Post by emmanuelle on Nov 21, 2021 23:56:48 GMT -5
Losing sucks.
Losing twice in main event matches for two of the biggest companies you work for really sucks.
Losing twice in main event matches for TROPHIES? That level of suck would typically be found on Pornhub instead of in day to day situations. Needless to say, Emmy was frustrated with her defeat. While there was no shame certainly losing to two athletes the caliber of Arata Asakura and Tara Fenix in the same week, there was just a frustration that she couldn’t put her finger on. It didn’t have the same devastating, lingering impact that her loss to Havoc/Christopher had...yet there was just something that bothered her. Maybe it was the fact that she was actually starting to care about wrestling in general more. Her modeling career was flourishing; the entrepreneurial chances she had taken were paying dividends. She was starting to realize very soon she would have more money lining her pockets than even a high-life craving socialite like herself would know what to do with. Something else would have to drive her to continue on.
Perhaps it was the thought of knowing that people out there were skilled enough, strong enough to beat her. As much as she abhorred defeats and could be an insufferable bitch to be around after the rare ones she did suffer, Emmy would always brighten up considerably when new talents were signed. She always hoped that some of her friends from her indy days in California would come along, or that familiar faces whom she had met but never faced would finally offer themselves up for a fight. As she showered and cleaned herself up after the event, she thought long about what Indy Darling tried to tell her after the match with Tara was finished.
“You did outstanding. Including you in this tournament was a good decision. You’ll have plenty of chances down the road.”
She appreciated what he was trying to do, but honestly she didn’t want to hear any of that shit. She was used to being berated, scolded for the slightest fuck-ups in wrestling training. She demanded more of herself than any authority figure or promoter would ever ask. Losing just wasn’t acceptable.
Just as she was planning her next move and preparing to leave for the night, she got three texts. One was about something called “Black Friday”. One was a personal invitation to the Second Purge. Both of them caught her attention, but the one that she responded to came from her trainer, Carlos.
Sorry about your losses. Been there. Look, call me as soon as you get this, we need to talk about something important.
Talk? What about? More coddling and encouragement? Oh, swell. Annoyed, she went ahead and called him up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Emmy. You wanted to talk to me?”
“Yeah. I’ve got some great news. Will definitely cheer you up after what happened tonight.”
“....That would take some fucking doing. What’s up?”
“My latest dojo class is finished! Five of them actually survived this time. I’m proud of taking it easy on some of these helpless kids.”
“Oh, great. Congratulations. The fuck does any of this have to do with me?”
“You’re one of my most successful alums, you know?”
“Duh.”
“Look, traditionally I have helped people find their first place to work after training is done. I need your help with something in that regard. One of my students, Tetsuma, I’ve arranged for him to join Project Honor’s new developmental place: Project Underground. I want you to be his manager.”
Emmy didn’t answer for a moment, digesting the request made of her before erupting into a fit of laughter. Her mentor was patient enough to wait for a response that didn’t involve giggling or snarking.
“Let me get this straight, you called me after one of the most bitter disappointments in my professional life to offer me a babysitting job?”
“I’m offering you a chance to pay it forward. You have held your own pretty well and you got by fine without me after a while, but don’t forget who it was who put in the word for you to get into WrestleWorld, the place that put you on the map so places like Project: Honor would give you a look in the first place. The kid’s a scrawny little bastard and still green, but he’s tough and smart. The problem is that he has the charisma of a piece of cold toast. He needs someone like you to help him tap into what he could truly be in this business. Even though you like to prop yourself up as doing this all on your own, you’ve had help, Emmy. Me, my sister, Stephanie, Aria, Scott, Jaywalker and Jaydanne. Do something to help someone other than yourself….for once.”
She should have hung up in his face and just left it there, but she didn’t. She was quiet for a few moments. Running a hand through her platinum blonde hair, which was slowly but surely returning to its former glorious length, she sighed and relented.
“Fine. I’ll do it. When will I meet him?”
“He’s actually flying out to Portland tomorrow! You can scoop him up and go where you’re going for Thanksgiving and such. English is his second language. He’s fluent but sometimes it will take him a while to speak. He’s not stupid or anything, just trying to piece things together.’
“I get it.”
“Good. I’m really happy you agreed to do this. I think doing something like this is going to enrich your career in ways you didn’t think possible.”
“...Whatever. I’m only doing this because you asked so nicely. If the guy’s annoying at all I’m gonna just leave him somewhere to hitchhike back to Baton Rouge.”
Emmy’s Dream Later That Night
Emmy woke up in a state of absolute confusion. Where was she? What was going on? She was at a desk? How?! A classroom? This was getting really fucking weird, really fast. She looked down at herself and noticed that she was in a uniform. Beige blazer with matching skirt, a white blouse and black tie. Being the trendy bitch that she was, her shoes were bubblegum pink and white Jordans. She felt a certain tightness around her neck, cold and unforgiving, yet clicking and beeping. Some sort of collar. Reaching for her backpack, she pulled out a small makeup mirror and looked at her face..
Was she fifteen? Sixteen? Her hair was super long and brown, so maybe even younger than that. And she had an absolute babyface. More and more of her classmates started to stir around her and this is when Emmy got REALLY confused. None of the classmates that she remembered from her days in the awesome public school she once attended were there. None of her few friends from the exceptionally dull prep school she transferred to were there either. They looked like younger versions of...wrestlers? Tara was there. So was Arata. Michael Bishop. That annoying spice guy. Petey, who looked like a toddler compared to most of the others. Diana? Cadillac. Julius, but this one with an afro.
They were all freaking out as she did her best to keep calm while herself being on the verge of hyperventilating. Then, a cranky old man entered the room...and explained flatly that they were going to kill each other? WAIT...WHAT THE HELL WAS THIS!? She definitely knew she was dreaming then! She had literally seen this movie two days ago. What was the name of it? What was it called? The Purge? No, that’s the one with the dumb siren.
**WHACK!**
The cranky old guy decided to pick out a target and had thrown a knife right through young Savannah Sunshine’s forehead. Yeah, that shut everyone up right away. The screaming stopped and everyone accepted their fate, that they were going to have to kill each other to attempt to survive. Save for Emmy. She knew that she was dreaming. She knew something about this just felt off. Until she got the day pack, the army sergeant screamed in her face to evacuate the building. She could feel the sweat on her forehead, the thumping in her chest. She could hear the screams and pleas of those dying, the laughter of those already committed to the killing. She could see someone charging out of one of the abandoned houses in what she assumed was an abandoned town. She couldn’t make out his face, only a smile and the fact he was wielding an axe. Luckily for her she had at least a fighting chance to defend herself: the day pack she was given had a large Bowie knife, perfect for close range fighting. Scrambling, she drew out the weapon as the maniac charged forward.
“COME ON MOTHERFUCKER!”
Just as the two of them were about to collide, everything went black. And Emmy woke up, still in her hotel bed. No schoolgirl outfit, no angry old dude throwing knives, no collar. Before she drifted back off to sleep, she remembered the name of the movie.
Battle Royale.
For her promotional video for this event, Emmy has chosen a classroom of all places. It’s empty, but attached to each desk are pictures of the participants taking part in the Purge. In a departure from her usual on-camera persona, she’s dressed in quite revealing fashion: a sleeveless pink blouse showing off her toned arms and shoulders as well as a bit of cleavage. A black skirt reveals a great deal of her thighs. She starts to walk around the classroom, heels clacking and her voice the only sounds in the otherwise eerily quiet room.
“When I got the Invitation to take part in the Purge and took all the rules into account, it for some reason reminded me of Battle Royale. No, not the wrestling match type with over the top rules and such. But the book. Imagine being an inhabitant of Japan, or the Greater East Asia Empire I think was the full term used in the book. Every year, little junior high kids chosen at random fight to the death to instill a mistrust of each other. There’s a lot of geopolitical baggage that the book takes on, but the main point of the novel is survival. Of the forty two that arrived at the start of the book, only three survive the game and only two actually survive to the novel’s conclusion. So, what does that have to do with the Purge?”
She picks up a few knives, small sharp ones. Sharp enough to easily drive through the wooden desks that she’s walking past.
“Nothing. But it does have a great deal to do with how I approach a match like this. A match with unprecedented brutality not being a possibility, but as obvious of a reality as the sky being blue. How does one prepare for that? Well, there are three approaches in Battle Royale that I found most intriguing. Mitsuko Souma, the class slut and main female antagonist, used everything at her disposal. Her body, her wits, and her complete lack of mercy for her victims. She never had a chance in life given the hand she was dealt even before the Game, but she went out fighting to the last. Takako Chigusa is another participant, a girl. Cocky, stern, straightforward. She spends most of the game just fleeing, trying to find the boy she loved, but when forced to fight a would-be rapist she kills him in combat...only to then be killed by a gun-toting Mitsuko. Then, there’s Noriko. She didn’t do much fighting or...much of anything. She was the sweetest, most liked girl in the class. The male protagonist conveniently gets a crush on her during the course of the novel. She watches all the chaos around her, nearly dying of wounds several times. She’s naive, not physically imposing in any sense, and spends most of the time getting rescued. But she survives. She escapes. She wins. So, when I decided to draw up my battle plan for this Purge, I decided to draw inspiration from each. I approach it with an open heart, completely oblivious to the horrors that await. I know that I may have to do things that most would consider cruel and manipulative to survive and I don’t give a damn. I’m also not looking to start any long term wars. If someone starts something though, I plan on finishing it.”
She toys with one of the knives a bit, giving one of her index fingers a small, accidental prick.
“But you all want to hear about how this arrogant little shit from Proving Ground is going to show up and beat up all the big bad no good motherfuckers from Fallout, right? Meh. I’d prefer to settle some old scores first. How about the man who has been running roughshod over most of the Fallout Roster. He and his vessel goaded me into a match in WrestleWorld, and I still feel the scars. Things were broken inside of me that have taken a long time to fix. When I first fought this demon, this beast….I didn’t know what I had signed up for. I know now. I look forward to showing that monster everything that I’ve learned about inflicting and absorbing pain. I knew he came out to WrestleWorld to test me. I promise I will not fail this time. If I have to slay a beast to survive then so be it.”
She drives the first knife right through Havoc’s portrait. Staring down at it before moving on.
“The class clowns are about too. I’ve grown tired of seeing Big Drip Productions in matches that involve me. It’s not that they aren’t formidable opponents. Hell, as it stands two of them are Tag Team Champions of this place. But...I have a thirst for something a little more invigorating, something that gives me incentive to push myself even further. While all of them are good and relatively friendly guys...none of them really do it for me.”
She drives knives through the pictures of TJ Thompson, Lil Petey, and Julius.
“Hmm. There are some BIG fish out there, huh? Something more palpable than those minnows, right? Oh, Graham Baker! How his reputation precedes him. I’ve heard the stories, I’ve seen some of the matches. Maybe I’ll have a chance to taste those skills for myself. Valkyrie once tried to take something precious from me. Now she’s in some group of weirdos that I don’t know much about other than they’re trying to assert themselves. Maybe they’ll fight together, maybe they’ll tear each other apart once the ultimate prize is up for grabs. Not my problem, not my fight. Unless they want to make it mine, of course.”
She walks around a little further, spotting a picture of Alyssa Grace.
“This is one I’ve wanted for a long time. A pity I had to come to Fallout to get her, but look at that beauty. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you for the longest. Not out of any ill will, but out of respect for your talent. You see, in some of the circles I travel, Alyssa’s considered one of the finest female grapplers on the planet. On the cusp of being a superstar. Our paths finally get to cross, I hope, in this Purge. And if they do, I’ll be more than happy to show you my quality.”
A knife is driven through the Alyssa picture with some gusto, the blade protruding from the desk.
“There are titles on the line. But as much as I would like some hardware to soothe my somewhat bruised ego, the Gatekeeper and Ascension Championships are not what I’m after. Their two respective Champions have no reason to fear me or even try to engage me. All they have to do is pick up one quick, decisive victory and they can go about their leisure. As long as they don’t try to stop me from reaching that ultimate prize, that platinum ticket, then I’m cool. But if they don’t…”
Emmy looks up and gives the camera a sly grin.
“You know the pattern by now.”
She drives knives through the pictures of both Valkyrie and Earl Boyde.
“Hmm. So many faces, so little time. Remi Skyfire? The name sounds familiar. I think it was my friend Diantha who holds you in such high regard. Why, I’d love to find out. Savannah...or is it Persephone now? She’s been having a tough time of things lately, going through an identity crisis and all that jazz. She’s definitely going to be out for blood. That would be a challenge that I’d welcome, not like most of this filth. I’d love to see her at her toughest to see if I could hang. Jesus, this match has everything! Philosophers. Douchebags. Soundcloud Rappers….Cadillac Jackson. Now there’s a face I haven’t seen in a bit. I haven’t forgotten about our first Singles encounter. That one really pisses me off to this day. I would LOVE to take him out just for the hell of it.”
Another knife, another picture, another desk nearly destroyed. She stares down at that picture with an extra bit of malice before moving on.
“One more desk here. And look who it is: Michael Fucking Bishop. I’ve idolized this man since I broke into the business. I trained with his friend Carlos. I’ve already bested one of his other running buddies, that side of beef known as Scott Oasis. Now, maybe, just maybe, I get a chance to get a taste of the real deal. I remember seeing the match he had with MAELSTROM, another Rosso dojo graduate who I came up with. I remember seeing a man who was already dead but refused to die. Everything about Bishop’s life screams that he should be retired. His backstage role in OWA’s developmental program. His injuries. His reputation for toughness. His accolades that if I even scratch the surface of I could say I’ve had a hell of a career. Finally, I have a chance to meet you face to face...and show you that it’s time for you to go away, with all due respect. Of all my knives, of all my cravings that I hope to satisfy with this Purge...the craving to face you and show you why I’m the Platinum Standard is the one I want to satisfy the most!”
She drives three knives through Bishop’s picture, not with the spite of any of the others, but with almost childlike glee.
“Life is a game. It’s time to find out if I’m worth it. I didn’t come to the Purge to do any of the sidequests. I came to the Purge to complete this fucking game’s main story arc. I want that briefcase and the power that it holds. And when the time comes to wield that power, you best believe that Emmanuelle will wield it on whoever she chooses with extreme prejudice. This Purge makes stars, right? Seeing as I already am a star….it’s time for this little starlet to go full Supernova. And I dare any of you from Fallout or Proving Ground to get in my way. I’ll cut you down to size.”
Losing twice in main event matches for two of the biggest companies you work for really sucks.
Losing twice in main event matches for TROPHIES? That level of suck would typically be found on Pornhub instead of in day to day situations. Needless to say, Emmy was frustrated with her defeat. While there was no shame certainly losing to two athletes the caliber of Arata Asakura and Tara Fenix in the same week, there was just a frustration that she couldn’t put her finger on. It didn’t have the same devastating, lingering impact that her loss to Havoc/Christopher had...yet there was just something that bothered her. Maybe it was the fact that she was actually starting to care about wrestling in general more. Her modeling career was flourishing; the entrepreneurial chances she had taken were paying dividends. She was starting to realize very soon she would have more money lining her pockets than even a high-life craving socialite like herself would know what to do with. Something else would have to drive her to continue on.
Perhaps it was the thought of knowing that people out there were skilled enough, strong enough to beat her. As much as she abhorred defeats and could be an insufferable bitch to be around after the rare ones she did suffer, Emmy would always brighten up considerably when new talents were signed. She always hoped that some of her friends from her indy days in California would come along, or that familiar faces whom she had met but never faced would finally offer themselves up for a fight. As she showered and cleaned herself up after the event, she thought long about what Indy Darling tried to tell her after the match with Tara was finished.
“You did outstanding. Including you in this tournament was a good decision. You’ll have plenty of chances down the road.”
She appreciated what he was trying to do, but honestly she didn’t want to hear any of that shit. She was used to being berated, scolded for the slightest fuck-ups in wrestling training. She demanded more of herself than any authority figure or promoter would ever ask. Losing just wasn’t acceptable.
Just as she was planning her next move and preparing to leave for the night, she got three texts. One was about something called “Black Friday”. One was a personal invitation to the Second Purge. Both of them caught her attention, but the one that she responded to came from her trainer, Carlos.
Sorry about your losses. Been there. Look, call me as soon as you get this, we need to talk about something important.
Talk? What about? More coddling and encouragement? Oh, swell. Annoyed, she went ahead and called him up.
“Hello?”
“Hey, it’s Emmy. You wanted to talk to me?”
“Yeah. I’ve got some great news. Will definitely cheer you up after what happened tonight.”
“....That would take some fucking doing. What’s up?”
“My latest dojo class is finished! Five of them actually survived this time. I’m proud of taking it easy on some of these helpless kids.”
“Oh, great. Congratulations. The fuck does any of this have to do with me?”
“You’re one of my most successful alums, you know?”
“Duh.”
“Look, traditionally I have helped people find their first place to work after training is done. I need your help with something in that regard. One of my students, Tetsuma, I’ve arranged for him to join Project Honor’s new developmental place: Project Underground. I want you to be his manager.”
Emmy didn’t answer for a moment, digesting the request made of her before erupting into a fit of laughter. Her mentor was patient enough to wait for a response that didn’t involve giggling or snarking.
“Let me get this straight, you called me after one of the most bitter disappointments in my professional life to offer me a babysitting job?”
“I’m offering you a chance to pay it forward. You have held your own pretty well and you got by fine without me after a while, but don’t forget who it was who put in the word for you to get into WrestleWorld, the place that put you on the map so places like Project: Honor would give you a look in the first place. The kid’s a scrawny little bastard and still green, but he’s tough and smart. The problem is that he has the charisma of a piece of cold toast. He needs someone like you to help him tap into what he could truly be in this business. Even though you like to prop yourself up as doing this all on your own, you’ve had help, Emmy. Me, my sister, Stephanie, Aria, Scott, Jaywalker and Jaydanne. Do something to help someone other than yourself….for once.”
She should have hung up in his face and just left it there, but she didn’t. She was quiet for a few moments. Running a hand through her platinum blonde hair, which was slowly but surely returning to its former glorious length, she sighed and relented.
“Fine. I’ll do it. When will I meet him?”
“He’s actually flying out to Portland tomorrow! You can scoop him up and go where you’re going for Thanksgiving and such. English is his second language. He’s fluent but sometimes it will take him a while to speak. He’s not stupid or anything, just trying to piece things together.’
“I get it.”
“Good. I’m really happy you agreed to do this. I think doing something like this is going to enrich your career in ways you didn’t think possible.”
“...Whatever. I’m only doing this because you asked so nicely. If the guy’s annoying at all I’m gonna just leave him somewhere to hitchhike back to Baton Rouge.”
Emmy’s Dream Later That Night
Emmy woke up in a state of absolute confusion. Where was she? What was going on? She was at a desk? How?! A classroom? This was getting really fucking weird, really fast. She looked down at herself and noticed that she was in a uniform. Beige blazer with matching skirt, a white blouse and black tie. Being the trendy bitch that she was, her shoes were bubblegum pink and white Jordans. She felt a certain tightness around her neck, cold and unforgiving, yet clicking and beeping. Some sort of collar. Reaching for her backpack, she pulled out a small makeup mirror and looked at her face..
Was she fifteen? Sixteen? Her hair was super long and brown, so maybe even younger than that. And she had an absolute babyface. More and more of her classmates started to stir around her and this is when Emmy got REALLY confused. None of the classmates that she remembered from her days in the awesome public school she once attended were there. None of her few friends from the exceptionally dull prep school she transferred to were there either. They looked like younger versions of...wrestlers? Tara was there. So was Arata. Michael Bishop. That annoying spice guy. Petey, who looked like a toddler compared to most of the others. Diana? Cadillac. Julius, but this one with an afro.
They were all freaking out as she did her best to keep calm while herself being on the verge of hyperventilating. Then, a cranky old man entered the room...and explained flatly that they were going to kill each other? WAIT...WHAT THE HELL WAS THIS!? She definitely knew she was dreaming then! She had literally seen this movie two days ago. What was the name of it? What was it called? The Purge? No, that’s the one with the dumb siren.
**WHACK!**
The cranky old guy decided to pick out a target and had thrown a knife right through young Savannah Sunshine’s forehead. Yeah, that shut everyone up right away. The screaming stopped and everyone accepted their fate, that they were going to have to kill each other to attempt to survive. Save for Emmy. She knew that she was dreaming. She knew something about this just felt off. Until she got the day pack, the army sergeant screamed in her face to evacuate the building. She could feel the sweat on her forehead, the thumping in her chest. She could hear the screams and pleas of those dying, the laughter of those already committed to the killing. She could see someone charging out of one of the abandoned houses in what she assumed was an abandoned town. She couldn’t make out his face, only a smile and the fact he was wielding an axe. Luckily for her she had at least a fighting chance to defend herself: the day pack she was given had a large Bowie knife, perfect for close range fighting. Scrambling, she drew out the weapon as the maniac charged forward.
“COME ON MOTHERFUCKER!”
Just as the two of them were about to collide, everything went black. And Emmy woke up, still in her hotel bed. No schoolgirl outfit, no angry old dude throwing knives, no collar. Before she drifted back off to sleep, she remembered the name of the movie.
Battle Royale.
For her promotional video for this event, Emmy has chosen a classroom of all places. It’s empty, but attached to each desk are pictures of the participants taking part in the Purge. In a departure from her usual on-camera persona, she’s dressed in quite revealing fashion: a sleeveless pink blouse showing off her toned arms and shoulders as well as a bit of cleavage. A black skirt reveals a great deal of her thighs. She starts to walk around the classroom, heels clacking and her voice the only sounds in the otherwise eerily quiet room.
“When I got the Invitation to take part in the Purge and took all the rules into account, it for some reason reminded me of Battle Royale. No, not the wrestling match type with over the top rules and such. But the book. Imagine being an inhabitant of Japan, or the Greater East Asia Empire I think was the full term used in the book. Every year, little junior high kids chosen at random fight to the death to instill a mistrust of each other. There’s a lot of geopolitical baggage that the book takes on, but the main point of the novel is survival. Of the forty two that arrived at the start of the book, only three survive the game and only two actually survive to the novel’s conclusion. So, what does that have to do with the Purge?”
She picks up a few knives, small sharp ones. Sharp enough to easily drive through the wooden desks that she’s walking past.
“Nothing. But it does have a great deal to do with how I approach a match like this. A match with unprecedented brutality not being a possibility, but as obvious of a reality as the sky being blue. How does one prepare for that? Well, there are three approaches in Battle Royale that I found most intriguing. Mitsuko Souma, the class slut and main female antagonist, used everything at her disposal. Her body, her wits, and her complete lack of mercy for her victims. She never had a chance in life given the hand she was dealt even before the Game, but she went out fighting to the last. Takako Chigusa is another participant, a girl. Cocky, stern, straightforward. She spends most of the game just fleeing, trying to find the boy she loved, but when forced to fight a would-be rapist she kills him in combat...only to then be killed by a gun-toting Mitsuko. Then, there’s Noriko. She didn’t do much fighting or...much of anything. She was the sweetest, most liked girl in the class. The male protagonist conveniently gets a crush on her during the course of the novel. She watches all the chaos around her, nearly dying of wounds several times. She’s naive, not physically imposing in any sense, and spends most of the time getting rescued. But she survives. She escapes. She wins. So, when I decided to draw up my battle plan for this Purge, I decided to draw inspiration from each. I approach it with an open heart, completely oblivious to the horrors that await. I know that I may have to do things that most would consider cruel and manipulative to survive and I don’t give a damn. I’m also not looking to start any long term wars. If someone starts something though, I plan on finishing it.”
She toys with one of the knives a bit, giving one of her index fingers a small, accidental prick.
“But you all want to hear about how this arrogant little shit from Proving Ground is going to show up and beat up all the big bad no good motherfuckers from Fallout, right? Meh. I’d prefer to settle some old scores first. How about the man who has been running roughshod over most of the Fallout Roster. He and his vessel goaded me into a match in WrestleWorld, and I still feel the scars. Things were broken inside of me that have taken a long time to fix. When I first fought this demon, this beast….I didn’t know what I had signed up for. I know now. I look forward to showing that monster everything that I’ve learned about inflicting and absorbing pain. I knew he came out to WrestleWorld to test me. I promise I will not fail this time. If I have to slay a beast to survive then so be it.”
She drives the first knife right through Havoc’s portrait. Staring down at it before moving on.
“The class clowns are about too. I’ve grown tired of seeing Big Drip Productions in matches that involve me. It’s not that they aren’t formidable opponents. Hell, as it stands two of them are Tag Team Champions of this place. But...I have a thirst for something a little more invigorating, something that gives me incentive to push myself even further. While all of them are good and relatively friendly guys...none of them really do it for me.”
She drives knives through the pictures of TJ Thompson, Lil Petey, and Julius.
“Hmm. There are some BIG fish out there, huh? Something more palpable than those minnows, right? Oh, Graham Baker! How his reputation precedes him. I’ve heard the stories, I’ve seen some of the matches. Maybe I’ll have a chance to taste those skills for myself. Valkyrie once tried to take something precious from me. Now she’s in some group of weirdos that I don’t know much about other than they’re trying to assert themselves. Maybe they’ll fight together, maybe they’ll tear each other apart once the ultimate prize is up for grabs. Not my problem, not my fight. Unless they want to make it mine, of course.”
She walks around a little further, spotting a picture of Alyssa Grace.
“This is one I’ve wanted for a long time. A pity I had to come to Fallout to get her, but look at that beauty. I’ve been waiting to get my hands on you for the longest. Not out of any ill will, but out of respect for your talent. You see, in some of the circles I travel, Alyssa’s considered one of the finest female grapplers on the planet. On the cusp of being a superstar. Our paths finally get to cross, I hope, in this Purge. And if they do, I’ll be more than happy to show you my quality.”
A knife is driven through the Alyssa picture with some gusto, the blade protruding from the desk.
“There are titles on the line. But as much as I would like some hardware to soothe my somewhat bruised ego, the Gatekeeper and Ascension Championships are not what I’m after. Their two respective Champions have no reason to fear me or even try to engage me. All they have to do is pick up one quick, decisive victory and they can go about their leisure. As long as they don’t try to stop me from reaching that ultimate prize, that platinum ticket, then I’m cool. But if they don’t…”
Emmy looks up and gives the camera a sly grin.
“You know the pattern by now.”
She drives knives through the pictures of both Valkyrie and Earl Boyde.
“Hmm. So many faces, so little time. Remi Skyfire? The name sounds familiar. I think it was my friend Diantha who holds you in such high regard. Why, I’d love to find out. Savannah...or is it Persephone now? She’s been having a tough time of things lately, going through an identity crisis and all that jazz. She’s definitely going to be out for blood. That would be a challenge that I’d welcome, not like most of this filth. I’d love to see her at her toughest to see if I could hang. Jesus, this match has everything! Philosophers. Douchebags. Soundcloud Rappers….Cadillac Jackson. Now there’s a face I haven’t seen in a bit. I haven’t forgotten about our first Singles encounter. That one really pisses me off to this day. I would LOVE to take him out just for the hell of it.”
Another knife, another picture, another desk nearly destroyed. She stares down at that picture with an extra bit of malice before moving on.
“One more desk here. And look who it is: Michael Fucking Bishop. I’ve idolized this man since I broke into the business. I trained with his friend Carlos. I’ve already bested one of his other running buddies, that side of beef known as Scott Oasis. Now, maybe, just maybe, I get a chance to get a taste of the real deal. I remember seeing the match he had with MAELSTROM, another Rosso dojo graduate who I came up with. I remember seeing a man who was already dead but refused to die. Everything about Bishop’s life screams that he should be retired. His backstage role in OWA’s developmental program. His injuries. His reputation for toughness. His accolades that if I even scratch the surface of I could say I’ve had a hell of a career. Finally, I have a chance to meet you face to face...and show you that it’s time for you to go away, with all due respect. Of all my knives, of all my cravings that I hope to satisfy with this Purge...the craving to face you and show you why I’m the Platinum Standard is the one I want to satisfy the most!”
She drives three knives through Bishop’s picture, not with the spite of any of the others, but with almost childlike glee.
“Life is a game. It’s time to find out if I’m worth it. I didn’t come to the Purge to do any of the sidequests. I came to the Purge to complete this fucking game’s main story arc. I want that briefcase and the power that it holds. And when the time comes to wield that power, you best believe that Emmanuelle will wield it on whoever she chooses with extreme prejudice. This Purge makes stars, right? Seeing as I already am a star….it’s time for this little starlet to go full Supernova. And I dare any of you from Fallout or Proving Ground to get in my way. I’ll cut you down to size.”