Post by Arcadia on Dec 22, 2008 19:01:18 GMT -4
The scene opens inside the Nassau Collesium, where our camera finds Katrina "Arcadia" Olivetti standing outside her lockerroom in her socks with her shoes in her hand. She places them neatly by the door, out of the way of anyone tripping but within plain sight.
"Arcadia? What are you doing?" The cameraman asks her.
She straightens and turns to the cameraman in confusion. "It's Three Kings Day."
"Ok...Why aren't you wearing your shoes?"
She puts her hands on her hips and sighs. "On Three Kings Day, you leave your shoes outside your door and the Saints come in the night to fill them with gifts, just like the three kings did for Jesus."
"The wise men filled Jesus's shoes with stuff?"
Player One throws her hands up in frustration and shakes her head. "No. But it is a holiday tradition in Mexico. When you wake up there are candies and small toys and oranges and things in your shoes. I use my boots because they are biggest!" She smiles like a kid who has figured out how to cheat the system.
"But the wise men brought Jesus Frankenscence and Mihr and Gold, not oranges and toys and candies."
Arcadia clenches a fist and frowns. "Whatever. Just shut up and follow me."
She starts walking the hallways where the vendors are all setting up their wares. She passes table after table, t-shirt after t-shirt, making her way up to the "blue seats". Here in the Nassau Collesium, those blue seats, named for the blue painted runners on the floor, belong to the nose bleed section.
She stares down at the ring crew doing their last minute checks to the ring, placing equipment where it belongs, checking the lighting and sound, and begins to speak.
"Here in the Professional Wrestling world, we all have our jobs. We go out every night, riding our gimmicks, playing to the house, jobbing or getting jobbed to. Soon, it all becomes routine." She leans her elbows down on the chair back in formt of her and rests her chin on her hands.
"But sometimes, something changes. Every once in a while, you come across a perfectly matched, worthy opponent. One who is equal to you in every way. A person who will give you a truly great challenge, testing all of your skills and endurance in the ring, leaving you to eek out a nail-biting victory or a completely shameless defeat. Every wrestler here dreams of these matches. Every one of us waits with bated breath for these occasions to come along that truly test our mettle."
Arcadia sighs and sits up, shifting her body to face the camera. "Unfortunately, tonight is not one of those times for me. Tonight, I face an illusion. The persona non gratia, Tabitha Crowley. She is simply an extension of Trevor Blackwell, a non-person at all, but an image of his creation, made of smoke and mirrors turned flesh."
The Hardcora Luchadora flips her braid over her shoulder and continues, a hard look coming into her eyes. "This Undividual is just one more sheep in the Blackwell army. We have not seen her prove her worth since she has arrived. Because without her King of Hardcore by her side, she has none. With each week that passes, Tabitha Crowley reaffirms what everyone here but her boy-toy seems to know already. She is worthless without him."
Player One puts her feet up onto the chair and crosses her legs at the ankles, relaxing as she explains. "Her value diminishes at the end of a Singapore Cane. Because that's all she is, ladies and gentlemen. Property value. And as soon as Blackwell moved into the neighborhood, prices skyrocketed! But if he ever moves out again, Crackville is back!"
She gives the camera two thumbs up and a grin or self-satisfaction. "You see, Tabitha You-Don't-Even-Have-A-Nickname Crowley, Trevor is an asset to you. Your ONLY asset. And now that his hands have been tied," She looks pointedly at the lens, "At his own doing, mind you, your suggested sale price has been drastically reduced."
Katrina plants her feet back on the ground with a small thud and leans forward, into the camera, glaring with intensity. "You can't live you life at someone else's say so. So go ahead and ride his coattails while they're there, Tabitha. Because one day, very soon, he's going to drop you in the dust. And you will be all alone. No legend to hide behind. No blade to lash out with. Only whatever self you can manage to salvage on your own.
She tilts her head to the side contemplatively. "So I'll see you in the ring. You. No smoke. No mirrors. No false images. No Trevor. Just whatever is left when it's all stripped away. I'll bet my title that it's not that much. Because you've been out of lives for a long time, Tabitha, and Trevor isn't giving you any more tokens."
The camera fades out.
"Arcadia? What are you doing?" The cameraman asks her.
She straightens and turns to the cameraman in confusion. "It's Three Kings Day."
"Ok...Why aren't you wearing your shoes?"
She puts her hands on her hips and sighs. "On Three Kings Day, you leave your shoes outside your door and the Saints come in the night to fill them with gifts, just like the three kings did for Jesus."
"The wise men filled Jesus's shoes with stuff?"
Player One throws her hands up in frustration and shakes her head. "No. But it is a holiday tradition in Mexico. When you wake up there are candies and small toys and oranges and things in your shoes. I use my boots because they are biggest!" She smiles like a kid who has figured out how to cheat the system.
"But the wise men brought Jesus Frankenscence and Mihr and Gold, not oranges and toys and candies."
Arcadia clenches a fist and frowns. "Whatever. Just shut up and follow me."
She starts walking the hallways where the vendors are all setting up their wares. She passes table after table, t-shirt after t-shirt, making her way up to the "blue seats". Here in the Nassau Collesium, those blue seats, named for the blue painted runners on the floor, belong to the nose bleed section.
She stares down at the ring crew doing their last minute checks to the ring, placing equipment where it belongs, checking the lighting and sound, and begins to speak.
"Here in the Professional Wrestling world, we all have our jobs. We go out every night, riding our gimmicks, playing to the house, jobbing or getting jobbed to. Soon, it all becomes routine." She leans her elbows down on the chair back in formt of her and rests her chin on her hands.
"But sometimes, something changes. Every once in a while, you come across a perfectly matched, worthy opponent. One who is equal to you in every way. A person who will give you a truly great challenge, testing all of your skills and endurance in the ring, leaving you to eek out a nail-biting victory or a completely shameless defeat. Every wrestler here dreams of these matches. Every one of us waits with bated breath for these occasions to come along that truly test our mettle."
Arcadia sighs and sits up, shifting her body to face the camera. "Unfortunately, tonight is not one of those times for me. Tonight, I face an illusion. The persona non gratia, Tabitha Crowley. She is simply an extension of Trevor Blackwell, a non-person at all, but an image of his creation, made of smoke and mirrors turned flesh."
The Hardcora Luchadora flips her braid over her shoulder and continues, a hard look coming into her eyes. "This Undividual is just one more sheep in the Blackwell army. We have not seen her prove her worth since she has arrived. Because without her King of Hardcore by her side, she has none. With each week that passes, Tabitha Crowley reaffirms what everyone here but her boy-toy seems to know already. She is worthless without him."
Player One puts her feet up onto the chair and crosses her legs at the ankles, relaxing as she explains. "Her value diminishes at the end of a Singapore Cane. Because that's all she is, ladies and gentlemen. Property value. And as soon as Blackwell moved into the neighborhood, prices skyrocketed! But if he ever moves out again, Crackville is back!"
She gives the camera two thumbs up and a grin or self-satisfaction. "You see, Tabitha You-Don't-Even-Have-A-Nickname Crowley, Trevor is an asset to you. Your ONLY asset. And now that his hands have been tied," She looks pointedly at the lens, "At his own doing, mind you, your suggested sale price has been drastically reduced."
Katrina plants her feet back on the ground with a small thud and leans forward, into the camera, glaring with intensity. "You can't live you life at someone else's say so. So go ahead and ride his coattails while they're there, Tabitha. Because one day, very soon, he's going to drop you in the dust. And you will be all alone. No legend to hide behind. No blade to lash out with. Only whatever self you can manage to salvage on your own.
She tilts her head to the side contemplatively. "So I'll see you in the ring. You. No smoke. No mirrors. No false images. No Trevor. Just whatever is left when it's all stripped away. I'll bet my title that it's not that much. Because you've been out of lives for a long time, Tabitha, and Trevor isn't giving you any more tokens."
The camera fades out.
