Crimson red nails softly tapped the gilded armrest of the throne in unison. Scarlett lips curved ever so slightly as the self-proclaimed "Queen" lets out a chuckle of amusement. However, Carolina's expression quickly changed as she narrowed her eyes directly into the camera lenses. Her eyes bore a glare to them like icy daggers.


Cute. Just real cute. Oh Michael, my wilfully ignorant little crumpet. How much of a fool you are to think that you can beat me. I'm a Queen. Flawless and unattainable like a precious, rare gem. Meanwhile, you are nothing more but a dirty little rock that tries to reach the same level of perfection. A peasant that tries to please the lords and the higher ups. A try hard that tries desperately to find acceptance with the big kids when, quite frankly, you'll never rise to the occasion. You spoke with some fire kid, I'll give you that. However, thinking that you can be audacious enough to try and say that you can win a match against the likes of me is truly putting your foot in your own damn mouth. You should show some respect. In fact, just who the hell do you think you are? Huh? Thinking that you can move yourself up from the minor leagues to the major leagues where the big kids play at? Oh Michael, you poor, ignorant little fucktard. Do you know who I am? Or do you live under a rock? In the past few weeks I've decimated Tyson Fury, Darkwynd and Richard Tessmocker. The same three fools that dared to oppose and defy me. Despite the fact that I've only had two matches here so far, I already graced the ring, made my opponents fall to their knees in mercy and they bowed down before me.



Caroline laughs, twirling and coiling a strand of her hair as she continues.


You see Michael, I'm not the one you should mess with. Here you are, saying how you're going to do this and that and work your way to the top of the chain to be number one and yadda yadda yadda. God, how many times have we seen this before from rookies? They go on and on on an endless cycle about how they are going to prove their self worth here and be number one. It's such an overly redundant thing to say that now it's becoming like a cliché. You see, I don't need to write some essay or try to persuade the fans and the owners of the XWF on why I deserve to be here. I just simply do one thing: prove it. I go into the match and I bless the viewers at home and in the arena with my extraordinary and exceptional talents. And guess what? I win! You won't be any different from the opponents I've faced here. You will be conquered and you will be crushed underneath my heels as I stand victorious. The queen always gets what she wants. I will win, simple as that.


Oh, and I think you meant: "Come on, come all! See the best of them all!". Great, another illiterate fuck I have to face. Just who in the hell picks these horrible opponents for me to face? Can't you guys have the common fucking decency to pick wrestlers that at least can comprehend the English language?!


Oh, and look at what else the table has offered: Shinsuke Nakaruma. The dude that everyone apparently refers to as the "King of Swag". Holy shit, this is all too laughable! People seriously still say swag? Oh wow,.just when I thought that atrocious word was over with... but that's besides the point. Shinsuke, you've been really quiet. Not a single peep has been heard from you. What's wrong, pussy boy? Quivering in fear because you will get your ass handed to you by the one, true Queen of the XWF? Don't even think about pussy-ing out of the match. Actually, do forfeit the match! That will make things a lot easier and I can just solely focus on humiliating Michael...unless, of course, you want in on all of the humiliation. That's perfectly fine!