The Crimson Baroness vs. Jensen Banks

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“My dearest Jensen,” she says, sweetly; The Crimson Baroness smiles into the camera she’s holding as she walks through the corridor of a hotel, a red Phillies cap with the white ‘P’ taking pride of place on her head. The walls around her are covered in a shade of yellow wallpaper with golden fleur de lis printed on it at regular intervals, so we can infer that it’s not that up market a hotel, though.

“I do wish we were meeting under better circumstances,” she whispers, “alas, it was not to be. And as much as I enjoy being the master of my own fate, the captain of my soul, sometimes I have to play the hands that are dealt to me.” A smirk crosses her face as she turns a corner; the camera still only shows her from the shoulders up, however, and those shoulders are bare.

“It’s one of the reasons why I couldn’t let Nest try and steal a victory out from under me two weeks ago on Pride; we both deserved a higher standing than that. My first match against the Apex Champion should have headlined one of our Supercards!” She exclaims in a hushed tone, gesticulating with her free hand to emphasise the word ‘Supercards’. “So until we meet again he can savour what little satisfaction he took away from that meeting. Terrence Tillman can bask in the glory of being a White Knight for a little while longer…”

“Because this week you, my dearest Jensen, my savage little friend,” she sneers, “you have the distinct pleasure of my company. And I know, I know, you’d prefer to spend the time with your precious little girlfriend, Kenna. Or The Brat herself…” The Crimson Baroness rolls her eyes, “…but you’ll have to settle for me this time round.”

“Although you should be so lucky as to enjoy my company any other time.” She winks at the camera.

“But I’ve heard your threats, dear; your continuous chitter chatter about sending me to Bank Shot City. And it’s cute, almost catchy. Maybe a lesser being would be intimidated by it, Jensen.” She shrugs. “But I’m not just anybody. And you pose little threat in the grand scheme of things; this week’s Pride is largely going to be dominated by the crowning of a new Carolinas Cup holder. And I’m going to have to hand over my beloved trophy – my first championship of sorts in professional wrestling – to either your girlfriend, Kenna, or The Brat.”

“My curiosity is piqued, however; who do you want to see win that match, Jensen?” she asks, holding an index finger against her pursed lips.

“The smart money would be on Kenna; she’s the more experienced, more determined, less down trodden…” The Baroness pauses, “…no, wait, your two’s ventures down in Texas haven’t brought her that much success as of late, have they? Judging by your outbursts on social media, I’m assuming you two are having some rotten luck down there.”

“And with your recent defeat to The Black Adder herself I’m guessing you’re not going to be in any better a mood than she is. Hmm, that could be troublesome. You see, I like you, Jensen. I don’t want to see you get hurt – let alone be the one to hurt you. You’re there for me when I need to verbally rip apart some poor soul on Twitter, or when Bond wants to take his frustrations out on me in practice. So to be across the ring from you when you’re likely to be in a foul mood. When you’re going to be deadset on winning. On inflicting such bodily harm against me. When you want to regain your momentum, or exact some revenge because I’m obviously the one who set up that Carolinas Cup match…” she rolls her eyes, although her wry smile betrays her “…I only have one thing to say to that.”

“The fun begins…” The Crimson Baroness giggles coyly, biting her bottom lip as she stares into the camera once again. “…and this Wednesday I won’t be going to Bank Shot City. You won’t get any revenge, or justice, or even enjoyment. Because come Pride, your luck is going to go from bad to worse, and I’ll be the master of your fate, and the captain of your soul. And for a piece of collateral damage is this war I’m waging against The Brat, you’re going to take one hell of a hit.”

“So until Wednesday, my dearest Jensen, I bid you adieu.” She blows a kiss to the camera before she stops recording.