Lea Idas [vs] Noah Marshall

Subject: Lea Idas [vs] Noah Marshall Sat Jul 27, 2013 9:25 am

SINGLES MATCH
Lea Idas
[vs]
Noah Marshall

5000 WORD COUNT MAXIMUM
500 WORD COUNT MINIMUM

Posts : 5 Join date : 2013-07-04

Irritation

“This shit is fucking ridiculous.”

There’s absolutely no denying the mingled disdain and disgust in the voice of the “Pink Bombshell”. It can’t possibly be over her current situation. Because we’ve joined her once more in the gym, mid training exercise by all appearances. Clad in a pair of shorts and a sports top, her pink hair twisted into a thick braid, stray strands plastered against the back of her neck and the sides of her face in the slick sheen of perspiration beaded across her skin. Her sparring partner, or trainer as the cast most likely is, is that peculiar little Asian man she’s seen with relatively often. The one responsible for shaping her into the competitor she’s trying to become. One could deduce that they’ve been at this for awhile, hours easily...and Lea’s no closer to focusing on the task at hand than she was when they first started. So many things keep dancing through her head, and no small amount of those things seem to revolve around where things are going in her division.

“You should worry less about these women, and more about yourself Lea-San.”

“But this is ridiculous sensei! I mean, who tells these women that it’s a good idea for them to get in the ring! One hundred twenty five pounds...and she thinks she’s going to be able to suplex these guys? One hundred five pounds?? Seriously?? The first time she gets hit she’s going to snap like a twig! Or. OR. How about the one hundred and sixteen pound high flying, technical submissionist?! You name me one guy, one that isn’t going to just stand up out of her holds and laugh at her? And you know, the five foot one chick uses a standing guillotine choke ?? How?! Does she carry a footstool down to the ring for her? Because she couldn’t even effectively use that on me let alone ninety eight percent of the rest of the roster! And don’t, I mean don’t even get me started on Nekora. You know, the one that won’t even list a weight because apparently she’s too fucking worried that it might soil her image as a dominatrix witch. Cheap fucking Elvira knock off. It’s like every bad B horror movie cliche humanly imaginable rolled into one big titted moron. And-”

She’s so busy ranting that she doesn’t see the blow coming, not until the Asian man’s foot catches her square in the chest with enough force to take the air out of her lungs and drop her to the floor.

“And are you facing any of these women this week?”

“No...”

“Who are you facing?”

“Noah Marshall.”

“Then I would hazard to guess, Lea-San, that it does behoove you to focus on Mr. Marshall. You will, no doubt, have your opportunity to properly express your disgust with the women of your division in the future. But for the moment, you gain nothing by allowing that frustration to dominate your mind. Your shortcoming when contending with Mr. Cryptic came through your inability to properly focus on the task at hand. It is an error which I do not intend for you to repeat. Now. Pick yourself up off the floor, and let us begin again. This time, perhaps, endeavor to not to end up knocked on your ass.”

That, you see, is the mark of a good trainer, one who doesn’t spare your feelings, one who isn’t afraid to knock you on your ass when you need it, and with Lea, that’s pretty frequently. She makes a face, before carefully picking herself back up off the floor. Because as often as Maeda Sensei knocks her down, she’s never learned how to stay there. Which is a lesson anyone thinking her recent loss to Chris Cryptic might have taken the wind out of her sails...is about to learn, the hard way.

“But Sensei...how can you expect me to not be angry about people who make everything I work for look like a joke?”

“Simple Lea-San. These women you speak of, they are content to be “divas”. They are content to be thought of somehow separate, divided and different because of their gender. Are you? Are you truly one of them, a “diva” or are you something more?”

Hard Lessons

“Last week, I lost. I have no shame in admitting to that fact. You’re not going to hear me making excuses, or trying to backpedal as to how. I lost. Pure and simple. On that night, in that moment, Chris Cryptic just happened to be the better competitor. I acknowledge that I still have a lot to learn about this business, I still have a lot of growing to do, and I get that. But what I’ve been able to accomplish, with the short time that I’ve been a part of this business is still nothing to laugh at. But I still have a long way to go. I know that...but I’d be lying if I said that finding myself staring up at the lights when that bell rang didn’t cut through me like a knife. I think it’s the same for all of us. No, I know it is. And anyone who says that they aren’t affected by a loss is either lying through their teeth...or doesn’t deserve to be here. Because a loss is one of the most painful things that can happen to you in this business...or at least it should be. You should invest so much of yourself into every match, that failure should be like a knife in the heart. Everytime you walk down to that ring, you should do it with the intentions of leaving something of yourself behind. So I wish Chris nothing but the best as he continues on in the tournament. And I sincerely hope that when the dust settles, that strap ends up around his waist. And that’s not just because we’re dating...which, while I’m on the subject of that.

Jesse Sovereign. Look, let me make this one hundred percent clear to you, you self righteous, sanctimonious cunt. You got something to say about my relationship? Strap on your big girl pantries and step to the fucking plate. Because what Chris and I choose to do in our personal time, has no bearing on you, or how we perform in the ring. So you can take your judgmental, holier than thou art bullshit and shove it straight up your ass. I could say more, and God knows I want to, but there’s no small part of me hoping, no, praying that I get the opportunity to tear your ass apart in the ring. In the meantime...mind your own fucking business you hypocritical little twat.”

Irritated? Oh, it’s probably safe to say that Lea’s a little more than just irritated. She might have entered a whole new realm of pissed off. And let’s be honest? Who can really blame her? Who really appreciates some trumped up little Playboy wannabe sticking her nose into their relationship status or sitting in judgment of it? Exactly. But this isn’t about Sovereign. It’s not about all the other women who she plans on systematically tearing through. This is about Noah Marshall. This is about getting herself back on track. It’s about learning from her mistakes and making sure that they don’t happen again...we’ve joined her, in the gym again. But it’s quiet now, practically abandoned, and she’s traded the shorts and sports top for a pair of jeans and a pink t-shirt. And where else would she be but sitting on the edge of the ring apron, legs crossed at the ankle, so fresh from the shower that her hair still clings damply to the sides of her face. She pauses for a moment, just long enough to properly compose her thoughts, or at least properly compose them as much as she’s able to. Which sometimes, isn’t much. Right, deep breaths then. Deep breaths. Inhale, exhale and all that shit. A hand lifts, pushing damp strands of hair back from her face.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear now, before I go any further. I am not a Diva. The fact that this company even employs a second term used only for the female competition offends me. Am I somehow less deserving of being acknowledged as a wrestler, athlete, or competitor, simply because I possess a pair of tits. So no, I am not a “Diva”. I reject the term with everything that I am. I am an athlete. I am a competitor. I am a wrestler. But more importantly, I am a warrior. My time? It’s spent right here, learning, training, working. I don’t care about looks, I don’t care about cute clothes, the shoes, the makeup. I don’t need a manager and I certainly don’t need a dick to make myself feel important. Because I know, without a shadow of a doubt, that if I’m going to succeed, if I’m going to make a real name for myself, then it’s going to have to be by merit of my ability not how hot I look for photo shoots. So ladies, I challenge you, all of you, to cast aside the ‘title’ that this company imposes on you and force them to recognize you as a force of nature. That you deserve to be recognized as a wrestler above all other things. And that, Mr. Marshall, is what you’re getting. A wrestler. Not some shallow, vapid, empty headed little twit who thinks that putting on a pair of boots and a pair of booty shorts makes her a competitor. I spend, every waking moment, here.

Am I the most experienced? Nope. Do I plan on letting that stop me or hold me back in any way? Nope again. You know, I’ve tried on a lot of hats. I’ve done the piloting thing, I’ve run a very lucrative business. I’ve been artist, a rock star. But you know, none of it was completely satisfying. Ever. My entire life? It’s always felt like I’ve been looking for more. But the first time I stepped between these ropes, I knew. The pieces clicked into place, and I saw the world clear for the first time in my life. This is what I’ve been moving towards all this time. Everything else? It was just part of the path that moved me here. Am I the best? Fuck no. I still have miles to grow, I get that. And most trainers never would have let me out of the gym still being as green as I am...but Maeda Sensei believes that the only true way to learn, is by doing, not by watching. And he’s right. He can walk me through the moves, and the theories all day long. But until I actually do them, until it comes down to a fight for survival...I’ll never really understand. I know it won’t be an easy road, but let’s face it, nothing worth having in this life ever comes easily. Life itself is a constant struggle, biting, clawing, your way up.

But I think, Mr. Marshall, we’re in the same boat aren’t we? We have about the same amount of experience, the same drive, the same passion maybe. We have the same need to prove ourselves, to cement the foundations of our legacy. Go ahead and bring your best Noah. Because you can be damned sure that I’m bringing mine...and then a little more. Because last week? I lost. And that, is a feeling that I never want to experience again.”

» Noah Marshall
» Ezekiel Task [vs.] Noah Marshall
» Joey Miles [vs.] Noah Marshall
» Chris Cryptic [vs.] Noah Marshall
» Lea Idas