Of Gods and Men, and None of the Above
Mar 15, 2020 1:13:33 GMT -5
BonnieBlue, Doc Henry, and 3 more like this
Post by RedLetters on Mar 15, 2020 1:13:33 GMT -5
𝕴𝖋 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖒𝖞 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜 𝖞𝖔𝖚𝖗𝖘𝖊𝖑𝖋, 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖋𝖊𝖆𝖗 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖗𝖊𝖘𝖚𝖑𝖙 𝖔𝖋 𝖆 𝖍𝖚𝖓𝖉𝖗𝖊𝖉 𝖇𝖆𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊𝖘.
March 14th, 2020,
In a cozy, sticky dive bar on the outskirts of Uniondale, New York
“What do you do when it feels like the sky’s falling?” This question's asked by Red Riot, while she’s basking in the glow of a pale television screen mounted behind at the bar, whose counter she's currently slumped across. Its light illuminates half of this empty, dusty bar counter with updates of political anger, with statistics of who is at risk of dying from Corona-related pneumonia, and of people reporting how they cannot believe the United States is quarantining. Each tale lands across her glassed-over eyes, and evokes more drunken, nervous laughter, before she mutters out a few nervous swears underneath her breath like a true student of Southern tradition.
“In times like these, I decide to make use of the finest taste buds in the Southeastern Conference,” she breaks stride mid-sentence, proudly declaring ‘roll tide’, before continuing, “in favor of breaking out the shitty, overwhelming sensation of Fireball Whiskey - it’s like that cinnamon challenge in liquid form, and we all pretend we aren’t choking on an atomic fireball. It’s what got me through my first nightmare. Years ago, the old man took the family to South Carolina so my brothers could compete at this arena outside of Columbia. Plans changed once that 1000 year storm rolled around, knocked power out of half the state, and flooded the other. The Riot militia rolled around town to find that arena trashed, that event happening in a shitty rec center, and it being one of those ‘donate for the recovery’ kinda deals,” and her head-shaking, along with her laughter, tell the entire story of her family’s viewpoint on charity before the openly slurring rookie continues. “Needless to say, the Riot militia, starring that show, all abandoned the sinking ship and stayed at the hotel on the event’s day.”
“As younger, tractor lesbian Jo, I still went for the spirit of wrestling, drunk as a skunk and afraid of a riot - and it was incredible! Not a single wrestler in that venue made a profit, but they did what the storm hadn’t; they tore the god damned roof down.” Her hands raise to her hair, and both start to symbolize an explosion happening in her head, also known as blowing her mind. “They fought like champions, they dove into the crowd, and the main event ended with a frog splash from a balcony. Nobody made much profit from an untelevised, low-budget show, but everyone got together to help people. Nobody fighting knew how to rebuild a house, but for the two hours you’re cheering, laughing, booing, groaning, or just enjoying watching this absolutely carnal destruction fest of blood, sweat, and tears, you ain’t thinking about how fucking horrible it is back home.”
“Today, I feel the weight those guys carried, but for every place with fans tuning in to see the next episode of Metal.” She stops to try thinking of the 'right' thing to say here. In her head, she’d be humbly bragging about being the star of her official debut on Alpha Pro Wrestling, after securing the pinfall and putting down some sexist brute, but all of that’s gone in the wayside considering all the other important things going on outside of the ring. “I don’t know if there’s going to be any audience. I don’t know if my family’s going to be okay. This is the part where I try to be the good guy and talk about washing hands and keeping calm, but I’m as freaked out about what I don’t know as everyone else, and can only focus on what I know,” she offers a drunken shrug, before continuing to muse, “Since my entire life spent being told my body was too small, weak, and frail for the potential inside of it, I know exactly that it feels like to be utterly hopeless. I also know how to stand up, denounce any resistance, and fight in spite of what seems inevitable, only to prove yourself right.” She’s tipsy, but her laughter is appropriately placed given fighting against what seems inevitable seems like her challenge this week. “I know the stakes on Monday. I’m fighting two legends on behalf of the people tuning in for the first time while show-surfing, to the die-hards pissed about whether or not they can even be in attendance."
“Understanding this, it’s easy to see why fans of The Enforcers proudly wear getting called cultists as a badge. After all, how many wrestlers step into any given arena in a month? A year? A decade? These two are decades deep, and while standing at the height of titans themselves, they symbolize power, strength, and violence. They’ve been the distraction people idolize in times like this before. They were the biggest, the strongest, and the most violent… and love or hate their methods, it’s impossible getting past their strength. Odin’s ‘Of the Weeks’, championships, and main events speak for themselves… Alex Richards turned a career-threatening injury into a legacy, lined with championship gold, illicit drugs, illicit tactics, and a show that you absolutely CANNOT miss. Now, everyone that laces up a pair of boots and stands in a ring brags about fighting on and off, once or twice, but there’s a real difference here for y’all: you show up. You’ve been here when people needed it the most."
“While showing up, you two projected a powerful, untouchable image that inspires awe in your fans, double for Odin. Wrestling Championship Federation shook because opponents jumped in front of that debuting Odin train and got crushed. While you were blazing towards being a ‘wrestling god’, your opponents started asking: ‘what is the cost of using godlike strength?’" she muses, while flashing a grin. "It didn’t take much for Odin’s opponents to see that he was in APW before Alpha Pro was as it stands today - his time in Action Packed Wrestling was filled with failure against guys as big as him or as strong as him. You showed your vulnerabilities, and those bloodthirsty beasts in WCF used that roadmap of losses to find a vein. Ain’t it funny that a self-proclaimed Time Witch, Bonnie Blue, is the one that showed your Achilles heel, your stamina?" Redd barely contains her smile - watching a badass woman going to war was partially educational, immensely self-satisfying. "Even if she didn’t prove your mortality on her first challenge, she kept consistently pushing and challenging you. It wasn’t a matter of ‘how’, it was a question of ‘when’, and she was DAMNED to be answer. In the end, she was the crack that broke the floodgates. You concluded your ‘dominance’ in WCF mainly with week long title championship reigns and surrendering gold because of injuries. You kept charging forward like nothing happened. Danica and I aren't hulks winning off of strength and size - small fighters have to be flexible and adaptable. She’s got a complicated story and I’ve got fighter’s blood in my veins, but we didn’t grow up with a natural ability to dominate in any arena, we had to earn it. No matter the moment, we find an opportunity and snatch the fate we want to see because we've gotta work for it - and that's how we trounced A5 last week.”
“Before I forget, Alex Richards, I… get it. I get that I don’t get it. I don’t know whether to expect tricks when I step into the ring with you, or the massive powerhouse as of late, but there’s one thing I do know - I’m HALFWAY through a bottle of Fireball, so I’m not going to judge you for whatever the HELL Zim-Quila is," she nods, waves that bottle, before drinking directly from the source and yelling as she speaks, "But when I look back at your older matches, I see this tricky ring-warrior that always showed up with something different, something unorthodox, who seemed to breathe his own personal brand of life into his matches, his promos, and his work. You weren’t the most popular guy in UCI, WCF, or anywhere, but you didn’t seem to care, and fans appreciated it. Not a lot of guys around are honest to their craft these days, in favor of jumping on what’s popular and trying to fit the mold. Back then, you were proud of the person you are, and you weren’t going to change to make anyone else happy. Funny how gold can change a man, am I right?”
“The second you clutched gold, accomplishments, and fame, you started getting defensive. The more and more someone pried, the harder you took it. Mass confusion used to apply to your matches, however you applied your mass confusion ethos in a new manner: by propping yourself up into someone you never were. Facts fell to the wayside because you were this ;unstoppable, untouchable warrior', yeah? Nevermind that UCI world championship reign you so humbly bragged about to dismiss your opponents last week only got defended a few times before you were dethroned, that’s irrelevant to your theory! It doesn’t matter how many times you lost, how you won, or how you lost if it doesn’t conveniently fit the bottom line of you being this unstoppable, unbeatable wrestler. Hell - you don’t even care about those accomplishments unless you’re weaponizing them at the expense of someone else - and you do it for the reason why you were the first to leave WCF, and the last one to come crawling back, or the first one to be frustrated and obsessed over belts and validation from others in UCI." One more swig of whiskey ends her drinking in sorrows, and she turns from the television.
"You needed others to validate your talent. You got to the peak of the mountaintop and saw it as your home, rather than a goal to always work towards. Rather than talk about your misconstrued retelling of events, I’d rather talk about recent events: almost getting pinned to a hurricanrana at Metal last week, Dandy Devito beating you, then caving your skull in on Action with a steel chair. Let’s then talk about you likely waking up with referees helping you to the back, icing your head, then cutting a promo where you’re going to talk down to women likely to drop you on your head now and send Dandy an invoice for us finishing the job later. If all you two have gained from decades wrestling is bragging rights then you've got... absolutely nothing, and the young talent eyeing those battle scars have the advantage.”
One big sigh later, Red rises from her seat, and bows her head. “I appreciate everything you two have contributed to wrestling, but you’re relics of a different time. Your power once inspired, but after injuries, family death, personal losses, heavy drug usage, and years of blind-faith narcissism, The Enforcers aren't functional. You’re not symbols of strength, you’re trophies of egomaniacs, and Red Wedding’s tearing them to pieces. We’re in a time of fear, panic, and most of us are learning how to quarantine for the first time in our lives, without any end in sight: power that crumbles with pressure or collapses under scrutiny doesn't speak to the moment we're in. People need hope - beyond worshiping false idols, but instead, to watch two badass women prove ONCE AGAIN that anyone can be godlike if they work their asses off for it. Please realize when you show up Monday, and things seem like a fast-paced nightmare, take a breathe, and realize that the sky's not falling."
"It's just my feet caving in your chest."
