Post by Arcadia on Nov 7, 2010 19:06:35 GMT -4
Our scene opens inside the Insane Wrestling Championship's general population locker room. With its narrow, wooden benches running down the middle of row after row of double-size lockers, it looks quite like any other locker room you would find in a school gym or fitness center. The newly updated locker room has yet to be inundated with the stale, musky odor of sweaty bodies and forgotten gym socks. Soon, it will retain that scent regardless of what the cleaning crew does about it, but for now, it is just another clean, simple room in the IWC building. It is rather generic, with a mundane color palette and appointed averagely with inexpensive furnishings. Yes, the only thing extraordinary about the IWC locker room is the people that use it. And that is most certainly enough.
Down the fourth row of lockers, the cameras pick up the image of a petite woman. Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti is straddling one of the benches with her left foot up, lacing her wrestling boot. As the camera crew advances on her, she greets their arrival with one comment, never looking up from her busy hands. “Tiled rooms tend to echo.”
The camera man clears his throat, apologetically stating, “We weren't trying to surprise you Ms. Olivetti, but Mr. Schmidt wants-” he stops abruptly as Katrina pierces him with her fiery green eyes and holds up a hand in the universal sign for 'stop'.
Arcadia lifts her chin, tilting her head slightly to the left in a more open and friendly gesture designed to put him at ease. She eyes the man holding the camera and switches to her other boot, placing her left foot on the tiled floor and her right on the bench in front of her. “I know what Reggie wants,” she says, smiling slightly, “and I have no problems with that. I have a few things to say anyway.”
The camera starts rolling, tapping into the live feed of the IWC website. They focus in on Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti while she finishes up her shoes and puts her other leg up, sitting Indian-style on the tiny bench. Katrina stares directly into the lens through her black and silver lucha mask and starts speaking, her clear voice carrying well and reverberating back to her off of the locker room walls.
“Tonight is the debut of Insane Wrestling Championship's Sunday Night Asylum show. It's also the debut or re-debut, in some cases, of just about everyone in tonight's line up. I've seen wrestlers come and go, but nothing sets the standard like a debut match. It's your first time out there,” Katrina says, raising an arm and pointing in the direction of the arena, “in front of the crowd, being filmed, facing down the first in an infinite number of obstacles that will place themselves in between you and your career.” She puts her arm back in her lap and shakes her head. “And there is nothing like it. A debut match can make or break you. Not in the way that we all put our bodies on the line every night for our fans, especially in this hardcore federation, but in the way that if you fuck up, it will take four times as long to get another opportunity to make a name for yourself. It's either stand up and gouge out a place for yourself here or fade into the background. A debut match is a wrestlers opportunity to make the fans remember them. Wasting this opportunity is unforgivable.”
Arcadia's gaze shifts to a locker a few doors down labelled, “Trinity Evans.” It appears untouched. There is nothing hanging inside and no personal affects adorn its inner walls. The camera pans back to Katrina and she opens her shapely mouth again, still compelled to look at the empty locker. “I have seen too many wrestlers do exactly that. Waste a golden opportunity. I have seen them come out to the squared circle once and halfheartedly attempt to put themselves over.” Her eyes flicker back to the camera as she continues. “No, it can't even be said they have as much as half a heart in the ring. It's much more relative to a chore to these people. A chore they loathe entirely. Something akin to cleaning shit.” The Hardcora Luchadora leans forward on the bench, placing both feet on the floor and resting her elbows on her knees. Her eyes crackle with anger. “These cowards that flaunt themselves as wrestlers always do the same thing. They come in, they try and escape with a lackluster match, only meaning to survive until the bell rings, and then they slink off, never to be seen or heard from again. I've seen it a million times. And I see it in you, Trinity.”
Katrina Olivetti clasps her hands loosely in front of her, narrowing her emerald eyes at the camera. “No one has seen you around the locker room, or in the Academy. Hell, Trinity, no one has yet to see you enter this building! And while you may be reconsidering your decision to sign that contract in the first place and trying to get out without a fuss, I won't let that happen. I have a solid hunch that our Triple Threat match tonight is going to be everyone's one and only chance to see you in the ring, and I get to be in there with you.” Arcadia grins at the camera, lowering her voice and going on. “My other opponent and I get to be the ones to teach you your lesson. We are wrestlers who fought our way here tooth and nail, who never took a thing for granted and never bailed. I have more passion, resolve, and, I'm sure, skill than you could ever hope to achieve, Trinity, and while you may see our upcoming match as a chore, It will be nothing but a pleasure for me. I will completely enjoy being part of your first and last match. The part that makes your fight one of survival. The part that will make you run home with your tail between your legs, wondering what the hell you could have been thinking, and understanding that you will never get the chance to disrespect the hard working people of this 'sport' by acting with such apathy towards it again. I am going to take that chance from you. Don't think for a moment that you are intimidating with your tired act of being a goddess. I have faced people in the ring who made similar claims of godliness and come out on top.” Katrina looks down at her palm, where, in a long ago match, someone had left her a message she would never forget. That message only strengthened her now. “Debut matches tend to separate out the slackers from the true competitors and I am going to make sure that everyone understands what side of the divide you fall on, Trinity Evans.”
The Hardcora Luchadora rises from her seat on the bench and steps over to one side, now walking towards the camera. “But this is not a handicapped match. It's a Triple Threat. And my other oppenent is Amber Stevens.” Arcadia stops and scratches her hairline as if confused by something before she picks up her rant again. “I saved her for last because I thought to afford her the same respect her spokesperson seems to afford her. None. Your own mouthpiece said on camera that you were quote, Nothing now, unquote. Well, only a handful of days have passed since that statement was made. Do you truly believe that while you were in the Bahamas you suddenly turned into this monster she claims you will one day be? Do dinner parties and cocktails have that effect on you?” She shakes her head in the negative. “I don't think that they would. But then I decided that perhaps, with all of the different people you have training you, that maybe it was simply an oversight on your part on who to elect as a manager. After all, who would want to be represented by a person who has no concern for their clients' welfare? She or he, it was hard to tell mind you, hires trainers that are obviously not there to actually teach you anything, but instead for their own sick pleasure at beating you for hours. He-slash-she can't even be bothered to build you up on camera, choosing instead to feed me all the fodder I need to realize that you very well might be worthless and are most definitely worthless to your own manager.” Katrina nods her head reassuringly at the camera, causing her long braid to bounce behind her. “I'm sure it's an oversight you'll soon rectify. After all, a girl as smart as you claim to be would never let themselves be misrepresented by an employee. You've probably already taken care of it, I'm sure.”
Player One crosses her arms over her chest before setting her jaw and saying, “But then as well, a woman with the intelligence you claim should also understand a few more things about the English language. The words narcissism, egotism, and arrogance all imply a few things. That I have an overbearing and usually undeserved self-love. That I go on and on about my accomplishments as if they define me. Well, honey,” she steps away from the lockers in order to be in full view of the camera with no background interference, “It isn't narcissistic if it's true. I certainly don't go around touting my achievements like pieces of my personality, but if in your search to better understand me as your opponent you learn of a few of my achievements, it's forgivable that they probably made you uncomfortable or nervous. My titles and awards shouldn't be what unsettles you about me, though. I should be. Be afraid of meeting me in the ring tonight, not of some belt I used to hold or some shiny award sitting on my shelf. I have been the smallest competitor in every match, in every federation, I've ever had. I have listened to opponent after opponent tell me I was worthless because of the size difference between us. And I have put each and every one of them, win or lose, in their place. I may not be the smallest anymore, but I also won't be the one who makes the same mistakes my opponents always did when fighting me. I won't underestimate you because of your size or gender. I will simply be what I always have been and win. I will be better than you. There is no doubt in my mind that we are both talented or that we will put on an amazing show for the fans once Trinity is out of the picture. But I am just that much better than you and have the experience to back that up. It's not ego, Amber. It's reality.”
Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti leans up against a locker and clasps her hand across her midriff. “You know, Amber, I found something else about your use of English amusing. You said the word 'asylum' made people think of safety. If we were in the eighteenth century, you would be correct, but aside from you and your antiquated view, no one thinks for a second that that ring will offer anyone sanctuary from their fears. It will only serve to bring them home all the quicker. And tonight, I will be the first to introduce you two to the true meaning of Asylum. Prepare well for our match, because the madness is about to begin.” The camera zooms in tightly on Katrina's face as she smiles grimly, saying, “Welcome to IWC, Amber and Trinity. Welcome to the Sanitarium. Just try and make it out alive.” The scene fades out.
Down the fourth row of lockers, the cameras pick up the image of a petite woman. Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti is straddling one of the benches with her left foot up, lacing her wrestling boot. As the camera crew advances on her, she greets their arrival with one comment, never looking up from her busy hands. “Tiled rooms tend to echo.”
The camera man clears his throat, apologetically stating, “We weren't trying to surprise you Ms. Olivetti, but Mr. Schmidt wants-” he stops abruptly as Katrina pierces him with her fiery green eyes and holds up a hand in the universal sign for 'stop'.
Arcadia lifts her chin, tilting her head slightly to the left in a more open and friendly gesture designed to put him at ease. She eyes the man holding the camera and switches to her other boot, placing her left foot on the tiled floor and her right on the bench in front of her. “I know what Reggie wants,” she says, smiling slightly, “and I have no problems with that. I have a few things to say anyway.”
The camera starts rolling, tapping into the live feed of the IWC website. They focus in on Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti while she finishes up her shoes and puts her other leg up, sitting Indian-style on the tiny bench. Katrina stares directly into the lens through her black and silver lucha mask and starts speaking, her clear voice carrying well and reverberating back to her off of the locker room walls.
“Tonight is the debut of Insane Wrestling Championship's Sunday Night Asylum show. It's also the debut or re-debut, in some cases, of just about everyone in tonight's line up. I've seen wrestlers come and go, but nothing sets the standard like a debut match. It's your first time out there,” Katrina says, raising an arm and pointing in the direction of the arena, “in front of the crowd, being filmed, facing down the first in an infinite number of obstacles that will place themselves in between you and your career.” She puts her arm back in her lap and shakes her head. “And there is nothing like it. A debut match can make or break you. Not in the way that we all put our bodies on the line every night for our fans, especially in this hardcore federation, but in the way that if you fuck up, it will take four times as long to get another opportunity to make a name for yourself. It's either stand up and gouge out a place for yourself here or fade into the background. A debut match is a wrestlers opportunity to make the fans remember them. Wasting this opportunity is unforgivable.”
Arcadia's gaze shifts to a locker a few doors down labelled, “Trinity Evans.” It appears untouched. There is nothing hanging inside and no personal affects adorn its inner walls. The camera pans back to Katrina and she opens her shapely mouth again, still compelled to look at the empty locker. “I have seen too many wrestlers do exactly that. Waste a golden opportunity. I have seen them come out to the squared circle once and halfheartedly attempt to put themselves over.” Her eyes flicker back to the camera as she continues. “No, it can't even be said they have as much as half a heart in the ring. It's much more relative to a chore to these people. A chore they loathe entirely. Something akin to cleaning shit.” The Hardcora Luchadora leans forward on the bench, placing both feet on the floor and resting her elbows on her knees. Her eyes crackle with anger. “These cowards that flaunt themselves as wrestlers always do the same thing. They come in, they try and escape with a lackluster match, only meaning to survive until the bell rings, and then they slink off, never to be seen or heard from again. I've seen it a million times. And I see it in you, Trinity.”
Katrina Olivetti clasps her hands loosely in front of her, narrowing her emerald eyes at the camera. “No one has seen you around the locker room, or in the Academy. Hell, Trinity, no one has yet to see you enter this building! And while you may be reconsidering your decision to sign that contract in the first place and trying to get out without a fuss, I won't let that happen. I have a solid hunch that our Triple Threat match tonight is going to be everyone's one and only chance to see you in the ring, and I get to be in there with you.” Arcadia grins at the camera, lowering her voice and going on. “My other opponent and I get to be the ones to teach you your lesson. We are wrestlers who fought our way here tooth and nail, who never took a thing for granted and never bailed. I have more passion, resolve, and, I'm sure, skill than you could ever hope to achieve, Trinity, and while you may see our upcoming match as a chore, It will be nothing but a pleasure for me. I will completely enjoy being part of your first and last match. The part that makes your fight one of survival. The part that will make you run home with your tail between your legs, wondering what the hell you could have been thinking, and understanding that you will never get the chance to disrespect the hard working people of this 'sport' by acting with such apathy towards it again. I am going to take that chance from you. Don't think for a moment that you are intimidating with your tired act of being a goddess. I have faced people in the ring who made similar claims of godliness and come out on top.” Katrina looks down at her palm, where, in a long ago match, someone had left her a message she would never forget. That message only strengthened her now. “Debut matches tend to separate out the slackers from the true competitors and I am going to make sure that everyone understands what side of the divide you fall on, Trinity Evans.”
The Hardcora Luchadora rises from her seat on the bench and steps over to one side, now walking towards the camera. “But this is not a handicapped match. It's a Triple Threat. And my other oppenent is Amber Stevens.” Arcadia stops and scratches her hairline as if confused by something before she picks up her rant again. “I saved her for last because I thought to afford her the same respect her spokesperson seems to afford her. None. Your own mouthpiece said on camera that you were quote, Nothing now, unquote. Well, only a handful of days have passed since that statement was made. Do you truly believe that while you were in the Bahamas you suddenly turned into this monster she claims you will one day be? Do dinner parties and cocktails have that effect on you?” She shakes her head in the negative. “I don't think that they would. But then I decided that perhaps, with all of the different people you have training you, that maybe it was simply an oversight on your part on who to elect as a manager. After all, who would want to be represented by a person who has no concern for their clients' welfare? She or he, it was hard to tell mind you, hires trainers that are obviously not there to actually teach you anything, but instead for their own sick pleasure at beating you for hours. He-slash-she can't even be bothered to build you up on camera, choosing instead to feed me all the fodder I need to realize that you very well might be worthless and are most definitely worthless to your own manager.” Katrina nods her head reassuringly at the camera, causing her long braid to bounce behind her. “I'm sure it's an oversight you'll soon rectify. After all, a girl as smart as you claim to be would never let themselves be misrepresented by an employee. You've probably already taken care of it, I'm sure.”
Player One crosses her arms over her chest before setting her jaw and saying, “But then as well, a woman with the intelligence you claim should also understand a few more things about the English language. The words narcissism, egotism, and arrogance all imply a few things. That I have an overbearing and usually undeserved self-love. That I go on and on about my accomplishments as if they define me. Well, honey,” she steps away from the lockers in order to be in full view of the camera with no background interference, “It isn't narcissistic if it's true. I certainly don't go around touting my achievements like pieces of my personality, but if in your search to better understand me as your opponent you learn of a few of my achievements, it's forgivable that they probably made you uncomfortable or nervous. My titles and awards shouldn't be what unsettles you about me, though. I should be. Be afraid of meeting me in the ring tonight, not of some belt I used to hold or some shiny award sitting on my shelf. I have been the smallest competitor in every match, in every federation, I've ever had. I have listened to opponent after opponent tell me I was worthless because of the size difference between us. And I have put each and every one of them, win or lose, in their place. I may not be the smallest anymore, but I also won't be the one who makes the same mistakes my opponents always did when fighting me. I won't underestimate you because of your size or gender. I will simply be what I always have been and win. I will be better than you. There is no doubt in my mind that we are both talented or that we will put on an amazing show for the fans once Trinity is out of the picture. But I am just that much better than you and have the experience to back that up. It's not ego, Amber. It's reality.”
Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti leans up against a locker and clasps her hand across her midriff. “You know, Amber, I found something else about your use of English amusing. You said the word 'asylum' made people think of safety. If we were in the eighteenth century, you would be correct, but aside from you and your antiquated view, no one thinks for a second that that ring will offer anyone sanctuary from their fears. It will only serve to bring them home all the quicker. And tonight, I will be the first to introduce you two to the true meaning of Asylum. Prepare well for our match, because the madness is about to begin.” The camera zooms in tightly on Katrina's face as she smiles grimly, saying, “Welcome to IWC, Amber and Trinity. Welcome to the Sanitarium. Just try and make it out alive.” The scene fades out.
