful women, they piss me off. She continued to berate me as I just stared at her, trying not to lose my temper.
“Back in high school we used to have a word for girls like you. We called them hypocrites.”
I look on, smile and just do a “keep going" hand jesture.
“I’m not a skank, I’m a wrestler. After our match you can either shake my hand or stab me in the back, you’re choice. Friend or foe.”
I just walk up to Lindsey, smirking. Suddenly I find myself staring at her, still smirking. I lower my head for a few moment before rising it up again and looking into Lindsey’s eyes. I get up real close and say just one more sentence.
“You ... are ... a ...”
Suddenly Laura tavares walks in wearing a black women’s vest, some bracelets, a ring, a necklace, jeans and dark brown boots. She smiles as she enters the bathroom.
“Am I interupting anything?”
She must have thought we were doing something nasty. We were like just centimeters away from eachother, Laura must have thought something nasty was going on. As if!
“No ... we ... we were just talking.”
“Right, well ladies. Let me tell you this ... I’m not gonna go easy on you at Bright Lights, I gotta prove I’m not just a pretty face.”
“So do we ... I mean, So do I”
So do we? I bet she wants me to team up with her during the match. It would make things easier on both of us.
“Same”
“Well ladies ... see you Saturday”
“See you saturday”
The scene fades to black as Laura and Lindsey exit the women's toilets, Lindsey looks back at Metallica with a strange facial expression before walking away.
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METALLICA EVANSTitle: House Show
Place: Undisclosed Club, New York City
We open up with the camera positioned inside a rather medium sized club, on one half of the club the ring and ramp is positioned with a barricade around them and on the opposite side is the tint-lighted bar and dancefloor where some attendees were watching from their chairs as others surrounded the barricade and other were in the background dancing and drinking away. Music was playing in the background, it was a mixture of club, rock and pop music featuring such bands and artists as EvanEscence, Rhiannah and custom music in between songs from the house DJ. The DJ was working with NYCCW so he would play the theme tune of whatever wrestler came out. The DJ was a strange man, he wore a tight black baraclava with a black beanie cap. He was very pale and seemed to be wearing dark clothes with a black and orange glowing watch on his left hand. He seemed very familiar, very familiar indeed.
NYCCW officials thought it was a good idea to set this place as the venue for a house show. I was promised a huge arena full of fans screaming my name, instead I got a bunch of drunks dancing, drinking and watching the wrestling show packed into the medium sized club. I’ll admit it was pretty cool to see other guys wrestle with music in the background. This may not be a big show but I feel like it’s my chance to get things off my chest ... and not in a dirty way. Drake had just finished off a local competitor, now it was my turn to go out there and entertain. I had no match, just my mind and the words that flow out of my mouth.
Suddenly Sad But True by Metallica begins to play and out I come from the back, looking as hothothothothot as ever. I was wearing a mixture of my wrestling attire and the outfit I wore when I was a tarot card reader. I was wearing a black sports bra covered in a cotton layer with black tights, a black and red belt and fluffy dark brown wrestling boots. I had my usual panda eyes makeup on, never really liked going out without my panda eyes.
I come walking out through the purple smoke, holding my hair in my hands and raising it up, allowing it to fall down into my face. I fling back my hair and raise my right hand in the air, grabbing my pinkie finger with my thumb to create the “W” sign with my fingers. Of cause the W could mean anything. Wicked. Witch. Witchcraft. Wombles. Can mean anything you want it to mean. I stroll up towards the ring and enter in a strange way, climbing up the turnbuckle and taking a short glance at the people surrounding the barricades. All eyes was on me. I jump over into the ring and catch a mic thrown in by Carl Farmer. I smile at the crowd before beginning my little rant. I walked around the ring getting whistles from the men in the audience before I eventually spoke a single word.
The fans cheer for the newest diva in NYCCW.ME.
“So, saturday night I’ll be facing two “athletes”, Lindsey Calaway and Laura Tavares. These women aren’t athletes. One’s a bimbo who thinks she can wrestle just because she can do a flip and the other is only in the NYCCW because of her husband.”
The fans just keep looking on.
“In a recent rant in another house show Lindsey claimed we were in the same boat. Both newbies trying to impress the board of directors, trying to make womens wrestling mean something more than just push up bras, revealing clothing and perverts watching at home cracking one out over the little skanks in the ring. She’s right. We’re both newbies here in NYCCW but we’re not the same. Oh no no no no no!”
The fans keep on watching, intrigued.
“See, I thought her out to be a skank, showing off her body to get ahead in the business. I’m woman enough to say I was wrong. From what I’ve heard she doesn’t like the term “eye candy” being attached to womens wrestling. Neither do I. That’s one thing we DO have in common. I thought she was the type of girl that would suck a director’s dick just to get a title shot. I was wrong. If she’s watching somewhere or listening from the back, I’m sorry. I was wrong. But it won’t stop me from kicking the shit out of ya.”
I giggle at the thought of beating Lindsey up, rolling out of the ring and making my way to the back, finishing my little rant and apology to Lindsey.
After exiting through to the back, I begin to get changed into my normal clothes. Removing my boots, my tights, the black sports bra and the black cotton layer and putting back on my flaming friday shirt, my grey beanie cap, my dark brown coat, my skinnie jeans and my emo sneakers. I make my way to the exit carrying a courier bag full of my wrestling clothes and some of the things I brought with me from Ireland.
I headed towards the back exit in quite a hurry. I just wanted to get back to my hotel and ... erm ... “relieve myself”. Don’t judge me, I’m a woman, I have needs too.
I opened up the exit door and took a few steps forward. The sound of footsteps echoed throughout the dark street. It was just me ... wasn’t it? I began to walk down the street, tucking some of my hair into my hat and pulling my coat tighter as I began to look around, feeling like I was being watched. I began to get a little scared.
I decided to take the quick way to my hotel, through a series of alleyways that lead up to the hotel’s street. The first alleyway was pitch black. I couldn’t see anything. I switched on my phone and pressed the camera option, switching to night vision so I could tell if there was anybody lurking around. No one. No one but a small black cat and a drunk homeless guy passed out near the dumpster. I quickly fast-walked through the alleyway. I was a little scared of being attacked, ever since H4ck3r’s visit earlier I’ve been on my tippy toes. I’m being paranoid.
I stroll down the street leading up to the second alleyway, this alleyway was a bit more bright but it was home to several homeless people. They were nice though, this one guy called Kevin played music during the day for money to feed him and his dog. Me and him were friends of sorts, I always passed him when on my way to work or to have drinks with other NYCCW employees. I’ve been giving him a dollar every day now, he’s a nice guy. Maybe I’ll invite him for a cup of coffee some time.
Oh god, am I planning on making a date with a 37 year old homeless guy? Urgh. God no.
I entered the alleyway, realizing that nobody was here. What happened to all the homeless people that was camped out here? Suddenly a pair of hands brought me in from the darkness and covered my mouth. Oh god, is it him again? I hope so, I’d prefer to be attacked by someone I know than be attacked by a complete stranger. Better to know your enemy, right?
Tears made their way down my face, making their way from my eyes to my cheeks. Oh god, what was he going to do to me? My attacker spun me around before slamming me into the wall and staring at me. I just looked the other way. I couldn’t bare to try and see who it was. He forced me, grabbing onto my face with his right hand and turning my head towards him. Oh god. It was him ... it was H4ck3r.
Why was he doing this to me? It’s Drake he wants!
Again, H4ck3r had a voice changer. I couldn’t make out who it was. I just couldn’t recognize the voice. Who was he?
“Do me a favour, pretty girl ...”
Fuck that, I’m not givng anyone a “favour”!
H4ck3r leans in and whispers something into my ear.
“(whispers)”
Oh ... he meant like a real favour. I’ve got such a dirty mind. Shame on me.
H4ck3r lets go of my face and exits the alleyway, turning a corner and making a run for it. By the time I got to the corner, he was gone. Maybe he lived in one of the apartments on that street? Or maybe he just scaled a building? It was like he just vanished into thin air.
The DJ ... it was him. I knew he looked familiar.
I took out my phone again, dialing Alexander Krossa A.K.A. Drake Hunter’s mobile phone number. I raised my phone up to my ear whilst my tears dried up on my cheeks. The phone rang for a few moments before he eventually answered.
“Hello?”
“H4ck3r ... he ... he attacked me.”
“Oh my god, are you hurt?”
“No, I’m fine. He just grabbed my face and told me to tell you something.”
“What?”
“He ... he said ...”
“Calm down, Met, now ... what did he say?”
“He said ... remember her ... and remember him.”
“I ... I don’t understand.”
“Drake, just sort this out. I got attacked because of you. Now please just ... sort it out.”
“I’ll try.”
“Bobye.”
“Bye”
Time to go back to the hotel, Sonic needs his feeding and I need a nice cup of tea and some “alone time” with my vibrating toothbrush. Being strangled really gets me going.
God I'm so weird.
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METALLICA EVANSTitle: W/\
Place: Backstage @ Madison Square Garden, NYCCW Bright Lights return arena.
What does it mean to be wicked? What does it mean to be an assassin? I suppose for each individual person there’s an individual belief. So that’s roughly seven million people and seven million individual beliefs. For me, being wicked means to be evil, to be the darkness that takes over half of the light and shades alongside the white to create the grey. Of cause I’m talking about alignment. The white being the good, the grey being the neutral and the darkness being ... well ... evil.
Now if you asked me what it meant to be an assassin I would just say “being named ezio”. But to Rye, this nickname means something more than a series of Ubisoft games. To Rye, the nickname assassin is meant because he’s just like an assassin when in the ring. Waits for the right moment ... and BANG, target down.
Asking Rye what being wicked meant, he would say “it’s like a slang thing, init?”. So there you go. Proof that everybody has different oponions. Also proof that me and Rye agree on absolutely nothing.
It had been a few hours after the incident earlier this morning. He was still following me around like a lost puppy. He kept making these corny-arse jokes, flirting around and putting his hands on me.
I DON’T LIKE BEING TOUCHED!
Seriously, he bought me like twenty cups of coffee today. I don’t even drink coffee, I like tea. Or better yet, some strawberry flavoured fizzy water. I can’t get enough of that stuff.
He says all these corny lines like “if I said you had a beautiful body, would you hold it against me?”, “people call me Rye but you can call me tonight, here’s my number!”, “are those space pants? Cause your ass is out of this world!”, “if you were a burger at mcdonalds you’d be mcgorgeous!” and “I’m going outside to make out, care to join me?”.
Urgh, I get shivvers just thinking about how gross that is.
Oh yeah, and he keeps feeling me up. This morning he pretended there was an eyelash on my cheek, sweeped it off with his thumb and tried to kiss me. I headbutted him in the nose and told him to piss off. God, when will he take the hint? JUST FRIENDS.
Urgh, I’d rather get bummed by a great dane than get in the sack with Rye. He’s an alright guy but ... I have a certain “type”. And he’s definately not it.
I think that wraps up the epilogue doesn’t it? Okey dokey.
The camera fades in as Rye and myself are backstage at Bright Lights, looking forward to the big return of NYCCW. Oh, just a few more hours and ... SHOWTIME! Hahaha, I love saying that. SHOWTIME! Oh no, I’m turning into Percy Watson now -_-
Rye had gotten dressed a few minutes ago and now ... well ... he was trying to watch me getting dressed. The other girls weren’t here yet, I guess there was traffic or something. Or maybe just a shoe sale.
I was trying to get dressed but quite frankly, I didn’t want Rye to see any part of my body. He’s been practically humping my leg all day, god knows what he’ll do when I show a bit of skin.
“Could you please go away? I gotta get changed.”
“I know, I just wanna watch.”
“Rye ... stop it. Nothing’s gonna happen between us. So get your dick back in your underpants and stop following me around.”
“I thought we were a team.”
“Oh, so you’d be humping Johnny’s leg if you were his tag team partner too, huh?”
“Erm ... no. but I get your point.”
“And I can see yours, now piss off.”
“Fine, I’ll see you later. Maybe a cup of coffee?”
“Fine. As friends.”
“Sure.”
Rye exited the room, leaving me alone to get changed. Oh, I just realized something. Raven isn’t here either. I’m a fan of hers, I know she wouldn’t be late. Oh crap, I’m early. I’ve never been early before. Allways late. Looks like it’s a new start afterall.
I begin to remove my clothing one by one, removing my dark brown zip-up hoodie, then my black t-shirt, then my fluffy boots and finally my dark jeans. At this point I was pretty much naked, I had my underwear on but I felt like I had literally nothing on. It had been so long since anyone had seen me naked. The last time ... I was used. That’s why I don’t like showing skin. It brings back bad memories. Memories of my dickhead exes.
I proceeded to stuff my clothes in my locker, locking it shut and returning to my original position. I bend over to pick up my wrestling attire, pulling the clothes up and down onto my bare skin. First the black sports bra, then the cotton layer that covers it. Then the black tights, the black and red belt, my fluffy wrestling boots and of cause my bracelets.
I stroll over to the mirror on the far side of the room and take a look at myself in the mirror. One thing missing. Makeup. I placed the eyeliner over my eyes, I was already wearing some makeup so I didn’t have to go too heavy with the makeup. Sometimes I do a little too much but this time, they looked pretty damn good. I’m surprised. I’ve never been really good at this. Seems like I’m always getting better nowadays, wouldn’t you agree?
I look around, nobody’s here.
Who the hell am I talking to in my head? Myself? Oh, that’s weird. I should get a therapist or something. Oh I forgot, the last therapist of mine went mad. I wonder why.
Anyways, it’s a couple of hours till showtime (SHOWTIME!) and now all I’ve got to do is wait. Wait for my opponents to turn up and possibly beat the crap out of me. We’ll see though. I’ll put up a fight. Just like always.
No matter how bruised, battered or down right broken I am, I will never accept defeat. Victory is mine, it always will be.
Tonight I grow a pair (of tits) and face possibly my most intriguing opponents ever. The wife of a man way past his prime and someone that’s ... just like me. Trying to prove that womens wrestling means something more than cleavage, hair pulling and photoshoots. Tonight, we make history. The first of many historical battles here in NYCCW.
Here comes the pain.
Suddenly Rye pops his head through the door and begins to shout down the locker room at me.
“Hey, it’s Gareth’s birthday, I got you a slice of cake if you want one.”
“Thanks, Rye”
Rye enters the room , walking down to me whilst trying to balance the two plates on his hands. He wasn’t very good at balancing. Not very good at all.
We sat on one of the benches and began eating our cake slices. I tried not to eat like a pig, I didn’t want to go out to millions of people with chocolate cake all around my face. That’d be funny though.
“Who the hell is Gareth anyway?”
“I think he’s one of the security guards. Big fella, kinda looks like a tank had a child with a space station, a train and a rhino.”
“Hehe”
“Hey!”
“What?”
“I finally made you laugh.”
“Thanks”
“For what?”
“Being a good friend”
“I don’t have much choice when I’m beign friendzoned now do I?”
“Hehe”
We talked for a while after that ... before eventually Raven, Lindsey and Laura arrived and threw him out for being a pervert, hehe. Thanks for the cake, Rye.
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