RAIN RAIN DON'T GO ANYWHERE [CONTESSA FLORAN PG V]

It’s a misty evening in Greensboro. By evening I mean that it is three in the morning and a black pair of combat boots clop along the soaking sidewalk. The shot tilts up from her feet to show Contessa Floran. She is dressed in a simple black dress and her expression can only be described as ---happy. This is out of character for her as she typically wears a neutral countenance.

The reason for her uncharacteristic jubilance is because Contessa enjoys meandering throughout the city alone and unbothered. Plus she asked the cameraman to shoot her from below so that she looked “powerful” and he obliged. He was likely receptive to the request because the sooner they finish, the sooner he can go to bed. The shot pulls up to a standard frame and she looks down the barrel of the lens.

Two years. Daily drills. Tough dojo style training. Cakewalk. No problem. I could tell you that it was difficult, that it fundamentally changed me as a person and turned me into something that I know longer recognized when I looked in the mirror…

A deep breath. Her happy expression changes to contemplative but only for a second. You could call her unstable and not be completely wrong but she is by no means mentally ill. Mentally fractured would be a more apt description.

I could say that.

She smirks. She is often humored by her own thoughts.

But I won’t talk about that in detail because describing the kind of rigorous training I went to seems like a pretty dumb move. Why would I let you in on how I know exactly what I’ve come to know? Tsk tsk, that would be most silly. And although I may look it (to some), I am not some silly little girl.

Fact is, I don’t really know what I am.

Continuing down the sidewalk, Contessa lazily kicks at the puddles. There is very little activity on the streets and she is very pleased about this. Dealing with people is not her favourite thing in the world.

This is all an exploration of self, I am learning more and more about Contessa every day. What I am capable of, what I care about, what I don’t. When it comes to the things I hold dear -- there isn’t much. Easier to insulate yourself that way. Hard to hurt, impossible to hold. That’s me.

A group of young girls stumble out of a bar, doing their best to avoid the rain. They are clearly wasted and Contessa just rolls her eyes. She’s not interested in interacting with them so she crosses the street, without looking both ways. A car nearly takes her out but stops short. The driver screams from within his metal cage but Contessa pays him no mind.

It seems that my opponent on Proving Ground and I are a little alike. Beryl Weir is from the mean streets of Belfast, Ireland and she is one tough cookie. I guess. That isn’t why we are similar. She is much like me when it comes to wins and losses here in Project Honor because she has neither. We are both looking to show what we can do.

Yawn.

The drunk girls across the street do their best to pile into an Uber while the driver screams that there are too many of them.

What exactly do we say about each other Beryl? You don’t know me, I don’t know you. We are both trying to make our way in this wild and wacky world of pro wrestling. Thing is -- I do have a bit of a bone to pick with you. Sorry about that. You see, on paper we look like a complete mis-match. You’re the brawling bad ass from Belfast and I look like I’d fall over at the slightest gust of wind.

As if on cue there is...a gust of wind. Contessa smiles, half thinking that she willed it into existence.

Luckily that isn’t true.

I am a nasty little person, you should know that. I’ve got a lot of hate in my heart and I am learning how to exorcise that. I’ve tried a lot of different things to work out my...issues. I joined a book club, paid for a pottery class, started bird watching -- none of those things worked for me. I’m not a fan of Jane Austen, my grip is too strong for wet clay, and birds...well birds suck. The only hobbies that really work for me are smashin’ faces and brooding. Everyone has their own interests. I guess.

She shrugs.

I don’t easily excite Beryl, but the prospect of facing someone as rough around the edges has me walking on air. You see I’ve developed quite the fascination with Death and I’m preeeetty convinced that Death is carrying a torch for me too. Hence being Oblivion’s Crush. Death is inescapable and we are all marching towards it. I don’t yearn for it but I have accepted it. My goal is to truly live before my dark suitor comes a-courtin’. So let’s live Beryl, let’s experience the sincere ecstasy of pure violence together.

May I have this dance?

Contessa does a little twirl and then walks off and we can hear the cameraman sigh. His night is over but it looks like Oblivion’s Crush has much to do before daylight.