Champion

[Tritch.]

C H A M P I O N

6/23/16

Atlanta, Georgia

The Evans’ Estate

The door slams with a gust of wind, followed by a playful giggle as Becky and Mason walk in through the garage. After a quick peek around the living room they realize nobody is home.

“Well, look at this purely coincidental coincidence,” Mason says, quietly. “An empty house. By my math… this means an empty pool. Pretty lady, let’s disrobe and swim.”

He rushes off down the hallway leaving Becky to meander into the kitchen. Setting her bag down, she glances up at the backyard, noticing a figure close to the edge of the pond, back facing the house. She walks toward the sliding door, bringing a hand above her eyes and squinting to realize its the shirtless back of her mentor.

“Rex…” her voice is filled with sorrow as she watches him crumple into a ball next to the water. Even though he’s several yards away, she can see the anguish in his face, the physical pain, the mental toll, the emotional wear from losing his coveted Global Championship.

“You ready-” Mason returns in his trunks, but notices Becky staring out at the pond. He walks up to her, head just over her shoulder.

“I don’t ever want to feel what he’s feeling right now,” her gaze lingers on him a moment longer, as does Mason’s, before she turns to her partner. “That can never be us.”

~|***|~

6/28/16

The Internet

@becky_cheers’ blogs

Here we are againnn. Becky and the Prince. Except it’s not one of those fairy tales that give little girls unrealistic dreams of a knight and shining armor, it’s just another story about a villain trying to win the day over the good guys. He’s not a realll prince, not one that anybody cares about. He’s just a vile little man with an inflated sense of self who can’t see that through it all he’s just a loserrr.

A loser who claims to be the best, even though he just keeps losinggg the same battles. How’s your APEX Championship, Prince? Oh, that’s right, it’s still around Nest’s waist. You talk a big game, MacRear. And you’ve got plenty of talent to back it up, but what are you going to do when you start losing moreee than just the fights that count? What are you going to do when you no longer have the “he chokes when it counts” excuse, and you can’t even pick up a victory on Pride? Can’t even beat the poor little cheerleaderrr being carried through her career by her partner?

You act tough, like it’s already a given that you’re going to put me down and keep moving, but deep down you’re scareddd. It’s so obvious, the way to retreat to your Twitter account and toss petty insults my way. Everyone calls me the child, the kid, the little girl who shouldn’t be here, while Prince MacRear is over in the corner mixing together the actions of every grade school kid K through 12. No, that’s not right. K through 5, because you’re elementaryyy, Prince. You’re basic.

I’ve had a couple of bad breaks the past few weeks, but I’m still a Championnn. Where are you at? If you’re so mighty, if you’re God’s gift to women and wrestling alike, why don’t you have a title strapped around your waist? How many more excuses are you going to hurl before you just giveee up and realize what you are?

At Pride I’m going to turn things around. I’m going to put everyyy ounce I’ve got behind each and every punch, hit, kick, slam and dive. I’m going to fight until there’s nothing left to fight, and when I stand tall over your nastyyy body, and you realize you just lost to pathetic little Becky on Pride, what excuse are you going to make thennn? What are you going to tell all of your f- wait, no - my fans when you lose to me again, all by myself this time?

It’s time to wake up and realizeee you’re nothing anymore, MacRear. You had your chance and you missed it. Your time has come and gone. And nowww it’s time to move on and let the real talent shine. Because at the end of the day, I’m a Champion.

And you’ll never be.