Post by emmanuelle on Apr 23, 2021 22:58:14 GMT -5
There’s nothing like a good shower to wash away the day’s dirt and grime after a hard day’s work. For wrestlers, hygiene is paramount. Not just because if you don’t look a certain way or take care of yourself no one will have interest in working with you but also because wrestling is dirty and grimy. I think I’ve made it clear what I mean about that in the metaphorical sense, but it’s literally grimy in the ring sometimes. People spitting all over the place, sawdust, debris, vomit and body waste in more extreme cases. Yeah, I even heard a rumor about a guy once who accidentally ejaculated on himself after getting suplexed. But the absolute worst thing is blood. It makes you feel a unique kind of filthy, a unique kind of idiot for taking up this crazy sport as a profession. Even if it’s someone else’s blood that’s washing off of you, it doesn’t make you feel any less dirty when it’s there...or any cleaner when it’s gone.
WrestleWorld Neutral Territories
Heaven’s Arena
After a long, tiresome title defense, Emmanuelle spent plenty of time getting herself cleaned up in the shower. There was no interest in going out to party or hanging with her entourage. The only thing on her mind was traveling to her next destination. While her tenure as Shogun Champion was interesting, there was something about Project: Honor that was novel and appealing to her. There were always new opponents, interesting challenges to keep her on her toes at all times. While she didn’t particularly spend too much time with people on the roster outside of Myojin and TJ Thompson, she was quite pleased when she saw the names of her partners for a six-person tag match. She would think about the match tomorrow, she told herself as the blood of her challenger on the night slowly washed away. The most important thing right now was getting to Brazil...and finding herself a beach to hang out on. After finally getting herself cleaned up and changed, she met up with her manager who had a big grin on his face.
“Still alive?”
“Still alive.”
“Good job tonight, Emmy. That’s another defense in the books. You keep going and you’re certainly going to be MVP!”
“Good call on having my little entourage out here for the match. They did *just* enough to keep that bastard Sabertooth at bay until I was able to take control. Is all my stuff ready to go to Brazil?”
“It is, but you mind if I talk to you for a second about something?”
Emmy instantly furrowed her brow, knowing damn well her manager was up to something. He only wanted to “talk to her about things” when he had something he wanted to suggest...and it was usually stuff she disagreed with vehemently.
“What is it?”
“It’s this...Project Honor thing. You’re doing fine there after a rough start and you’re on the PPV show in Brasil, but don’t you feel...weird there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, Emmy, when we came here, we had a plan. You wanted to win the Dreamscape, you did. You wanted to win and defend the Shogun title, you have. What’s the point of being in Project Honor? You haven’t made any out there title challenges, you have barely wrestled singles matches. I mean, we could find you something much different if it’s the payday, you know? I think that place is all wrong for us, Emmy. I mean, just look at this tag match you got coming up. You’re booked against three scrubs, newbies who probably don’t know a wrist lock from a wrist watch. We could be getting you some much bigger matches than this in other places. ”
“You have a point. I am in a bit of a shiftless, weird direction right now. There’s not a lot going on for me. A lot of that is by design. You see, I don’t know a lot of these people. I’m still learning the ins and outs of the federation. This wasn’t like some other places where you or Diantha or Carlos could tip me off. I’m getting my feet underneath me. I think you’ll find that if we stick this out that there will be plenty of profit available to us. I know you’re the manager, but I’ve definitely got a plan here. You trust me, Don?”
“Heyyyyyy, you’re my star pupil! Of course I trust you. Just don’t wait too long to make a move. Be patient...but don’t be complacent. There’s a difference, yanno?”
“You don’t have to worry about complacency. Ever.”
Well, here we are. Public Execution time. Right about now, somewhere off in the bowels of some God-forsaken place, the three opponents that I’m facing are getting their affairs in order, talking to their holy person of choice, preparing to face the inevitability that awaits them once they’re led out to slaughter. This is a pretty straightforward contest to me. Cadillac, the big man and myself don’t have much in common. In fact, we’ve spent the last few weeks having matches against one another. I don’t have much of a bond with them but after being on the other side of the ring against them I’ve come to appreciate what they can do. Cadillac is a little bit of a weirdo, but he can wrestle. Do I think he’s the “Best Wrestler in the World” as he’s taken to calling himself? Probably not. Then again, most people who put themselves up with such a name are nowhere near being that good. I at least appreciate the confidence. Lance? I know that he’s strong enough that he can probably put down all the guys we’re facing without much effort. Myo and I were losing sleep trying to come up with a strategy to fight that big son of a bitch and we’re on a whole other level than these jokers we’re wrestling.
A short order chef and two masked guys. I could have picked out better opponents if I went to some street corner in Brazil and picked out a few thugs to have a scrap with. Oh, for the record, I have a thing where I don’t really like luchadors too much. Now I know both of these guys wearing masks may not embody lucha tradition, but I’ve always thought hiding your identity behind a mask is a bitchmade professional move.
Here’s what’s going to happen in Brazil: We’re going to glaze the cook in his own blood and the two punks with masks? Well I’m going to rip them the fuck off and expose you for the fraudulent wrestlers you are. Why?
Because I’m cold-blooded. WE are cold-blooded.
And I really, REALLY hate masked wrestlers.
WrestleWorld Neutral Territories
Heaven’s Arena
After a long, tiresome title defense, Emmanuelle spent plenty of time getting herself cleaned up in the shower. There was no interest in going out to party or hanging with her entourage. The only thing on her mind was traveling to her next destination. While her tenure as Shogun Champion was interesting, there was something about Project: Honor that was novel and appealing to her. There were always new opponents, interesting challenges to keep her on her toes at all times. While she didn’t particularly spend too much time with people on the roster outside of Myojin and TJ Thompson, she was quite pleased when she saw the names of her partners for a six-person tag match. She would think about the match tomorrow, she told herself as the blood of her challenger on the night slowly washed away. The most important thing right now was getting to Brazil...and finding herself a beach to hang out on. After finally getting herself cleaned up and changed, she met up with her manager who had a big grin on his face.
“Still alive?”
“Still alive.”
“Good job tonight, Emmy. That’s another defense in the books. You keep going and you’re certainly going to be MVP!”
“Good call on having my little entourage out here for the match. They did *just* enough to keep that bastard Sabertooth at bay until I was able to take control. Is all my stuff ready to go to Brazil?”
“It is, but you mind if I talk to you for a second about something?”
Emmy instantly furrowed her brow, knowing damn well her manager was up to something. He only wanted to “talk to her about things” when he had something he wanted to suggest...and it was usually stuff she disagreed with vehemently.
“What is it?”
“It’s this...Project Honor thing. You’re doing fine there after a rough start and you’re on the PPV show in Brasil, but don’t you feel...weird there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Look, Emmy, when we came here, we had a plan. You wanted to win the Dreamscape, you did. You wanted to win and defend the Shogun title, you have. What’s the point of being in Project Honor? You haven’t made any out there title challenges, you have barely wrestled singles matches. I mean, we could find you something much different if it’s the payday, you know? I think that place is all wrong for us, Emmy. I mean, just look at this tag match you got coming up. You’re booked against three scrubs, newbies who probably don’t know a wrist lock from a wrist watch. We could be getting you some much bigger matches than this in other places. ”
“You have a point. I am in a bit of a shiftless, weird direction right now. There’s not a lot going on for me. A lot of that is by design. You see, I don’t know a lot of these people. I’m still learning the ins and outs of the federation. This wasn’t like some other places where you or Diantha or Carlos could tip me off. I’m getting my feet underneath me. I think you’ll find that if we stick this out that there will be plenty of profit available to us. I know you’re the manager, but I’ve definitely got a plan here. You trust me, Don?”
“Heyyyyyy, you’re my star pupil! Of course I trust you. Just don’t wait too long to make a move. Be patient...but don’t be complacent. There’s a difference, yanno?”
“You don’t have to worry about complacency. Ever.”
Well, here we are. Public Execution time. Right about now, somewhere off in the bowels of some God-forsaken place, the three opponents that I’m facing are getting their affairs in order, talking to their holy person of choice, preparing to face the inevitability that awaits them once they’re led out to slaughter. This is a pretty straightforward contest to me. Cadillac, the big man and myself don’t have much in common. In fact, we’ve spent the last few weeks having matches against one another. I don’t have much of a bond with them but after being on the other side of the ring against them I’ve come to appreciate what they can do. Cadillac is a little bit of a weirdo, but he can wrestle. Do I think he’s the “Best Wrestler in the World” as he’s taken to calling himself? Probably not. Then again, most people who put themselves up with such a name are nowhere near being that good. I at least appreciate the confidence. Lance? I know that he’s strong enough that he can probably put down all the guys we’re facing without much effort. Myo and I were losing sleep trying to come up with a strategy to fight that big son of a bitch and we’re on a whole other level than these jokers we’re wrestling.
A short order chef and two masked guys. I could have picked out better opponents if I went to some street corner in Brazil and picked out a few thugs to have a scrap with. Oh, for the record, I have a thing where I don’t really like luchadors too much. Now I know both of these guys wearing masks may not embody lucha tradition, but I’ve always thought hiding your identity behind a mask is a bitchmade professional move.
Here’s what’s going to happen in Brazil: We’re going to glaze the cook in his own blood and the two punks with masks? Well I’m going to rip them the fuck off and expose you for the fraudulent wrestlers you are. Why?
Because I’m cold-blooded. WE are cold-blooded.
And I really, REALLY hate masked wrestlers.