The Crimson Baroness vs. Pedro Gonzales

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“What a riddle, wrapped up in a mystery, inside an enigma,” The Baroness muses aloud as she paces back and forth in front of her wingback chair. Dressed in her ring attire as per usual, with her hands clasped behind her back, The Baroness’ gaze is focused on the floor as she moves. “All inside a handsome little package…”

“For a man whom I’d tower over in my heels, anyway.”

She stops walking and turns to face the camera, “Last short joke, Pedro, I promise.” She says before the pacing continues. “Two weeks ago I found myself in a similar position to this; I was set to face the other half of Los Dos Tontos and prove to each and everyone watching – whether they be in the arena or at home – that I could back up every word. That I’d use that victory over the Big Boy to stake my claim to the Apex title…”

“But The Brat can have her shot.” She states.

“It’ll only make my eventual victory sweeter when I do what she could not. When I become the competitor who will humble our seemingly indomitable champion. And to pry that title belt from his vice like grip … but alas, it’s not my turn. I haven’t earned it yet, or whatever excuse they’ll use to deny me further.”

“To continue to feed me the likes of you or your partner, to continue to lead Brute Camp to the slaughter like the proverbial lamb – I don’t mind whom I have to beat to get my hands on some gold, but I’m getting antsy,” The Baroness shakes her head, “And while I did what I said I would and soundly defeated Big Boy in the middle of that ring, you failed to do what I expected of you, Pedro.”

The Baroness stops pacing and sits down on her chair, legs crossed, hands resting on her lap. A scowl on her face as she stays quiet for a few moments longer. “You let me down in the worst way. By defeating my dear Keegan you upset the natural order of things. You gave the proles fodder to cast aspersions upon my dearest. You allowed them to gossip and chatter about him being weak. You allowed them to gossip and chatter about Los Dos Tontos maybe being a better team than Keegan and I.”

“This I cannot abide.”

“Perhaps I should have known better than to rely on you, Pedro; if you’ve proven anything here in LDFC it is that you are anything but predictable. Unreliable. For every victory against the likes of Keegan, Kellen, or even Darby there are defeats by people who shouldn’t have any business beating you; The Systemic, or Brute Camp in the tag tournament…” The Baroness chuckles, “Silly me, those are both tag matches. Perhaps those whispers about you being the dominant member of Los Dos Tontos were correct?”

“Unless we remember the defeat you suffered at the hands of Butcher.”

“And then we try to put a finger on you outside of the ring, but you still continue to surprise us all. The revelations you used to dabble in fan fiction when we had you pegged as illiterate; your socializing with others when we deemed you an introvert; those damned hint about a past death. And if there’s one thing I don’t like in this world, Pedro, it’s the unpredictable. Those who wish to defy fate and destiny. The square pegs that won’t fit in round holes. And you, you are all of those.”

“So while my dearest failed two weeks ago, I shall not succumb to your wily ways. For there is one constant that runs between you and the rest of those who stand in my way … you are all breakable. You are all disposable. What I did to Becky, what I did to your friend two weeks ago, The Brat, The Girlfriend – all of them. I can do it to you too. Your arm is as vulnerable as the rest of theirs. Your neck may even be more susceptible to damage due to your diminutive size.”

“You have your flaws, and I have my ways to expose and exploit them.”

The Baroness reaches down behind her chair and pulls out that bat she won in NKP, “Or I have the great equalizer. Your choice, Pedro. But once you decide how you wish to fall at my feet, be sure you don’t change your mind. I can put you back in the corner, I can put you in your grave. I can break you if I so desire, Pedro. Ask your friend about the hell I hath wrought, and let me know how much you wish to suffer this Thursday evening. Then, soon, the fun begins…”