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Empire of Dust
12-08-2017, 10:54 PM
Post: #1
Fist impacts bag. Again, and again, and again. Flesh meeting fabric in a vicious kinetic dance until the flesh gives way and knuckles split. Blood is left on the bag, but still the blows keep coming. Mercy keeps striking the bag. She is without her mask now, preferring a rare opportunity to reveal her true visage. That of a weary, but still attractive woman in her late 30's. Her blond locks have long been shorn down to nubs. Her face is unadorned with makeup. She looks plain, but nonetheless there is a grace there. A dignity.

She lands one final blow on the punching bag, and one last bloody imprint of her fist. She breathes deep, her hazel eyes boring into the bag and seeing something else entirely. Or someone else.


Strong, Jenny. Let's talk about strength.

Mercy pushes the bag away, and watches it swing for a moment before continuing.

You seem to think you have some kind of monopoly on overcoming adversity. You seem to think that the hell you've been through has somehow made you better. Made you unique.

Bitch, you're just another weakling returning to her abuser.

Chris Chaos? You went back to Chris Chaos? Oh but please, tell us this was all some master plan to reform once you both got gold. I'm so certain. Who the fuck do you think you're kidding? You want to lecture me about what it takes to be strong, to be dominant? When YOU went right back to the man who called you simple?

Un-be-fucking-leavable.

You know what, maybe you're addicted to the abuse. Maybe you've got Stockholm Syndrome writ large. Because that is the only thing I could see justifying just how pathetic you're being. You like the humiliation Jenny? Because there are much less public ways to flick that particular bean. You make me want to PUKE. The unmitigated gall of telling the world that you're some alpha bitch all the while allowing yourself to be defined by some b-rate talent who eagerly collected the King's scraps because God knows he didn't have anything else going for him lately.

You say you killed the Women's Division? Jenny, what kind of idiot kills their own division? You fought for that title only to be queen bitch of a big wide awake NOTHING? You didn't kill shit. All those women left of their own accord, and there you were the last hanger on of a division that couldn't keep itself aloft to save it's life. You want to know who will really kill the Bombshell Division? Me! I'm retiring that title once it's mine and throwing your glamor piece in the garbage where it belongs.

You say I haven't shown my face? What the fuck did you think I was doing two weeks ago in your match with Engy your imbecile? I was COSTING YOU THAT MATCH. Reality is not some variable that is determined by Jenny Myst's latest lazy ass promo.


Mercy grabs hold of her mask from just off camera. She places it on, and a sense of ease seems to wash over her. It becomes clear that she does not feel complete without this face.

You know, as difficult as it was to parse that garbage word salad you called a promo, one thing was crystal clear: that you don't care about the fact that you're hurting your own gender. You call us ugly because it affects us, ignoring the fact that using our looks against us does nothing but relegate us to second class citizen status, telling the world that women are only as good as their least attractive body part. Do you truly believe that the essence of a woman is solely contained in how attractive they are relative to you? You shallow, vapid, thoughtless cunt. But then again, what more can I expect from someone who ran back to their emotionally abusive boyfriend the very moment he became a champion again and then claimed that was some Mensa level 4-D chess play like anyone with half a functioning brain would deign to believe that contrived shit.

You stupid bitch. Fuck you and your grade school Machiavellian philosophizing and your tired heel shtick. Engy played you like a fucking fiddle you “master class in villainy” and instead of learning from any of what transpired you continue to tap your scepter on the ground and scream “God save the Queen” in a division that is as barren as your character.

But you know what, let's say you do beat me. What then Jenny? Who's next in line dear? Madison IS retired, and yes, she chose me as her surrogate. You beat me, and then what?

Nothing is not just the contents of your soul Jenny. It's also the content of your division. You want to be the champion of a division of one? Someone as blindly egomaniacal as you might take solace in that. But the rest of the XWF will just laugh at your delusion while the administration ponders just how much extra scratch they can pull together from melting down your title and sending you back to the under card to face Grande Ricardo week in and week out. And you see, that's just oh so characteristic of you Jenny. Failing to see the forest for the trees. Failing to see that you actually NEED the other women you deride so much. Because if not for us, you have no division to be queen bee of.


Mercy tosses another punch into the bag.

I'll make you a deal Jenny. If you beat me this Saturday, I will go away forever. And quite frankly Madison is too busy fielding Engy's campaign to invest much energy in you anymore. I don't think she even cares. I'm it, girl. I'm your big bad. You're one and only challenger. And if I can't get it done against you, then I'm gone. And you get to have a whole division to yourself, and turn's women's wrestling as a whole into just another ego boost for Jenny Myst's fragile psyche. Ask yourself how much you really want that Jenny. Because if I don't beat you, I have to admit I can definitely take solace in watching you parade about in your empire of dust as the butt of a joke that everyone but you is in on.

Mercy takes one last glaring look at the camera before walking offscreen, leaving the blood covered totem of a punching bag behind, listing back and forth.

[Image: 584QMux.jpg]
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