Post by Arcadia on May 24, 2008 17:46:04 GMT -4
The scene opens in a large, mirrored room. The bright lights dance of moving bodies. Sweat-slicked skin moved rhythmically back and forth, to a steady double beat. THUMP, THUMP! THUMP, THUMP! Arcadia’s hips shifted from left to right, with the tempo. She balanced on the balls of her feet, moving her weight back and forth, her calf muscles flexing with every move. Her mocha skin beaded with sweat as her green eyes glazed over, her body falling into rhythm with the stingers around her. Katrina’s arms swung away and back again as she threw a jab with her left, and crossed with her right into the bag in front of her. THUMP, THUMP! Kat’s connection rang out in unison with the rest of the class’ punches.
Player one quickly changed over to the right and the class repeated the action. Her braid flicked back and forth over her waist like the tail of a whip. Her nostrils flared with every punch, as Arcadia the divine envisions Kalayla Fyreangel Mitchel’s face in the fist size impression on the heavy bag.
“Your pretty little face.” thought Arcadia, the pale facade in her mind’s eye oozing red like the hair on the images head. Katrina kept punching until the image had blended into a bloody red blur. The class ended and Arcadia the Divine went to the showers. She turns on the tap and steps in, letting the stream and hot water loosen her tightening muscles.
As the water touches runs down her mask a voice resonates in the back of her head. “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me.” “You were a fool Katrina.” “Celebrating in the ring when you already know what happened at last Overdrive. You let her lay you out. In front of everyone. You’re at fault Katrina! You might as well have taped a target to the back of your head and sent her a written invitation. Two weeks in a row? You’re twice the fool for it. Don’t turn your back on her ever. Don’t let her humiliate you again. Don’t be an idiot!”
Player One tilted her face into the hot water trying to block out her thoughts. She gritted her teeth, as the voice in her head whispered to her. “Not behind her back, not when she isn’t looking, and not after the bell has rung. Hit her where it counts, and when it counts. Make her bleed. Make her suffer. Make her cry out with pain. Humiliate her n front of the church, the fans, and her precious puppet master Trevor. Let her and everyone else know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, who is the better of the two of you. You , Katrina are the only player in this game. Now go do your fucking promo, win this fucking match, and PROVE IT!”
The voice is silent, as the hardcorea luchadora turns off the showers. She towels off paying special attention to her mask and hair, and dresses herself. Determinedly marches out of the gym, clenching her fists tight around themselves, in anticipation of Mayhem.
Player one quickly changed over to the right and the class repeated the action. Her braid flicked back and forth over her waist like the tail of a whip. Her nostrils flared with every punch, as Arcadia the divine envisions Kalayla Fyreangel Mitchel’s face in the fist size impression on the heavy bag.
“Your pretty little face.” thought Arcadia, the pale facade in her mind’s eye oozing red like the hair on the images head. Katrina kept punching until the image had blended into a bloody red blur. The class ended and Arcadia the Divine went to the showers. She turns on the tap and steps in, letting the stream and hot water loosen her tightening muscles.
As the water touches runs down her mask a voice resonates in the back of her head. “Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me.” “You were a fool Katrina.” “Celebrating in the ring when you already know what happened at last Overdrive. You let her lay you out. In front of everyone. You’re at fault Katrina! You might as well have taped a target to the back of your head and sent her a written invitation. Two weeks in a row? You’re twice the fool for it. Don’t turn your back on her ever. Don’t let her humiliate you again. Don’t be an idiot!”
Player One tilted her face into the hot water trying to block out her thoughts. She gritted her teeth, as the voice in her head whispered to her. “Not behind her back, not when she isn’t looking, and not after the bell has rung. Hit her where it counts, and when it counts. Make her bleed. Make her suffer. Make her cry out with pain. Humiliate her n front of the church, the fans, and her precious puppet master Trevor. Let her and everyone else know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, who is the better of the two of you. You , Katrina are the only player in this game. Now go do your fucking promo, win this fucking match, and PROVE IT!”
The voice is silent, as the hardcorea luchadora turns off the showers. She towels off paying special attention to her mask and hair, and dresses herself. Determinedly marches out of the gym, clenching her fists tight around themselves, in anticipation of Mayhem.
