Post by Icon Lady Eva Hikari on Jul 4, 2015 11:23:03 GMT -6
Ms Hikari! Eva? Can we have a few words on your upcoming match at Heatwave? Your opponent has just been announced as-
She didn’t even need to remove her sunglasses to cause the young reporter to stop and swallow hard. Opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water he withered under her surely deadly stare. Being interrupted during what must have been her third coffee break of the morning always put the young woman in a lovely mind set. Considering the abysmal place her head had been recently, standing between her and her caffeine intake was serious business. Still she offered a smile, humourless and brief though it was. Before handing her coffee to the poor young journalist and snatching his mic.
Touch my coffee and I’ll hobble you, understand? None of this stealing a sip bull either. I’m watching you.
Pushing her hand through her hair she visibly huffed. Despite the heat outside she was her usual image of morbid beauty. The sun had mercifully retreated behind the clouds, and a breeze had picked up. Killing the very convincing illusion that you were in actual hell. Still, in central London Eva was never too sure.
So you want what? Me to be jumping for joy that I finally have an opponent for a title I begged to be laid to rest? All hail Kellar for saving the day and legacy of a title nobody gives a damn about. How very noble of you to step out of the woodwork at last JohnJohn, how gracious of you to step into a lower card match when we all know you should be headlining. Are the finances really that bad sweetcheeks?
Shrugging her shoulders with the same indifference her tone carried she shook her head.
Don’t worry darling, the Globalverse sheep are very forgiving……so are the management apparently…. They’ll come flooding back to sing your praises and soon you’ll be vaulted back into an over saturated world title scene. All you need to do is make one big impact…..Worked for Sparky, will probably work for Champa, so hell, why not you too? We can have an all out slugfest. The disillusioned and dishonoured verses the downright disastrous. It’ll sell out arenas, increase buyrates and put GZW back on the professional wrestling map…….Well, it wont, but apparently that doesn’t matter these days, does it? We're not looking for excitement, we're just looking to cram as many folk still able to hobble to the ring onto a card.
She wasn’t happy, she wasn’t even pretending. The professional mask had slipped along with the graceful Icon and polite young woman act weeks ago.
The only redeeming factor in all this I suppose, is that you were upfront. You don’t give a damn about the Globalverse, or the fans, the belt or even facing off against an Icon. I gotta be honest with you darling, as the days go by, neither do I. Good matches are few and far between, great matches are bloody mythical. So what do I expect from a bloke who hasn’t set foot in this world for over year? Heh, is it too late to demand Mortal remains? Seriously? I don’t give a damn what you think you bring to the table. You want to tear me apart verbally? Go for it! Try and beat me physically? Bring it on! Bring whatever you have left and I’ll meet you with what ever it takes. You’re in this for the money? Awesome, then you earn your bloody paycheque. Going rates right now are blood, sweat and tears. If you take the belt, so be it. I don’t care, the last bit of interest I have for the bloody thing was spent turning the leather purple and sticking glittery shit to it. I’m not even joking….somewhere between contemplating its epitaph and begging for it’s demise, I let the twin terrors redesign it. It was the most interest I’d shown in that corroded piece of tin for months.
Pushing her sunglasses into her hair, she blinked in the sunlight. Sometimes she spent so long wearing the damn things, looking at the world around her without them was both horrifying and bright. She regained her composure quickly enough with a narrow eyed stare aimed at the poor sod holding her coffee. Snatching it back she took a sip.
Heatwave is supposed to be one of the biggest stages in the world, and in past years I could have totally been behind that. Being part of something so huge, so important, so defining……this year? I’m rocking the show against a guy so rusty he makes the tin man look athletic, for a title my kids went art attack all over, amid a card that had the last shreds of excitement watered down with the addition of Lack of Spark to the main event. Super, great, fandabi-fucking-dozi…..It’s reached the point where as a Globalstar, I just……don’t care. I don’t do this for the money, the accolades, the love of the fans. I do it because I love to compete, to be tested, to be pushed to my limits. As an Icon and a fan I’ve more than reached those. So whats left? When everything you loved about the business has fallen to ruin around you? Pure rage…..JohnJohn, you may not get my best out there, but you’d feel every second of it.
Tossing the stolen mic back to the journalist it hits the ground with a resounding boom. Turning on her heel and fading back into quiet shade outside of the wrestling school, the young woman’s mutter “you tit” is the last thing picked up before the camera fades.
She didn’t even need to remove her sunglasses to cause the young reporter to stop and swallow hard. Opening and closing his mouth like a fish out of water he withered under her surely deadly stare. Being interrupted during what must have been her third coffee break of the morning always put the young woman in a lovely mind set. Considering the abysmal place her head had been recently, standing between her and her caffeine intake was serious business. Still she offered a smile, humourless and brief though it was. Before handing her coffee to the poor young journalist and snatching his mic.
Touch my coffee and I’ll hobble you, understand? None of this stealing a sip bull either. I’m watching you.
Pushing her hand through her hair she visibly huffed. Despite the heat outside she was her usual image of morbid beauty. The sun had mercifully retreated behind the clouds, and a breeze had picked up. Killing the very convincing illusion that you were in actual hell. Still, in central London Eva was never too sure.
So you want what? Me to be jumping for joy that I finally have an opponent for a title I begged to be laid to rest? All hail Kellar for saving the day and legacy of a title nobody gives a damn about. How very noble of you to step out of the woodwork at last JohnJohn, how gracious of you to step into a lower card match when we all know you should be headlining. Are the finances really that bad sweetcheeks?
Shrugging her shoulders with the same indifference her tone carried she shook her head.
Don’t worry darling, the Globalverse sheep are very forgiving……so are the management apparently…. They’ll come flooding back to sing your praises and soon you’ll be vaulted back into an over saturated world title scene. All you need to do is make one big impact…..Worked for Sparky, will probably work for Champa, so hell, why not you too? We can have an all out slugfest. The disillusioned and dishonoured verses the downright disastrous. It’ll sell out arenas, increase buyrates and put GZW back on the professional wrestling map…….Well, it wont, but apparently that doesn’t matter these days, does it? We're not looking for excitement, we're just looking to cram as many folk still able to hobble to the ring onto a card.
She wasn’t happy, she wasn’t even pretending. The professional mask had slipped along with the graceful Icon and polite young woman act weeks ago.
The only redeeming factor in all this I suppose, is that you were upfront. You don’t give a damn about the Globalverse, or the fans, the belt or even facing off against an Icon. I gotta be honest with you darling, as the days go by, neither do I. Good matches are few and far between, great matches are bloody mythical. So what do I expect from a bloke who hasn’t set foot in this world for over year? Heh, is it too late to demand Mortal remains? Seriously? I don’t give a damn what you think you bring to the table. You want to tear me apart verbally? Go for it! Try and beat me physically? Bring it on! Bring whatever you have left and I’ll meet you with what ever it takes. You’re in this for the money? Awesome, then you earn your bloody paycheque. Going rates right now are blood, sweat and tears. If you take the belt, so be it. I don’t care, the last bit of interest I have for the bloody thing was spent turning the leather purple and sticking glittery shit to it. I’m not even joking….somewhere between contemplating its epitaph and begging for it’s demise, I let the twin terrors redesign it. It was the most interest I’d shown in that corroded piece of tin for months.
Pushing her sunglasses into her hair, she blinked in the sunlight. Sometimes she spent so long wearing the damn things, looking at the world around her without them was both horrifying and bright. She regained her composure quickly enough with a narrow eyed stare aimed at the poor sod holding her coffee. Snatching it back she took a sip.
Heatwave is supposed to be one of the biggest stages in the world, and in past years I could have totally been behind that. Being part of something so huge, so important, so defining……this year? I’m rocking the show against a guy so rusty he makes the tin man look athletic, for a title my kids went art attack all over, amid a card that had the last shreds of excitement watered down with the addition of Lack of Spark to the main event. Super, great, fandabi-fucking-dozi…..It’s reached the point where as a Globalstar, I just……don’t care. I don’t do this for the money, the accolades, the love of the fans. I do it because I love to compete, to be tested, to be pushed to my limits. As an Icon and a fan I’ve more than reached those. So whats left? When everything you loved about the business has fallen to ruin around you? Pure rage…..JohnJohn, you may not get my best out there, but you’d feel every second of it.
Tossing the stolen mic back to the journalist it hits the ground with a resounding boom. Turning on her heel and fading back into quiet shade outside of the wrestling school, the young woman’s mutter “you tit” is the last thing picked up before the camera fades.
