Like re-opening old wounds and pouring in salt

[stj]

OOC: First STJ roleplay in a good while, and I've always hated debuts They'll get better.


It's been too long. Six months since I stepped foot inside an arena, two years since I had a prolonged run without my leg showing signs of its still being fucked up, two and a half since I've been in the arena with the wrestlers in this federation.

Action Packed Wrestling...might as well call it Memory Lane, this particular lane being dark and the hangout of muggers. Coming back into the business into this business was like tearing open an old wound and pouring a shaker of salt into it.

The Blackwells, last time I met Trevor in the ring, he drove me headfirst through a pane of glass. It was worth it, Diana and I put his knee out and took his tag gold. Tony? He tried to turn me into a human funeral pyre the week after, you don't forget a little something like that.. Hmm, come to think of it, was that the 'real' Tony or the 'imposter'? Cos I kicked one of their asses from wall to wall defending the Hardcore title a while later. Speaking of that, if Kristina would have had the balls to face me for that title after what she did to Diana, Diana would have still been in Belle Vue, but Kristina would have been buried six foot under it.

Then there's Kenny Lombardo, Diana's on, off, on again lover. I joined his stable after he had to pull out, left before he was back, would happily have cut him open for the shit he put Diana through. It's because of Diana, someone who has been a sister to me since those RoK days, that I'm coming here, even if we didn't leave on the best of terms. She was in S.I.N., I got involved, accidentally, in the final of the Showdown, she'd hit Sara with two Nytemares Deluxe, was going for a third even when she hadn't moved since getting released from a submission hold, I got involved, arguments and pushing and shoving ensued, Diana got a superkick to the mush.

You don't want to know the rehab I've put my leg through, all motherfuckin sorted, then there's my ribs. Little secret, I fucked them up when I was on the street, broke them, set them with a couple boards and duct tape. So a year ago, the docs re-broke them and set them properly, that was a barrel of laughs, so if I'm ever going to come back, now's the time. Who's for another round of physical and psychological torment? Sounds like my usual deal.

My Ducati roared into the parking lot, nothing special coming up for me matchwise just yet, just handing in contracts, getting to grips with being in an arena again, the usual fun stuff while Rasslemania was just around the corner. I sighed and kicked the stand into place, stretching my shoulders after the long ride in. I leaned back on my seat for a moment, against the sportsbag that held my ring and gym gear. Taking a deep breath, I slipped off the seat and unbuckled that bag, dropping it on the floor so that I could take my helmet off and put it in the underseat storage. With that out of the way, I pulled a pair of shades from the inside pocket of my denim jacket, putting them on and picking up the bag to head into the arena.

My first stop was my assigned locker room, dropping my bag off, I didn't get much further than that before I came across two familiar faces, one of them turned to look at me and backed off quickly, “F'r God sake, Phil, did I ever cut you in all that time?” I'd cut Coach...he was an annoying asshole, Phil I leaned more towards scaring. I turned to Cindy, she'd been in my first fed way back when, the BwB, “The punk still cry at the smallest thing?”

Phil gave me a look that could sour milk and walked away, for fuck sake, ok, so I still carry around that blade, old habits and all, but it's not tasted blood in years. But where Phil leaves behind an interview opportunity, up pops Cindy and a handy-dandy cameraman. “Welcome, APW fans, this is Cindy Shannon and I am here with a familiar face of old, 'Spirit' Tara Jacobs. So, Tara, are you here because Rasslemania is approaching or will you be here for a while yet?”

I gave a shrug of my shoulders, “News will get round sooner or later, I've signed a short term contract, I've had a lot of healing to do over the past couple years and some personal life issues to sort out, the latter are all dealt with, the healing I'm still not so sure about.”

“I did wonder why we had not heard so much of you, there was a time when you had two or three places on biweekly schedules going at once after the WWC.”

“Long story short, Cindy, I fucked up my leg when someone jackknifed me at a set of traffic lights a couple years ago, tibia and fibula broken in several places, took a nasty spill that aggravated a couple of injuries I was working off from a 3WL show, lost a lot of blood and the docs only got the transfusion to me in time because someone at the scene recognised me and they were able to call up my bloodtype on the records. I've been back in action a few times but my leg has never lasted the course for more than a month or so, that's what rehab is for I guess.”

“I did hear about the injury but not quite the extent of it, how do you think your leg will hold up now?”

“I've been doing rehab for the past six months to get rid of the niggling injuries, I'm pretty sure that it's in as good shape as it ever will be.”

“You have a fair bit of history with some of the wrestlers here, are there any old relationships you're planning on picking up on?”

“No comment.”

“Any scores to settle?”

“Extra special no comment.”

“What can the APW expect of the Matriarch of UltraViolence?”

“Actually, I don't use that nickname any more, or any of them. I'd guess that the familiar faces you were talking about would find a fair bit different about me other than that. I guess that's where the personal issues thing came in, I don't cut any more, I don't use my matches as a way to punish myself or to take my anger out on other people. In the ring? Yeah, I still have the high adrenaline moves, but I don't throw them out of the bag as regularly as I used to, I can just as easily pick at a bodypart and work away at it.” I shrugged my shoulders, “I guess you could say that the main thing that has changed about me is that I've grown up. That and I know that if I am going to be in the business for any length of time, I can't throw myself off of scaffolding week in, week out. I'm still willing to take those risks, but I have a more realistic expectation of what my body can stand and how long it can take it for.”

“So with that in mind, what can we expect of you once you get wrestling?”

“I'll start with what people still can't expect from me. I am not going to lie down for anybody, I am nobody's tits and ass, and if people think they're going to get into my head like certain people so easily used to, it's not going to happen. As for what to expect? I'm still the hardest damn worker in the business, I came into the wrestling industry when a girl had to work twice as hard to get half the respect of a male wrestler. I will say this now, I will come in every week, fight who I am carded against and walk away from the experience having put everything into it. I am not going to be cowed by man, woman or monster and if you're in my path, you have two options, move aside or by God you'd better be ready to meet a steamroller coming your way, and that's a Cold Hard Fact.”

Cindy cracked a smile at the old tagline and asked, “If we're looking at a new 'Spirit' Tara Jacobs, what are your goals in APW?”

“Respect, Cindy, I have money, I've had gold, I'm here to bring on a fight the same as any man in this place and I want people to acknowledge that. I don't want people to think that something I do is special because it's a woman doing it, I want them to think it's special because a wrestler is doing it. I'll put my body on the line if I have to and I won't back down from anybody, but whether they end up with a W or an L next to their name, they'll know that they've been in a fight, because I bring, to use an old cliché, a hundred and ten percent to every single damn match that I'm in.”

“This has been an interesting conversation, Tara, I hope to see you around in the near future.”

I nodded my head and turned away, walking to my locker room...where I would not be alone for long.


TBC by one of those crazy Sex and Violence guys.

[/blockquote]

[THERE IS A GOD]

As future APW World Champion, I humble ask that the S&V member be Kenny!

[THERE IS A GOD]

Sgt. Kenny Lambardo walks into the locker room, with the rest of the assembled “Excellence of Extreme”. His manager Spade walked in right behind him, and his fellow spokes person, “The MONSTER GIRL” was to his left. The marine had a hand tightly clasped with “That Girl” Diana Steel’s as the Blackwell clan followed. The APW Extreme Heavyweight Champion, “The Career Killer” Trevor Blackwell was in the lead of the pack. “The Xtremist” Tony Blackwell walked in to his left with an arm around Kalayla “Fyre Angel” Mitchell, and Kristina Blackwell followed in suit like a good little “Hardcore Princess”.

“The KaotiK God” raised his free hand, and gave a few signals that roughly translated into “encirclement formation”. Tony and Kalayla flanked left as Trevor, and his little sister go right. Spade, and the “MONSTER GIRL” took either side of the door. Cindy quickly slipped through the barricade that was “Sex & Violence”, and “Spirit” Tara Jacobs found herself surrounded with NO ALLIES WHAT-SO-EVER!!!

Trevor was the first in the group to speak. “Hello, Tara.” A sinister smile crossed his face, and he looked to his comrade in Diana Steel. “Time to get it going…” His tone became very, very serious.

Diana’s stature just fell. She looked down, and then up to Kenny

“What the hell is this, Diana?” Tara Jacobs said as she fell into a defensive stance. “You dragged me all the way back into this line of work to get me jumped!? Who the hell are you?”

“If Diana doesn’t have it in her, I’d be more than happy to get the job done.” Kristina interjected.

“That’s right Kris, job…” Kenny rebutted sourly.

“Ohhhhh! Burn!” Said the “Fyre Angel”.

Kristina yelped. “Trevor!”

“Listen, if you two have problems, solve it in the ring, after RASSLEMANIA IV.” The Extreme Champion quickly put an end to that. “I’m just here to make sure that Diana’s the one who takes you down.”

“Spirit” drew her stiletto blade(?). “I’m not going down without taking a few of you mother fuckers with me!”

Kenny released Diana’s hand, and walked toward Spirit. “I’m going to say this once, and only once. “Spirit” Tara Jacobs is by far one of the greatest athletes of our time, and “Sex & Violence” is the best of the best!”

“What the hell is this?!” Trevor growled.

Kenny turned his head to look at his fearless leader. “What I want, when I want, and how I want. That’s my answer. Let her fate rest on my shoulders. She could be more useful to us than you know.”

Diana takes Tara, and Kenny by the hands, and leads them out of the room. “Thanks.” She said with a smile at the marine.

The screen fades to black, and probably takes a commercial break. Kaos only knows what’s gonna happen next.