Our cameras fade to the back, opening up on the shot of the FGA 15 Championship. As we pan out, we see that the title is seated on the single, round, wooden table inside of a locker room. Out of focus, a figure paces slowly-- but as we pan up, we see Sadie San Francisco, moments after Flashpoint has concluded. No longer in her gear, Sadie sports a dark pair of joggers and a black tank top, phone pressed to her ear as she speaks.
Sadie San Francisco: ...yeah… hopefully I’ll know something pretty soon. It’s-- it’s been way too long.
She sighs, nodding as she listens to what the person on the other line is saying.
Sadie San Francisco: Yeah, I will. I know. I’ll keep you posted. See you later.
Sadie tosses the phone into her Adidas sports bag which lies just a few feet away. Sadie makes her way to the sole table in the dressing room, grabbing an empty plastic water bottle from the center of it before striding to the door. The camera follows behind as Sadie walks out of the locker room and down the corridor, toward a sole water fountain that sits at the south end of the hall before a familiar face rounds the corner-- Amanda Johnson’s eyebrows perking in delight as she locks eyes with the FGA 15 Champion.
Amanda Johnson: Hey, Sadie. Have a moment?
Sadie stops short of the fountain, moving the water bottle to rest across the top of it, smiling faintly at the interviewer.
Sadie San Francisco: Of course. What’s up?
Amanda Johnson: Well-- first of all, let me offer you a belated congratulations on becoming the new FGA 15 Champion. But now that you’ve had your first defense, does it leave any kind of bitter taste in your mouth, considering how it ended? I know how much you must have wanted to secure that first defense.
Sadie sighs, looking toward the ground for a moment as she considers her thoughts before looking back up to Johnson.
Sadie San Francisco: Look. It’s gonna be hard to convince me that anyone is gonna fight as hard for this as Kendall did. I’m not happy with how tonight ended on a professional level and, like, on a competitive level. Whenever I go out there I wanna prove that I’m the better athlete, the better wrestler, and the 15 Title gives everyone that competes for it a lot of opportunity to put all that on display. I don’t know what it is about Kendall, but I don’t have her entirely figured out just yet.
A small shrug.
Sadie San Francisco: But I
will. Right now though, I’m focused on whoever and whatever comes next.
Amanda Johnson: Well, your match tonight wasn’t only to decide the FGA 15 Champion, but it also doubled as a Beat the Clock challenge to decide who faces Jimmy Page for the FGA International Heavyweight Championship. Now we know that the person is Savannah Taylor, but… I have to ask you-- after what we saw from Jimmy Page at A New Odyssey, would you even want to face him? What are your thoughts toward the champion? I know he’s an ally of yours, dating back to your time against the New Murder.
Sadie clears her throat, pondering her response for a moment, gaze falling down to the fountain. A few seconds pass before she sighs and turns to the interviewer.
Sadie San Francisco: I… don’t pretend to understand where Jimmy was coming from. I haven’t talked to him much in this past year but I have a lot of respect for him. I don’t personally know Chandler Scott but I saw the way they looked at each other. It was personal. And it was between them. I wish Chandler the best and it sucks that it
ever needed to come to all that, but I’m not out here judging anyone. That’s their business. It’s Jimmy’s business. And all due respect,
my business is keeping an eye on every single person on the FGA roster that wants to come for
me and my cha…
Sadie pauses, the color seeming to drain from her face before her neck tenses-- her eyes narrow. She spots Jaelynn Ramsey walking up to them, a smug look on her face.
Jaelynn Ramsey: Especially me. You’d be a moron if you didn’t, San Franny.
Ramsey relaxes her shoulders, smirking at her longtime rival. Sadie shakes her head, mouth open slightly before it curls into an almost incredulous half-smile.
Sadie San Francisco: Holy. Shit. You are seriously like an actual cockroach. Where do you keep coming fr…
hm.
Sadie tiredly shakes her head and gestures toward Jaelynn.
Sadie San Francisco: Yes. I saw your match. You were good. So, yeah. Good job. On almost winning.
Sadie shakes her head slightly.
Sadie San Francisco: But if you think the 15 Title is gonna be your consolation prize or something, you’re absolutely delusional.
The blonde takes note of what Sadie says, finding humor in when she called her a cockroach.
Jaelynn Ramsey: Getting under your skin is a start. I’m also flattered by you implying that I can take your 15 Title from you. The title itself wouldn’t be a form of consolation, babe. Beating the living hell out of you is what I want. The strap is nothing but a bonus!
Sadie blinks hard at that, rubbing at the bridge of her nose for a second before one small, short laugh comes out of her mouth.
Sadie San Francisco: Look, Jaelynn--
THWACK!Amanda Johnson: Oh-!
Sadie is met with a sharp elbow from Jaelynn! Sadie stumbles back, being caught off guard by the blonde. Jae doesn’t wait much longer before striking her with a hard kick to the shin to keep her nemesis from recovering and retaliating.
Jaelynn Ramsey: Now THAT was funny!
With a wink to the stunned Amanda Johnson, Jaelynn calmly strides past Sadie, who holds a hand over her eye, disoriented from the elbow. Ramsey disappears from frame and her footsteps fade as the FGA 15 Champion uses the wall to guide herself to her feet-- lowering her hand to reveal a cut opened beneath her left eye.
Amanda Johnson: Sadie? Are you… should I go get help?
A small, bitter laugh from Sadie San Francisco. She shakes her head slightly, leaning back against the wall as she rolls her eyes toward the direction where Jaelynn walked off to.
Sadie San Francisco: This is fine. If this is what she wants to do… we’ll play this game.
Sadie walks back toward the direction from which she came and the scene fades to black on the face of a stressed out Amanda Johnson.
