Post by Boardwalk Angels on Nov 25, 2017 16:42:45 GMT -5
”The roller coaster, the never-ending paradigm that continues to rock and shift under our feet like a tectonic nightmare continues. The days sometimes crawl by with moments feeling like hours, and other times I close my eyes Sunday night intending to rest up for the new week… and open them to find out it’s already Friday morning, the past several days a blur. It doesn’t surprise me that this happens. What surprises me is that no matter the pace, on those moments that I dare look back, expecting to see chaos in my wake… I find only an odd satisfaction. Think of it as locking yourself in for an intense fight or journey; everything is in place, you have a plan, there’s nothing between you and your goal but air and opportunity. Then you look up and it’s over. You arrived. You won. And you’re left wondering how. An anime I watch from time to time references how time slows to a near stop when the blades of two master-level warriors clash, their perceptions and senses so honed to achieve that pinnacle moment. Seems to me that I’m feeling this in reverse. Am I that good, that motivated? Or is it all a dream?”
* November 17th, 2017, afternoon *
* Transcontinental Records, Studio *
* Fort Wayne, Indiana *
The Dichotomy of Joy
* November 17th, 2017, afternoon *
* Transcontinental Records, Studio *
* Fort Wayne, Indiana *
The Dichotomy of Joy
Even seated at their favored positions in the main studio of Transcontinental, Carlos and Darius, better known to the general public as C-Note and D-Block respectively, were imposing figures. Carlos, of Latin descent, was tall and powerful as well as a touch lanky. His wild black hair and easy-going smile made him look almost whimsical to people at first glance. Darius, on the other hand, was a proverbial brick shithouse; black as Africa and thickly muscular, almost always packing a wide grin, a kind word and a lot of charm. Both worked the consoles expertly, only seldom looking at where their hands were placed as they adjusted the microphones and cut down on the feedback and whine of the music blaring out from behind the soundproof glass. Both men nodded along with the music with Carlos swaying a bit as he worked; the fellow had a taste in tunes as broad as his grin and his passion showed often. Darius listened to the music far more analytically but his head did bob from time to time.
Behind them, with her own set of headphones, stood Farrah Cornett. Her dark hair was wrapped in a messy braid beneath a red bandana tied over top of her head. Her cropped leather jacket, black gloves and boots all leather, the stylishly-patched jeans and vintage Joan Jett t-shirt completing her look. As she, too, listened to the band shredding in the studio through a set of headphones, she had a hand on each man’s shoulders, gripping somewhat firmly. When news came from C-Note and D-Block that they had not only picked her band out for her, but put their music to her vocals… to say that Farrah felt a mixture of sensations and emotions was putting it mildly. To both it seemed as if she wanted to embrace them and kill them in same motion. Naturally, they had gone no further than to simply put the pieces together; going beyond that might have cost them. It still stood as an impetuous and dangerous forward step in Farrah’s mind, however.
Now, as she stood listening to the four men in the booth, her lips moving as she silently put her lyrics to the music and felt the chords and beats pleasantly invading her raging soul… the meter shifted from “KILL” to “HUG” again and her grip on the shoulders of the techs relaxed. They, sharing a look of relief and satisfaction, took off their headsets and put them aside as the band finished “Less Than Dust” and took a moment to settle. That particular tune was, after all, one of the hardest on the CD. Even Farrah didn’t take it lightly. It took a couple moments, but she eventually removed her headset as well, with Carlos immediately quipping.
”Eh? EH?! What did I tell you?!”
He gesticulates toward the studio with a wide grin.
”Them boys is bad enough even to keep up with YOU!”
Farrah, chuckling quietly with a nod toward the foursome, pats Carlos on the shoulder.
”And you’re damn lucky for that.”
”So does that mean we get to live, boss-lady? ‘Cause I don’t think my insurance covers acts of angel.”
”Yeah, you guys are safe. At least for now. Your hearts were in the right place and I get why you did things the way you did…”
The Jersey Hellcat’s tone trails off a bit, not because the band has grabbed her attention but because she’s putting her mind to the last several months… to the trials and tribulations, to the way life interfered in her walking the path of her dreams. Or one of them, rather.
”Bottom lining it: if you two hadn’t done this, I can’t say for sure that I would have. Getting C24 up and running, all the family matters, training and keeping the gold around the waists of Zoey and myself, to say nothing of the nightmares, all of that sucked up my time something fierce. Being real here? You two saved my dream. You’re on my Awesome List for-fucking-ever now.”
”So does that mean we get to come to dinner Thursday?”
”Turkey and cranberry sauce, bay-bee~!”
”Damn right you do.”
Farrah retorts with a grin. Darius literally starts dancing in his seat while Carlos laughs at him. Things take a turn for the serious a few moments later, though, from Darius first.
”Speakin’ of… how’s Legs doin’, boss-lady? Way I’m seein’ and hearin’ things, she ain’t getting along too well.”
”Hearing the same myself. The world ain’t as bright when she isn’t smiling. What’s the story?”
Taking a deep breath, Farrah leans back against the wall, arms folded across her chest. Much like most of the world she was at a bit of a loss where it came to Zoey. What she knew to be true, however, were these two’s assessment of the world at large: it wasn’t as bright as it could have been.
”No easy way to put it, boys. Her doc has her on some hardcore stuff to try and chill her out right now, but from all I can see, things are only getting worse. And Zee being Zee, she’s still refusing to do anything other than power through and get shit done. It may sound cold, but right now there’s nothing anyone can do about it. As long as she makes it to Night of Glory IV and we defend our titles against the Queens of Wrestling… that’s all that matters. When that’s in the rearview there will be time to make her sit down and see sense.”
”Seems like… I dunno… that might be pushing it.”
”Pushing it would be forcing her to change her ways and shaking her off her course before perhaps our most important match yet. As whacked-out as she is right now, imagine how she’d feel if we lost the gold.”
The silence says it all, doesn’t it?
”Yeah, right, that DOES make sense.”
”If you’re sure, that’s good enough for us. Just keep an eye on Legs for us, huh? We miss that smile same as everyone else.”
”Got that right.”
”You got my word, gentlemen. Now… time to have a word with these badasses.”
Farrah replies with a grin, gesturing toward the door. Carlos buzzes her in and we see Farrah walking around to the band, shaking hands with each one. Owing to the sound-proof glass we aren’t privy to their conversation, but all five are quite animated and the energy within the chamber seems to be riding high. The lead guitarist seems to ask Farrah something and she shakes her head with a smile, a faint bit of pink going up to her cheeks. When the others join in on the good-natured peer pressure, Farrah finally shrugs, with a snarky grin, and gestures to C-Note and D-Block to ‘fire it up’. The two men exchange looks with grins of their own.
”She’s gonna work it right here an’ now? I love it. What song does she got in mind?!”
”Lessee… ‘Thin Black Line’. This oughta be good.”
”Throwin’ ‘em a curve, eh? I love it!”
The band starts up and Farrah gets behind the microphone, headset already on, and starts in. Unfortunately, the scene fades out at that point. Guess we’ll have to wait till…
”In truth, I got little to gripe about. In one fell swoop, the last two weeks have positioned me right where I both want and need to be. No distractions, no nightmares, no questionable situations… everything is literally where it is supposed to be in my world. This is the point where I’d usually be waiting for the twist of fate that brought it all crashing down, but not this time. There’s only one goal left as Zoey and I head into Night of Glory and that’s remaining the LAW World Tag Team Champions. My partner has the weight of the world on her shoulders, though, and leading up to her arrival here I admit to being seriously concerned. Somewhat coldly I stated that as long as we got through the title defense we could focus on getting her where she needed to be afterward. Zoey has this way of making you believe, though. One look into her eyes and I knew that she felt the same: titles first, then healing. If she meant to turn trauma into power Sunday night… I could not worry about her… only about the Queens of Wrestling.”
* November 24th, 2017, evening *
* Aura *
* East Meadow, New York *
Even the Blind Can See
To succinctly describe it, the events of the following day were dominated by the checking and re-checking of the final details before the LAW Fan Event including games, concessions, special appearances and all else. Much as it had been on the eve of the clash between Team Kickass and the Boardwalk Angels, no expense was spared. The convention level of the Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum would, in mere hours, be bursting with fans looking to meet and greet with their favorite LAW wrestlers and some lucky few would winning some impressive prizes, not the least of which were ringside seats to the show, replica championships and more… to say nothing of the concert at the end or all the food. Because how are you supposed to meet your favorite in-ring stars on an empty stomach? Five bucks said that idea was Zoey’s and Zoey’s alone.
With said preparations finished after several long hours, the evening belonged to the Angels. FInding their way to the nightclub known as Aura, the LAW World Tag Team Champions found themselves a quiet table in the back, quiet being a relative term with all the revelry going on. An hour ago, fatigue had hold of them. Farrah had gotten an early start on her side of the event prep, done while Zoey was en route on the Cornetts’ private jet from Malibu. The moment that plane touched down, the Sorcerous Angel hailed a cab and made her way to the coliseum, diving right in. It would have been all too easy, and perhaps well-advised, for them to call it a night, but they needed something they’d been unable to get over the last few weeks: girl time. Nothing soothes the soul like some time out with your best friend, after all. Thus, after hot showers and an appropriate amount of time in front of the mirror, here the champions were… dressed to the nines, wearing beautiful smiles and ordering their first drinks.
Because if you want to feel good, first you have to look good. And considering the looks they got from men AND women on their way to the table, the first goal was a shining success. Zoey sits on the left-hand side in a silky purple dress that ended just an inch or two above her knees. Farrah, on the right, is in a sleeveless, form-fitting red top over black pants that were likewise snug upon her curves. While waiting for the server to return with, respectively, their club soda and screwdriver, the Angels took to conversing.
”So what’s the story, Zee? At first it sounded like things were getting better. Now I hear tell that you’re sleeping even less than usual and snapping at people. You’ve been keeping up with your schedule, haven’t you?”
As if to emphasize her forthcoming response, Zoey took the orange bottle from her small purse and held it up, giving it a little maraca-like shake.
”That seems to be part of the problem. The sleeplessness, the edgy attitude, the halluc-”
The magician pauses, tensing up a moment before twisting the cap off and shaking one of the tablets into her hand. The server, returning at that moment, gave Zoey a curious look. He might have queried about the contents of the bottle had Farrah’s stare not demanded his attention.
”You’re staring, dude.”
Zoey pays the young fellow no mind, taking a large sip of her club soda while downing the tablet, putting the bottle back in her purse. His attention brought to Farrah, he stammers out a response…
Well, it’s just… I mean… drugs aren’t really, y’know, allowed in here.”
”They’re prescription, sir.”
Comes Zoey’s retort, turning her attention on the waiter. Farrah’s lips parted to speak but Zoey did so first… doing so in a very un-Zoey tone.
”I can give you a doctor’s note if you like. Or pinky swear. Perhaps I can call my mother and have her tell you it’s all right, hm? Perish forbid someone be offended because I’m trying to fix myself.”
”Zoey…”
Farrah’s tone cuts through Zoey’s quiet-yet-edged retort and, remembering herself, she sighs and shakes her head. Reaching out and putting her hand gently on the waiter’s, she affects a small smile, the best she can muster at the moment.
”I apologize. It has been a long… month or two. But they're legal and very necessary, I assure you.”
”Don’t mention it, ma’am. I believe you. These days, though, we have to ask. Too many people try to sneak things into establishments like ours that way and we don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
Nodding as she draws back her hand, Zoey turns to staring into her glass of non-alcoholic bubbles and lime slices as Farrah gently shoos the waiter away. She watches him depart and when she turns back to Zoey the magician has her face in her hands and her shoulders have a bit of a tremble to them. Taken aback by the sudden changes, from snarky to apologetic to crumbling, Farrah mutters under her breath after a sip of her drink.
”Half-tempted to tell you to throw those fucking things away, Zee. Has it seriously been like this since you started taking them?”
A few stilted breaths later, Zoey responds.
”Not the whole time. I can usually control it.”
”Maybe… going out wasn’t the best idea tonight. We can just head back to the hotel, if you want.”
Shaking her head, Zoey checks her phone for a moment, then puts it away. It seemed like instinct; a notification wasn’t even heard, in fact. She tries for another smile, doing better this time.
”No, hon. Besides… we have company.”
”We do…?”
Then Farrah spots them in the crowd and it dawns on her. They’d mentioned being worried, of course, but she’d not expected that concern to bring them all the way to Long Island. Carlos and Darius were making their way to the table by the time Farrah had turned while Zoey was already getting to her feet. Each of them got a rather impressive hug from Zoey, with the much-taller Carlos actually lifting her off her feet for a moment, getting a genuine giggle of joy from the magician before she was set back down. Farrah likewise greeted the two before having them join the table. The waiter was quick to come back around to gather their order before leaving once again. Darius, settling himself between Farrah and Carlos was the first to address Zoey.
”Ain’t cool to worry us to death, Legs.”
Carlos nods in agreement, between Zoey and Darius, setting his large hand upon hers in a protective fashion. Both gentlemen were well aware that these young ladies were committed, naturally. That did not mean, however, that they could not show that they cared.
”D’s right. When you smile, the world smiles. When you got no reason to smile, that means boots need to be put to asses, feel me?”
”Just so very determined to be my heroes, huh?”
”Every good woman needs at least one.”
”Lucky you, though: you get two!”
Few people could put on a smile as big and shining as Zoey’s, but Darius came mighty close. A big bright smile from a very powerful, very dark fellow. ‘Big as the motherland’, he called it. Next to him, Farrah faceplams with a shake of her head.
”So what’m I? Chopped liver?”
All four laugh at that one, with Darius putting a large arm around Farrah’s shoulders.
”Hell no! You’re everyone’s hero!”
”Gonna have to qualify that one, big guy.”
”We’re alive, ain’t we? Ya had us over for dinner yesterday, didn’t you? Well, there ya go! Good food and a new lease on life!”
”Exactly! And you got a band out of the whole deal, too!”
Farrah stares at both C-Note and D-Block incredulously, about to light into them with her trademark fiery snark… until she sees Zoey laughing. Oh, the Sorcerous Angel tries to hold it in and not break the floodgates, but she can’t help and soon she’s laughing rather impressively. Carlos looks quite satisfied by this and Darius, sitting back, gestures between Farrah and Zoey with his own grin galvanized in place.
”Match point, boss-lady!”
”Fine. You get a pass this time.”
Around that moment the fresh drinks arrive and, once Zoey comes down from her massive infection of giggles, the glasses are tapped and the conversation takes on a lighter tone. Fading on this moment, the next view is from within Zoey’s darkened hotel room. Voices sound outside the door followed by the loud metallic click of said passage unlocking, allowing both Zoey and Farrah to half-stumble into the room. The fact that Zoey does not drink is well-known, however, and when the lights come on the stumbling is revealed to have been a result of Farrah’s own misstep. Not that she’d had too much to drink, mind… but just enough. Zoey leads her over to the couch before putting her things on the counter and stepping out of the glittery purple heels she so adored. Joining her friend on the sofa, Farrah immediately leaned in against Zoey’s shoulder.
”I owe you an apology, Zee…”
”What, for caring? Don’t start that, F.J. Lately you’re one of the few people who do. I mean… the guys do. My family does. Some precious few others might. But many more just don’t seem to anymore. And every entreaty or word of support toward them? Ignored. And in the same breath they talk about how no one is there for them or how they’re all alone and everything is just so hard! They don’t know hard-”
She was off on a rant again. This time, though, Farrah quiets her directly with a few fingers pressed against Zoey’s lips, a gesture of calming more than anything else.
”So that’s the whole ‘Not Your Heroine’ thing, is it?”
”...yeah.”
”Girl, I told you before…”
Groaning slightly, Farrah shifts from having her head on Zoey’s shoulder to having it in her lap. Thinking quickly, the magician has a pillow in that spot before the Jersey Hellcat’s head lands.
”...the people who care will let you know. They’ll make an effort. And the rest of ‘em, this goin’ for anyone and everyone who’s makin’ you feel this way?”
She turns so that she’s looking up at Zoey.
”Fuck ‘em. Straight up.”
”You know I can’t take that attitude, F.J.”
”You damn well should. Being a good person doesn’t mean being a physical stress doll or a mental punching bag. You don’t owe them anything. You’ll still be a hero to the people that matter.”
Yawning, Farrah’s eyes close. Zoey watches her for a moment, speaking quietly in a half-amused voice.
”Bedtime already?”
”Just resting my eyes.”
”Heard that one before. Take your time, though.”
That she does; not two minutes later Farrah is asleep. Zoey’s hand lowers, stroking her friend and partner’s hair while she stares out the window, her own lids somewhat heavy now. She soon follows suit.
* November 25th, 2017, late-morning *
* Nassau Veterans Memorial Coliseum, Convention Level *
* Long Island, New York *
Overstepping Bounds
The results of weeks of planning and a couple long days of organizing had created an amazing scene: tables lined the walls and a section of the central level, mny laden with various pieces of merchandise for sale though several were set up for games and other challenges. Half-mall, half-game show. Up at the front, a prodigious video screen above a stage with a ramp leading down to a standard-sized wrestling ring with a few rows of seats on three sides of it. No doubt it was meant for the day’s events and not matches, but even so… it would make for quite the sight to those fans who showed up to the event. The crew was already milling about and sharp eyes could make out C-Note and D-Block among them, their efforts centered around the stage and sound system as per usual.
On the far side of the room, sitting on the steps, was Farrah Cornett. A cup of bullet-melting coffee was cradled in her hands, no doubt necessary after last night’s ‘necessary revelry’. She wasn’t hung over, per se, but no sense taking chances. Zoey is out of sight for only a moment more, walking from behind the camera and coming to take a seat next to Farrah, sipping something out of a thermal container. Each were adorned with shirts bearing four familiar silhouettes with angelic wings, no doubt a new merch piece for the Boardwalk Angels, over jeans and sneakers. Farrah, noting the light going from red to green atop the camera, quietly clears her throat and starts off.
”Angelica, Ashley… here we go again, eh?”
Both Angels smile faintly, Farrah more so than Zoey in this case.
”How was your holiday, ladies? Did you make time for the people who care about you and fill yourselves up with good food? Did you fill in some of the cracks you didn’t know you had, coming out feeling whole? Or, like some people, did you choose to just relax and enjoy the downtime while conserving energy for the big shopping stampede known as Black Friday? I ask mostly out of curiosity, though partially out of concern, because… well…”
She and Zoey exchange glances for a moment.
”You’ve been pretty quiet lately. It makes me wonder if I struck a nerve when I said my piece a week ago.”
”I choose to believe that it’s the enormity setting in. That additional layer of pressure that was not immediately obvious to the Queens at the signing of this match, once it was made known, has knocked them for a bit of a loop. Nine months to the day is all it has taken for the roles to completely shift. The past has become the present. You see, the Naughty Girls were at this point back in February. They were on the cusp of setting a new record for the longest tag title reign in LAW. They were unopposed and seemingly unstoppable. Until the Boardwalk Angels came along and relieved them of their gold. Now the Queens are in the role of spoiler, same as we were. We know this, ladies, and now so do you. Before you go getting your hopes up about counting on that amusing bit of historical repetition though, ladies, remember that famous quote: those who do not know their history are doomed to repeat it. If you think for a hot minute that we’ve gotten complacent and comfortable in our reign, unconsciously making ourselves vulnerable as the Naughties did, well… that’ll be your mistake.”
”Hope in this case is despair in disguise. You’ve sold your souls in hopes that you will make the cycle repeat, Queens. The Flight of the Angels continues tomorrow night here in Long Island. Through the Queens of Wrestling and ever forward.”
Nodding in agreement with her partner, Farrah sips of her coffee and fixes her gaze on the camera.
”There’s a big problem with building yourselves up the way you have, ladies, and I don’t think it has dawned on you just yet. From the moment you set foot in LAW, we have been your primary objective. It doesn’t matter who’s been across the ring from you, because you have Angels on the brain. Early on, that single-minded thinking cost you a few times and not just against us. Slowly, though, you’ve come around a bit in your matches and your way of thinking. We have personally observed that evolution and it has, in a word, been impressive. You’ve grown and gelled as a team and that deserves applause. But it isn’t enough. Again, we are your primary objective. Your every word, action and maneuver has been geared toward getting a match with us. A match with these on the line.”
Reaching behind her, Farrah retrieves the LAW World Tag Team Championships and passes one of them to Zoey. Putting the gold over their shoulders, Farrah continues addressing the Queens.
”And now that you have it, what are you going to do? Why, you’re going to beat us and become the new champions, right? Any fool can see that that’s the ultimate goal, can’t they?”
”It isn’t enough, though.”
”It’s never enough to just win the titles, ladies. You have to consider so much more than that, such as the pressure that comes with being on top of the tag team division and knowing that every pairing who rolls through the doors wants what you have. Many of them don’t care how they get it, either. These titles have broken lesser teams and become the wedge that has driven friendships apart. You two, Angelica and Ashley, have had moments where the bond that makes you a team has been sorely tested. Yes, you’re still friends and still a talented tandem, but there are chinks in your armor, not born so much of the ring but through outside means, a happening that a wrestler cannot allow if they hope to succeed. And calculating warriors like myself and Zee here? We know how to tear those cracks wide open.
Again, what’s the plan? Before Zee and I ever laid hands on these belts, we knew that the game would change the moment they were ours. Our careers and lives would take a turn. The same level of training would not suffice, our then-level of devotion to being the best would not be anywhere near enough. We were prepared for that, though, as the length of our reign proves. The challenges have been constant and our opponents haven’t been shy about using any means necessary to try and dethrone us. But here we sit, still champions, still the best and getting better every time out.”
Nodding knowingly, Zoey, after a pinky-extended sip of her beverage, puts her cup down and gazes into the camera with a faint smile.
”You said you ‘needed’ to beat us, detailing the sacrifices that you’ve made in order to reach this point. First of all, my friends, we’re not going to sit here and compare scars. No one wants to see or hear about that.”
A shadow passes over Zoey’s face, then is gone.
”However, I do want you to keep those sacrifices in mind. I want you to remember each and every dark turn that the two of you took, be it damaging friendships or shacking up with poor company or even giving up a chance at singles glory. These acts need to be clear in your mind when the bell rings at the end of our match tomorrow night, when the Angels are holding the belts up high, still the LAW World Tag Team Champions.”
”It took a lot of guts to do what you did, Angelica. No one will take that away from you, especially not us. But like Zee said, you’ve sold your souls. The soulless have no place in Heaven and they have no right to hold these championships. You can lose, and you will, not only because we are the superior team but because of the pressure, the onus, that you’ve put on yourself and your partner by extension. We thrive on pressure, ladies, and have for the last decade inside the ring and out. But there’s a difference between fighting your way through life’s trials and refusing to crumble under the pressure of harsh reality, and making like you’re Atlas and hoisting the sky up on your shoulders. All that you’re depriving yourselves up and putting yourselves through? Each act is a stone around your neck that’s going to weigh you down. That’s no way to fly. You can lose, Queens. And you will. Not because you aren’t good enough or prepared enough. But because you’ve handicapped yourselves from the very beginning. And quite simply because there’s no better team in LAW than the Boardwalk Angels.”
Licking her lips as she smiles, Farrah tosses her unbound hair over her shoulder. Zoey, meanwhile, is locked in… both watching and listening.
”Once upon a time we told you that one day you would be champions. And we hold to that. We truly believe it. Should events have taken a different turn between then and now, tomorrow night may very well have been your night. Except that you’ve shot yourselves in the foot already. Say what you will about my mental state and my proclivities in and out of the ring, but know that it is because of these that I have found so much success in LAW. In that ring, I have no boundaries, no limits. The same goes for Farrah. We leave the baggage at the curtain and walk down that ramp, becoming more and more alive with every step. You’ve seen it before. You’ve experienced it first-hand and were brought low by it.”
”Almost every word you’ve said to us as we head towards tomorrow night… it reeks of desperation. Were you not paying attention when Zoey made it so very clear? That, I think, is one of the main faults with your preparation. In all your study of us, you’ve set yourselves within the belief that you’re only going to see from us what you’ve already seen before. If Vincenzo taught us anything…”
”And he imparted so many lessons over the years.”
”...it’s that you always keep something squirreled away just in case, always maintaining a few surprises for the times when you need them most. Do you really think, even for a moment, that we would have made it nine months as champions if we came out there and wrestled the same way every time? We’ve faced cagier, more dangerous teams than yourselves before and still come out on top, with a large part of that happening as a result of us surprising our opponents in a way they did not expect. Could be a bit of playing possum, could be using a move they weren’t expecting… take your pick.
As a matter of fact, saying you're fully ready for us and that there’s nothing we can throw at you which you won’t be ready for? That’s pretty insulting. That’s not building yourselves up, Angelica, that’s trying to tear US down. But hey, if you want to go that road, so be it. Consider it another stone around your neck in the form of increasing our drive and desire to run through you and Ashley on our way to yet another successful title defense. Don’t worry, though: we aren’t taking the slight personally. You probably didn’t realize that you made it until later on. And if you haven’t figured it out yet… then surprise.”
Farrah lifts her coffee in the direction of the camera before taking another sip while Zoey speaks up.
”Which says nothing of how some pointed shots were taken at my lifestyle choices. Ah, Angelica…”
The Sorcerous Angel takes a breath. It looks as though it is for dramatic pause but considering recent events she may simply be trying not to ‘go off’ on the Queens.
”...please get a new shtick. You’re starting to sound like Roxy Cotton, like the sort of person who, when they can’t attack a person for their professional exploits they resort to sniping at their personal lives and choices. You do not want to go that road with us, ladies. The moment that we start seeing either of you the way we see someone like ol’ Cottonmouth is the day that whatever slim chance you had of becoming tag team champions is dashed on the rocks below like a turtle dropped from the claws of an eagle.”
Her eyebrows going up, Farrah nods in satisfaction of Zoey’s chosen analogy. Then it’s back to her.
”Since the door is open, though, while you’re at it go ahead and talk noise about my family, Queens. About those members who have recently passed on, or perhaps the hate that my husband and daughter still get whenever they speak their mind on social media. I mean, if you’re going to fling shade at us, you may as well go all the way. It isn’t that we need another reason to leave you two lying at Night of Glory; the fact that you’re trying to take our titles from us is more than enough. But if you’re going to continue to take this slant, you might as well not half-ass it. You said something about getting ‘nasty and violent’ as I recall...”
”We can certainly reciprocate.”
”And do so happily. You see, this is what happens when you don’t think before you speak, tossing common sense out the window and yanking on the first thread you see. Sometimes you grab the right one, like Sylvia Lopez did, and momentarily get one of us off our game. She still lost, but hey… points for effort. Sometimes, though, that thread is a fuse and that hearty yank you gave it set the countdown to ticking. Despite what you said, again, there’s no hard feelings. It IS just another stone around your necks, though. At this point it’s a wonder you young royals can walk upright.”
A smile at that point might have softened the blow, perhaps emphasizing the admission of no hard feelings. No such luck, though.
”It goes like this: at Night of Glory, you show up and give it your all. Then, as has been the case a number of times already, you fall just short. It is a tale you’ll be telling alongside several other teams in the twilight of your careers. You aren’t going to be alone on the list of teams we’ve conquered, ladies. Not the first and certainly not the last and all that.”
”We offer you one piece of advice, though. For your own sakes.”
The Magical Maiden leans in a bit.
”Stick to the match. Spend the time you would have otherwise used poking at who we are as people and how we choose to live our lives and instead focus on what’s most important: the fact that the Boardwalk Angels are the LAW World Tag Team Champions and will remain so for as long as we choose, no matter what either of you do tomorrow night.”
”Pride goeth before a fall, they say. And anyone who didn’t know us would say that we’ve crossed the line from pride to arrogance at this point. Those that do? They see us speak and hear our message for what it really is: a statement of fact. The facts don’t lie. Queens. Ask the Naughties, the Winters or even your fellow Cool Kids and they’ll tell you the same. For nine months we have raised the bar every time out. At Night of Glory, it's moving up another notch. Better hold on tight, ladies, because it's a long way down.”
Both Angels rise, gold adjusted over their shoulders, the camera adjusted just enough to keep them in proper view.
”The reigns of Angels are eternal.”
”Light shining like the gold around their waists.”
”Ruling the skies above and the ground beneath.”
”Queens and kingdoms become dust, yet still we reign.”
Lifting the belts, they tap the medallions together and hold them forward, ensuring that the fans and their opponents see every detail… including their names on the plate.
”Get ready to fly.”
Fade out.