Post by Deleted on Jun 3, 2023 21:09:31 GMT -5
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Norris, the man who’s had the unenviable task of managing Sonya since her career began, opened the door to the Champion’s lavish room and stepped into what felt like a tomb. He’d expected a shitstorm to fall upon Sonya in the wake of her disgracement, but it’d been a tsunami instead. It was so profound that her peril made it to major news outlets.
{WATCH AND LISTEN BEFORE READING THE REST}
Kim had set a pro wrestling record, which was authenticated by Guinness Book of World Records on their page.
Everywhere Norris went, he saw Sonya’s ass hiked in surrender to Kim and the deluge of memes with it. The onslaught had aged him 10 years in a week, and as he approached the Champion, more gray hairs surfaced when he realized Kim hadn’t dropped her promo yet. The verbal mauling would be worse.
“There she is” he beamed, masking his stress.
She’d been distant since the “Great Humiliation.” Ghosted calls. Canceled training. He’d been advised she hadn’t eaten much since the disaster and it showed when he popped a squat on her bed.
“I’ve heard of being hit with the ugly-stick, but you were clearly hit out of the park. Ha.”
The joke fell flatter than Sonya did at Kim’s hands.
“I need time to process.”
She lay curled into a ball, clutching the Television Championship so tight it was like she was hugging a loved one drawing their last breath.
“Understandable. Duncan’s-”
“I don’t deserve Duncan.”
“Whoooa. Pump the brakes” He urged. “You still need to train in case something happens with Regina. You have to keep up the appearance.”
She frowned hearing about Regina. Last they spoke, her doppelganger had threatened to spill the secret on their deal, even lie about how many matches she competed in as Sonya. Regina said she’d be fighting in Sonya’s place from now on regardless of personal vendettas Benson got involved in and there was nothing she could do about it.
Sadly that was true. With only 7 more wins to go, Sonya couldn’t afford a whistleblower.
“Babygirl, I know Kim broke you. In my 30 years in this business I’ve never seen a competitor humiliate an opponent like she has you… “
It wasn’t just the matches either. Since Sunday, Kim was using Twitter to put sustained humiliation on Sonya by posting one meme per day featuring both fuck-pins.
It was a masterclass in drubbing a champion. He wasn’t the only one who noticed.
“But let me tell ya something, what that cunt’s done is the best thing that could’ve happened.”
Sonya yanked her hand away. Her right eye twitched.
“Listen! Kim thinks she’s getting angry, humiliated Sonya. A Sonya she can manipulate into mistakes and embarrass with more bitch-pose shit. She’s getting Regina instead. Just like you thought you were getting Baretta Blade but got Kim instead. It’s the same thing. It’s..”
*Chef’s Kiss gesture*
“Poetic justice.”
He was spot-on. Regina’s in-ring prowess is shades of Bam Miller and Atara after all, and she doesn’t carry Sonya’s emotional baggage.
“You’ve got 50/50 chances of beating Kim.” He stretched the truth. “Regina’s got 90%.” Accurate with the surprise factor. “I know Regina made you mad but you brought it on yourself leaving her on the sidelines while you settled feuds and got power hungry with that belt. The girl’s had surgeries to become you and you’ve shelved her long enough. It’s her time and War Games is the perfect place.”
Benson gave him long narrow eyes that seemed to linger forever, but alas she conceded with a begrudged nod.
“And Ragnarok?”
“We’ll hit up JMONT to handle him if needed.”
They shared nods.
“You still have to do vignettes though, and I’ve got a consolation prize for you.”
He grinned like a shark would to a dolphin and pulled her into a fatherly-type hug that her own dad could take pointers on.
Stainless steel walls and generic tile greet the camera. As the operator pans his equipment, the bland room falls onto a chair with the bound and gagged Baretta Blade in it.
“I’ve had time to process.”
Sonya’s voice isn’t honeyed like it usually is. No prideful inflection. Kim’s beaten that out of her too. The Rich Bitch enters the frame looking anything but regal and pretty. Her perky chest isn’t puffed out as far. Her chin isn’t held as high. The Television Championship is virtually glued to her, as if any moment it could be taken away.
“When you boasted about your new found friendship with this masked menace on Twitter, I had to act.”
Joining her is Norris and Smith, who pull up seats next to the terrified enhancement talent. Sonya shoves her cell into the lens.
“It was easy to lure her in. A phone call from a prominent wrestlecast to appear on their show and talk about the brilliant ruse you two descreated me with on Brawl was all the bait needed. And since I can’t get my pound of flesh from you, she’ll do.. Until War-Games”
Norris rips the wrestler’s mask off, revealing a cute young lady full of terror, and he repositions the gag.
“Kim, revel in your precious wrestling community feasting on my humiliation. I’m powerless to stop any of it just like I was powerless to stop you from doing it to me.”
The admission sours her expression like she’s bitten spoiled food.
“I'll say this though, and god do I hate to, thank you. The more you’ve beaten me like I’m your personal sex toy, the more things have clicked.”
Benson sneers at her own remark.
“I’ve figured out how full of crap you are. Your crusade against me is because I trash talk the business, so I need to learn a lesson. Tell me, when does speaking the truth equate to trash? Name one thing I’ve said about this business that isn’t true. I’ve walked the corridors in several promotions. I’ve seen talent openly snorting poison up their noses. I’ve seen them injecting death into their veins. Our boss advocates it in his very name. Weapons meant for household use are regularly implemented in matches to cause egregious bodily harm to wrestlers. Our world champion brought a flare-gun to the ring once. Frank Lowe murdered Raging Dead live on an Action Wrestling PPV. He and his accomplices were rewarded with contracts and title matches instead of prison sentences. There’s studies, documentaries, even a show called Dark Side of the Ring that proves everything I say is fact, not trash.”
Her gigantic bodyguard pulls a tray into view. It’s full of instruments one would find in a tattoo parlor. Spoiler: This isn’t a tattoo shop. It’s super off the books.
“You dislike me because I disrespect the business you love and care so very much about???”
“Lexi was tormented by your FRIEND Goth and almost became his real life personal doll. He did things to her that no woman should go through. He disgraced this business. But there you were, glossing over it in your vignettes after the reveal, and providing emotional support for his lady after JMONT put him down.”
Smith fires up a tattoo gun, causing Baretta to thrash hectically in the chair but she can’t escape.
“Mason’s doing a Trump schtick. He’s pimping your sport for political gain. Talks down about minority wrestlers. Obnoxious to women. Not a peep from you about it.”
Norris holds a picture of Kim up next to Smith, allowing the monolith to get the details right.
“Punisher performed a mock RAPE scene on me in the ring, totally disrespecting women and the business. Where were the men and women in this industry? Where were you and Kat? Mac? Who defended women and this sport? Only two. Duncan Ryder and me. The rest of you were quiet as the grave. And you have the TEMERITY to tell me to stop playing the victim, all the while victimizing me ceaselessly. Tell you what, Kim. When someone you love is murdered like this business murdered my brother and you’re forced to live under their killer’s domain, you can talk to me about victimhood. Until then, STFU!”
Smith pierces Baretta’s face and deposits the ink. Smith isn’t a man of many talents but he did dabble in tattoos for a time in his youth. Sonya pauses a beat and remembers something.
“A few years ago a wrestler was murdered on Tara Fenix’s charity cruise and she kept the show going. Total black eye on the sport. Peers lambasted her for it but were you one of them?”
She rounds the back of the chair and surveys the petrified girl.
“No, Kim. You only care for this business when it’s convenient for you. Your campaign against me isn’t about that. You didn’t unleash your ploys to teach me the value of humility or the other horse pucky you’ve justified your actions on the past few weeks.”
Sonya’s sea-blue orbs aren’t captivating as they hone in on the camera, they’re sunken, red and swollen, testimony of sleepless nights.
“You did it because you’re an opportunist. You let it slip that you needed to remind people who you are. That means you’re forgettable despite being a 16 year veteran who’s won more championships than Chris Page has wrinkles in his forehead… and you have a thriving school… and you have a punch-drunk legendary brother… and you’re in title mixes in other promotions.. and you have a HOF fiancé who’s held more championships than our combined roster … AND you're popular with the ring crew because they lick the polluted vagina juice you leave behind on the ropes during your entrances. You culminated 16 years of wrestling into hiding under an enhancement talent’s mask so you could humiliate a champion in this reprehensible company, because you’d been bounced from contender-ship. If people forgot about you or never knew you, they know you now, and that’s exactly why you’ve put me through this.”
Her jaw tightens, thinking of the sustained abuse from Kim.
“And Rat Jones is no different. That skeever saw the opportunity to plug you into the scene after your shoddy start here, so she dragged your cellulite infested carcass away from catering and onto the ramp. You’ve taken care of the rest since then. This has happened before. You debuted here in 2010 and your 1st match was inexplicably a Intercontinental Title match, which you lost in record time. When you resurfaced back in February you were inexplicably inserted into a tag title match. I have an idea who you exploited for those opportunities, so don’t tinkle on me and claim it’s raining.”
Her pearlies bear a hateful snarl as Baretta continues living a nightmare in the chair.
“You didn’t deserve a shot at this championship though. Others have been more impressive in defeats than you have in victories over poor traumatized Lexi and my friend Milk Mayson. Chatman or even Mecca were more deserving”
Sonya pauses amid muffled squeals from Kim’s accomplice.
“BUT, no woman ever humiliated me in this sport or outside it, until you did. You ripped my pride away in Jersey and impoverished the pedestal I sat upon. I’ve spent the past 5 months educating challengers on why they wouldn’t make a good champion and in just two weeks you’ve made it so I can no longer say that, for mine is known for me being drubbed and posed as your bitch. I only have one shot to salvage some of this and it’s at WarGames. You didn’t deserve this shot before all this but now you do, and you deserve the consequences that come with it.”
Pulls up a chair also.
“What consequences? Defeat. Your reverse-psychology doesn’t work on me. You can’t hide under a mask to humiliate me, relentlessly meme your desecration of me on Twitter, threaten pain and torment, treat me like I’ve committed felonies against your business, and then give me compliments while simultaneously degrading me like it’s all a tough love lesson from ‘Coach Pain.’ No, Kim. I’m NOT talented. I’m NOT a good wrestler because I am NOT a wrestler. Don’t try that crap on me. I’m champion because of my wit, cunning, schemes and luck. And come War Games, I’m gonna fight dirty and smart, break every rule, use every shortcut, I’ll even sacrifice a notch in my quota and eat a count-out or DQ’d if needed.”
Slaps title-plate for emphasis.
“You’re gonna find out that even veterans can learn lessons, cause the way I see it? You need teaching. First lesson will be about reality, which you don’t seem to grasp. You’ve convinced yourself and the IWC that you’re 2-0 against me. It wasn’t your name Harvey Marx called on Brawl. It was Baretta’s. So, it doesn't count obviously. I never knew it was you until I woke up from Lala Land.”
She reassures herself with a nod. Poor Sonya, grasping at anything to restore a sliver of what Kim’s pummeled out of her.
“Tag match? Come on, Kim. You’re a vet. You know what happened. I made an avoidable mistake. Instead of playing it smart, I sought revenge trying to humiliate you with your own move. Had I not done that, I would have won. Do you think I’m gonna make that mistake again, knowing another vigorous humiliation comes after it?”
Regina certainly isn’t gonna make that mistake either.
“Instead of wrapping yourself up in the hoopla of the win, you should be more concerned about how you couldn’t make me tap to your Painfilled Ending. You looked so surprised and frustrated, gritting your butter-stained teeth and all. It wasn’t as easy as you thought it'd be huh? That’s the reality of it.”
And it’s gonna be harder to make Regina tap, but thankfully Kim doesn’t know she exists.
“Another lesson you’ll need to learn is to practice what you preach. The IWC’s driving a narrative that when you had me pinned and helpless after the tag match, I was taking it like a bitch as a form of acceptance. No. I was shell-shocked and confused by your pep-talk. What was it? ‘Train hard!’.... ‘Take this seriously!”... Well, thank you Coach Obvious. What advice will you give me next? Look both ways before crossing streets? Wear a raincoat when it’s raining?”
Her nostrils flare.
“I’ve had to train twice as hard as everyone else. I didn’t have the LUXURY of a big brother or someone in the business to teach me in advance. My first match was against a 3rd generation wrestler and I couldn’t throw a FUCKING punch. I have to train harder just to survive let alone win. Take this and you seriously? You think I won’t after you REDUCED me into a live-action MEME?”
Oh how that hurt to concede. Women like Sonya don’t get reduced.
“I’ve seen what you’ve done in SCW and IIW. I know it took a double powerbomb through the cage to put you down. You mauled Cindy, mercilessly submitted Seleana, and steamrolled Mercedes and Preston. If Goth hadn’t been injured you’d have won B.F.T.P. too. You’re terrifying but this is where practice what you preach comes into play-”
She taps her temple.
“Because I’ve also seen you become a choke artist. Jessie Falco and Atara choked you out with the same hold quicker than fans choke their chicken during your intros. How can you be a vet and not know how to defend that? I could understand it happening once. But twice? So close together?”
And it won’t go unnoticed by Regina.
“Kim, you’re the one, not me, who needs to practice what you preach and take this more seriously. You’re the one acting like War-Games is a foregone conclusion. Oh I’ve seen it.”
She flicks through her cell’s screenshot library and produces it to the camera.
“The IWC’s feeding off it and making belts for you.”
Swipes photos.
She snarls.
“Even Candice Doo-Doo Page pulled her head out of her glass stomach long enough to weigh in.
“Next is humility. In your ruination of me, you’ve become arrogant and have shifted the pressure of winning off of me and unto you. Your win is a guarantee, not an expectation. But if history indicates anything, it’s that you cave in these moments. You choked in the IC title match in 2010. You told Jessie to keep her Bombshell title warm and you choked. You choked in the Tag Title match. And you choked in the contendership match. I bet it’s the real reason you don’t chase titles anymore. If you lose this one, though, how would that look?”
She showcases the TV Title bearing her brother’s name, the kid whose death blackened her heart.
“This isn’t a title to me. It’s my Sword of Mars. You may believe wins and losses are part of the business, but they aren’t for me. I HAVE to win. There’s no ‘want’ or ‘need’ involved, and at Spectrum Arena, home of the Hornets, you’re gonna get stung. Then it’s back to catering for you, where the only thing you’ll be beating is everyone else to the buffet line.”
Benson gestures at Baretta.
"As for her? I should do 25 in State Prison for this but in YOUR business criminal activity is unpunishable. She wanted to live vicariously through you so we've made it possible for Baretta to always see you in her. Literally. A lesson learned."
She snaps her fingers. "Hours later" appears on screen and a distraught Baretta is seen ambling free from a building with Kim Pain's face forever tattooed over her very own. A black market face-job if you will. Our scene ends with her squeaking out Kim's name amid sobs.