Post by Deleted on Jan 19, 2024 23:56:34 GMT -5
Artemis strains under the impossible weight draped across her burden carriers, yet she surges once more under the loud encouragement of her muse and SIMP, who each weep with awe as the Artiste completes the set and drops the weight stack from the same shoulders designed to carry the Renaissance through 2024 and beyond.
Donatello does his happy dance and while his back is turned Artemis collapses from the muscle failure that’s kicked in. This is the price you pay when you’re the Intercontinental Champion. You go beyond ordinary limits to achieve perfection.
Her muse whips back around to see Achilles leaning down to aid her. Jealousy bursts through Donatello and he shoves the SIMP aside, taking his place in retrieving the fallen revolutionary and easing her onto a bench.
Donatello: Stop trying to grope her, and get a towel and water… SIMP.
Achilles could snap his neck like a twig if he wanted to, but he replies with a nod. Using only a second, the SIMP furnishes the items and waits for Donatello to take them, only to be met with scorn.
Donatello: Are you touched in the head, why are you handing me this stuff?! Go towel her off and water her!
Achilles nods again. He knows it’s Donatello trying to make him look bad in front of the Artiste. Her muse is known for wearing lots of cologne, and jealousy is the most prevalent one.
Achilles: My pleasure.
As Achilles towels down her ripped and immaculate frame, he also feels jealousy. Not towards Donatello, though. He’s envious of those beads of sweat racing down her body. He covets the pink yoga pants tightly pinned against her legs, and the sweat-soaked t-shirt that clings to her bosoms, which has a picture of the forefathers with the caption, “We Would Have Been Dropping Bodies By Now.” Achilles would murder all the firstborns of Egypt to trade places with any of those things.
Donatello: SIMP!!!!!!!!!!!
He blows his training whistle right in Achilles’s face, forcefully removing his head from the gutter.
Donatello: I said to towel her and water her, not undress her with your eyes you perverted heathen!
Achilles couldn't hide a predatory grin.
Achilles: Oh I did more than just undress her.
Donatello: You did what?!
Achilles: I'm just saying if she ever got a hold of me, there'd be nothing left except for a smoldering white hot crater between h–
Donatello gasps with all the dramatics of a teenage girl, causing Artemis' to quirk an eyebrow in wonder of what was going on.
Donatello: You’re in timeout! Here….
Her muse fishes out some cash and SLAPS it across Achilles’s chest.
Donatello: Since you're nothing more than a dog in heat, 'go fetch' us some coffee. On your way back stop by McDonald's and get yourself a kid’s meal you CHILD!
Donatello yanks the towel and water away from him and busies himself doing what the SIMP failed to do. After stowing the cash away, Achilles bows to Artemis and takes his leave, vowing to become the best coffee fetcher Artemis has ever seen.
Donatello: You see this, Artemis?
Donatello wiggles his pinky finger.
Donatello: It’s my last nerve and he’s grating on it.
Artemis has gathered enough strength to move her arms and pat him on the back.
Artemis: Dearest Muse, be patient with him.
Donatello: He’s a SIMP, not only that, a complete filthy-headed degenerate!
Artemis: No. He’s a tool—a valuable resource. The man risked life and limb to capture my “artistic juices”. He will come in handy, possibly as soon as the chamber itself.
Her muse pouts but nods agreeably before moving behind her and commencing the massage routine.
Donatello: You won’t need him at First Dance. You’re the last entrant into that mud show circus match. Plus, you have me.
She grins and pats him on the hand.
Artemis: Having a Plan C is better than having a Plan A and a Plan B.
Donatello: I suppose you’re right. Anyway, you lie down and rest for a moment. Professor Wrestling and Palestiania will arrive soon for your specialized training. You shouldn´t overtrain.
The Artiste discards the notion with a snort.
Artemis: Nonsense. Those challenging for the title aren’t just good talent; they’re five of the best to ever do it. I’ll need a herculean effort even with the last entrant spot. I can’t be complacent, not even for a moment. Not with Max Stone looming too.
He would like to disagree, but he can’t. Love will do that to you. So, he grips her shoulder and gestures across the gym.
Donatello: Where to next then?
She stands up and he towel-snaps her on the booty.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
“Centuries” plays and a montage cranks up, sending us through the early days of the WGWF Intercontinental championship. The wars that were fought. The glory that came from torn bodies and broken marriages, worthy sacrifices to carry the gold.
~ Mikel Batraini, bloodied worse than a gutted pig, holds the IC title aloft after conquering Seth Stevens in a Ladder Match at Armageddon V. ~
~ ” Big Tyme” Zach Rizza does the impossible at Wrestlewars 6, lifting his newly won IC title in his left hand, and his other championship in his right hand. A double champ. A historic night for him and the IC championship. ~
~ John Cable, desperate to finish Kyle Shane, delivers the Darkest Hour from the top rope, securing the IC title and adding another accolade to his Hall of Fame career. ~
As the song kicks into higher gear we race through more scenes up to Wrestlewars 8 where Cholo bested Buster Gloves for the championship, and then a complimentary quick-shot montage plays of his title reign until the vacancy.
And then…..
Record scratch.
The music stops.
The “dance” ceases.
The scene cuts to darkness.
And then…
Another image.
The mass of humanity, fans and media alike, who are smushed together in this First Dance Wrestlecon event empty their souls into either boos or cheers for the image of Artemis. The video shows her being crowned the Interim Intercontinental Champion without a drop of blood or sweat born of her, no mettle tested, and no war won on that particular night.
Scene fades. The tron shuts off.
And then the crowd goes wild with mixed reactions as Donatello and Achilles emerge and sit at their stations, with Artemis nowhere to be found.
Donatello: Dearest fans, Artemis sends her regards. She couldn’t be bothered attending this obligated event because, well, Candice Page told her she had to be here and we know how Artemis feels about that tyrant. She is protesting and she’s also deep in training.. But she did send some words along in this pre-recorded taping.
The tron sparks to life showing Artemis meditating at a monastery deep in the Appenine mountains. After a pause, determined eyes open.
Artemis: Greetings, artemites! I’m sure you all will understand the dire need I have of being away from there, due to Candice and her continued unfair treatment of me. Once again she’s put me in a pickle. She has me defending my championship against nearly impossible odds. Five all-time greats in a chamber match.
The assembly jeers the remarks because of the convenient exclusion of her advantageous last-entrant perk.
Artemis: But I’ll overcome the odds because unlike my challengers I’m not in it for selfish reasons or to prove some kind of point to myself and others. I’m defending this title for something greater than myself. I’m fighting to prove my artistic vision is the renaissance of the ring. I’m fighting for every fan out there, even the ones who can’t see that my vision is needed to save this sport from the mud show it is. When Cholo the Cowardly Lion vacated this championship, I took it upon myself to save it. I was the one who made something out of nothing. While my opponents were resting on their laurels after failing to win the world championship and Cannabis Cup I was revolutionizing the WGWF before the ink was dry on my contract. When Candice was telling my opponents to jump, they were asking how high. When Candice told me to jump, I looked her dead in the eye and said… MAKE ME JUMP!
The melting pot of fans and journalists treat the remarks with varied but passionate outbursts.
Artemis: But I digress, It’s my duty as champion to be the shepherd this division needs and to aid my challengers in what comes after their defeat at my miracle-working hands. I’m not here to destroy the Intercontinental division, I’m here to lead it. Thus, I have prepared a place for all of my challengers, so they may transition and succeed after failure. I’ll start with you, Dew-Bwah.
The camera angle shifts dramatically. Now it’s from the camera operator lying flat on their back, the lens pointing up at the sky. The sole of one of Artemis’s shoes comes into view and she keeps it hovering a few inches off the lens, allowing only a fraction of her face to be seen.
Artemis: Under my foot, Dew-Bwah, is the place I’ve prepared for you. It’s poetic, isn’t it? You’ve made bedfellows with that Bible-thumping cokehead Jake “The Snake” Roberts. It was the serpent who seduced Adam and Eve with delusions of paradise. The snake made them believe they could be better than they were. They did and they were ruined for it. The serpent was punished by forever slithering upon the ground, made to nip at the heels of humans. How ironic that under my heel is what I’ve prepared for you, huh? Do the math, Dew-Bwah. Despite all your pill-popping snake orgies with Dark Kermit who allows you to be edgier than a 14 year old, you still lost to the man I beat. Despite your near-undefeated record in WGWF, you never won a multi-person match. You’re winless in them because when you stuff your head full of pills; people steal wins from you. Simple. Also, frankly, there's only one muse in WGWF, and that is Donatello… Not that to-be boot-leather you carry around..
As a polite fuck you to Dew-Bwah, we see her pull a crescent moon themed chalice into view and sip the nectar within.
Artemis: Tragically, wearing the hero’s cape was too heavy for you. I enjoyed the dancing, smiling, artsy Dew-Bwah. He would’ve been the *chef’s kiss* perfect fit for the Renaissance. Instead, you took the easy route. Took your ball and went home after a tough loss, then returned with Jake coiled in your ear, and now, much like you did with your wife and son, you’re putting Jenny Myst in peril. What would your mother think? While your father was exploring the bottom of a Vodka bottle, she was working two jobs to support 7 ungrateful children and only saw you when she drove the schoolbus. And now? She’d weep. Like father, like son. Just a different poison. And I’ll be damned if I let you infect the Intercontinental Division! But don’t worry, you’ll have a lot of shade under my boot to think about the following pearls of wisdom: When you meet God for judgment, it won’t suffice to say that virtue wasn’t convenient in the moment or that someone made you do it. Trust me.
A commotion brings things to a halt. A squalling baby is pushed forward in a stroller.
Donatello: It’s Spencer Adams!
It is. Well, figuratively. Complete with dreadlocks.
Donatello surprises Achilles by handing him the mic and telling him to cut a piece on Spencer. The SIMP’s expression hardens. That jealous SOB is setting him up. But, he takes it as a chance to impress Artemis and bounds up to the stroller, getting in “Spencer’s” face.
Achilles: Stop your fucking crying, dude. Nobody cares about your whiny bitch shit. Nobody cared about your bitchfit when Austin’s homie roasted you and you tore Twitter apart like you were a community notes fact-checker. And when you’re not moody about someone’s words, you’re moody about something else, despite your legacy being something most will only dream of achieving. You’ve beaten people most will never get the privilege of competing against. You’re someone who finds $20 on the ground in the middle of nowhere and bitches about how it’s not $100.
Uh-oh. Words are hurting Spencer more than any piledriver. The crying intensifies.
Achilles: What happened to you in AW happens to everyone, so stop thinking you’re so damn special. I would humiliate you, but twice now Dew-Bwah has cleaned you out and left nothing for the rest to feast on, so I’ll break it down in simple math… Twice Dew-Bwah has pinned you. Dew-Bwah got pinned by Devlin. Artemis pinned Devlin. Artemis is better than the guy who beat the guy you couldn’t beat. Good chance Dew-Bwah eliminates you before Artemis’s pod opens.
“Spencer”'s shrieking hits ear-busting levels so Achilles pulls out the bottle of Artemis’s “artistic juices” and opens it, letting “Spencer” whiff it. Her essense quiets him.
Achilles: Anyways, Artemis would prepare a safe space for you, so here, enjoy.
Achilles kicks "Spencer’s” stroller into an equipment room, slamming the door closed with a thud.
Back to the tron. This time the pre-recorded is Donatello bursting through the doors of a nursing home and asserting his dominance with swagger, followed by Achilles.
LIKE SO
Nurses and patients part as he addresses the camera while strutting.
Donatello: Artemis isn’t like the others. She doesn’t treat me and Achilles like a side character. We’re protagonists. It’s why she’s letting me do this piece while she’s bravely orchestrating a dance tournament to save a local community center because she’s a queen in and out of the ring. She’s prepared this place for Tristan, Devlin, and Austin.
Two old men are fighting in the hallway until Donatello walks through them with a shoulder check, flooring them.
Donatello: You three belong here. Tristan, you’re 28 but already have early-onset Alzheimer's. You told Ms. Essex you wanted the IC title because it’s the only title you haven’t won.
Footage plays.
Donatello: But?
More footage.
Donatello: You think so little of your accolades that you’ve forgotten your reign with it? And now, after some spotty sabbaticals, you claim to want to win it? You even stole Artemis’s interim title bearer spot. Are you trying to be WGWF’s resident Joe Biden? We can trust you with a title about as much as we trust our President.
He guffaws as he enters the day room, where chaos ensues. The residents at this nursing home don’t take kindly to ranting idiots barging in on them unless it’s one of their own. Some throw their juice at him. Others toss their oatmeal. Achilles stands passively, eyes rolled at the muse. Donatello flaunts his Alpha and shuts them down quickly with…
Donatello: And Devlin, you’re worse off than Tristan. You’re a danger to yourself, and now you’re a danger to others as evidenced by Jetta being injured by the Fortunate Ones because you befriended her. You can’t get out of your own way, and your focus is scattered across both brands coming into this. You and Tristan keep shooting each other in the foot. We saw it on Brawl. We’ll see it at First Dance. That’s why we’ll room you next to each other here. You two can beat up on each other like those two geezers earlier. Out of sight and mind from the mentally and physically fit on Brawl. Who knows though? Sucks for you because our Sleepy Joe beat you. Embarrassing.
Donatello is cut off as the doors are barged open, and a few geriatrics are sent sprawling onto the floor. Artemis struts in, as majestic as ever, gesturing for her muse to make way.
Artemis: If I had known that community center was for the homeless, I would've burned it down…
A resident’s dentures slide by Artemis, making her instinctively kick them away.
Artemis: But I digress, where were we… Achilles, be a darling and give me my line.
Achilles eagerly closes in to whisper into Artemis' ear.
Artemis: Ah yes, Austin Ramsay… The self-proclaimed 'show stealer', but all that's stolen right now is any sort of ability to read a room. Because the room is saying just go away and leave because it's not like you can win tag or world titles, so why think you can win anything else? You're spare change, love. And there's only one person in power that pities you enough to pick you up and it’s Candice Page. So good on you, but you're just not 'it', and trust me, an artiste like me knows 'it' better than anyone... Ask your wife about it. At every step you failed, and maybe after you fail to win my title, you'll stop before you become the saddest sack of shit this side of the hemisphere.
She looks around, nose cringed at the stench of the elderly, but shakes it off.
Artemis: In closing, a saying from me. In a world where edgelords say "I am become death, destroyer of worlds", I defy that and say "I am become life, saviour of worlds"..
Having said her piece, Artemis stretches her arms into a crucifix pose.
Smashcut from the pre-recorded vignette to the present and we see Donatello and Achilles being chased out of Wrestlecon by the angry mob.