Post by madwoman on Sept 6, 2020 20:08:58 GMT -5
It was quite a long time ago, all things considered.
A room illuminated by the light of a black and white television. Upon the television is a wrestling match between two legends of the sport. Myke Adams and Aaron Blaze. A young woman, no older than twelves years of age with fiery red hair and dressed in a pink nightie, has her vision fixed upon the screen. The volume is turned all the way down but the girl can hear the match in her head and it is legendary. She feels every blow in her chest and it makes her heart pound. Then come the final moments of the match. One… Two…
At that exact moment the door to her room opens. In walks a woman dressed in nun attire. In her hand in a massive ruler. The girl turns her head, missing the end of the match. Her eyes go wide as the nun closes in, the ruler held high over her head. The young woman cowers in fear, arms held over her head in a defensive way.
“I told you no wrestling! It’s the Devil’s entertainment!”the nun yells at the top of her lungs. We fade to black.
------
That was then. This is now. I no longer cower in fear and I know the truth. Professional wrestling is not the Devil’s entertainment. It is a sport with a long and respected history. Of course, a part of me always knew that. Let’s go backwards a bit.
When I was a child I looked up to the journeymen. It wasn’t the champions and legends I respected, not at that point. No, I wanted to be like the men and women who traveled the unbeaten trails and honed their craft through victory and defeat, the ones who weren’t in professional wrestling for glory and gold. I wanted to be like those artists. It all goes back to my history as a dancer, a ballerina.
As a ballerina I understood the art of performance. I understood that deepest of desire to be known as the absolute best at what you did. A wrestling journeyman is much like that in their desire to become better through trial and tribulation. I understood because my life, up to that point, had also been full of tribulation. Learning the art of ballet isn’t easy, you see. It’s painful. Becoming the swan is a difficult task that many young women can’t handle. It’s pain and suffering, countless hours of practice and endless morning of waking up sore and beaten with muscles that refuse to function properly.
My parents were famous legends of the ring but I was never meant to be like them. They sent me away, hid me from the life they lived. Still, the desire to compete was in my blood even if I didn’t yet know it. So I watched professional wrestling in secret. I yearned to escape and become like the journeymen. Those heroes of the ring, for they spoke to me in ways my parents never could. Is it any wonder that when I escaped those nuns and their vicious natures that I made my way to my uncle, probably the greatest journeyman to ever step foot in a ring?
Getting there wasn’t easy. I was taken advantage of by those who wanted to film the homeless beating the living shit out of each other. Bum Fights, they called it. Me, a sixteen year old girl at the time, had no choice but to break the skulls of grown men. In this way I began my route towards combat, the very heart of professional wrestling. It is combat that links every professional wrestler around the globe and I quickly learned that combat was far more dangerous than ballet. Many times I feared for my life but the idea of escape drove me to survive.
My entire life has been a miracle. There were times I nearly died but that idea kept me strong until finally I made my way to the recently departed Raging Dead. His words were like razors on a chalkboard. He didn’t want to train me. He believed I was too weak. The chances he gave me to prove him wrong were painful and exhausting. My uncle was far harder on me than any of his other students. I bled. I cried. I prayed. I never gave up. Giving up meant returning to the violent life of homelessness I knew too well.
I stand before you not as Christina King, the young woman who had a dream. I stand before you as Madwoman Szalinski, the woman who achieved her dream. I am stronger than I have ever been. Though my family attempts to lead me down the path of pure evil I endure as one of professional wrestlings last real heroes. It is my nature to take the heroic path. It is my nature to battle with the villains that attempt to overtake our heritage and tradition.
I train daily. I take every opportunity to better myself. I welcome the greatest challenges I can find simply to improve and become a better version of myself. This has led me to success as a world champion. In recent times being a hero has been trying but I uphold tradition. The mask I wear represents the idea of a hero but it is my actions that make that idea reality.
When APW metal hits the airwaves on Monday you will see the debut of the last true hero in professional wrestling. You will have a reason to cheer and celebrate. All I ask is that you believe in me. Believe in me and in my struggle to become the best version of myself possible. Believe that I can advance in this tournament and become a champion. Believe that I can be a beacon for truth, justice, and every wrestler who wishes to become a truly heroic figure.
Believe in Madwoman. Believe in justice.
------
The Becky Schorg Community Center. This is where legends are made. It’s a cold morning outside but inside a five foot tall woman with fiery red hair is pounding on a punching bag. Upon her face is a pink mask which matches the boxing gloves she is wearing. Her name is Madwoman Szalinski, the masked magical girl. Madwoman is covered in sweat from head to toe. It might come as a shock to some of our viewers that our hero is undergoing boxing training considering her focus on kicks. The truth is that Madwoman knows the time has come to evolve. She needs new tricks, new tactics with which to surprise her opponents and wow her audience.
Madwoman pauses and catches her breath. She turns towards our camera and raises a gloved fist.
“Welcome to my home away from home. In a previous life I trained here with my uncle. Today I improve myself further. Boxing may seem barbaric compared to the beauty of grappling but it is, in fact, a deadly skill for any combat artist. For too long I have lacked the ability to truly hit an opponent with a powerful strike. My only good strike was my Swan Kick. It struck me a week ago that I needed better fundamental striking skills. And so, here we are within those hallowed walls within this holy place.”
“I do this in preparation for one of the biggest challenges I’ve ever had in my career. I must face down a true journeyman, a wrestler I looked up to as a child. Aaron Blaze, a man known far as wide as one of the best talents to ever step foot into a wrestling ring. Aaron Blaze had a famous feud with Myke Adams, another wrestler I enjoyed as a child. Together they took part in legendary matches across the globe. It was in these matches that Aaron Blaze truly stepped into the spotlight and showed the world that he was the real deal. A force to be reckoned with.”
The magical girl turns to the punching bag and begins to throw powerful blow after powerful blow. Her eyes show a focus that is unlike her usual self. Madwoman has grown so much in the past month. It’s obvious to anyone who has followed her career. She is stronger, faster, and wiser. Now she steps forth into battle against a foe that could very well destroy her with little effort. Through pained breaths Madwoman continues to speak once she finishes pummeling the punching bag.
“It is as if destiny has brought us together. You, a true legend, and me, a wrestler on the rise. Destiny desires that we do battle to determine who will lead professional wrestling into its future. You know who I am, that much is obvious. I know who you are, clearly. You know that my entire style of wrestling is based upon momentum shifts. I know that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to grasp victory. We’re both prepared but only one of us is attempting to bring something new to their wrestling style. That would be me. I’m going to come at you with stuff you’ve never seen me do before, Aaron. I’m changing the script.”
“That means I’ll be looking to introduce you to truth and justice. That’s what I’m calling my fists. Truth is the left fist and justice is the right fist. Together you might as well call them heroics in motion. One two, one two. Combos. Uppercuts. Haymakers. I can do it all because I’ve put in the work. Punch! Kick! Grapple! You will experience first hand the skills I’ve honed and may God have mercy on your soul! If you cheat, if you go too far, I can’t promise I won’t land a knockout punch right on your jaw!”
“I’ll share a little secret with you, Aaron. As a child the nuns that ran the boarding school where I live outlawed wrestling. They considered it evil. An older girl had snuck in an old black and white television set. I traded every professional wrestling trading card I had for that television set. Every Saturday night I would risk punishment to watch you on television. I loved it. I would act out your moves like a starstruck fan. Then I’d go to sleep and I’d dream about your matches. You, Aaron Blaze, were one of my heroes. I risked getting punished or worse, expelled, to watch your matches. I know you well, Aaron.”
Madwoman takes a heroic pose and points a gloved fist directly at the camera. Her eyes shift into their regular insane look. A wicked smile comes across her face.
“I don’t want to hurt you! There’s no pleasure in defeating your hero! But this is something I must do! This is something I have no choice over, I have to advance and take this championship. So take this to heart. I respect you. Your matches excited me and they drove me to where I am today. I wanted to be like you so it will be an absolute honor to face you. I don’t want to hurt one of my heroes… but I will if I have to. I want to carry the torch as the leader of this new generation. So you…. You have one choice.”
Madwoman clears her throat.
“Step into the ring and have the absolute best match you can. See if you can stand against TRUTH AND JUSTICE. Witness my rise as we LET MADNESS REIGN!”
Madwoman lets out a wild roar. We fade to a commercial for APW Metal.
A room illuminated by the light of a black and white television. Upon the television is a wrestling match between two legends of the sport. Myke Adams and Aaron Blaze. A young woman, no older than twelves years of age with fiery red hair and dressed in a pink nightie, has her vision fixed upon the screen. The volume is turned all the way down but the girl can hear the match in her head and it is legendary. She feels every blow in her chest and it makes her heart pound. Then come the final moments of the match. One… Two…
At that exact moment the door to her room opens. In walks a woman dressed in nun attire. In her hand in a massive ruler. The girl turns her head, missing the end of the match. Her eyes go wide as the nun closes in, the ruler held high over her head. The young woman cowers in fear, arms held over her head in a defensive way.
“I told you no wrestling! It’s the Devil’s entertainment!”the nun yells at the top of her lungs. We fade to black.
------
That was then. This is now. I no longer cower in fear and I know the truth. Professional wrestling is not the Devil’s entertainment. It is a sport with a long and respected history. Of course, a part of me always knew that. Let’s go backwards a bit.
When I was a child I looked up to the journeymen. It wasn’t the champions and legends I respected, not at that point. No, I wanted to be like the men and women who traveled the unbeaten trails and honed their craft through victory and defeat, the ones who weren’t in professional wrestling for glory and gold. I wanted to be like those artists. It all goes back to my history as a dancer, a ballerina.
As a ballerina I understood the art of performance. I understood that deepest of desire to be known as the absolute best at what you did. A wrestling journeyman is much like that in their desire to become better through trial and tribulation. I understood because my life, up to that point, had also been full of tribulation. Learning the art of ballet isn’t easy, you see. It’s painful. Becoming the swan is a difficult task that many young women can’t handle. It’s pain and suffering, countless hours of practice and endless morning of waking up sore and beaten with muscles that refuse to function properly.
My parents were famous legends of the ring but I was never meant to be like them. They sent me away, hid me from the life they lived. Still, the desire to compete was in my blood even if I didn’t yet know it. So I watched professional wrestling in secret. I yearned to escape and become like the journeymen. Those heroes of the ring, for they spoke to me in ways my parents never could. Is it any wonder that when I escaped those nuns and their vicious natures that I made my way to my uncle, probably the greatest journeyman to ever step foot in a ring?
Getting there wasn’t easy. I was taken advantage of by those who wanted to film the homeless beating the living shit out of each other. Bum Fights, they called it. Me, a sixteen year old girl at the time, had no choice but to break the skulls of grown men. In this way I began my route towards combat, the very heart of professional wrestling. It is combat that links every professional wrestler around the globe and I quickly learned that combat was far more dangerous than ballet. Many times I feared for my life but the idea of escape drove me to survive.
My entire life has been a miracle. There were times I nearly died but that idea kept me strong until finally I made my way to the recently departed Raging Dead. His words were like razors on a chalkboard. He didn’t want to train me. He believed I was too weak. The chances he gave me to prove him wrong were painful and exhausting. My uncle was far harder on me than any of his other students. I bled. I cried. I prayed. I never gave up. Giving up meant returning to the violent life of homelessness I knew too well.
I stand before you not as Christina King, the young woman who had a dream. I stand before you as Madwoman Szalinski, the woman who achieved her dream. I am stronger than I have ever been. Though my family attempts to lead me down the path of pure evil I endure as one of professional wrestlings last real heroes. It is my nature to take the heroic path. It is my nature to battle with the villains that attempt to overtake our heritage and tradition.
I train daily. I take every opportunity to better myself. I welcome the greatest challenges I can find simply to improve and become a better version of myself. This has led me to success as a world champion. In recent times being a hero has been trying but I uphold tradition. The mask I wear represents the idea of a hero but it is my actions that make that idea reality.
When APW metal hits the airwaves on Monday you will see the debut of the last true hero in professional wrestling. You will have a reason to cheer and celebrate. All I ask is that you believe in me. Believe in me and in my struggle to become the best version of myself possible. Believe that I can advance in this tournament and become a champion. Believe that I can be a beacon for truth, justice, and every wrestler who wishes to become a truly heroic figure.
Believe in Madwoman. Believe in justice.
------
The Becky Schorg Community Center. This is where legends are made. It’s a cold morning outside but inside a five foot tall woman with fiery red hair is pounding on a punching bag. Upon her face is a pink mask which matches the boxing gloves she is wearing. Her name is Madwoman Szalinski, the masked magical girl. Madwoman is covered in sweat from head to toe. It might come as a shock to some of our viewers that our hero is undergoing boxing training considering her focus on kicks. The truth is that Madwoman knows the time has come to evolve. She needs new tricks, new tactics with which to surprise her opponents and wow her audience.
Madwoman pauses and catches her breath. She turns towards our camera and raises a gloved fist.
“Welcome to my home away from home. In a previous life I trained here with my uncle. Today I improve myself further. Boxing may seem barbaric compared to the beauty of grappling but it is, in fact, a deadly skill for any combat artist. For too long I have lacked the ability to truly hit an opponent with a powerful strike. My only good strike was my Swan Kick. It struck me a week ago that I needed better fundamental striking skills. And so, here we are within those hallowed walls within this holy place.”
“I do this in preparation for one of the biggest challenges I’ve ever had in my career. I must face down a true journeyman, a wrestler I looked up to as a child. Aaron Blaze, a man known far as wide as one of the best talents to ever step foot into a wrestling ring. Aaron Blaze had a famous feud with Myke Adams, another wrestler I enjoyed as a child. Together they took part in legendary matches across the globe. It was in these matches that Aaron Blaze truly stepped into the spotlight and showed the world that he was the real deal. A force to be reckoned with.”
The magical girl turns to the punching bag and begins to throw powerful blow after powerful blow. Her eyes show a focus that is unlike her usual self. Madwoman has grown so much in the past month. It’s obvious to anyone who has followed her career. She is stronger, faster, and wiser. Now she steps forth into battle against a foe that could very well destroy her with little effort. Through pained breaths Madwoman continues to speak once she finishes pummeling the punching bag.
“It is as if destiny has brought us together. You, a true legend, and me, a wrestler on the rise. Destiny desires that we do battle to determine who will lead professional wrestling into its future. You know who I am, that much is obvious. I know who you are, clearly. You know that my entire style of wrestling is based upon momentum shifts. I know that you’re willing to do whatever it takes to grasp victory. We’re both prepared but only one of us is attempting to bring something new to their wrestling style. That would be me. I’m going to come at you with stuff you’ve never seen me do before, Aaron. I’m changing the script.”
“That means I’ll be looking to introduce you to truth and justice. That’s what I’m calling my fists. Truth is the left fist and justice is the right fist. Together you might as well call them heroics in motion. One two, one two. Combos. Uppercuts. Haymakers. I can do it all because I’ve put in the work. Punch! Kick! Grapple! You will experience first hand the skills I’ve honed and may God have mercy on your soul! If you cheat, if you go too far, I can’t promise I won’t land a knockout punch right on your jaw!”
“I’ll share a little secret with you, Aaron. As a child the nuns that ran the boarding school where I live outlawed wrestling. They considered it evil. An older girl had snuck in an old black and white television set. I traded every professional wrestling trading card I had for that television set. Every Saturday night I would risk punishment to watch you on television. I loved it. I would act out your moves like a starstruck fan. Then I’d go to sleep and I’d dream about your matches. You, Aaron Blaze, were one of my heroes. I risked getting punished or worse, expelled, to watch your matches. I know you well, Aaron.”
Madwoman takes a heroic pose and points a gloved fist directly at the camera. Her eyes shift into their regular insane look. A wicked smile comes across her face.
“I don’t want to hurt you! There’s no pleasure in defeating your hero! But this is something I must do! This is something I have no choice over, I have to advance and take this championship. So take this to heart. I respect you. Your matches excited me and they drove me to where I am today. I wanted to be like you so it will be an absolute honor to face you. I don’t want to hurt one of my heroes… but I will if I have to. I want to carry the torch as the leader of this new generation. So you…. You have one choice.”
Madwoman clears her throat.
“Step into the ring and have the absolute best match you can. See if you can stand against TRUTH AND JUSTICE. Witness my rise as we LET MADNESS REIGN!”
Madwoman lets out a wild roar. We fade to a commercial for APW Metal.
