Post by emmanuelle on Feb 24, 2021 23:42:45 GMT -5
Feb. 20, 2021
Nagoya Stadium
Nagoya, Japan
[Emmanuelle very slowly makes her way up the ramp as she exits the stadium. Her knee is hurting her, a slight limp can be seen in her step as she makes her way behind the curtain. Even so, there’s a small smile on her face as she grabs a nearby chair to sit in as a trainer comes to tend to her and offer her a bottle of water. The WrestleWorld Shogun Championship, a title that she holds with a great deal of pride, is still in her possession after an intense bout. The crowd wanted someone else. The people in charge wanted someone else. But in her first defense she proved herself up to the task. Her manager, Seiji Suzuki, doesn’t take long to appear afterwards, pulling up a chair next to her as she continued to recover from the relatively short but intense bout.]
Seiji: You got just a little too careless there, Emmy. You’re lucky that your head is as hard as it is. There was a little too much showboating...you’re better than that.
Emmy: I know, I know. But these crowds really get to me, you know? I don’t go out there and pretend I want to be their friend like a lot of these athletes do. I don’t have any crazy things going on outside of the ring. I just want to fight, make my money, and go home. You saw. Better yet, you heard. They hate me. Am I horrible because I wanted to rub their noses in it just a little bit that they wanted to disrespect me!? I wrestle all over the planet, barely have time to myself now. I don’t have anything close to resembling a love life, I don’t see any of my family, and I’m constantly in pain. I don’t take kindly to being booed at and cat-called just because I’m not the Champion they wanted!
Seiji: I know you give up a lot, Emmy, but you gotta understand, you’re an American….
[Emmy immediately shoots him an annoyed look but Seiji holds his hand up a second.]
Seiji: Look, I know you’ve got Japanese heritage too but listen. You’re an American. You’re built differently than the people here, you look and sound different. You beat not one but two wrestlers that they have a lot of respect and admiration for and you have a title that people think should be presented a certain way. Culture clashes on so many levels, yanno?
Emmy: What should I do then? Smile and be a little bubblegum pop idol for them? (scoffs)
Seiji: Nah. Just be you. You aren’t going to win over everybody and we both know that isn’t really your style anyway. Just keep going, keep winning, and people will respect you.
Emmy: Whatever.
Seiji: Trust me! Look, look at this handsome face! Is this the face of a shady businessman who would lie to a client?
[Seiji points to his face, a sincere look in his eyes as Emmy raises her head to meet his gaze, a deadpan expression on her face.]
Emmy: It does and you know it, you old ass schemer.
Seiji: Good point. Heh! You want me to handle the press conference?
Emmy: No, I’m going. I just wanted to collect my thoughts and get myself calmed down. You’re more than welcome to come along though. Hearing you cursing people out in Japanese is never not funny though! By the way, admit it though...that corkscrew moonsault to the outside was pretty badass.
Seiji: It was, just be thankful that you didn't wreck your fuckin' knee.
[Emmy rises to her feet, her title belt draped over her shoulder as she makes her way towards the small room set aside for interviews with the press. Seiji follows not far behind.]
Feb. 23, 2021
Pasadena, California
Emmy’s US residence
[After catching a flight home, Emmy decided to take a much needed rest. The beautiful Tudor house that she had purchased was the result of not only her wrestling career taking off but her small business ventures and modeling work coming out to be profitable as well. Her family was wealthy and Emmy certainly didn’t need to work as hard as she did, but something about living off of inheritance and the work of others deeply offended her. This was the side of the “Silver Starlet” that the world didn’t see, at home, constantly trying out recipes in her kitchen for the few guests that she would entertain when not globetrotting as a wrestling star. On this occasion one of her closest friends and mentors had arrived before making his own way to Japan to resume his own wrestling career. Carlos Rosso sat at the table with his protege, looking over the enormous brunch feast that she had prepared for them: french toast, a fresh fruit salad, a steak omelette, several pastries that Emmy had baked and didn’t want to eat alone, and hash browns.]
Carlos: Well, shit, you know how to send off somebody don’t you? This is a pretty nice meal. Oh, I know I sent you a text saying congratulations but just wanted to say it again. Making waves wherever you go, Miss Shogun Champ.
Emmy: Thanks. I’m glad you came by, not too often I have people to cook for. I’m here so little I barely cook at all, y’know? It’s good to entertain guests when I can.
Carlos: So, why did you really ask me here? Oh, come on, I know that you wanted to talk about something the moment you invited me to come by before I left for Japan. What’s on ya mind?
Emmy: How did you do it?
Carlos: Do...what?
Emmy: Back in the day, when you were training me, you used to grumble and whine about how people were so soft and couldn’t keep up with the schedule you had when you were getting started. Five, six wrestling federations at a time, all those tour dates to juggle, matches to prepare for.
Carlos: You seem to be doing just fine to me! You got a major title within your first few months of being in the big time. You’re wrestling full-time on both sides of the Pacific with high-profile matches. You’re doing pretty damn good, kid.
Emmy: You know what I’m talking about though. You know I want to do that thing that you once did.
Carlos: Four belts at one time? The quadruple?
Emmy: Yeah.
Carlos: Why? I mean, don’t you hate this shit? Every time I see you you’re complaining about how wrestling is horrible and full of scumbags and degenerates and all. Why do you want to be a champion that many times over in a sport you don’t give a shit about?
Emmy: ….You know the answer to that already. When you trained me, you told me what I was capable of doing. I don’t plan on doing this forever, so why waste time fucking around? I want to get as many big paydays as possible before I hang my boots up and this is a good way to get them, no? You built your career on being the gunner who conquered any place he entered. Singles wrestling, tag team wrestling, MMA, whatever you chose to do you excelled at. I want to follow that model minus the MMA part. I get beat up enough in regular wrestling and the last thing I want to do is fight some ugly jackass who thinks their jujitsu-by-Zoom instruction is going to turn them into a superstar.
Carlos: Good point.
[The two eat in silence for a few minutes until Carlos starts toying with a piece of French Toast, picking it up with his fork and holding it up.]
Carlos: Think about it like this: all of these different organizations you work for, they’re different dishes. You don’t throw around a bunch of fruit and stuff to make your steak omelette, right? You don’t put meat in your fruit salad? Just like cooking, wrestling is no different. Every place has a formula that works for a wrestler. In some places you’ll have to be a little more aggressive. In some places you can be more patient. Just focus on one thing at a time, keep all the different bits of business you have separate from each other, and each dish will turn out fine. Like your Project: Honor obligations. You put so much on your plate before War Games elsewhere you weren't ready and completely focused on the task at hand. You did some cool things and all but that match wasn't up the standard I taught you and it's certainly not up to your Platinum Standard. Sweetheart, you tried to put grits in your fruit salad and it came out horribly. Uh...I don't mean THIS actual fruit salad, I mean that metaphorically.
Emmy: Thanks. An interesting explanation at the very least.
Carlos: I try to make ‘em good but simple. What’s next on the schedule for you? I heard you had some bangers coming up.
Emmy: A match in Project: Honor. Against some newcomer. Should be fun.
[The two continue to eat in mostly silence for the rest of Carlos’s visit, save a few jokes that he told to elicit some laughs.]
I never viewed wrestling as fun. Not when I was being trained for it, not when I first started. Not very much appeals to me on a personal level. I don’t like most of the people who run it, I like even fewer people who are involved in it, and the fans for the most part make me sick. If it’s not something about me being a woman, it’s about being an American. If it’s not about that, it’s about me coming from a wealthy family. If it’s not about that, then it’s probably because I said something that hurt some mouth-breather sitting in his mom’s basement feelings. A long time ago this would have made me hide and crawl into my shell. I used to care so much about what other people thought of me, I worked so hard as a little girl to portray myself a certain way as to not ruffle feathers.
Then it was time to start being honest.
Why settle? Why continue through life holding MYSELF back? As a younger girl, I was the “golden child”. Learned to play violin, was well beyond most kids my age when it came to cooking. Perfect grades, adept equestrian, all that frilly extracurricular shit everyone typically expects of an upper-class girl. When I was a teenager I had no idea what I was going to do with my life and I certainly didn’t think I’d be a professional wrestler, but I made up my mind that no matter what I did I would be my honest self, my true self to everyone. There would be no confusion about who I am, what I’m about and where I come from. That’s one reason why I was so eager to sign with Project: Honor. There are so many unique, interesting wrestlers here and I’m relishing the challenge more by the second. Sure, the War Games didn’t go so well. I didn’t win it all, of course, but statistically speaking it was going to be difficult to come out of the pipe clean on the other side when having to swim through a river of deep shit.
Such is life.
Now I have a chance to do what I should have done at the Crowning, make myself a nice, juicy splash. My first one on one match is against a guy who calls himself a Cadillac. He has the look, the athletic ability and everything else it seems to be a big star. But, why is it that I just smell something fake in the air? Why do I not think he’s being completely honest? I don’t know, we all have things in our past that we want to hide and there are certain vulnerabilities that we try to keep out of view of the general public. I get it. But there is one thing about me: growing up pretending to be something I wasn’t made me extremely adept at spotting other pretenders. I know bullshit when I smell it and see it, and I’m willing to call my marker on this one.
I have every reason to believe that this guy will give me a decent fight and all that other, but something seems off to me that puts me off. In the end though, I can’t let any personal feelings or random musings about other people’s boring lives trouble me. This is a business after all and I want to make sure that my business is booming after this match. During War Games, people just got a taste, a small taste of what I’m about. And while there are probably many out there who want to see me get my ass kicked, there are plenty of other simps and degenerates who want more, who want to see me take off to the stratosphere and get in the hunt for some gold.
So, once this little business is taken care of, I’ll be more than ready to make my case for a bigger match with bigger stakes. What’s a Cadillac to a Maserati after all?
Nagoya Stadium
Nagoya, Japan
[Emmanuelle very slowly makes her way up the ramp as she exits the stadium. Her knee is hurting her, a slight limp can be seen in her step as she makes her way behind the curtain. Even so, there’s a small smile on her face as she grabs a nearby chair to sit in as a trainer comes to tend to her and offer her a bottle of water. The WrestleWorld Shogun Championship, a title that she holds with a great deal of pride, is still in her possession after an intense bout. The crowd wanted someone else. The people in charge wanted someone else. But in her first defense she proved herself up to the task. Her manager, Seiji Suzuki, doesn’t take long to appear afterwards, pulling up a chair next to her as she continued to recover from the relatively short but intense bout.]
Seiji: You got just a little too careless there, Emmy. You’re lucky that your head is as hard as it is. There was a little too much showboating...you’re better than that.
Emmy: I know, I know. But these crowds really get to me, you know? I don’t go out there and pretend I want to be their friend like a lot of these athletes do. I don’t have any crazy things going on outside of the ring. I just want to fight, make my money, and go home. You saw. Better yet, you heard. They hate me. Am I horrible because I wanted to rub their noses in it just a little bit that they wanted to disrespect me!? I wrestle all over the planet, barely have time to myself now. I don’t have anything close to resembling a love life, I don’t see any of my family, and I’m constantly in pain. I don’t take kindly to being booed at and cat-called just because I’m not the Champion they wanted!
Seiji: I know you give up a lot, Emmy, but you gotta understand, you’re an American….
[Emmy immediately shoots him an annoyed look but Seiji holds his hand up a second.]
Seiji: Look, I know you’ve got Japanese heritage too but listen. You’re an American. You’re built differently than the people here, you look and sound different. You beat not one but two wrestlers that they have a lot of respect and admiration for and you have a title that people think should be presented a certain way. Culture clashes on so many levels, yanno?
Emmy: What should I do then? Smile and be a little bubblegum pop idol for them? (scoffs)
Seiji: Nah. Just be you. You aren’t going to win over everybody and we both know that isn’t really your style anyway. Just keep going, keep winning, and people will respect you.
Emmy: Whatever.
Seiji: Trust me! Look, look at this handsome face! Is this the face of a shady businessman who would lie to a client?
[Seiji points to his face, a sincere look in his eyes as Emmy raises her head to meet his gaze, a deadpan expression on her face.]
Emmy: It does and you know it, you old ass schemer.
Seiji: Good point. Heh! You want me to handle the press conference?
Emmy: No, I’m going. I just wanted to collect my thoughts and get myself calmed down. You’re more than welcome to come along though. Hearing you cursing people out in Japanese is never not funny though! By the way, admit it though...that corkscrew moonsault to the outside was pretty badass.
Seiji: It was, just be thankful that you didn't wreck your fuckin' knee.
[Emmy rises to her feet, her title belt draped over her shoulder as she makes her way towards the small room set aside for interviews with the press. Seiji follows not far behind.]
Feb. 23, 2021
Pasadena, California
Emmy’s US residence
[After catching a flight home, Emmy decided to take a much needed rest. The beautiful Tudor house that she had purchased was the result of not only her wrestling career taking off but her small business ventures and modeling work coming out to be profitable as well. Her family was wealthy and Emmy certainly didn’t need to work as hard as she did, but something about living off of inheritance and the work of others deeply offended her. This was the side of the “Silver Starlet” that the world didn’t see, at home, constantly trying out recipes in her kitchen for the few guests that she would entertain when not globetrotting as a wrestling star. On this occasion one of her closest friends and mentors had arrived before making his own way to Japan to resume his own wrestling career. Carlos Rosso sat at the table with his protege, looking over the enormous brunch feast that she had prepared for them: french toast, a fresh fruit salad, a steak omelette, several pastries that Emmy had baked and didn’t want to eat alone, and hash browns.]
Carlos: Well, shit, you know how to send off somebody don’t you? This is a pretty nice meal. Oh, I know I sent you a text saying congratulations but just wanted to say it again. Making waves wherever you go, Miss Shogun Champ.
Emmy: Thanks. I’m glad you came by, not too often I have people to cook for. I’m here so little I barely cook at all, y’know? It’s good to entertain guests when I can.
Carlos: So, why did you really ask me here? Oh, come on, I know that you wanted to talk about something the moment you invited me to come by before I left for Japan. What’s on ya mind?
Emmy: How did you do it?
Carlos: Do...what?
Emmy: Back in the day, when you were training me, you used to grumble and whine about how people were so soft and couldn’t keep up with the schedule you had when you were getting started. Five, six wrestling federations at a time, all those tour dates to juggle, matches to prepare for.
Carlos: You seem to be doing just fine to me! You got a major title within your first few months of being in the big time. You’re wrestling full-time on both sides of the Pacific with high-profile matches. You’re doing pretty damn good, kid.
Emmy: You know what I’m talking about though. You know I want to do that thing that you once did.
Carlos: Four belts at one time? The quadruple?
Emmy: Yeah.
Carlos: Why? I mean, don’t you hate this shit? Every time I see you you’re complaining about how wrestling is horrible and full of scumbags and degenerates and all. Why do you want to be a champion that many times over in a sport you don’t give a shit about?
Emmy: ….You know the answer to that already. When you trained me, you told me what I was capable of doing. I don’t plan on doing this forever, so why waste time fucking around? I want to get as many big paydays as possible before I hang my boots up and this is a good way to get them, no? You built your career on being the gunner who conquered any place he entered. Singles wrestling, tag team wrestling, MMA, whatever you chose to do you excelled at. I want to follow that model minus the MMA part. I get beat up enough in regular wrestling and the last thing I want to do is fight some ugly jackass who thinks their jujitsu-by-Zoom instruction is going to turn them into a superstar.
Carlos: Good point.
[The two eat in silence for a few minutes until Carlos starts toying with a piece of French Toast, picking it up with his fork and holding it up.]
Carlos: Think about it like this: all of these different organizations you work for, they’re different dishes. You don’t throw around a bunch of fruit and stuff to make your steak omelette, right? You don’t put meat in your fruit salad? Just like cooking, wrestling is no different. Every place has a formula that works for a wrestler. In some places you’ll have to be a little more aggressive. In some places you can be more patient. Just focus on one thing at a time, keep all the different bits of business you have separate from each other, and each dish will turn out fine. Like your Project: Honor obligations. You put so much on your plate before War Games elsewhere you weren't ready and completely focused on the task at hand. You did some cool things and all but that match wasn't up the standard I taught you and it's certainly not up to your Platinum Standard. Sweetheart, you tried to put grits in your fruit salad and it came out horribly. Uh...I don't mean THIS actual fruit salad, I mean that metaphorically.
Emmy: Thanks. An interesting explanation at the very least.
Carlos: I try to make ‘em good but simple. What’s next on the schedule for you? I heard you had some bangers coming up.
Emmy: A match in Project: Honor. Against some newcomer. Should be fun.
[The two continue to eat in mostly silence for the rest of Carlos’s visit, save a few jokes that he told to elicit some laughs.]
I never viewed wrestling as fun. Not when I was being trained for it, not when I first started. Not very much appeals to me on a personal level. I don’t like most of the people who run it, I like even fewer people who are involved in it, and the fans for the most part make me sick. If it’s not something about me being a woman, it’s about being an American. If it’s not about that, it’s about me coming from a wealthy family. If it’s not about that, then it’s probably because I said something that hurt some mouth-breather sitting in his mom’s basement feelings. A long time ago this would have made me hide and crawl into my shell. I used to care so much about what other people thought of me, I worked so hard as a little girl to portray myself a certain way as to not ruffle feathers.
Then it was time to start being honest.
Why settle? Why continue through life holding MYSELF back? As a younger girl, I was the “golden child”. Learned to play violin, was well beyond most kids my age when it came to cooking. Perfect grades, adept equestrian, all that frilly extracurricular shit everyone typically expects of an upper-class girl. When I was a teenager I had no idea what I was going to do with my life and I certainly didn’t think I’d be a professional wrestler, but I made up my mind that no matter what I did I would be my honest self, my true self to everyone. There would be no confusion about who I am, what I’m about and where I come from. That’s one reason why I was so eager to sign with Project: Honor. There are so many unique, interesting wrestlers here and I’m relishing the challenge more by the second. Sure, the War Games didn’t go so well. I didn’t win it all, of course, but statistically speaking it was going to be difficult to come out of the pipe clean on the other side when having to swim through a river of deep shit.
Such is life.
Now I have a chance to do what I should have done at the Crowning, make myself a nice, juicy splash. My first one on one match is against a guy who calls himself a Cadillac. He has the look, the athletic ability and everything else it seems to be a big star. But, why is it that I just smell something fake in the air? Why do I not think he’s being completely honest? I don’t know, we all have things in our past that we want to hide and there are certain vulnerabilities that we try to keep out of view of the general public. I get it. But there is one thing about me: growing up pretending to be something I wasn’t made me extremely adept at spotting other pretenders. I know bullshit when I smell it and see it, and I’m willing to call my marker on this one.
I have every reason to believe that this guy will give me a decent fight and all that other, but something seems off to me that puts me off. In the end though, I can’t let any personal feelings or random musings about other people’s boring lives trouble me. This is a business after all and I want to make sure that my business is booming after this match. During War Games, people just got a taste, a small taste of what I’m about. And while there are probably many out there who want to see me get my ass kicked, there are plenty of other simps and degenerates who want more, who want to see me take off to the stratosphere and get in the hunt for some gold.
So, once this little business is taken care of, I’ll be more than ready to make my case for a bigger match with bigger stakes. What’s a Cadillac to a Maserati after all?