Appearances By: None
Mentioned: Jason Nigh, Danzig Mortis, The Dealer, Casanova, Aaron Frame, Rick Lacey, Regan Chambers, Tony Millennia, Brody Reno, Jamie Heck, Kayla Brooks


Week Number Three
Television Title Contender


(My seg-ways suck so bear with me.)

What can I say? I guess I’m just that damned good. Pfft. I refused to let myself get cocky and incoherently self-absorbed. Thaaaat’s right. I may be a bitch but I’m humble… mostly. But, I gotta tell you, my third week on the job and already I’m in contendership? Sure, it isn’t as good as Jason Nigh’s gig, but that could also be out of pity. Not that he needs it. Christ, he has to be one of the most resilient people I’ve met. I got my hands on a tape of what happened a week or so after I bailed from N.E.W. It was horrible. I knew I’d have to watch myself this coming week with Jason. He doesn’t seem the type to go for a girl first, but I have been wrong before and I know I’ll be wrong again. I figure, that if I attack him first, he’ll defend himself and then go for the offence.

Jason faced Rick Lacey last week. Now there’s an arrogant S.O.B. for ya. He proclaimed last week that he would be able to compete and dominate against the current World Title holder, Regan Chambers. Now, my question to him would be… how do you expect to hold up against a World Title Champion when you lost, horribly at that, against a man who has been in a coma for the passed few months and was probably definitely feeling ‘ring-rust’? That’s what I thought.

I just finished watching a few tapes before I came to work on my strategy. Most of the tapes were on my opponents’ previous matches plus some new interviews. Aaron Frame… sigh. Once more, words have been said about my gender and my position within the federation. I was expecting it, of course. Just not from some scrawny twit who looks to be about ten. Sorry, guess you won’t be touching me in the ring. I have coodies. You wouldn’t want coodies now, would you? [/sarcasm] I also researched your career in SIN Wrestling… niiiice. What? Ten matches? Eight losses? Shiiit, I’ve had my slumps but that’s just plain dreadful.

Danzig Mortis, the current Television Title holder. Former tag team partner to Aaron Frame. I already know where Mister Frame’s focus will be. It will leave him vulnerable to the rest of us. I’ve been in the position before. I’ve felt severe hatred and anger towards one opponent that I completely ignored the rest of them. It cost me the match and loads of my dignity. But, you know men… they never learn…

The Dealer doesn’t seem much better to me. He’s got a nice record and he’s a hottie, but damn. Little bit angry? I may be a heel but I’ve got a sense of humour. Perhaps, since I’m new, I don’t understand the negativity between him Tony Millennia. Maybe he just really hates N.E.W. Hey, there’s something we can agree on.

I think my biggest challenge in this match will be Casanova, the mock-vampire… or so everyone says. I might just have to knock him out and try to yank out his teeth. My boyfriend, Darkstar, often reminds me of a vampire. Not a vampire as delicate as Lestat or Louis from Anne Rice’s novels. Or even Dracula. No, D.S. was a sort of… brute force with fangs. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve had to use cover-up on my neck. I mean… what’s cover-up?

My strategy… go for the weakest link. Hey, I fight dirty but too bad for them. I don’t go for ball-shots. I don’t pull hair. I don’t rake my nails. I fight like any other man. With strategy but like any other heel. Go for the weakest and win the match. My pick is Frame. He already confessed to having all eyes on Danzig. Sure, I could be a real heel and go for Nigh, take him out by his weaknesses and play off on his injuries, but Nigh is someone who I consider a friend, whether he feels the same or not.
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Picton, Ontario, Canada
October 7th, 2004 – 2:30 AM


Oh, my, god. Fucking amazing. That’s all I have to say. The view, the crowd, the noise, the music… all amazing. My favourite band was playing in the Air Canada Center, and obviously, I got a floor seat. Well… seat wasn’t the correct word for it. Standing room only kinda deal. Fine by me. Go, Metallica!

I can’t get over it. Twenty-two fucking years and they were still going strong as Hell. It was so damn loud. I was right up near the speakers and I couldn’t even hear the band. All I could hear was the crowds around me singing along. I could feel the bass drums and the bass guitar in my chest, but nothing more. Occasionally, I would hear James Hetfield roaring away into the microphone or getting the crowd to begin the rhythmic chanting during songs. (OOC: Click here for the Metallica concert set.)

I crawled out of the shower, the towel wrapped tightly around my bosom. My arms were a tad bruised from the insane mosh pit, hair slick against my skin. My bedroom was dark, the heavy, black curtains drawn shut. The sun would rise at about seven-thirty and I didn’t want to be woken up at the same time. I knew my head would be pounding from the mixture of beer, the loud music and the plentiful and interesting smells that went on around me.

I sank into bed, the towel sliding onto the floor as I slid into my black, cotton sheets. I knew - and dreaded - the fact that I would be getting up around two in the afternoon to catch a plane to Alaska. Ah, the trials and tribulations of having a boyfriend on the other side of the Western hemisphere.

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