Post by Carmen Rivera on May 11, 2012 2:56:02 GMT -4
[/b][/color] Carmen seethed in complete rage. If there had been any ongoing trends that Carmen needed desperately to put an end to, it was the constant comparisons between herself and the creature that Carmen had dubbed “Secret Squirrel.”[/ul]
RECAP: All Carmen had heard lately was the disappointment and disdain in the way that she chose to behave. What was so wrong with being a strong woman with even stronger convictions? If you were Steve Stryker, apparently it was everything, and he made sure that Carmen Rivera knew just how much he disapproved of her. Did it matter to Miss Rivera? Absolutely not. She hated most of the people around her, because the world proved to be as cruel to her as she was to them. It was simply a vicious cycle, and there was no point in changing it. Why would she bother trying? Apparently her methods worked! They were good enough to put down the three hundred pounder, big Bulk Rogaine last week. Why fix what wasn’t broken? A win over a man whose name was as Disney preschool comic book as it gets was NOTHING to brag about. A win over a man who was nearly three times your size? THAT was something to brag about. To say that Carmen was going to hold an untalented alcoholic’s opinion in high regard was nothing short of a fallacy. He didn’t earn the right to be held in such high regard by a woman of Carmen’s caliber, but if he thought that his small-minded way of thinking in assuming he was better than the lovely San Diego native simply because he had an extra appendage, or if he thought that he had a snowball’s chance in hell of making her tap, he was dead wrong. Another week, another midcarder falling prey to Carmen Rivera. Consider it clockwork.( SCENE ONE )
Carmen returned to her hotel room after a busy day at the gym. Following her match with Bulk Rogaine, it was only necessary. She wasn’t happy with how the match went. There were a few too many competitive spots in it for her liking; Carmen much rather preferred to have a match won by a country mile and ultimately turn her match with whatever opponent she had into a squash match. Bulk did manage to get a fair share of offense in, due to his sheer size advantage over Rivera, but that was it. When it came to actual wrestling skill, it was Carmen’s speed and technical prowess that led to the inevitable victory. Despite her body being sore? She felt good, and that mile-wide smile on her pretty face definitely told the story. However, it was fair to say that this night was a rare one for the sinful seductress. The winning aspect was something that she was entirely used to, but coming back to a hotel room alone? That was rare. Whether or not there was money transferred after the meeting was always something that changed, but the greedy Rivera would be spending this night alone. She stepped out of her car, brushing the wrinkles out of her dress in the process as she walked towards the revolving door. An early flight to West Virginia, of all hillbilly hellholes, would follow in the morning.
Carmen brushed past a line of people who were looking to check in, responding to their muttering and cursing her with just a flip of her blonde, straightened hair. She curled her tattooed elbows in, leaning on the management desk after having cut the first patron, giving the clerk a sexy smile and a bat of the eyes. Carmen had used her body, including her deceivingly innocent, very frequently. Sometimes for free tattoos, which explained the abundance of ink on her tan skin, sometimes for clothes, or airfare. She didn’t like spending money, after years of never having any and having to scrounge around for it. Clearly, the seductive glance and even more flirtatious words paid off as the clerk slid a keycard across the table. Her manicured hands accepted the card to the penthouse suite with a big grin on her face. The clerk’s job would likely be terminated by morning for this, but Carmen was certainly going to milk it while it lasted.
The elevator trip was short, and uneventful. It was then that Carmen made her way to the top floor, enjoying the dazzling look of the nightlights in the city that she considered polluted. She didn’t enjoy it for the cityscape, by any means, but for the simple, psychological rush that came from knowing that literally, she was higher up than everybody else. She took a moment or so to admire that fact, before the city itself had disgusted her enough to sashay along to the suite, pushing the keycard in. The electronic reader beeps a few times and the light turns green, indicating the door could be opened. Pushing it open after turning the knob, Carmen keeps it cracked for the bell boy to bring her belongings up. It’s then that she sits on the large, luxurious bed, drawing her legs near to undo the strappy sandals on her feet. Letting them fall to the floor, she scoots towards the pillows of the bed and grabs her cellphone, tapping at the screen. The contact coming up has been typed in as “Harebear.”
“What? No text? That’s not like you.”
A few minutes pass and there’s no answer.
“He must be pouting about something, as usual,” Carmen thought to herself with a snarky sneer on her pretty face. She shrugged, picking up the television remote and turned it on. A few channel flips follow, disinterest written all over her lovely face. Of course, with how briefly she was staying on the channel? It was hard for her to actually see if she would have been interested in whatever program was on. And that was when she found it. Steve Stryker, in all of his cue ball-headed glory (all of which existed only in his own mind, she was sure!)
Listening to his words with a slick grin, she brushed a few nails on the svelte material of her dress and let a cocky grin cross her face. His criticisms went one ear and out the other. If anything, all they would do is fuel the fire that Miss “Hot n’ Spicy” had in her heart and aid in her desire to, bluntly? Hurt Stryker. Not just Stryker, but anybody that had the misfortune of being of being placed across the ring from her.
But then?
Carmen let out a shriek of pure anger and adrenaline, her eyes narrowing violently. Our favorite malicious mercenary grabbed her shoes and tossed them at the television, the force driving the four-inch heels that were likely used during Carmen’s days of turning tricks actually THROUGH the screen of the TV. She raked her hands through her hair, glaring daggers at the smoking, sparking shell of what was a television just a few minutes ago. She scoffed, pure venom in her voice.
Frankly? It was just a name that she was getting tired of hearing. Carmen thought she was overrated, and if anybody deserved to be the standard to which women compared themselves in this company that was dominated by men? The egotistical Carmen Rivera thought it was her. Sure, she had one match, but she easily considered herself the top of the food chain.
It was time for a change. Carmen wasn’t going to allow herself to play second fiddle to anybody, and she certainly wasn’t going to allow some jackass to try and step on her spirit. The goal in mind was to get off of Meltdown, and quick. Failure couldn’t be an option.
Carmen made her way for the door, keeping the keycard in hand. Opening the cracked door, she closed it and left the keycard in the slot. It was then the bell boy had come to deliver Carmen’s bags. She quickly slipped them onto her shoulder and left in a huff. This scene fades to black.
carmen chronicles: edition one
[/color][/size][/center]
Once I calmed down, and made sure I had restraints around my wrists, I watched your promo. I watched it through the slurred speech and the bloodshot eyes. And I gotta’ say, I don’t quite understand you. Now, there’s a big difference in not understanding someone, and actually being interested in them. I wouldn’t be interested in you if you were every steamy Playgirl coverboy and you walked around with dollar bills for nipples. But, the fact that you said at one point, you respect me, then to just call me a bitch/brat/insert old man insult here not even five minutes later? If you’re going to start something, you need to keep the same attitude all the way through. Take this as an example: I don’t like you. I don’t care if you wake up breathing the next morning or if you die in your sleep tonight. Given your liver’s wild ride, that’s a very real possibility, by the way. That’s a recurring theme. That’s steadfast. That’s being strong in your convictions. Your existence means absolutely NOTHING to me, and you provide no value to this company unless we ever need a drunk who resembles Mr. Clean to spout off an occasional, stupid one-liner and pretend he’s even the slightest bit witty.
You are nothing. You’re a nobody. Learn it, live it, love it. Embrace it, because it’s a simple fact that apparently you are the only person who doesn’t quite seem to fully understand. You have NO redeeming qualities, and apparently that’s a lesson that I need to beat into your skull.
There is one thing that you said though that got my goat, though. I’ll give you that, Steve Wilkos.
The moment you decided it would be a good idea to use my name, MY GOOD NAME, in the same breath as Secret Squirrel’s, that’s when I went off. Apparently not only are you “sexist” as you said, but you’re a total fucking moron as well. Sally Talfourd isn’t on my level, because I’ve surpassed that level a long time ago. She may have been here longer than me, thus giving her more opportunities, but if you wanted to match us up, side-by-side? I would beat her. And since your head is so far up her cellulite-covered ass? I guess that means I beat you, too.
Simply put, Steve-O? I could list every single reason that you’re a dumbass, but I don’t think there’s enough room in cyber space for every single complaint I have about you. So, I’m going to point out the most obvious of them: you actually thought that your one hundred pounds on me would actually mean anything. You said you saw me completely dismantle the geriatric giant, Bulk Rogaine last week, but apparently you missed a few important details. You know, kinda like the most obvious one that he looks like a building compared to me. The man is a titan! And yet, despite that, I managed to come out on top and not only win my match, but I embarrassed Bulk in the process. I humiliated him in front of the morons who supported him because they saw me as the naughty little girl who should have been respecting my elders.
I don’t know if you noticed, but that’s not really my style. And if I could take that much of a size difference, are you really aware of how minimal of a threat you are to me?
You need to swallow your pride, Steve. I don’t know how they raise you in your neck of the woods (also known as the laughing stock of the union, Detroit, Michigan, home to this country’s record-breaking amount of unwed teenage mothers and cars on cinderblocks), and I don’t know why you’re so content in kissing the asses of people who thrive on mediocrity. I guess it’s because they remind you of yourself? I guess it’s because people like you settle for average and enjoy the company that lets you feel like an equal? All obvious points aside, you need to realize that I am[/u] a threat in this industry. I don’t need to be compared to woodland critters, I don’t need fancy nicknames or catchphrases. All I need to do is to go down to the ring and show exactly what I’m made of. If you can’t admit to the fact that I’m a fantastic wrestler because I say some things that hurt your “po’ widdle fee-wings” -- boo hoo, then you aren’t half of the man that you want to pretend you are. You’re nothing but a coward of a man who is living in denial.
I don’t care if you like it or not, facts are facts. I am the GREATEST female wrestler on this planet, and this planet revolves around me. There is NOBODY higher than me on the totem pole. It isn’t my job to cushion your feelings and hold your hand, it’s my job to kick your worthless ass from pillar-to-post. And Steve? I happen to be very, VERY good at my job.
I have no time for idle threats that are supposed to allude to the ‘danger’ you’re going to bring to my future. You’ve said nothing I haven’t heard a thousand and one times before, and you haven’t said anything that I haven’t seen fall through a thousand and one times before. Try staying sober for a night or two. That’ll be the only uphill battle you have a chance of winning, because this one? Hope is out of reach.
pie firme y fuerte
Carmen Rivera[/ul]
___________________________________________________________________________[/color]
Word Count 2,495
Inspiration Payphone - Maroon 5 + Wiz Khalifa
Tags None
Status Complete
Template By Arro @ Caution 2.0
Picture By Me! Thanks me. You're awesome. (:
[/size][/blockquote][/i][/sub]