The Book of Charmaine - Vol. I, Chapter II
Aug 25, 2019 16:42:48 GMT -5
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Post by Charmaine DaGawd™️ on Aug 25, 2019 16:42:48 GMT -5
The following transpires in the office of APW Head Trainer, Lance Walker, stationed behind his desk, shuffling through medical records when a knock is stapled into his door. His head rises in both alarm and curiosity, but more of the latter than the former, before giving clear instruction to proceed.
Lance Walker: Enter.
Charmaine The God enters his office and peripheral wearing a white spaghetti-strap top, dark sequin jacket, distressed denim jean shorts that seductively rode up to her thighs, crimson mid-top converse, and a beaming red lip. She wore her concern on her bedazzled sleeve, as she remained uncertain of what the verdict would be concerning her upcoming match at Ascension.
Lance Walker: Ah, Charmaine The God, please come in and have a seat.
Accepting the invitation, she traipses further into the office, having a seat in one of the two available seats he indicated to; crossing one leg atop of the other, the foot of said leg nervously fidgeting. Walker took notice to this right away; as it interrupted his search for the email regarding her medical results.
Lance Walker: A bit nervous there, are we?
Charmaine The God: Never nervous, always fabulous, hon.
There was the sassy confidence of the competitor who’d brazenly called herself The God shining through in spite of the obvious. It drove a smile onto his face.
Lance Walker: Yes, you are the epitome of cool. But really, there’s nothing to fret over. If it turns out you’re indeed injured, odds are it’s something extremely minor.
It was a small ounce of comfort treated as a sedative to calm her rattling nerves that wouldn’t seem to quit until she heard those magic words. Walker recommenced to his work, punching away at his keyboard to access his confidential emails.
Lance Walker: I’m happy to inform you that your test results have come back with wonderful news, outside of a nasty bruise you’re a hundred percent fine and medically cleared to compete this Monday. Congratulations.
Full red lips surrounding thirty two pearly whites stretched across her features; Charmaine was ecstatic to hear the news, now at long last her nerves could finally rest.
Charmaine The God: See? Nothing to be worried about, I knew I’d come out of this unscathed. Not even a cowardly beatdown by the APW’s biggest disappointments could manage to take me out before my time. You’ve just given me and my yet-to-be-named partner a reason to celebrate, and our six opponents an excuse to expect defeat at our hands. How do you feel? To have delivered the eulogy to six men who ain’t fit to carry my ponytail, let alone step into the ring with sheer greatness such as ‘She’?
Lance Walker: Uh...fine, I suppose...of course you’ll still need to take it easy.
Charmaine The God: ‘Take it easy’? Do you realize where you are? There’s no such thing as ‘taking it easy’ around these parts; nobody’s gonna prop up pillows simply because you’re a little sore, if nothing else they’ll exploit your weaknesses for their own personal gain. So I cannot afford to ‘take it easy’ right now. I have a score to settle with the punks of Cuntissential Perfections and I aim to make Ascension the night they regret scrawling their names on that dotted line.
Lance Walker: Understood, but considering the stipulation, either one of those men could wind up being your partner, what would you do then?
It was an interesting thought. One that in all of her excitement and pent-up rage, Charmaine didn’t even give a second thought. She was so sure in their demise that the daunting thought of having to trust one of the very men that were responsible for her being in this office today, with her career. What the hell was Irina thinking when she made such a complex stipulation? How were the competitors supposed to prepare for a match where the opponents and partners were seemingly chosen at random?
Charmaine The God: Damn...I’d forgotten all about that. Well, for their sake, let's hope that ain’t the case...because I would have no problem hopping down from that apron and watching the events play out via ringside; leaving one of those little lambs to their inevitable slaughter. It would KILL me to throw a match like this, but if it means I’ll get a tiny portion of the power I was left feeling totally void of last week, then I’ll do it. They foolishly thought me prey, like the wolves that they are, they circled me and tried to make a meal out of me...but they only got the job partly done. They didn’t kill me, they encouraged me. Now I look forward to the night we meet again -- nothing would make me happier than to impede the wolf’s den as I’ll be leaving wearing a shiny new coat. I will walk through the fire with Apex Onyx and Teddy Geisel if it means they’ll burn too. Whoever my partner will be, the lucky bastard, he’ll just have to get on board with that; he can do whatever he wants so long as he understands two things: one, to refrain from getting in my way, and two, those two bitches belong to me. And as far as partners go, I’m actually hoping it’ll be Noris Cranley, he’s the only one out of the bunch who I can trust to get the job done. He’s driven, confident, and rather skilled -- I mean, you’d have to be to snake a win over me, so other than fighting him again, nothing would give me greater joy than to team with him. Put aside all of our personal drama and just pull together to do what we both love to do -- and better than anyone else here...fight.
It was a big step in her growth, not only as a competitor, but a person to admit when someone had gotten the better of her; and Noris Cranley was that person. He was a naturally gifted athlete and apparently the safest choice for Charmaine, especially if she wanted to get through this match with as minimal damage as possible. The other competitors, she did not know personally; she hadn’t experienced what they were capable of and therefore opted to hope for the devil she knew over the devil(s) she didn’t.
Lance Walker: Enter.
Charmaine The God enters his office and peripheral wearing a white spaghetti-strap top, dark sequin jacket, distressed denim jean shorts that seductively rode up to her thighs, crimson mid-top converse, and a beaming red lip. She wore her concern on her bedazzled sleeve, as she remained uncertain of what the verdict would be concerning her upcoming match at Ascension.
Lance Walker: Ah, Charmaine The God, please come in and have a seat.
Accepting the invitation, she traipses further into the office, having a seat in one of the two available seats he indicated to; crossing one leg atop of the other, the foot of said leg nervously fidgeting. Walker took notice to this right away; as it interrupted his search for the email regarding her medical results.
Lance Walker: A bit nervous there, are we?
Charmaine The God: Never nervous, always fabulous, hon.
There was the sassy confidence of the competitor who’d brazenly called herself The God shining through in spite of the obvious. It drove a smile onto his face.
Lance Walker: Yes, you are the epitome of cool. But really, there’s nothing to fret over. If it turns out you’re indeed injured, odds are it’s something extremely minor.
It was a small ounce of comfort treated as a sedative to calm her rattling nerves that wouldn’t seem to quit until she heard those magic words. Walker recommenced to his work, punching away at his keyboard to access his confidential emails.
Lance Walker: I’m happy to inform you that your test results have come back with wonderful news, outside of a nasty bruise you’re a hundred percent fine and medically cleared to compete this Monday. Congratulations.
Full red lips surrounding thirty two pearly whites stretched across her features; Charmaine was ecstatic to hear the news, now at long last her nerves could finally rest.
Charmaine The God: See? Nothing to be worried about, I knew I’d come out of this unscathed. Not even a cowardly beatdown by the APW’s biggest disappointments could manage to take me out before my time. You’ve just given me and my yet-to-be-named partner a reason to celebrate, and our six opponents an excuse to expect defeat at our hands. How do you feel? To have delivered the eulogy to six men who ain’t fit to carry my ponytail, let alone step into the ring with sheer greatness such as ‘She’?
Lance Walker: Uh...fine, I suppose...of course you’ll still need to take it easy.
Charmaine The God: ‘Take it easy’? Do you realize where you are? There’s no such thing as ‘taking it easy’ around these parts; nobody’s gonna prop up pillows simply because you’re a little sore, if nothing else they’ll exploit your weaknesses for their own personal gain. So I cannot afford to ‘take it easy’ right now. I have a score to settle with the punks of Cuntissential Perfections and I aim to make Ascension the night they regret scrawling their names on that dotted line.
Lance Walker: Understood, but considering the stipulation, either one of those men could wind up being your partner, what would you do then?
It was an interesting thought. One that in all of her excitement and pent-up rage, Charmaine didn’t even give a second thought. She was so sure in their demise that the daunting thought of having to trust one of the very men that were responsible for her being in this office today, with her career. What the hell was Irina thinking when she made such a complex stipulation? How were the competitors supposed to prepare for a match where the opponents and partners were seemingly chosen at random?
Charmaine The God: Damn...I’d forgotten all about that. Well, for their sake, let's hope that ain’t the case...because I would have no problem hopping down from that apron and watching the events play out via ringside; leaving one of those little lambs to their inevitable slaughter. It would KILL me to throw a match like this, but if it means I’ll get a tiny portion of the power I was left feeling totally void of last week, then I’ll do it. They foolishly thought me prey, like the wolves that they are, they circled me and tried to make a meal out of me...but they only got the job partly done. They didn’t kill me, they encouraged me. Now I look forward to the night we meet again -- nothing would make me happier than to impede the wolf’s den as I’ll be leaving wearing a shiny new coat. I will walk through the fire with Apex Onyx and Teddy Geisel if it means they’ll burn too. Whoever my partner will be, the lucky bastard, he’ll just have to get on board with that; he can do whatever he wants so long as he understands two things: one, to refrain from getting in my way, and two, those two bitches belong to me. And as far as partners go, I’m actually hoping it’ll be Noris Cranley, he’s the only one out of the bunch who I can trust to get the job done. He’s driven, confident, and rather skilled -- I mean, you’d have to be to snake a win over me, so other than fighting him again, nothing would give me greater joy than to team with him. Put aside all of our personal drama and just pull together to do what we both love to do -- and better than anyone else here...fight.
It was a big step in her growth, not only as a competitor, but a person to admit when someone had gotten the better of her; and Noris Cranley was that person. He was a naturally gifted athlete and apparently the safest choice for Charmaine, especially if she wanted to get through this match with as minimal damage as possible. The other competitors, she did not know personally; she hadn’t experienced what they were capable of and therefore opted to hope for the devil she knew over the devil(s) she didn’t.
