Davis: Athiambo, a moment of your time, please?
Athiambo stops and looks right through the smaller woman, who gulps.
Davis: Uh... w-we just saw you abandon Firyali to be viciously beaten by the Madness-
Athiambo: Who?
Davis: F-Firyali, your scheduled opponent for tonight who was just-
Athiambo: Who?
Some people in the crowd laugh nervously.
Davis (frowns): ... I'm sorry, are you doing a... bit... b-because of the whole... owl thing?
Athiambo turns her body, and Davis flinches, shielding her face with one arm while the other continues to hold the microphone.
Davis unshields her face.
Athiambo: Who is she to me?
Davis: ...
Athiambo: Answer.
Davis (flinches again): W-Well, I guess... nobody, but-
Athiambo: Exactly.
She then walks past.
Davis: Wait, can you at least tell us why you stole Zadie Chen from the ring last week?
The Kenyan striker continues without another word and disappears behind a door on the right.
Dominga: Great interviewing, Chloe. Real hard-hitting journalism.
Davis glares into the camera and purses her lips: I'd like to see-
A.B.: Hold that thought, Chloe; we've got an incoming O.R.D.R.L.I.!
The feed switches, and we find none other than Queen Cobra in another part of the stadium interior, sitting in the Baddha Konasana position on an equipment crate in apparent deep thought. She is wearing a pair of large shades. The crowd boos intensely at the sight.
They boo yet again when she is joined by the "Untouchable" Shay Maharaj, whose midsection is bandaged up.
Maharaj: Wasn't sure I'd run into you tonight. (hands on hips) You want to tell me what the hell that was last week?
Cobra: I don't Ssshay. Would you like to dissscussssss how you were sssquashed with Ssshoulder Tackle and a Powerbomb?
Cobra: I don't Ssshay. Would you like to dissscussssss how you were sssquashed with Ssshoulder Tackle and a Powerbomb?
Maharaj recoils.
Cobra: And then hit with another powerbomb AFTER the match for the pleasssure of the bloodthirsssty Sssamoans in attendance?
Maharaj (turns head from side to side): E- U- D-D-D- D-... Don't... try to turn this back on me! It'd didn't matter if I won or lost last week. (points) I only entered that match so your Submission Match with Ngozi would actually be for the title. (throws hands in the air) You somehow got Shabani to make the match No DQ, but then when the stipulation gets announced you start crawling around like a lizard trying to bite her toes? I mean, what? You're supposed to be one of the best grapplers in the game. Hell, you almost snapped her arm at Ascension -You know, when she BEAT YOU for the Jewell in the first place?- and THAT was your plan?
Cobra (hisses while pinching her forehead): I will admit that I got a bit carried away-
Maharaj: A BIT?
Cobra: Have you ever heard of sssurplusss killing?
Maharaj (shrugs): No.
Shamoon: Ooh! I've heard of that!
Dominga: Shut up, Shamoon!
Cobra: It happensss when predatorsss in the wild encounter an overabundanssse of prey within a confined ssspasse. They lossse themssselvesss, acting on pure inssstinct and killing everything in sssight.
Maharaj reels back again.
Cobra (waves hands about): Sssometimesss, in matches with no rulesss, I tend to sssuffer sssimilar effectsss.
Maharaj (shaking head): If you knew that, then why the hell did you even bother with the No DQ stip?
A.B.: That's a very good question.
Cobra (looking away, face slowly getting red): Becaussse... I... underessstimated the old woman'sss... resssolve.
A.B.: Yes, you did.
Maharaj (shakes head again): So, what now? The whole world thinks I'm a joke now, and you lost your only shot at getting back the Jewell.
Cobra (smirks while resting hand on chin): Relax, Shay. Lassst week'sss eventsss were little more than... sssetbacks.
Jessie Moore: Setbacks...?
The heavyset Outlaw walks into view, her steps loud, almost like gunshots, her hands in the pockets of her sleeveless long coat, her signature big black hat obscuring the top of her face and blood red bandana covering the rest.
Moore: Setbacks?
Cobra (holds up hand): Moore, I'm not in the mood-
Moore (lets out a loud and empty laugh): "Not in thuh mood," she says. Tell me sumthing, Queenie. Jus' how daisy is yo-wr eyesaahyt raahyt now. (holds out grey-gloved hands) Kay-yun ya see what ah'm holding?
Cobra lifts her shades, revealing reddened sclera and slightly cloudy irises and squints.
Cobra: I don't sssee anything.
Moore (lowers hands): Darn tootin'.
Cobra: Look-
Moore: Now, maybe ya kay-yun help me with some math. (holds up hand) Awn thuh guarantee that ya could- no, that ya would beat Ngozi for that thair belt, ah done went out an played her little game. Ah wrestled that shrimpy chinky mutt, Zadie Chen,...
The crowd gasps.
Shamoon: That's uncalled for.
Moore: ... Ah blame nar gawt maah arm torn awff, ah gawt thuh -What was it?- "Match awf Thuh Night" eend the-yn -and hair's thuh important pahrt- ah BEAT her! (takes a step forward, hands on hips) What do Ah 'ave t' show for it?
Cobra (lowers sunglasses): Asss I sssaid, lassst week wasss a sssetback.
Moore (takes another step): What do Ah 'ave t' show for it?
Cobra: We're going to get another opportunity. The old woman is strong-willed but vulnerable.
Moore (takes several steps, leans in really close): What. Do Ah. 'ave. T' show for it?
Cobra (frowning, baring fangs): You... are crowding me...
Maharaj (groans): Oh, get a room or something. (Grabs Moore's shoulder) Alright, Granny Smith & Wesson, that's enough.
Dominga: Oh no...
A.B.: Big mistake.
Shamoon: Granny Smi-?
Moore's fist buries itself into Shay's abdomen with the force of a miniature cannon. The Callipygous one stumbles back on wobbly knees, croaking and clutching her stomach.
A.B.: Now who could have seen that coming?
Maharaj's knees fail her as does her gag reflex, and she spews the contents of her stomach onto the floor. Moore just stands over hair, fists clenched.
Cobra, who had quickly slid off the equipment box when the blow was struck, throws off her shades and lunges open-mouthed at the veteran. The Outlaw spins around and catches her where the throat meats the jaw, squeezing while raising her off the ground.
Moore: Ya know. Ah've bee-yn wranglin' rattlers since ah was 8 yars awn maah guh-randpappy's fahrm. Ah eve-yn gawt two at home. A Guh-reat Basin eend a Mojave. Both awf 'em, much fuh-aster than you.
Cobra (struggling, croaking): M-Moore-
Moore (holding up a finger): Ssshhhh. Ya know how thay say an ole dog kay-yun't learn squat new? Well, last week, Ah learned two things. Ah learned that YOU (slams Cobra into a wall) are a choke artist! (turns to look down at Maharaj, who is coughing out the last of her vomit) And you...
She places her boot on the back of Maharaj's head and pushes her face down into her own chunder. The crowd is disgusted and distressed.
Shamoon: Oh my goodness!
Dominga: Okay, that's too far!
A.B.: That... (sighs) is Jessie Moore.
Maharaj lets out muffled screams while flailing her arms about. The whole time, Moore just keeps grinding her boot against her, sliding her face over the spew.
Moore: Thuh ownlee business ya 'ave in that ring is if ya're scrubbin' mats!
She lifts her boot and walks away, leaving Cobra to slide against the wall to the floor and Maharaj a literal sobbing mess.
The hallway itself is otherwise silent, save the ACs and the crowd outside. Eventually, Cobra fumbles around for her sunglasses and puts them on. She stands and turns to leave, but stops and looks down at Maharaj, who is heaving anguish and humiliation.
The Serpent turns to leave yet again, and then frowns before peeling the sleeve from her forearm and dropping to a knee. She grabs Maharaj by the hair and begins wiping her face.
Cobra: Enough of that. (softly) Don't ever let them see such weakness.
The feed ends.
No comments:
Post a Comment