An anticipated showdown

Our scene fades in on the interior of a private gym, where a full-sized wrestling ring dominates the floor space, with several racks of weights lining the walls. In the corner of the ring, perched on the top turnbuckle with her legs crossed at the ankles, is Ebony Arceri, who curiously has an old, weathered bullrope draped around her shoulders. As she smiles into the camera, she casually strokes one end of the rope.

Ebony: You’re probably wondering – why the bullrope?

She looks down at the bullrope, noting the obviously old blood stains that had seeped deep into its fibers before removing it and placing it around the ringpost and jumping down onto the apron.

Ebony: Well, it’s a long story, but the short version is that my trainer is of the belief that I should be prepared for anything at any time. I know you’re not the type to pull any bullshit, Rihannon, but I have to admit, there’s a damn good reason for her to train me the way she does. Simply put, if you’d seen what happened when I wrestled in Hiroshima last week, you’d see why. You may call yourself a crazy redhead, but your kind of crazy and my last opponent’s kind of crazy are two different things.

Of course, I’m not saying that’s a bad thing in your case. Because with you, at least I know that your brand of crazy is going to make for one hell of an entertaining match. Let’s face it; regardless of which one of us winds up with our hand raised once this is all over, the real winners are the fans, while the losers are gonna be the ones who have to follow us, because I know we’re gonna be the ones to steal the fucking show!

She makes her way down the ring steps, running a hand along the apron as she turns her gaze toward the corner. A quick drum of her fingers and she once again turns to the camera with an eager smile on her face.

Ebony: Ian may be in my corner, but you know he’s just there for moral support. You know he’s not the type to stick his nose where it doesn’t belong. He’s an asshole, but not THAT kind of asshole.

She snickers a little as she begins to walk away from the ring toward one of the walls, where an untold number of framed images of wrestlers from the past line up in immaculate rows.

Ebony: Still, I don’t need to tell you that I’ve been looking forward to this match. I told you I’d be watching your match against Aura VERY closely, and I meant it. To me, it doesn’t matter that you’re still new to the game. We’ve all gotta start somewhere, and from what I’ve seen, you’re well on your way to something pretty fucking stellar. Besides, you’re like a sister to Vanita, someone I consider a damn good friend, and she’d never let me hear the end of it if I held back even a little bit!

In a way, I have to admit that I kind of envy you. After all, you got the honor of being a part of PWN’s first show, and when you’re new to the business, there’s NOTHING like being on the first card! I was there for the first card of RWL, and while a part of me still wonders what might have been, I can’t dwell on the past. This is PWN, and it’s a whole new beginning! I have no doubt that one day, your name will be mentioned among the legends of this business. But when we step through those ropes, my goal is to make sure that my name is right up there as well.

The smile on her face fades slightly as her voice takes on a more serious tone. A determined gleam lights up her eyes as she stares intently into the camera.

Ebony: But make no mistake, Rihannon. As much as I respect you, I’m not looking to lose this fight. I’m just as hungry as you are, and I won’t be flying into North Carolina all the way from Japan just to lose! It’ll just be a matter of which one of us wants it more...

She points to herself, silently mouthing the word “me” before playfully winking into the camera.

Ebony: I’ll see you soon, Rihannon. Time to show these fuckers how it’s done!

She winks again, before a whistle from out of frame catches her attention.

Woman’s Voice: Alright... time to get to work, kiddo!

Ebony: I’ll be right there!

She gives the camera a quick shrug of her shoulders as if to say “well, I gotta go” before bounding out of frame back toward the ring.

END