The Away Team
Sept 15, 2016 14:01:48 GMT -5
Post by Cordy on Sept 15, 2016 14:01:48 GMT -5
Sept. 8th, 2016
Off Cam
“Fuck.” she muttered to herself, the sharp pain shooting down her neck and into her shoulder. She rotated it, hoping the movement would subside the jabbing sensations even a little. But even if it did, she realized the reprieve would only be but a temporary solution.
Because something was definitely wrong.
She’d known it instantly during the match with Dom; right after the flapjack powerbomb that had landed her throat and neck first across the top rope: the move that had essentially ended her night because she never did recover from it. The Silent Machine that he’d delivered to her afterwards had only intensified the drilling pain that wracked her body, and all she could think about as the referee knelt down beside her, checking in to make sure she was ok when the match was over was simply… “not again.”
An injury was the absolute last thing that Cordelia needed, especiallywhen she and Dan were finally kicking it into gear; fighting less like individuals and growing more as a team. Especially not then, with the challenge they’d laid out to The Usual Suspects… Cordelia realized that being anything less than 100% wouldn’t cut it heading into a match of that magnitude.
She’d hoped and prayed that it was nothing; Just a stinger that would eventually fade away. But the pain never did fade. It came in waves; sharp jolts that traveled through her neck and down to her shoulder. As an athlete, she was fully conscientious of her body and she could tell that something wasn’t right. Logic dictated it was something she should have checked out, but pride… well pride was a convincing bitch when it whispered in her ear, telling her to push through it and playing on her fears of the worst case scenario if the doctor just so happened to deliver some bad news.
She’d had enough of that in the past few weeks. It was definitely something she could live without.
“Are you sure you’re ok?” Alyssa Stevenson asked her sister with a concerned expression. She’d noticed the constant discomfort that her sister seemed to be in since returning home. Yet any inquiry into her sister’s well being was simply shrugged off and brushed aside. It was simply Cordy being too tough for her own good. Seeing her sister in pain wasn’t really anything new to Alyssa. That was just the life of an athlete, and Cordelia had been oneher entire life. Rare were the days where she didn’t feel any aches or pains, or show up with random bruises that she proudly wore as badges of honor.
Battle scars as Cordy liked to call them.
Having seen the injuries that her sister had sustained over the past few years alone, Alyssa understood fully well that the life of a professional wrestler was a rough one. Yet she also knew her sister well enough to know when there was something a bit beyond the typical wear and tear that came with the job. Alyssa could detect Cordelia’s concern; but even with it being as evident as it was, she realized just how pointless asking the question had been.
“Yeah, I’m fine, big head.” Cordelia replied, just as Alyssa knew she would. It simply wasn’t in Cordelia’s nature to admit when she was overly worried about something. The lie was blatant and something that Cordelia had rattled off to pacify her sister, but truthfully it had done anything but.
“I hate it when you lie to me.” Alyssa hissed, letting her disappointment be known. “I’m not stupid, you know?” She seethed, her words flowing forth in a river of annoyance. Normally she would have kept quiet and simply brushed aside her concerns but there was something in her heart telling her that it just wasn’t the right move.
Her defiance wasn’t a ploy to spark an argument though.
Alyssa had no intention of being combative. She simply wanted Cordelia to know that it was alright to open up for once. For so long their relationship had been so one sided in that regard. Cordelia was always the one that Alyssa ran to when something was awry. She was the one person that Alyssa trusted most in the world and whenever she encountered a problem, she knew that her big sister would be there to listen if nothing more, and she wanted Cordelia to view her in that same light. Not as the runty, annoying little sister that had little or no wisdom to offer, but as a true equal. She wasn’t the same naive little girl that always needed to be protected and kept in the dark about most things, but she wasn’t quite sure Cordelia had realized that yet.
Cordelia grew quiet, her eyes pointed downward and away from her sister’s heated glare; a sense of self consciousness blossoming within. She’d been met with a response that she truly hadn’t expected; yet she knew very well that it was more than warranted. Alyssa was right, and Cordelia knew that she was far from stupid. It had been stupid on Cordelia’s part to try and pretend that everything was ok. “I know you’re not stupid, Lys.” She finally mustered, gazing up at her sister from her seat on the carpet. “I just see no point in making you worry...” She argued, trying to justify her stance on the matter. “Especially when you have little man to worry about and I know I’ll be fine. It’s just a stinger.” She self diagnosed, although honestly it was more along the lines of wishful thinking. She shrugged, well as best as she could anyway. “It’ll be fine in no time.” She added as reassurance. Cordy wasn’t exactly sure if the words were meant more to comfort Alyssa or herself. She was all but sure they’d proven insufficient either way.
Alyssa sighed. “Well if it keeps up, then maybe you should go and get it checked out.” The sternness in her tone caused Cordelia to roll her eyes and laugh.
“Sure thing, Mom.” She teased, noting how Alyssa had sounded just like their mother. She was becoming a worry wart just like her. Was that what motherhood did to people? “If it keeps up, I promise I will go and get it checked out, ok? But I’ve got too many things on my plate right now that I need to focus on. The ladder match at Retribution and…” her voice trailed off a bit as her eyes narrowed. “Strike.”
Cordelia had never been one to back down from a challenge, and the match with her friend Heather Halliwell’s ex-beau was something she’d been looking forward to. As a matter of fact, she was actually honored when the match was proposed to her. Chris Strike, despite all the flack and hate that the man seemed to get frol his peers, was someone that could be deemed a legend by anyone’s standard. His resume spoke for itself and was a telling narrative of the dominance he’d exemplified over the years and in various companies. SVW. EXODUS. APW. SCW. UWL. The man had done it all and had literally wrestled the biggest names in the business all across the globe. His wars with Christian Kane were legendary. The battles he had with Magnus Gunner? Nothing short of amazing. Yet there he was in the final stretch of his career, seeking a match with her. Cordelia knew that she wasn’t the only name on his list. But the fact that she was on it at all said absolutely everything about where she stood in the business.
Little old her. Not a single world championship to her name, but her abilities were seen as nothing less than world class by her peers. But then again, why shouldn’t they be? In the three years she’d been in the business, there had only been four men that could say they’d beaten her one on one. One of whom she’d just recently took another loss to at the last rendition of Vertigo. All former FGA World Champions, which she realized definitely added to her stigma of not being able to win the big one in FGA.
Dom Harter. Chandler Scott. Jimmy Page. Sean Sands.
If life were a pokemon spin off, without a doubt, they’d be her Elite Four and she had no intentions of it becoming five anytime soon. Three years and only four people. It was quite an accomplishment, especially considering the level of talent she’d been up against from the onset of her career. The list of people that had fallen before her in the ring read like a Who’s Who of the wrestling industry’s future Hall of Fame nominations. Dom Harter. Bob Pooler. Brytain Rollins. Inferno. Whiskey Ayano. Evangelista. Cindy Parker. Brandon Banks. Tony Carmine. The list could have gone on and on. She’d more than proven what she was capable of over the few short years that she’d be in the business, and the fact that she’d garnered attention from someone of Chris Strike’s status all but cemented the work she’d put in.
And now it was time to add his name to the list.
But Strike hadn’t been the only one whose attention she’d captured over time. When Johnny Cannon first appeared in FGA, he’d cited her as one that sparked his interest; making him want to see what all the hype was about. There was an undeniable drawing power to her name, and it had been proven once again. Her mentor, Kerry Windsor; had always told her that she was a star - with or without that World Championship. Maybe it was something she should have realized a long time ago, but it was slowly starting to make sense to her now. Her validation in the business came not from the titles she won — or didn’t win, in her case; but more so from the regard that everyone seemed to hold her in.
Whether people liked to admit it or not, Cordelia realized that she was a standard; a measuring stick that people often felt the need to try and compare themselves to. Zero did it often, especially during his drunken tirades, steadily trying to convince the world on social media that he was better than she was; that he was able to do things that she hadn’t… despite him having like a decade more time to accomplish things she was only beginning to get chances at. Johnny Cannon and his personal assistant did it as well. It always tickled her that they felt the need to bring up her name, but as much as they tried to demean her and all that she’d accomplished; she simply took it as a nod to her prowess as a competitor. The fact that they even felt the need to try and compare themselves to someone they had a decade seniority over in the business… well that was telling on both ends of the spectrum.
Chris Strike knew that she was one of the best. It was why he’d requested a match with her, at least it was what she’d liked to believe. She highly doubted that he would request a match with someone not worth his time, especially given how just little of it he had left in his career. She was now the next stop on the Chris Strike farewell tour, and she had every intention of handing him a complimentary L to take with him on the road.
Alyssa simply studied her. Cordelia’s spiel had been far from convincing, but exactly what could she do? She trusted Cordelia's judgment though, believing that her sister would get things checked out if they proved to be too bothersome. The mentioning of the upcoming match against Chris Strike however did make her smile. “That’s going to be different for you.” Alyssa said, focusing her attention back on the television screen where Brie Larson was having some sort of a breakdown in the movie ‘Room’.
“What do you mean?” Cordy asked, cautiously shifting her body and trying her best to avoid agitating her neck.
Alyssa smirked. “You’re fighting a retiring Chris Strike…” she paused for a second, letting that first portion sink in.. “... in his hometown…” she turned and glanced back at Cordy now. “... in what could possibly be the last match they’ll ever get to see him wrestle there.” She shook her head, clearly amused by the thoughts she was having. “They’re going to boo you out the fucking building, sis.”
Cordelia laughed now, finally seeing the reason behind Alyssa’s comment. Truth be told, she hadn’t fully weighed the severity of the moment. Getting the match with Strike had been a big deal all in itself, but with it being framed the way that Alyssa had just put it? It was really beginning to dawn on Cordelia just how momentous the occasion really was, and she understood full well why the people would be behind their hometown hero. For the first time in her wrestling career, Cordelia was walking into a situation where she knew the crowd would not be behind her at all. Oddly enough, she was quite ok with that. Having been an athlete and being apart of various teams throughout her lifetime… she’d walked into plenty of hostile environments to compete. Broomfield, Colorado would be a situation she hadn’t experienced in quite some time but it was one she was far too familiar with nonetheless which caused Cordy to smile.
She was going to do what she always did when she was the away team.
“I guess I’ll just have to shut them up then.”
And she knew that she was going to love every second of it.
-----
You know, I’ve been an athlete damn near my entire life.
My competitive nature was something that I discovered at a very, very young age and at some point, I realize now that I fell in love with the rush that comes with performing in front of a crowd. The intensity of some of the moments… the anticipation and anxiousness that you know is not just your own, but one that is shared amongst everyone else in attendance... I swear, there’s absolutely nothing like it.
All eyes on you while you do what you do, there’s just something strangely intimate about it all if you ask me. And the roar of the crowd, it never really gets old, y’know? Hearing thousands upon thousands of people chanting your name… to a warrior in the coliseum, that was one of the highest honors that could be bestowed upon someone, and I admit, I’ve grown accustomed to that.
This business has definitely spoiled me in that regard, because from day one… the fans have loved me. They’ve supported me and they’ve been by my side for every single step of this journey. No matter what city I wrestled in, no matter what ring I set foot in… they always made me feel as if I were... home.
But I realize now that that won’t be the case in Broomfield, Colorado. Not when I’m taking on their Golden Sun in what could possibly be the last time they’ll ever get to see him compete live. But strangely enough, I’m more than ok with that; because now I get to rediscover the one thing that I absolutely loved the most about being an athlete, the one thing that I never really get to do much anymore.
And that’s silencing the crowd.
Nothing excited me more than the prospect of walking into enemy territory, knowing that not a single soul in that crowd wanted us to win and sending them home in sheer disappointment when we did. Or the proverbial quiet that swept over them when you put the final nail in their team’s coffin and it finally dawned on them that their beloved heroes were facing an inevitable defeat.
God how I loved watching them head for the exits just so they couldn’t see us celebrating on their courts and fields.
Home was always home, but sometimes it was just more fun playing on the road…
Especially when you had the chance to ruin someone’s Homecoming.
And I guess that’s the role I’ve been designated to, isn’t it Chris? Here’s the Hometown Hero coming back to give the fans one more match… I know they’d love nothing more than to see you walk out on top, and to be a part of history. To have that feel good moment that they can always reflect upon and cherish. Well history is going to be made either way my friend, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind that we are going to give them something to remember… but someone needs to tell them that the Homecoming Dance has been cancelled because Hurricane Cordy is coming through to rain all over that fucking parade.
Welcome to my home by the way.
You know, the one you were quite vocal and adamant on disrespecting while you were in San Diego.
I admit, Chris Strike in an FGA ring is something I never ever thought I’d see. You know, with this place being — what was it you said? — full of those who couldn’t make it in EXODUS and those who weren’t even good enough to be there in the first place?
Kind of crazy considering your last EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight Champion is out here getting dragged on the regular. But I’m sleep though. And that’s no disrespect, it’s real. I love Savvy to death but she’ll tell you firsthand that the competition around these parts is no joke.
Those words did not fall on deaf ears my friend and they are far from forgotten. Yet here you are, seeking the best of the proverbial bottom dwellers I guess.
I just hope I don’t disappoint!
In all seriousness though, I do respect what you’ve done in this business, Chris. Over a decade in and you didn’t just become a decent wrestler in the past year and a half… clearly you’re not plagued by the Zero Effect. Your career has been nothing short of astonishing and it should be a blueprint for how to make it in the game. Stepping into that ring with you will be an absolute honor.
But beating you? In your hometown? Well that my friend, will be an absolute joy.
The legacy you’ve left behind is without question and only a fool would ever doubt it, but this Saturday at Vertigo? It’s not about you or your legacy Chris and I hope you understand that.
It’s about mine and laying down a definitive narrative.
When all's said and done, how do you want to be remembered? Exactly what do you want your legacy to be and even more than that, what do you want it to say about you?
I think that’s a question we all ask ourselves at one point or another. Well at least those of us who take this business seriously anyway. Of course you have those who aren’t concerned with leaving a lasting impression, but they aren’t who I’m referring to. They fade quicker than any memory they leave us with and that’s if they’re fortunate enough to have left one at all.
But people like you and I? We don’t fade, Chris. We’re remembered forever.
But how?
You see, you’ve had over a decade to craft and perfect your story. Everything that there is to know about Chris Strike, the man that he is and the competitor he was, is right there for all the world to see in the legacy you’ve left behind. Your story is written and now? You’re simply jotting the epilogue. This is just an item crossed off of your bucket list.
But for me? It means so much more.
Because as it stands now, the legacy I’m leaving behind has no definitive distinctions or shape.
I’m Cordelia Stevenson: The Uncrowned Queen.
Cordelia Stevenson: Tag Team Savant.
Cordelia Stevenson: One of the best wrestlers in the world.
So many compelling narratives with no cohesiveness. That’s what my story is, Chris, but that’s ok.
Because Broomfield is where I finally start to piece it together.
So what will my legacy say about me?
That’s a really good question to be honest. I hope that it says I’m a fighter; that on any given night, I could step into the ring with the best in the business and not only go toe to toe with them… but beat them as well.
All the things I plan on showing you, Chris… are all the things I want my narrative to entail.
Thank you in advance for helping me write my story.
Over a decade in the business… there’s no doubt that you’ve probably seen and done it all:
But the one thing you will never be able to do, Chris -- is say that you beat Cordelia Stevenson.
I’m going to make sure of that.
Welcome to the Frontier.
Off Cam
“Fuck.” she muttered to herself, the sharp pain shooting down her neck and into her shoulder. She rotated it, hoping the movement would subside the jabbing sensations even a little. But even if it did, she realized the reprieve would only be but a temporary solution.
Because something was definitely wrong.
She’d known it instantly during the match with Dom; right after the flapjack powerbomb that had landed her throat and neck first across the top rope: the move that had essentially ended her night because she never did recover from it. The Silent Machine that he’d delivered to her afterwards had only intensified the drilling pain that wracked her body, and all she could think about as the referee knelt down beside her, checking in to make sure she was ok when the match was over was simply… “not again.”
An injury was the absolute last thing that Cordelia needed, especiallywhen she and Dan were finally kicking it into gear; fighting less like individuals and growing more as a team. Especially not then, with the challenge they’d laid out to The Usual Suspects… Cordelia realized that being anything less than 100% wouldn’t cut it heading into a match of that magnitude.
She’d hoped and prayed that it was nothing; Just a stinger that would eventually fade away. But the pain never did fade. It came in waves; sharp jolts that traveled through her neck and down to her shoulder. As an athlete, she was fully conscientious of her body and she could tell that something wasn’t right. Logic dictated it was something she should have checked out, but pride… well pride was a convincing bitch when it whispered in her ear, telling her to push through it and playing on her fears of the worst case scenario if the doctor just so happened to deliver some bad news.
She’d had enough of that in the past few weeks. It was definitely something she could live without.
“Are you sure you’re ok?” Alyssa Stevenson asked her sister with a concerned expression. She’d noticed the constant discomfort that her sister seemed to be in since returning home. Yet any inquiry into her sister’s well being was simply shrugged off and brushed aside. It was simply Cordy being too tough for her own good. Seeing her sister in pain wasn’t really anything new to Alyssa. That was just the life of an athlete, and Cordelia had been oneher entire life. Rare were the days where she didn’t feel any aches or pains, or show up with random bruises that she proudly wore as badges of honor.
Battle scars as Cordy liked to call them.
Having seen the injuries that her sister had sustained over the past few years alone, Alyssa understood fully well that the life of a professional wrestler was a rough one. Yet she also knew her sister well enough to know when there was something a bit beyond the typical wear and tear that came with the job. Alyssa could detect Cordelia’s concern; but even with it being as evident as it was, she realized just how pointless asking the question had been.
“Yeah, I’m fine, big head.” Cordelia replied, just as Alyssa knew she would. It simply wasn’t in Cordelia’s nature to admit when she was overly worried about something. The lie was blatant and something that Cordelia had rattled off to pacify her sister, but truthfully it had done anything but.
“I hate it when you lie to me.” Alyssa hissed, letting her disappointment be known. “I’m not stupid, you know?” She seethed, her words flowing forth in a river of annoyance. Normally she would have kept quiet and simply brushed aside her concerns but there was something in her heart telling her that it just wasn’t the right move.
Her defiance wasn’t a ploy to spark an argument though.
Alyssa had no intention of being combative. She simply wanted Cordelia to know that it was alright to open up for once. For so long their relationship had been so one sided in that regard. Cordelia was always the one that Alyssa ran to when something was awry. She was the one person that Alyssa trusted most in the world and whenever she encountered a problem, she knew that her big sister would be there to listen if nothing more, and she wanted Cordelia to view her in that same light. Not as the runty, annoying little sister that had little or no wisdom to offer, but as a true equal. She wasn’t the same naive little girl that always needed to be protected and kept in the dark about most things, but she wasn’t quite sure Cordelia had realized that yet.
Cordelia grew quiet, her eyes pointed downward and away from her sister’s heated glare; a sense of self consciousness blossoming within. She’d been met with a response that she truly hadn’t expected; yet she knew very well that it was more than warranted. Alyssa was right, and Cordelia knew that she was far from stupid. It had been stupid on Cordelia’s part to try and pretend that everything was ok. “I know you’re not stupid, Lys.” She finally mustered, gazing up at her sister from her seat on the carpet. “I just see no point in making you worry...” She argued, trying to justify her stance on the matter. “Especially when you have little man to worry about and I know I’ll be fine. It’s just a stinger.” She self diagnosed, although honestly it was more along the lines of wishful thinking. She shrugged, well as best as she could anyway. “It’ll be fine in no time.” She added as reassurance. Cordy wasn’t exactly sure if the words were meant more to comfort Alyssa or herself. She was all but sure they’d proven insufficient either way.
Alyssa sighed. “Well if it keeps up, then maybe you should go and get it checked out.” The sternness in her tone caused Cordelia to roll her eyes and laugh.
“Sure thing, Mom.” She teased, noting how Alyssa had sounded just like their mother. She was becoming a worry wart just like her. Was that what motherhood did to people? “If it keeps up, I promise I will go and get it checked out, ok? But I’ve got too many things on my plate right now that I need to focus on. The ladder match at Retribution and…” her voice trailed off a bit as her eyes narrowed. “Strike.”
Cordelia had never been one to back down from a challenge, and the match with her friend Heather Halliwell’s ex-beau was something she’d been looking forward to. As a matter of fact, she was actually honored when the match was proposed to her. Chris Strike, despite all the flack and hate that the man seemed to get frol his peers, was someone that could be deemed a legend by anyone’s standard. His resume spoke for itself and was a telling narrative of the dominance he’d exemplified over the years and in various companies. SVW. EXODUS. APW. SCW. UWL. The man had done it all and had literally wrestled the biggest names in the business all across the globe. His wars with Christian Kane were legendary. The battles he had with Magnus Gunner? Nothing short of amazing. Yet there he was in the final stretch of his career, seeking a match with her. Cordelia knew that she wasn’t the only name on his list. But the fact that she was on it at all said absolutely everything about where she stood in the business.
Little old her. Not a single world championship to her name, but her abilities were seen as nothing less than world class by her peers. But then again, why shouldn’t they be? In the three years she’d been in the business, there had only been four men that could say they’d beaten her one on one. One of whom she’d just recently took another loss to at the last rendition of Vertigo. All former FGA World Champions, which she realized definitely added to her stigma of not being able to win the big one in FGA.
Dom Harter. Chandler Scott. Jimmy Page. Sean Sands.
If life were a pokemon spin off, without a doubt, they’d be her Elite Four and she had no intentions of it becoming five anytime soon. Three years and only four people. It was quite an accomplishment, especially considering the level of talent she’d been up against from the onset of her career. The list of people that had fallen before her in the ring read like a Who’s Who of the wrestling industry’s future Hall of Fame nominations. Dom Harter. Bob Pooler. Brytain Rollins. Inferno. Whiskey Ayano. Evangelista. Cindy Parker. Brandon Banks. Tony Carmine. The list could have gone on and on. She’d more than proven what she was capable of over the few short years that she’d be in the business, and the fact that she’d garnered attention from someone of Chris Strike’s status all but cemented the work she’d put in.
And now it was time to add his name to the list.
But Strike hadn’t been the only one whose attention she’d captured over time. When Johnny Cannon first appeared in FGA, he’d cited her as one that sparked his interest; making him want to see what all the hype was about. There was an undeniable drawing power to her name, and it had been proven once again. Her mentor, Kerry Windsor; had always told her that she was a star - with or without that World Championship. Maybe it was something she should have realized a long time ago, but it was slowly starting to make sense to her now. Her validation in the business came not from the titles she won — or didn’t win, in her case; but more so from the regard that everyone seemed to hold her in.
Whether people liked to admit it or not, Cordelia realized that she was a standard; a measuring stick that people often felt the need to try and compare themselves to. Zero did it often, especially during his drunken tirades, steadily trying to convince the world on social media that he was better than she was; that he was able to do things that she hadn’t… despite him having like a decade more time to accomplish things she was only beginning to get chances at. Johnny Cannon and his personal assistant did it as well. It always tickled her that they felt the need to bring up her name, but as much as they tried to demean her and all that she’d accomplished; she simply took it as a nod to her prowess as a competitor. The fact that they even felt the need to try and compare themselves to someone they had a decade seniority over in the business… well that was telling on both ends of the spectrum.
Chris Strike knew that she was one of the best. It was why he’d requested a match with her, at least it was what she’d liked to believe. She highly doubted that he would request a match with someone not worth his time, especially given how just little of it he had left in his career. She was now the next stop on the Chris Strike farewell tour, and she had every intention of handing him a complimentary L to take with him on the road.
Alyssa simply studied her. Cordelia’s spiel had been far from convincing, but exactly what could she do? She trusted Cordelia's judgment though, believing that her sister would get things checked out if they proved to be too bothersome. The mentioning of the upcoming match against Chris Strike however did make her smile. “That’s going to be different for you.” Alyssa said, focusing her attention back on the television screen where Brie Larson was having some sort of a breakdown in the movie ‘Room’.
“What do you mean?” Cordy asked, cautiously shifting her body and trying her best to avoid agitating her neck.
Alyssa smirked. “You’re fighting a retiring Chris Strike…” she paused for a second, letting that first portion sink in.. “... in his hometown…” she turned and glanced back at Cordy now. “... in what could possibly be the last match they’ll ever get to see him wrestle there.” She shook her head, clearly amused by the thoughts she was having. “They’re going to boo you out the fucking building, sis.”
Cordelia laughed now, finally seeing the reason behind Alyssa’s comment. Truth be told, she hadn’t fully weighed the severity of the moment. Getting the match with Strike had been a big deal all in itself, but with it being framed the way that Alyssa had just put it? It was really beginning to dawn on Cordelia just how momentous the occasion really was, and she understood full well why the people would be behind their hometown hero. For the first time in her wrestling career, Cordelia was walking into a situation where she knew the crowd would not be behind her at all. Oddly enough, she was quite ok with that. Having been an athlete and being apart of various teams throughout her lifetime… she’d walked into plenty of hostile environments to compete. Broomfield, Colorado would be a situation she hadn’t experienced in quite some time but it was one she was far too familiar with nonetheless which caused Cordy to smile.
She was going to do what she always did when she was the away team.
“I guess I’ll just have to shut them up then.”
And she knew that she was going to love every second of it.
-----
You know, I’ve been an athlete damn near my entire life.
My competitive nature was something that I discovered at a very, very young age and at some point, I realize now that I fell in love with the rush that comes with performing in front of a crowd. The intensity of some of the moments… the anticipation and anxiousness that you know is not just your own, but one that is shared amongst everyone else in attendance... I swear, there’s absolutely nothing like it.
All eyes on you while you do what you do, there’s just something strangely intimate about it all if you ask me. And the roar of the crowd, it never really gets old, y’know? Hearing thousands upon thousands of people chanting your name… to a warrior in the coliseum, that was one of the highest honors that could be bestowed upon someone, and I admit, I’ve grown accustomed to that.
This business has definitely spoiled me in that regard, because from day one… the fans have loved me. They’ve supported me and they’ve been by my side for every single step of this journey. No matter what city I wrestled in, no matter what ring I set foot in… they always made me feel as if I were... home.
But I realize now that that won’t be the case in Broomfield, Colorado. Not when I’m taking on their Golden Sun in what could possibly be the last time they’ll ever get to see him compete live. But strangely enough, I’m more than ok with that; because now I get to rediscover the one thing that I absolutely loved the most about being an athlete, the one thing that I never really get to do much anymore.
And that’s silencing the crowd.
Nothing excited me more than the prospect of walking into enemy territory, knowing that not a single soul in that crowd wanted us to win and sending them home in sheer disappointment when we did. Or the proverbial quiet that swept over them when you put the final nail in their team’s coffin and it finally dawned on them that their beloved heroes were facing an inevitable defeat.
God how I loved watching them head for the exits just so they couldn’t see us celebrating on their courts and fields.
Home was always home, but sometimes it was just more fun playing on the road…
Especially when you had the chance to ruin someone’s Homecoming.
And I guess that’s the role I’ve been designated to, isn’t it Chris? Here’s the Hometown Hero coming back to give the fans one more match… I know they’d love nothing more than to see you walk out on top, and to be a part of history. To have that feel good moment that they can always reflect upon and cherish. Well history is going to be made either way my friend, and there isn’t a doubt in my mind that we are going to give them something to remember… but someone needs to tell them that the Homecoming Dance has been cancelled because Hurricane Cordy is coming through to rain all over that fucking parade.
Welcome to my home by the way.
You know, the one you were quite vocal and adamant on disrespecting while you were in San Diego.
I admit, Chris Strike in an FGA ring is something I never ever thought I’d see. You know, with this place being — what was it you said? — full of those who couldn’t make it in EXODUS and those who weren’t even good enough to be there in the first place?
Kind of crazy considering your last EXODUS Pro World Heavyweight Champion is out here getting dragged on the regular. But I’m sleep though. And that’s no disrespect, it’s real. I love Savvy to death but she’ll tell you firsthand that the competition around these parts is no joke.
Those words did not fall on deaf ears my friend and they are far from forgotten. Yet here you are, seeking the best of the proverbial bottom dwellers I guess.
I just hope I don’t disappoint!
In all seriousness though, I do respect what you’ve done in this business, Chris. Over a decade in and you didn’t just become a decent wrestler in the past year and a half… clearly you’re not plagued by the Zero Effect. Your career has been nothing short of astonishing and it should be a blueprint for how to make it in the game. Stepping into that ring with you will be an absolute honor.
But beating you? In your hometown? Well that my friend, will be an absolute joy.
The legacy you’ve left behind is without question and only a fool would ever doubt it, but this Saturday at Vertigo? It’s not about you or your legacy Chris and I hope you understand that.
It’s about mine and laying down a definitive narrative.
When all's said and done, how do you want to be remembered? Exactly what do you want your legacy to be and even more than that, what do you want it to say about you?
I think that’s a question we all ask ourselves at one point or another. Well at least those of us who take this business seriously anyway. Of course you have those who aren’t concerned with leaving a lasting impression, but they aren’t who I’m referring to. They fade quicker than any memory they leave us with and that’s if they’re fortunate enough to have left one at all.
But people like you and I? We don’t fade, Chris. We’re remembered forever.
But how?
You see, you’ve had over a decade to craft and perfect your story. Everything that there is to know about Chris Strike, the man that he is and the competitor he was, is right there for all the world to see in the legacy you’ve left behind. Your story is written and now? You’re simply jotting the epilogue. This is just an item crossed off of your bucket list.
But for me? It means so much more.
Because as it stands now, the legacy I’m leaving behind has no definitive distinctions or shape.
I’m Cordelia Stevenson: The Uncrowned Queen.
Cordelia Stevenson: Tag Team Savant.
Cordelia Stevenson: One of the best wrestlers in the world.
So many compelling narratives with no cohesiveness. That’s what my story is, Chris, but that’s ok.
Because Broomfield is where I finally start to piece it together.
So what will my legacy say about me?
That’s a really good question to be honest. I hope that it says I’m a fighter; that on any given night, I could step into the ring with the best in the business and not only go toe to toe with them… but beat them as well.
All the things I plan on showing you, Chris… are all the things I want my narrative to entail.
Thank you in advance for helping me write my story.
Over a decade in the business… there’s no doubt that you’ve probably seen and done it all:
But the one thing you will never be able to do, Chris -- is say that you beat Cordelia Stevenson.
I’m going to make sure of that.
Welcome to the Frontier.
