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X-treme Wrestling Federation »   » Archives » Turning Point PPV
I Feel Like We're Playing Tug of War and I'm the Rope
Author Message
Iris Oppenheimer Offline
You'll dance to anything!



XWF FanBase:
Nobody

(can't get crowd reactions; awkward; probably going to be fired soon) 


#1
01-23-2015, 09:22 PM


Iris sat on the corner of her bed, scanning the room around her. A sly grin marked her face as she absorbed every last detail of the room; from its painted pink walls to the collection of stuffed animals seated atop her dresser, though one item continued to catch her attention. Etched into the wall in front of her was the word CUNT, and as she admired her handiwork, she ran a finger along the handle of the x-acto knife she used to carry out the bit of vandalism, resting in her lap. Alongside it was a black, handheld video camera. The word Canon was emblazoned on the side in white, and as her eyes shifted from the knife to the camera, so did her hand. It fell atop the camera and closed around it, and she brought it up to her face. With eager eyes she inspected the piece of equipment, re-familiarizing herself with it and only after she was confident she remembered how it worked, she pulled the screen out and turned it on.

It took only a few seconds; a blur of button presses for her to reach her intended destination, the archived recordings. Licking her upper row of teeth, she scrolled through the recordings until she found the first. Her finger hesitated, floating above "OK" button for seemingly an eternity as the "real" Iris struggled to regain control of her body once more. Her grip on the camera tightened as she braced herself for some physical retaliation that would never come. Teeth clenched. Body stiff. And then, relaxed once more. She opened her mouth and smacked her lips a couple of times before returning to a slouch and pressing play.

"Hello? Is this thing on?" Iris' voice rang out through the camera's speakers. Her voice was weak and croaking, and the screen showed only a black screen for half a second, before she backed away from the lens and took a seat on the corner of her bed. The exact spot where the thing in Iris' skin was seated now. Contrary to the rest of her wardrobe; she had on a black sweater and black pants. Her face was red and stained with tears and her nose was running, which she wiped away with the sleeve of her sweater.

"Joseph was buried today."

She sniffled.

"I guess, I should start talking about my feelings, like mom told me to do when I do these things. She says they'll help me get better, so I'm not so sad all the time. I don't really feel like talking about it right now, though. It just doesn't feel right. This is his day, after all, and here I am. Sitting at home, focusing on me like I was the one who died ninety hours, thirty six minutes ago. Thirty seven now, but the sentiment remains."

"The sentiment remains," Iris repeated, shaking her head.

"I really don't know what to say. He was the best big brother I could've ever hoped for, and the fact that some drunk driving douchebag killed him and walked away scot free makes me sick to my stomach." Resentment poured from her mouth, and she spoke with increasing aggression until it sounded more like she was snarling than speaking.

"Cool it, hon. Don't pop a blood vessel."

The Iris on the screen stood up and began to pace back and forth, breathing heavily, before breaking into hysterical sobs.

"Yeah, I... I can't do this," she choked out between short, choppy breaths as she made her way back to the set up camera and turned it off. The screen returned to the archive. Iris, laughing, powered off the video camera and pushed the screen to its original position. The word Canon jumped out at her again, but she ignored it and laid the camera and x-acto knife on the bed. Cracking her neck, she pushed herself off the bed and stood up.

"Maybe we should leak those tapes. Maybe then, someone will actually something about us that isn't recycled dreck. Though, that may be a little too much to ask of some people."

Iris chuckled at her own comment before making her way to the door.

"You know, Iris. For someone who's so considerate, you never did bother to introduce me to your family. I think we should rectify that."

Her grin spread wide and her lips parted, revealing her teeth. She grabbed the door handle and pulled it open, before letting go and allowing the brass handle to strike the wall. As she turned to go down the hall, the wall carving caught her attention once more. She backed up, past the doorway and looked through the opening. She backed up until she could see it clearly through the gap. Then she proceeded. Down the stairs, into the main room.

The main room was a different beast entirely. The walls were painted white, and framed pictures hung from each of them. As she stepped inside, the unmistakable sound of a crackling fire floated by her ear, mixed with jumbled pieces of dialogue from some television program someone was watching. Rubbing her eyes, she took a couple more steps into the room, finding her father seated on the couch, eyes fixed on the television. Iris rolled her eyes and took the seat next to him, which managed to get his attention.

Though, that wasn't what the "real" Iris saw. No, the "real" Iris, a prisoner in her own mind saw nothing but white walls, and black bars. She had crumpled up and collapsed on the ice-cold floor, staring through the bars at nothing. Then, Kinwrathi's voice; his real voice, erupted through the silence.

"We have company!"

And just like that, he appeared. Not alone. Dragging something, someone along behind him. Iris rubbed her eyes and pushed herself off the ground, before catching the first glimpse of who he was dragging along. Her father. Michael Oppenheimer. His eyes bulged out of his skull and he was pleading; talking too fast to be understood, and flailing his arms wildly, trying to get the Chieftain to stop.

"So, I met your dad. Nice guy. Little talkative and for the sake of me, I can't make out a word he's saying and, y'know I wasn't going to mention it but I think he might be developing Prostate Cancer."

The Chieftain pointed to the crotch of Michael's pants, which were stained dark. Iris cried out silently. Her throat burned and her cries turned to coughs. She swallowed what little saliva she had in her mouth to wet her throat as the Chieftain reached into his waistband. Her eyes widened and covered her eyes with her hand.

"Now, I'm not too partial to this method, but it is much quicker than what I had in mind and I guess time is of the essence. Essence, ha. Maybe we'll-- no no, save that for another time. No need to get ahead of myself."

Through her eyes her closed tight and her hand covered them anyway, she could hear the sound of a gun cocking. Followed, by the sound of her father screaming, crying out to the heavens to a God that was standing right behind him, and then a gunshot. The shot echoed. Repeating over and over and over.

"Two down, four to go."

In the real world however, things went, differently.

"Dad?" Iris asked as he turned to look at her. He nodded his head in silent acknowledgement.

"I had this dream last night, where I killed you."



Hello, everyone. I realize, I may be a little late to this party. This whole, trash talking thing and because I haven't put up anything discussing this match and hell, I've kinda dropped off the face of the earth when it came to being on camera as of late, apparently that makes me a nonfactor in Vinnie Lane's eyes. Because, wrestling matches are won by how often you're on camera, or how many times you bang your head against a brick wall, regurgitating cliched, hackneyed bullshit at every single person you encounter. Not because of wrestling, no. That's archaic, and Lane's all about being the future. At least that's what he won't fucking shut up about. Well, along with claiming conspiracy when he loses like a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. Or, if he isn't claiming conspiracy, begging to be taken seriously by touting about how he pushed the people he ended up ultimately losing to to their limits. Because putting up a fight makes you worthy of what, exactly? A participation ribbon? Is the XWF handing those out to people now and did I miss something? Criminy, probably one of Iris' suggestions. Good thing I'm not her.

Let me elaborate. I am her, physically. I'm in her body, but I'm not her. Shouldn't have been that hard to notice, but you can never underestimate the power of human stupidity.

Where was I, again? Right, Vinnie. The man who, doesn't seem to really know what he's going to say next, or whether or not it contradicts anything he said previously. Seriously. For someone who called me a nonfactor for apparently not doing anything related to our match because I didn't sit down to record a promo every sixteen seconds, you sure have a problem keeping your shit together.

Because, you know, it's an accomplishment to hold onto all three trios titles when you aren't defending them against anyone. Right, that's an accomplishment, eh? No, never defending them one on three, just carrying them like the trinkets they were then and still are.

Though, enough about him, let's get to the other two. The ones who really only mentioned Iris in passing.

Like Justin Sane, who really only said two things.

1. Iris sucked a dick to get into the match.

and 2. Other assorted chauvinistic bullshit.

Right, gotta stick to words with less syllables so Sane can understand. I mean, obviously Sane's too stupid to understand that TJ and I succeeded in the same pre-requisite that he did in order to get into the match. Which, in a roundabout way is him saying he himself sucked a dick to get in here if that's what he truly believes though I don't think he's clever enough to embed his coming out of the closet that deeply into a line he said because he couldn't be bothered to do the slightest bit of research. Which, is kind of a shitty idea when you're fighting someone but hey! What do I know? I'm just a poor, weak woman who doesn't know what she's getting herself into.

Give me a fucking break, Justin.

And TJ.

Who literally only said one thing and in that one thing revealed his ignorance.

Iris is too nice to fight.

Which may be true, to some, but all it would take is one look around to notice that, as I stated earlier, I am not Iris. Mentally, at the very least so that little quip is kind of irrelevant. Just like TJ Wallace will be to this match, but now I'm just stating the obvious.

Though, I guess I understand why TJ's so tentative to engage in any kind of altercation with little Iris. Because, see, last time they were in the same room together, they got in a bit of an argument that ended when Iris made TJ concede. All on her own. It was kinda hilarious.

So, maybe, he associates any encounter with Iris as the nail in his coffin so he said the bare minimum and worded it vaguely positively.

Maybe if Iris was in control, she'd be a little nicer about it.


7-3-0
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