Post by Contessa Floran on Dec 16, 2020 22:12:59 GMT -5
DEATH WISH LIST
One: There Will Come Soft Rains
Ball Arena in Denver, Colorado | 12/20/20
vs. Dickie Watson ©
Project: Honor Grand Championship | Street Fight
Unbreakable Resolution
One: There Will Come Soft Rains
Ball Arena in Denver, Colorado | 12/20/20
vs. Dickie Watson ©
Project: Honor Grand Championship | Street Fight
Unbreakable Resolution
There will come soft rains and the smell of the ground,
And swallows circling with their shimmering sound;
And frogs in the pools singing at night,
And wild plum trees in tremulous white,
Maggie’s Oven | Visby, Sweden | December 2018
“Sweetheart have you had a chance to tray the cinnamon buns?” Margaret called into the baking area from the front counter. Contessa stood before the preparation table in her flour covered apron, rolling out the dough. It was only a few weeks before Christmas but the catering orders had already descended upon their small bakery like swift armageddon. There was little hope to ever get in front of the orders. They simply had to organize and execute. Margaret’s calm and comforting demeanor always helped Contessa to not feel flustered but today even her sweet words may not be enough.
“Ten minutes Margaret. Sorry.” Contessa said. She pushed the wisps of loose hair that had fallen out of her bun away from her forward and went back to rolling out the dough. She had gotten quite skilled in forming cinnamon buns but with the hoards of patrons coming into the bakery nonstop she was feeling the pressure and it was affecting her focus. She continued rolling the dough but Margaret had found her way into the back area, prompted by Contessa’s response.
“I’m not sure that I heard you proper, dear.” Margaret said, hands on her hips. A bright and positive woman in her early 50s, Margaret made you feel comfortable within seconds of meeting her. She had a motherly quality that radiated from her every pore and you could not help but get swept up in her positivity. Whether you liked it or not.
“Sorry I didn’t--” Contessa went to say but she caught herself. She said it again and Margaret had clearly taken notice. Contessa hung her head and waited for her mistake to be addressed. Margaret approached and lightly took Contessa’s chin in the palm of her hand. Margaret gently lifted Contessa’s head up so that their eyes met.
“I’m afraid that I didn’t hear you just now. What was that?” Margaret said with a knowing gaze.
“Ten minutes. They’ll be ready for the oven in ten minutes.” Contessa said and tried to move back to her work but Margaret still had a light hold on her chin. Contessa knew that she wouldn’t be getting away that easily but it was worth a shot.
“You said something after that.” Margaret said, cocking an eyebrow.
“It just slipped out. Won’t happen again.” Contessa said.
“A mistake won’t happen again?” Margaret said. “I salute your positivity my love but you most definitely will make a mistake again. We can only do our best and try to limit the frequency in which mistakes occur. And of course, learn from them. Correct?”
Contessa nodded.
“You’ll have to drop some change into the jar. You know the rule. Make sure you do it before you continue. Don’t want you forgetting...again.” Margaret said with a wink. “We’ll break that nasty habit of yours yet.” Margaret placed her palm against Contessa’s cheek and gave her a big smile. She turned on her heels, went back to the front counter and greeted all of the guests that had entered while she was gone. The neighborhood loved her -- how couldn’t you?
With a sigh Contessa pushed her apron aside and reached into the pocket of her loosely fitting jeans. She pulled out a few coins and walked over to the small fridge that they used to store fresh fruit. On top of it was a glass jar with a piece of paper taped to it. Written on the paper in beautiful script were the words “Sorry Jar”. Contessa shook her head and deposited her penance.
As she watched the coins fall into the small pile within the jar the contents of her other pocket started buzzing. Quickly checking to see if the coast was clear, Contessa retreated to a dark alcove in the production area and pulled out her cheap flip phone. She opened it to see a text that said, “9. BAR KEMI” and she snapped it shut. “We can only do our best and try to limit the frequency in which mistakes occur.” she thought.
Robins will wear their feathery fire
Whistling their whims on a low fence-wire;
And not one will know of the war, not one
Will care at last when it is done.
Every action has a consequence.
I was told that I would do well to remember that. Trust me, I am well aware. At Proving Ground 9 I took action and there were consequences. Some people may believe that said consequences are bad but I don’t hold that to be the truth. When I took Smashy and introduced him to Aiden Reynolds I was of sound mind. I knew what I was doing, I had it planned from the beginning. I typically don’t stash Smashy under the ring unless I have designs to use him. This was the first occasion that I required his participation. I told Aiden Reynolds that one way or another I would be able to cross him off of my Death Wish List.
And so I did.
When I was forced to team with Colton Saint in a Project: Honor sanctioned Kobayashi Maru I came to realize that this company has little favor for me. I was just a name to put next to Saint on the card, I was not projected to be a factor in that contest. That was all set up for Saint to get some measure of comeuppance. I was made to feel like an afterthought and not the human weapon that I have worked so hard to smith myself in to. That just would not do. I challenged Aiden because I had laid out a new path for myself. I now had a clear vision, I could see the road ahead and even though I could not be certain of where it would lead I knew that it was the proper direction.
At Proving Ground I did exactly what I had set out to do. I wanted to show the Project: Honor roster that I am someone to be feared. But then came something that I didn’t expect, something that I didn’t plan for. You see I noticed that I had forced an opportunity, I had willed an occasion into existence. I took hold of that microphone and I addressed the Project: Honor Grand Champion. Me, with my increasingly miserable record, laid down a challenge to the Everest of Project: Honor and a lot of people asked “why?”. But as is the answer when people pose that same question to those who choose to attempt the climb I would simply reply, “Because it’s there.”
I have been riding in the passenger seat for most of my career in Project: Honor thus far. I have been going along to get along and that is quite simply not me. Do not let my reserved demeanor deceive you, I am an A Type personality at heart. But that is not how I have been acting. I did not put forth my best effort when I fought for the Warrior Rising Championship and it cost me. That loss inspired me to dig in my heels against Red Riot at Bloodlust. That is where I truly debuted, when I defeated her by choking her out with a coil of barbed wire.
And then what?
And then nothing. Elena DeDraca and I teamed together, we won but that contest ultimately meant nothing. It served to lay the groundwork of a professional relationship between the two of us but I imagine that after I do what needs doing that she would much rather see my head on a pike. So it goes. Following that we had the absolute nonsense that occurred in my tag team match with Saint. I was not in a great place following that match but then I sat down with my notebook and I poured out my soul.
What was left of it, at least.
I wrote down all of those names. All of the people that had taken part in my misfortune. They make up my Death Wish List. Their actions have consequences and I am that consequence. The list is long but at every Project: Honor event it will get a little bit shorter. Aiden Reynolds is no longer an issue. By forcing him to deal with the fallout of his actions I have found myself shoehorned into the main event of Unbreakable Resolution against another name on my list, Dickie Watson, in a Street Fight for the Grand Championship. Some may feel that I do not belong in this match but this is the product of my decisions. This is me owning up to what I’ve done.
This is me becoming Grand Champion.
Not one would mind, neither bird nor tree
If mankind perished utterly;
And Spring herself, when she woke at dawn,
Would scarcely know that we were gone
Bar Kemi | Visby, Sweden | December 2018
A quaint little cocktail bar that had made a name for itself as the go to spot for creative libations. The bartenders would create a custom cocktail just for little old you. It made people feel special, it made people feel seen and more than that it made them feel cool. Contessa certainly didn’t feel cool as she walked into the bar dressed in a long black dress only thirty minutes removed from her shift at Maggie’s Oven.
As the happy hour crowd milled about the bar Contessa spotted a lone patron sitting at a corner table. She was dressed in plain blue jeans and a merlot colored cable knit sweater. Contessa moved across the floor of the establishment with an effortless grace typically reserved for professional dancers. This was a dance, working her way through the suits and semi-coherent conversations. She approached the table and the woman gestured for her to sit.
“You are really enjoying this cloak and dagger routine, aren’t you?” Contessa asked. The woman leaned forward and spoke in a whisper but Contessa could not hear a word she was saying over the loud Europop that was pulsing through the numerous speakers decorating the ceiling.
“I can’t hear you.” Contessa said as she signaled to the server, who was doing the drunk-dodge dance that Contessa performed only moments ago.
The woman at the table raised her voice now. “It’s been two weeks and you haven’t contacted me! If we are going to do this deal -- you have to contact me!” The woman said. Contessa rolled her eyes and the server had arrived at their table. She tried to pitch Contessa on one of the featured cocktails of the evening but Contessa resigned to ordering a gin and soda. She was not in the mood to try a drink made with oregano infused yoghurt. The server slipped away to put in her order and now Contessa had no choice but to talk to the woman at her table.
“Listen Gheri, I’m not fucking James Bond. I have no clue how to approach any of this. You’ve got to give me some time.” Contessa said. The drink arrived at the table shortly thereafter and neither woman had spoken again. Gheri was doing her best to plot her next move, staring Contessa in the eyes. Finally she settled on telling Contessa that she would have to try harder.
“Yeah I just need some time so please relax. I’ve got a lot of plates spinning.” Contessa told her.
“I thought I made this whole thing very simple. You find out what happened there and you report back to me. Seems pretty simple from where I am sitting. I don’t have a lot of time, you need to speed this up. Or I could always stop by your house and---” Gheri said and Contessa swiftly grabbed her wrist, stopping the coming threat in its tracks.
“You will not do that. I’m back in there tomorrow and I’ll start poking around a little more forcefully. So just relax and drink your drink. I’ll get your fucking information. Now stop acting like Deep Throat,” Contessa paused to consume her drink in one gulp. “It doesn’t suit you.”
Contessa stood up to leave but Gheri grabbed her wrist. Contessa flashed a look that was a mix of shocked and furious at her. She went to speak but Gheri was quicker on the draw. “This is serious Contessa. Find out what happened to my brother there. Find out what Stephen Heathen and his people did to him.” she said. “Or I will tell her everything.”
“We can only do our best and try to limit the frequency in which mistakes occur.” Contessa thought and it inspired her. She abruptly left the table and Gheri gave no protest. For all of the problems that Gheri had brought into Contessa’s life, the least that she could do was pay for her drink.
The great defender is upset. Or at least, he was. Dickie Watson had no real issues with me a few weeks ago and now he finds me as the biggest thorn in his side. I bashed and beat his partner. Even though they both tried to act like it was no great asskicking, it seemed like it was enough to get Dickie all hot and bothered. He got all fired up and accepted my challenge -- he even tossed in some little threats in a pathetic attempt at leaving me quivering in my flats.
I feel seen!
You see aside from what I did to his partner, Dickie wants to be a fighting champion. I have to believe that this isn’t just a revenge match but it’s hard. He has stated that his intention is to make the Project: Honor Grand Championship mean something. Because that is just the kind of guy he is. Dickie has believed in the dream that is Project: Honor since he got here. Some people signed on the dotted line in an effort to use a fledgling promotion to win a couple matches, maybe a title, and then at the first sign of trouble flee into the night. But not Dickie. He came here to be a standard bearer and he’s not going to give up until someone better beats him for that Grand Championship. Sorry but those people that are better than you aren’t coming Dickie.
They’re here.
Dickie Watson is a great champion. His record speaks for itself and he has carried himself like a cornerstone should -- for the most part. But there is more to Dickie than being an undersized orphan with a taste for Miyazaki movies. Dickie is a man driven by pride and the desire to be the very best that this industry has or ever will see! Right? He is a shining star that refuses to do anything but achieve excellence. Dickie Watson is the Grand Champion at Project: Honor needs to help build its brand.
Or is he?
“The Calamity” definitely isn’t desperate to prove that he is as good as his “siblings”. Nope, not at all. He doesn’t feel like an outsider compared to all of them who have achieved so many things as professional wrestlers. Dickie doesn’t have an inherent need for his adoptive family and for all of you to know that he’s “actually pretty good”. No. Someone with that affliction would have to list off every championship that they have ever won in every single promo. You know, just in case you don’t follow the inconsequential promotions that they have wrestled for. Someone like that would brag about defeating his opponents with “logic” even before a match begins and go about listing off win percentages and things like that. Someone like that would sound like they were trying to convince themselves of their own merit as much as they were trying to convince you.
Someone like that.
I suppose I understand the things that trouble you Dickie. You have short man syndrome on steroids and that much is painfully obvious. You will tell anyone who will listen about your troubled past as an orphan book worm. You need to make certain that everyone knows how hard you have fought to get where you are. I don’t know if your intention with this course of action is to endear yourself with the masses but when you mention it ad nauseum then you just start to look like a suck. I am sorry that your father abandoned you and your mother was taken by substance abuse. I feel for you, having to grow up in an orphanage and fight for every single scrap of a regular life that you could manage. It must be difficult to see your family be so successful and feel as if you are in constant competition with them.
All of that must suck.
Go talk to a therapist or something. There is no shame in it. I know that you have a skewed view on mental health, what with you saying that Daniel Horror only appealed to “slit-wristers”, but it might be good for you. You reek of imposter syndrome and if you are not careful you could find yourself going down that dark tunnel that your mother visited all those years ago. Enjoy your success Dickie, you don’t have to get up on your soapbox and tell your life story every few weeks to remind us about the hero’s journey that you’ve been on. We know that you’ve had it tough. We know that you have conquered a great many obstacles to be here.
But now you are the obstacle.
You aren’t the plucky young hero facing off against the big bad anymore. Fact is, you kind of are the big bad now. You are the Grand Champion of Project: Honor and if I might use a cliche -- you are public enemy number one. Sure the fans love you, but everyone on this roster wants to take you out. Even those people that you may be friends with. I said it before and I will say it again, you are Everest and there are dozens of climbers looking to conquer you.
I’m next.
The way I went about getting this opportunity to face you in a Street Fight for the Grand Championship was less than honorable but in this case it is not about the journey. It’s about the destination. A month ago I was having meaningless tag team matches with no real direction and now I am in the main event of a pay-per-view because I beat the piss out of your “brother” with what is essentially a movie prop. Funny how life works, eh?
Lots of people are going to whine and piss and moan about me being in the main event. They have every right to. I do not belong in this match. I have done nothing to earn it. Perhaps management sanctioned it because they didn’t have anything else for Dickie to do. Maybe I am just meant to be a place holder until his next REAL challenge comes along. Maybe they are trying to make up for what happened with Saint. Maybe, perhaps, -- who cares. How I got here is no irrelevant but what I do with the opportunity is the focus. The question is; can Contessa Floran come out of nowhere and unseat the dominant Dickie Watson.
The answer is; probably.
You call yourself “The Molotov” Dickie. It’s a cute nickname, easy enough to brand. You are controlled calamity, right? It’s a fine nickname because it fits. You are a combustible combination housed in a fragile container. Ready to explode at the slightest provocation. Granted, my provocation was a little more than slight. But it showed me that you are easy to get to. All it took was a half-hearted beat down on a man that you consider your brother and I have you ready to risk it all.
I’m a little surprised.
Sure you can guise it as wanting to be a fighting champion and all of that but it is pretty clear to me that the championship is secondary in this match. You have such a horrid history of family abandoning you that when you forged one through shared experiences and someone tried to hurt them -- you erupted. Like an emotional volcano you were ready to come at me like a pit viper with little regard for what was going to be at stake. If it wasn’t such a momumentally stupid response then I might consider it a sweet gesture.
You don’t even realize what is on the line.
You’ve set yourself up for disaster Dickie. I’ve already won, in a sense. I maneuvered my way into a main event Grand Championship match and win or lose I have made it. I have plenty of time in my career to win titles and all of that -- a loss here doesn’t kill me. But a loss for you? That is bad. Very, very, bad. You will have failed to defend your “brother’s” honor, you will have failed to defeat someone who hasn’t had a victory in nearly six weeks, and you will have failed to be the Grand Champion that you believe yourself to be.
You have a lot riding on this, little guy.
It could also be good. You play the whining “underdog” with such impassioned vigor that maybe it will be good for you to be at a loss again. Fighting from the bottom. I dare say that you’ll enjoy it. Maybe being the standard bearer bores you and you’d like to return to a more middling field of competition. I have heard you complain about such status in the past but to me it sounded like you were holding back some glee. Perhaps I’m reading too far into it.
Perhaps not.
I think your reign is coming to an end Dickie. This is the last great battle of your reign and the first of mine. A street fight doesn’t scare me Dickie. I would be just in thinking that you wanted this stipulation because maybe Aiden will be waiting in the wings. But I don’t think that is the case. You want to go to war to prove something and I am here for it.
I’m ready for it.
You were the first Dickie, but you won’t be the best. When it is all said and done, they will remember you for only that. Why? You and I are about to go nuclear on one another. This is my chance to do something outrageous and I plan on it. After all of this there will come soft rains Dickie, the burden that you have carried will be lifted. I will be a champion that changes everything about Project: Honor. And you?
“We will scarcely know that you were gone.”
