vs 'Mad' Alice Quinn (posted on May 8, 2017)
May 12, 2017 20:08:17 GMT -5
Post by Admin on May 12, 2017 20:08:17 GMT -5
[OOC NOTE: continuation of this one.]
Miami, Florida || Friday, March 31, 2017, 6:15 AM (OFF CAMERA)
The morning sunlight hit her in the face like lasers boring into her brain, the pain so intense that Kasey rolled over (which would have been fine if she were sleeping in her giant King-sized bed - she wasn't). She rolled right off the couch and crashed to the floor, her elbow knocking against the coffee table which set off another chain reaction that ended with a glass of water raining down over her head. The scream of outrage made the little dwarves with pickaxes start mining for gold in her brain, making her wince. "Ungh," the sound of disgust was muffled by her tongue sticking to the roof of her mouth as she sat there, blinking blearily through the smeared eye makeup and water dripping down from her hair, trying to figure out how she'd gotten from the bar in Pensacola to her own living room. She flailed, trying to push the wet hair from her face, knocking the over-sized cup to the floor where it smashed.
Max snapped awake where he was napping on her front porch, almost falling as he leapt from the porch swing. Instead of going to book himself a hotel room or reschedule his flight home, he'd helped himself to a bottle of liquor from her kitchen cupboard, trying to convince himself that he was only sticking around to make sure she didn't die of alcohol poisoning. His fist hit the door twice, harder than he'd intended to, making him wince. "Shit..." he mumbled, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his jeans, nervously shuffling his feet.
Kasey's head snapped up and she immediately groaned at the motion, staggering up to her feet. "Oh God," she muttered, shuffling towards the door. Thankfully she still had her shoes on so the broken glass wasn't an issue. Not that she even noticed it. Jerking the door open, she froze at the sight of Max Ironside.
"W-what...?" She stumbled over an attempt to question him being at her door this early when she didn't even remember him knowing the address. "Max?" His name was all she could manage, wincing and squinting in the blinding sunshine.
"Can I come in?" His voice was soft, barely above a whisper as she continued to stare at him like he had three heads. "Please?"
The little voice in her head was telling her to slam the door in his face and go back to bed but her heart was saying something completely different. "Alright, come in." She stepped to the side and then caught sight of her reflection in the hall mirror, recoiling in horror. "Holy shit…" ignoring him completely, she wandered off to the bathroom.
He closed the door and followed her towards the bathroom, his hands still in his pockets. "Are you sober enough for a talk?" He leaned against the wall, closing his eyes with a sigh. "I just think after last night, I need to-"
"Last night?" Kasey's voice came out unexpectedly loud, her heart sinking as the worst fears fell over her, making her shiver with nausea - or maybe that was last night's hard liquor. Six of one… She started scrubbing the half-melted makeup off her face, hoping he would fill in the gaping holes in her memory, dreading what he was about to reveal.
Max's voice was still quiet, strained after what seemed like an eternity of awkward silence. "I guess I-"
"What do you want me to say?" She snapped, not looking at him. As much as she tried to keep the emotion from her voice, she couldn't, feeling like the worst whore on the planet.
"Listen, Kasey, I didn't plan for it to happen, okay? I know the timing stinks." He forced the words out, "we were both drinking and I should have been responsible and just brought you home. I should have kept my big mouth shut and just… oh hell." He fell silent and for that, she was grateful because her head was pounding so hard she felt like he could probably hear it. Hell, the neighbours could probably hear it.
Kasey closed her eyes, wishing the floor would just swallow her whole because if she'd cheated on Ak in some pathetic little moment of weakness then everything was ruined. "That was the booze. Whatever I did, it wasn't real, okay? It didn't mean anything. I just miss him when he's gone and there were Tequila shots before you got there a-and… oh shit. Y-you can't tell him. Seriously, you have to take this to the grave," she hissed the words, throwing the soiled washcloth in the sink, staring at the dark smears on the white fabric as if they held all the secrets to her blackout drunk memory loss. Her voice dropped to a pained whisper, "it didn't happen because everything is the way it's supposed to be and-"
"Red, stop." Max cut her off, standing in the doorway now, filling it completely and she took a step back reflexively, suddenly aware of those rock-hard muscles beneath the threadbare t-shirt he had on, "it did. It happened."
She shook her head, eyes wide, pleading with him to agree with her dismissal, her vision doubling with tears.
"And I meant what I said. With all my heart."
"What?" She stared at him in confusion, finally realizing that her aches and pains were from that damned match, not some crazy night of liquored-up sex. "Max, I don't have any idea what you're-"
"Then I'll say it again." Max smiled, "I love you, Kasey..."
Hindsight is a funny thing, isn't it? I keep playing things over and over in my mind as if dwelling and obsessing is going to change how the last year and a half has gone. It's like this personal torment highlight reel that just won't quit like the knobs are broken clean off and I can't turn the channel. So I do what I learned from my betters, from the legends I wish I could be more like and now it's second nature but there's this thing that's so glaringly wrong to me. Nobody sees it but I can damn sure feel it and it's like this scab on my brain.
I can feel it in the back of my mind, lurking, this pressure that won't let up. It doesn't go away and now this itch, this annoyance, is getting worse and worse but it's just so satisfying to scratch, isn't it? You know that's just making it worse but you just can't help yourself. Self-destructive urges were what got me into this business if I'm being 100% honest.
And what happens if Max beats Aidan this week? What happens if I beat "Mad" Alice?
Can I face him?
Can I face Aidan?
Can I face Aidan?
That's the real question here, isn't it? I can look in the mirror and roar with my war face on and it's just posturing, it's just a reflection and nobody sees the butterflies in my stomach or the sweat on my palms and it's like mom's spaghetti or whatever from that song but the thing I need to take away from that isn't the sickness or the fear. It's the ability to lose oneself in the moment, to own it in a way I haven't done since that streak ended in 2015 and I snapped my neck and that imaginary torch I thought was passed to me ended up burning off my eyebrows before it went out.
Hindsight says I wasn't on the pedestal then. I thought I was. Turns out I was just high on my own ego.
Hindsight says I wasn't on the pedestal then. I thought I was. Turns out I was just high on my own ego.
The only thing connecting me to that Kasey who was are the dreams and they're in danger of fading now that I'm actually awake. See, there's that saying about how those who forget history are destined to repeat it. I can't forget. I look in the mirror and it's all I SEE. I walk down that ramp with my music blaring and it's all I FEEL. That longing, that desire to be where I was, and now it seems like I can hear it calling to me in the dead of night, a faint whisper now, yes, but it's starting to get louder. It's still soft, don't get me wrong, but it's there and I'm running towards it as fast as I can.
Following that call has lead me to my match with Alice Quinn, the woman standing in my way of possibly snatching that very greatness I was after in Savannah. Alice and I have something in common, and that's the belief that we have to do whatever it takes to get ahead in this business. Now me, I apply that philosophy to my matches, willing to go to any lengths to walk away with a win while Alice? Well she talks a big game, but finds victories in post-match attacks. So if she thinks she's going to be unpredictable and jump me after the bell, that's her prerogative. I'm worried about the little things. The important things. Like winning.
See Alice is trying to live off the reputation of someone else, her flowery mentor. I've seen it before. A lot. Breaking into the business, we all have mentors who teach us, we find some veteran who doesn't mind passing down their wisdom for a price, be that money or otherwise, and we try and apply it in the ring. I've seen some of the best wrestlers you can think of training people who don't have a hope in hell of holding their gym bag, so you'll excuse me for not trembling at the name of some legend I've never heard of. You can't teach instincts, Alice! You can't teach desire and you certainly can't teach work ethic and I've had them all my life. What have you got?
See Alice is trying to live off the reputation of someone else, her flowery mentor. I've seen it before. A lot. Breaking into the business, we all have mentors who teach us, we find some veteran who doesn't mind passing down their wisdom for a price, be that money or otherwise, and we try and apply it in the ring. I've seen some of the best wrestlers you can think of training people who don't have a hope in hell of holding their gym bag, so you'll excuse me for not trembling at the name of some legend I've never heard of. You can't teach instincts, Alice! You can't teach desire and you certainly can't teach work ethic and I've had them all my life. What have you got?
Some foam and a tea party?
We're all mad here.
We're all mad here.
You'll forgive me for not quivering in my boots, right? See, the Kasey I need to be is going to make her way into Odessa, Texas and she's going to kick your ass, Alice. Trust me, The Show is gonna be one rabbit hole you wish you'd stayed out of.
O frabjous day! Callooh, callay… I'm gonna KICK YOUR ASS!
