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aurora · (11-27-2024)

Madison,

There probably isn’t anything that I could say right now that you would want to listen to. I can’t force you to, and quite honestly, I don’t believe that you’d think my feelings are worth your time. It’s a cutthroat industry, after all. Survival all comes down to a killer’s mindset.

But since I’m feeling a bit reflective through this massive fucking migraine, I said fuck it. Might as well get some of this shit off of my chest while it’s still fresh in my aching, thumping mind. And if we’re being really truthful here, it doesn’t really matter if you care to listen to me or not. So here goes.

Madison Dyson,

I don’t blame you.

…not for my own inadequacy, at least. I might still be new in the XWF, and perhaps a few shades lighter green than you, but I do know the wrestling business. I know my way around the locker room, I know how to handle myself backstage. I know what to do, what to say, how to act when my number is called and when the bright lights are turned on and the curtain opens up to that big stage, I damn sure know what to do then, too.

I knew who you were, what you were, and maybe I just got a little caught up in the moment. Maybe I focused a little too hard on trying to bring Syn’s team… our team… together. Maybe I let the radiation go to my head.

Our best chance was always going to be together, and in truth, I’d be just fine if I were sitting in Adeyemi’s power armor. I think the title of Sole Survivor would have been a point of pride for a long, long time. Matthias, Oz, you and I, we were always going for glory as individuals first, no matter how much we wanted to spin the tale of the Institute coalescing to defy destiny together and to overcome the odds of those five other amazing factions trying to do that exact same thing against us.

And I’m okay with that. It’s my fault that for a moment, I thought we had actually built something. I was elated to feel as though I had a chance to prove that I belonged in the Ned Kaye (RIP), Sebastian Everett Bryce, Prince Adeyemi, Michael Graves (allegedly), Jonathan Bacchus, Lucy Wylde echelon of truly top-tier talent and instead I’m left with an evening of less-than-nothing to show for my effort… other than the fact that I helped you make it to the finals.

That part’s on me.

The frog can’t understand why the scorpion would sting her in the back if she knew that they would drown together, but you know how the tale goes. And I’ve been around this business long enough to know just exactly what kind of bug you really are.

I can’t say that I’m surprised now, but I was shocked when I first saw the replay backstage. That’s my mistake. My ego blinded me. I almost expected your help to break up that pin like I did for you earlier in the match. That’s my carelessness. I should have never put myself in that position in the first place. I get it. It’s a lesson I surely know, one that I’ve definitely been taught by now several times over.

But I’d like to thank you for reminding me. For refreshing that lesson. For bringing that knowledge and that wisdom out of the recesses and back to the forefront of my mind and the humility that comes along with it.

Madison,

I won’t forget again.

I won’t forgive, and I won’t forget, either. The XWF is a small world, baby. You’ll be around, and so will I. Someday, perhaps soon, our paths will cross again. It could be backstage; it could be in the ring. It could be in a Walmart parking lot for all that I care. When the time is right, wherever that may be, I want you to know that I intend on beating the ever-living shit out of you. I know what you did to me is just as much my fault as it is yours, but I don’t care.

When I fuck you up, it’ll be just as much my fault as it is yours then, too.

Perfectly balanced, as all things should be.

Remember: all’s fair in love and war. Congratulations on securing our team’s victory for yourself, by the way. Oh, and making it to the finals on your own. It’s quite the achievement, worthy of praise… but let me ask you this:

What will it cost you?

And how did it work out in the end?

You’re a legend, Madison Dyson.

But I… well…

I’m something else entirely.

Now that I’ve met the real you, it’s only fair for me to introduce myself.

My name is Aurora.

Look at what you just made me… do.

Madison Dyson · (11-28-2024)

"What will it cost me?"

Nothing.

I mean, that's the long and short of it. But let's back up a moment here. I rarely, if ever, feel a pressing need to explain myself or my actions. But I'm going to do it this time if only to make you look even dumber and whinier than you do already.

So, when you were watching that replay backstage, did you happen to listen to the commentary? Because the crew literally explained my actions down to a "T". But I'll recap them here for those who aren't of a logical mindset ie. YOU.

Corey Black had you pinned and I had a decision to make. I could either break up the pin, which would keep Corey in the game as a threat. Or I could sacrifice you to ensure Corey Black's elimination. I chose the latter. "But couldn't you have done BOTH?" I hear you mewl plaintively. Actually, no. Because in order for me to ensure the best, clean shot to the back of his skull I had to wait for the perfect moment, the perfect positioning. And in those precious few seconds, yeah, you got pinned. I decided that you, me, and Mathias versus Corey AND Roger was a less favorable outcome than me and Mathias versus only Roger. Of course, I couldn't predict Mathias getting taken out by that noodle armed shmuck (seriously, Mathias?!), but in the end it was a cold hard logical decision rather than just the simplistic "Oh, Maddy bad, Maddy do bad things" narrative that you're likely fixated on.

It was a tactical decision, Aurora. And if you were half the veteran I am you'd understand and appreciate that. But you aren't so you won't.

In the end, this isn't about ME. This is about YOU. Your inadequacies, your insecurities, your desire for that spotlight in the Finals. You essentially admitted as much yourself. So you want to take this out on me....because? You're having a prototypical illogical white girl moment? You're on the rag? Or because you screwed the pooch on one of the grandest stages of them all and are scrambling for a scapegoat?

You want a match? Hey, I'm not one to turn down a challenge. Let's go, bitch. But don't for a split second put this on me. Your lack of success is on YOU and you alone.

By the way, nice Taylor Swift quote. As if you couldn't be any more basic than you already are.

Hunty.

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