Post by Arcadia on Nov 20, 2011 19:49:54 GMT -4
“I hate tagging.” Katrina “Arcadia” Olivetti mutters to herself as she walks down the hallway of the backstage area of the Air Canada Centre in Toronto. She is wearing street clothes and her signature mask. Her large duffel is slung over her back and her golden title proclaiming her the Suicidal Champion is wrapped around her waist. She shoulders the locker room door aside and enters, tossing her bag onto the bench and taking a seat beside it with a sigh. She runs her hair through her hair, shaking out the curls and some of her frustrations and with her eyes closed tightly, rubs both of her temples with the thumb and forefinger of her right hand.
“I really hate tagging, you know?” Arcadia addresses the camera man who followed her without opening her eyes. “The confusion in the ring, the having multiple opponents, having to watch the guy I’m fighting as well as the other guy for a pin break up or a ref distraction, or whatever.” She drops her hand down off of her face and rests her elbows on her knees, clasping her fingers between them. ”I can’t stand having to watch a partner for a tag, or having to rely on another person to carry their weight, or losing a match because someone else gets pinned and I just happen to be on the same team as them.”
Katrina shrugs her shoulders. “But here I am, scheduled for a six man tag match tonight with not two, but three opponents and not one, but two partners. I guarantee that the ref for this match will have his hands over full, not to mention some of the wrestlers in it. Actually, that is exactly what I want to do, right now. I want to mention some of these guys that will be meeting me in the ring tonight. The lucky ones are Phil Atken and Tommy Knoxville. Lucky, of course, because they get to be on the same side of the ring as I am. I had a brief encounter with Phil during One Night in Hell where we faced each other –along with eight other wrestlers—in a Battle Royal for a title shot. It was short and not so sweet for either of us. But he wasn’t anywhere near first to be thrown out of the ring. Actually, he made it through a good number of people before being eliminated himself. Good for him. I can deal with that having to partner with Atken. Knoxville is a wild card, which is a nice way of saying I have no idea if he will show up stoned or even bother showing up at all. Fine. I can deal with that, too. I’m not one to rely on others anyway. I figure the best way to take care of business is to do it yourself. So any weight that isn’t being hauled, I am fully prepared to make up for with my own skill and by my own hand.”
The Hardcora Luchadora shifts and brings one leg up, crossing it over the other as she begins to remove her shoe in a much less pedophilic Mr. Rogers kind of way. ”Which brings me to my opponents. JaMarcus Haze. This guy had a rough life. I couldn’t really give a shit. He needs APW to help pay the bills and from what I can tell, that’s as far as his motivation goes. He calls himself “The Jamaican Gangster” and quite frankly, we’ve all seen Rasta gimmicks, and we’ve all seen gangsta gimmicks. Put the two together, add a little mediocre wrestling ability, some jail time, and a best friend who does nothing but give you filler when you can’t come up with the words on your own and you’ve got JaMarcus Haze. Basically, that adds up to half of the Red Shield Mafia without the titles or the whistles. Not so impressive. But still, he’s an opponent, so I will have to deal with that, too.”
She switches her feet , removes her other shoe and starts pulling her wrestling boots out of her duffel. “Adam Young is one of the other guys I have to face here tonight and in all honesty, I don’t quite see the point of that one. That guy did horrible at One Night in Hell, flat out refused to wrestle during his promo, made a half hearted showing at best during the Battle Royal, and now he wants a title shot against Jason Kash, APW’s World Heavyweight Champion. Can someone say delusional? He doesn’t deserve it and I don’t think he realizes what a laughing stock it makes him to demand such things without putting in any dues. He’s a cute little joke and that’s about all he is. He calls himself “The One” and speaks of being a prophecy. First of all, for the record, you can’t BE a prophecy. A prophecy is something that is spoken or written about an event to come in the future. You could be a prophet or even subject of a prophecy, but not the thing itself. Secondly, why are you calling yourself “The One”? One what? One in a million? The One that got away? How about the One who will always fall short? Or maybe it’s for only “One” win on your record. The way I see it, You’ll never make it to Kash alive. Especially not since you have to go through me tonight. You say I’m a nobody. This lovely golden belt around my waist says otherwise. Let me introduce you to myself and my title. It says “Katrina ‘Arcadia’ Olivetti” Suicidal Champion. If you can’t read it from there, I’ll be sure to give you a close up of it tonight, when I bash you in the face with it until you get the message.”
Katrina stands up to take off her jeans, revealing her wrestling tights underneath. She folds them nicely and sits back down on the bench. She grabs her boots and starts lacing the right one up. “And then my last opponent for the match is Chaz Dillinger. He’s a new guy and I don’t know him. But I saw his promo and I heard what he had to say about me. Again we have another guy who doesn’t want to pay his dues and move up through the company properly. He hasn’t even had a chance to show Reggie what he’s got and he is already bitching. He should be grateful that he was given a chance to begin with and has a spot on the card, but that just isn’t good enough for him. He does have one thing right though. I am that person he should be concentrating on. I am the champion in this match and that does put a target on my back. At least this guy isn’t too stupid or blind to see it. Though….he did call me a cunt. Unfortunately for him, he will be the one bleeding at the end of the match, not me. I have no time or patience for spoiled little boys who think they have the right to things that aren’t earned. And in this match, I will deal with all of them accordingly.”
She laces up her other boot as the camera fades out.
“I really hate tagging, you know?” Arcadia addresses the camera man who followed her without opening her eyes. “The confusion in the ring, the having multiple opponents, having to watch the guy I’m fighting as well as the other guy for a pin break up or a ref distraction, or whatever.” She drops her hand down off of her face and rests her elbows on her knees, clasping her fingers between them. ”I can’t stand having to watch a partner for a tag, or having to rely on another person to carry their weight, or losing a match because someone else gets pinned and I just happen to be on the same team as them.”
Katrina shrugs her shoulders. “But here I am, scheduled for a six man tag match tonight with not two, but three opponents and not one, but two partners. I guarantee that the ref for this match will have his hands over full, not to mention some of the wrestlers in it. Actually, that is exactly what I want to do, right now. I want to mention some of these guys that will be meeting me in the ring tonight. The lucky ones are Phil Atken and Tommy Knoxville. Lucky, of course, because they get to be on the same side of the ring as I am. I had a brief encounter with Phil during One Night in Hell where we faced each other –along with eight other wrestlers—in a Battle Royal for a title shot. It was short and not so sweet for either of us. But he wasn’t anywhere near first to be thrown out of the ring. Actually, he made it through a good number of people before being eliminated himself. Good for him. I can deal with that having to partner with Atken. Knoxville is a wild card, which is a nice way of saying I have no idea if he will show up stoned or even bother showing up at all. Fine. I can deal with that, too. I’m not one to rely on others anyway. I figure the best way to take care of business is to do it yourself. So any weight that isn’t being hauled, I am fully prepared to make up for with my own skill and by my own hand.”
The Hardcora Luchadora shifts and brings one leg up, crossing it over the other as she begins to remove her shoe in a much less pedophilic Mr. Rogers kind of way. ”Which brings me to my opponents. JaMarcus Haze. This guy had a rough life. I couldn’t really give a shit. He needs APW to help pay the bills and from what I can tell, that’s as far as his motivation goes. He calls himself “The Jamaican Gangster” and quite frankly, we’ve all seen Rasta gimmicks, and we’ve all seen gangsta gimmicks. Put the two together, add a little mediocre wrestling ability, some jail time, and a best friend who does nothing but give you filler when you can’t come up with the words on your own and you’ve got JaMarcus Haze. Basically, that adds up to half of the Red Shield Mafia without the titles or the whistles. Not so impressive. But still, he’s an opponent, so I will have to deal with that, too.”
She switches her feet , removes her other shoe and starts pulling her wrestling boots out of her duffel. “Adam Young is one of the other guys I have to face here tonight and in all honesty, I don’t quite see the point of that one. That guy did horrible at One Night in Hell, flat out refused to wrestle during his promo, made a half hearted showing at best during the Battle Royal, and now he wants a title shot against Jason Kash, APW’s World Heavyweight Champion. Can someone say delusional? He doesn’t deserve it and I don’t think he realizes what a laughing stock it makes him to demand such things without putting in any dues. He’s a cute little joke and that’s about all he is. He calls himself “The One” and speaks of being a prophecy. First of all, for the record, you can’t BE a prophecy. A prophecy is something that is spoken or written about an event to come in the future. You could be a prophet or even subject of a prophecy, but not the thing itself. Secondly, why are you calling yourself “The One”? One what? One in a million? The One that got away? How about the One who will always fall short? Or maybe it’s for only “One” win on your record. The way I see it, You’ll never make it to Kash alive. Especially not since you have to go through me tonight. You say I’m a nobody. This lovely golden belt around my waist says otherwise. Let me introduce you to myself and my title. It says “Katrina ‘Arcadia’ Olivetti” Suicidal Champion. If you can’t read it from there, I’ll be sure to give you a close up of it tonight, when I bash you in the face with it until you get the message.”
Katrina stands up to take off her jeans, revealing her wrestling tights underneath. She folds them nicely and sits back down on the bench. She grabs her boots and starts lacing the right one up. “And then my last opponent for the match is Chaz Dillinger. He’s a new guy and I don’t know him. But I saw his promo and I heard what he had to say about me. Again we have another guy who doesn’t want to pay his dues and move up through the company properly. He hasn’t even had a chance to show Reggie what he’s got and he is already bitching. He should be grateful that he was given a chance to begin with and has a spot on the card, but that just isn’t good enough for him. He does have one thing right though. I am that person he should be concentrating on. I am the champion in this match and that does put a target on my back. At least this guy isn’t too stupid or blind to see it. Though….he did call me a cunt. Unfortunately for him, he will be the one bleeding at the end of the match, not me. I have no time or patience for spoiled little boys who think they have the right to things that aren’t earned. And in this match, I will deal with all of them accordingly.”
She laces up her other boot as the camera fades out.
