The Crimson Baroness vs Butcher
May 6, 2015 18:42:02 GMT -5
Post by Deleted on May 6, 2015 18:42:02 GMT -5
The dulcet tones of Morcheeba’s ‘Crimson’ are playing in the background; beneath the solitary light stands a lithe female figure. Her mousy brown hair is hidden beneath her red top hat, as are her eyes; her upper body covered by her sleeveless red leather bodysuit and, in both hands, she holds a cane upon which she is resting. “They tell me I’m merely a lamb to the slaughter, which troubles me somewhat.” The Crimson Baroness says in a breathy whisper.
“To be truly honest, I’m not sure if they’re taking poetic license because of my opponent’s name, or if it’s because they truly doubt my ability that much.”
“I do so hope it’s the former.” She adds, wryly.
“Truly, I would be lying if I said I weren’t intimidated by opponent; he has the size and strength advantage over poor, li’l ol’ me. Sure enough, he also has the experience advantage over yours truly; this is my first time venturing into a professional wrestling after all…” her inflection indicates nervousness, even if her body language has remained unchanged. "And it’s not like I can claim to have fought tooth and nail for everything I’ve ever earned in my life – I’ve never had to fight in the underground bare knuckle boxing clubs, nor have I ever fought in a bar.”
“That brute force approach just doesn’t ... suit me.” She says with a giggle.
“No. I’m a schemer, a scammer – an intrigant if you will.”
“And while I may lack the brute force of certain members of the Lions Den Fighting Championship roster, what skills I do possess should be enough to make ‘most’ of them realize the dangers that lay ahead of them when they step into the ring with The Crimson Baroness. If they’re unlucky enough to do so. And what starts with you, Butcher, shall soon spread throughout this roster like a wildfire – unpredictable and … uncontrollable, once I truly get going.” She smiles.
“But I’m sure that won’t be a problem for a strapping young man such as you, Butcher. The kind that prides himself on his work; the mangled faces of the foes he’s left behind, the broken bodies that he has left in his wake. Surely you’re looking to add one more name to that list: The Crimson Baroness…”
“Unfortunately for you, the old adage applies here, Butcher: you have to catch me first.” She starts before pausing; The Crimson Baroness stands upright, taking her weight off the cane as she begins to walk off camera, but not before adding, “To the victor goes the spoils.” She says as the camera stops recording.
She breathes a sigh of relief, removing her hat to reveal a brow of sweat and matted hair. “How did I do?” she asks in her regular voice – a soft spoken, albeit high pitched tone.
“You were amazing!” comes the familiar shriek of Annie Zellor as she skips over to hug her friend. “Eww, you’re all sweaty.”
“Sorry,” she replies, shakily. “Just nerves, I guess.”
“I was nervous my first time too,” Annie says, reassuring her friend, “but it gets easier over time. You just gotta stick with it.”
“I know, Annie…” she replies, “…and I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise I’m going to be any good at this.”
“Yeah you will.” Annie adds, throwing an arm around her friend’s shoulders, “We can even train together when you’re not in an LDFC class!”
“To be truly honest, I’m not sure if they’re taking poetic license because of my opponent’s name, or if it’s because they truly doubt my ability that much.”
“I do so hope it’s the former.” She adds, wryly.
“Truly, I would be lying if I said I weren’t intimidated by opponent; he has the size and strength advantage over poor, li’l ol’ me. Sure enough, he also has the experience advantage over yours truly; this is my first time venturing into a professional wrestling after all…” her inflection indicates nervousness, even if her body language has remained unchanged. "And it’s not like I can claim to have fought tooth and nail for everything I’ve ever earned in my life – I’ve never had to fight in the underground bare knuckle boxing clubs, nor have I ever fought in a bar.”
“That brute force approach just doesn’t ... suit me.” She says with a giggle.
“No. I’m a schemer, a scammer – an intrigant if you will.”
“And while I may lack the brute force of certain members of the Lions Den Fighting Championship roster, what skills I do possess should be enough to make ‘most’ of them realize the dangers that lay ahead of them when they step into the ring with The Crimson Baroness. If they’re unlucky enough to do so. And what starts with you, Butcher, shall soon spread throughout this roster like a wildfire – unpredictable and … uncontrollable, once I truly get going.” She smiles.
“But I’m sure that won’t be a problem for a strapping young man such as you, Butcher. The kind that prides himself on his work; the mangled faces of the foes he’s left behind, the broken bodies that he has left in his wake. Surely you’re looking to add one more name to that list: The Crimson Baroness…”
“Unfortunately for you, the old adage applies here, Butcher: you have to catch me first.” She starts before pausing; The Crimson Baroness stands upright, taking her weight off the cane as she begins to walk off camera, but not before adding, “To the victor goes the spoils.” She says as the camera stops recording.
She breathes a sigh of relief, removing her hat to reveal a brow of sweat and matted hair. “How did I do?” she asks in her regular voice – a soft spoken, albeit high pitched tone.
“You were amazing!” comes the familiar shriek of Annie Zellor as she skips over to hug her friend. “Eww, you’re all sweaty.”
“Sorry,” she replies, shakily. “Just nerves, I guess.”
“I was nervous my first time too,” Annie says, reassuring her friend, “but it gets easier over time. You just gotta stick with it.”
“I know, Annie…” she replies, “…and I’ll do my best, but I can’t promise I’m going to be any good at this.”
“Yeah you will.” Annie adds, throwing an arm around her friend’s shoulders, “We can even train together when you’re not in an LDFC class!”