It's not about Winning (Vs. Dom Harter)
Apr 28, 2017 22:08:29 GMT -5
Post by HeatherBear on Apr 28, 2017 22:08:29 GMT -5
Brief crackling. A camera flickers to life; it’s pointed towards a bright blue sky. A female voice can be heard mumbling off camera. Then with dizzying speed, the camera rights itself and an extreme close-up of the grinning face of Heather Lasiewicz is seen. She waves and turns the camera facing out. She's walking through a town, trying to capture the faces of townspeople she passes, who quickly turn away. Heather turns the camera back to her face, smirking. Her eyes, typically a vibrant blue-green color are a strange shade of bright violet.
Heather: Hellooooooooooo out there! Welcome to my little amateur documentary! As you can see, I am recording specially for my much-anticipated return with FGA at Vertigo! Oh, and did I mention that it's going to be LIIIIIIIIIVE, FROM MY HOME STATE OF TEXAS!
She does a once over of herself, showing off a Tudor-era dress cut into a ring jacket.
Heather: The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many… Wait, no, that’s not right, is it?
She bites her lip, looking as though she’s really trying to get this right.
Heather: My time to rise is here at last, and my star couldn’t be higher! Everything has lined up in my favor and the time to strike has come! Soon, so very soon, I have the opportunity to topple the biggest nuisance FGA has ever had to suffer!
Heather swings the camera back outwards, capturing Dom Harter’s name taped to a piece of paper on a glass shop door. Patrons and employees look at her in confusion, unsure how to react. She rips the sign off the door and waves it around. Some of the patrons look a bit nervous now. Heather chuckles gleefully at this and turns the camera back to face her.
Heather: I know, right?! It’s hard to believe that ferrett looking little bastard lasted this long. Even those people look disgusted. Oh well, it must be nice to be the owner's little favorite… Oh, wait…
Heather puts a hand over mouth. She feigns an expression of contrition, but the sentiment doesn't reach her eyes. Heather lowers her hand and the grin returns.
Heather: Eh, who the hell am I to judge? I mean, let’s be honest: in this industry, it’s traditional for the bitches to get ahead on their knees, right?
A few folks within earshot react with gasps and dirty looks. Heather laughs loudly and turns the camera outwards. The camera begins to shake again as she starts dancing along the sidewalk to a song only she can hear.
Heather: F*cking aye, where IS everyone?! I know people have jobs and school and the like, but not all at the same time! Damn it, man!
She skips along, humming a little tune. She turns the camera outwards again, the lens bouncing along with her steps. She begins to speak again, swinging the camera back and forth.
Heather: I feel like I should start going up and interviewing people. What am I even doing here… RIGHT, Dom! Match! Promo and sh*t. I’m really ever so forgetful… No, no that’s not quite right. Oh, I know what it is, HE’S so forgettable! I really need to write myself a sticky note and attach it to my face. ‘Match with Dom! Do… Not… Forget… AGAIN!’
From seemingly out of nowhere, Heather produces a pad of post-it notes and a sharpie. She sets the camera down, facing upward. The bottom half of her face and golden hair is all that can be seen through the glaring lights from the ceiling. She hastily scribbled the note and sticks it to the middle of her forehead. She then picks up the camera and turns it facing her.
Heather: Still, though… I feel like I should get back on subject a bit. What to say… What to say…. HEY!
Heather begins to run as the camera catches the briefest glimpse of another stunning blonde, standing at the entrance of a bistro. Heather lets the camera fall to her side and begins recording the sidewalk and two pairs of feet, both in stylish, high fashioned heels.
Heather: Savannah, baby! What a coincidence meeting YOU here!
Heather picks up the camera and turns it to face her, a look of shock all over her face. She turns the camera to Savannah and whistles.
Heather: Don’t you look just ravishing, as usual?
The other blonde shuffles her feet as she laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder and giving the camera a smouldering look.
Savannah: You’re too kind, Heather. Too kind indeed.
Heather is heard chuckling. Arms come into view and once again, the dizzying shakiness of the camera before the gorgeous face of Savannah Taylor comes into focus. Heather does a once over of the leggy blonde before turning the camera back to herself and winking.
Heather: That, folks, is what you call a bonafide bombshell.
Heather turns the camera back to Savannah, who is smirking.
Heather: So Princess Pretty, let’s have your thoughts on what’s in store for Vertigo! If I might make a prediction, I see a lot of the usual blah blah blah… Sprinkled with a little bit… a lot a bit of the same stupid jokes, the saaaaaaaame dreadfully boring predictability that is Dom Harter. Remind me to grab my noose when he starts to speak! Right, when it's not turning into Harter’s Harping Hour, we Haaave… Drama, drama, drama, some ‘Holy sh*t! Did they really just do that… again?!’ And don’t forget the one, the only, also returning JOOOOOOOOOOOOHN BLAAAAAAAAAAAADE!
Heather closes her eyes as she yells out the name. She throws her arms out wide, almost knocking Savannah out with the camera as she does so. Savannah manages to dodge, looking completely bewildered at her friend’s outlandish behavior. Heather’s eyes suddenly pop open and she rights the camera to get both she and Savannah in the frame. She looks at Savannah and says the next word in a loud, conspiratorial whisper. Her voice turns serious, though one eyebrow is arched and her lips are quirked in a suppressed grin.
Heather: However!
Heather’s voice turns serious. She tries to give Savannah a serious expression, but a smile is already creeping back across her lips as her eyes sparkle. She quirks an eyebrow and clears her throat.
Heather: We can always pray for change, right?
The Texas Rose turns the camera (and her attention) back to Savannah, backing up to get the full shot. The Las Vegas native grins before slowly nodding her head.
Savannah: We can hope and we can pray all we want. Only we can decide when it happens.
Heather chortled merrily, her violet eyes lighting up.
Heather: Quite f*cking right! Just like only we can decide our next course of action… Or our REACTIONS to certain stimuli. Take my glorified opponent, for example…
Savannah and Heather exchange an expression of evil intent. Heather turns back to the camera, but before she can speak, Savannah takes it from her. Heather gives a curtsy of thanks, to which the camera bobs as Savannah returns the salute.
Heather: Dom, sweetheart, that really was a… I really, REALLY want to say riveting piece you put out earlier. But once again, you’ve done what you always do. You look for the worst in others while elevating yourself into some kind of villain turned hero. I hate to break it to you, sweetness, but you and I were once cut from the same cloth. You may not like the thought, but we were. Neither one of us ever wanted to admit to ourselves because it meant admitting that we were no better than the other. It's funny how that works, isn't it? Priorities changes and your outlook with them. So I’m going to lay down some truth. I hope you’re sitting down for this. Remember when I called myself the “Golden Child”? Of course, you do; you scoffed so hard, I could hear you from whichever barely legal vagina you had yourself buried in at the time. If you really want to know how I got that nickname, do what any competent fuckwad would do: Research. If you’d bother to do your homework instead of constantly touting your own accomplishments… Which, by the way…
Heather reaches under her dress and pulls an actual noose out. Savannah gasps audibly as she puts it around her neck and tightens it slightly. She twirls the knots between her fingers as she looks back at the camera with sideways expression.
Heather: If we have to hear about how you beat so and so in such and such match, or how you crushed this person's dreams one more time, I’m going to put this around YOUR neck and hang you above the ring. My god, I’ve never heard such a broken record. I, unlike you, have paid attention. I’ve been doing my homework, I’m fully aware of all your precious accolades. Not once did I ever deny it or take it away from you. YOU put those words in my mouth.
Heather holds out her hands and gives exaggerated applause.
Heather: Bravo, bravo, take your bow… Then get the f*ck off the stage and let someone ELSE speak of their accomplishments. You see, you make the mistake of only going as far as my careers in EXODUS and PDW. You judge my entire career based off of what you’ve seen, two different chapters in a long story. I admit I’m not the decorated champion. Tenures in other federations haven’t gone quite the way I wanted. I’m a mid-card glory. I know my place, I’ve always known my place. Here’s the thing: Everywhere I’ve gone, I’ve left my mark. I may not have been a multiple time, top-tier champion… But by f*cking god, anywhere I’ve gone, people have remembered the name, Heather Halliwell.
Savannah can be heard making a noise of approval. Heather throws her hands in the air and twirls in the spot. When she faces the camera again, there’s a feral smile on her face.
Heather: XWF. SIN. WGWF. To name a few. I’ve wrestled against names that you probably don’t know, but could NEVER go toe to toe with. Steve Jason. Centurion. Tomoko Hanahara. Ranma Saotome. Dan Fierce. RAGE. Then there are some that might be a bit familiar to you. T-Money. Star Deveraux. Aidan Collins. Not even in your wildest dreams could you ever hope to be what they were in this business.
Heather closes her eyes for a moment, reminiscing on times past.
Heather: You want to talk about my career, Dom? Do your research. Or are you really just that lazy and unbelievably stupid? I’d ask if it were a show of disrespect but... Come on, it IS you we’re talking about. You EXCEL in disrespect, you’ve made it a god damn art. But it’s so HILARIOUS to me… That when someone dishes it back, you turn into the biggest cry baby bitch.
Savannah laughs so hard, she shakes the camera. Heather nods, her face still serious but those violet eyes glowing now.
Heather: What’s wrong, Dommy Pooh? Did my doubt of your “new leaf” hurt your feelings? It must have, you seem to think I’m following the sheep. That I’m bitter, angry even… Over what? OUR history? Oh honey, please.
Heather waves a hand carelessly in the air.
Heather: I married the best man I've ever known and definitely one of the greatest the business has ever seen. It was a bumpy trail to get to him, I admit. He's literally a dream come true. My prince on a white steed after kissing so many frogs. But it took a man like Andreas Lasiewicz to settle down this wild pony. You certainly weren’t man enough to do the job, you STILL aren’t. You lack the capacity to settle down and keep your cock in one woman.
Savannah snorts derisively from behind the camera. Heather smirks and carries on.
Heather: Is this bitterness over actions long past? Maybe… I hadn’t really thought about it like that until you brought it up. I mean, let’s look at the facts. Riley revealed to me what a shit weasel you were the entire time we dated. I never did ask you that; Why did you even bother getting with me when your heart was with someone else? I’ve pondered that, you know. Wondered if there was ever any point while we were together that you ever actually cared about me. It’s was with a heavy heart that I finally realized that no, you never did. You had a choice: follow your heart and elevate your name by dating an established star. Smart… When I was younger, I did the same thing.
Heather licks her lips. Her eyes gleam with the tracest amount of regret.
Heather: I can feel it in this heart, there ARE still feelings for you here. A heady mixture: regret, remorse, a dash of anger, a touch of resentment. I loved you, Dom. But I can admit now that I was never IN love with you. Just like I was never IN love with Zero McHannon. I fancied myself so at one point. I was caught up in my feelings for you and the fun we had. But I can admit now that even then, I knew we wouldn’t last. We were then, just as we are now, in two totally different places in our lives. And there is nothing wrong with that. But here’s the thing.
Heather smiles mischievously and beckons for Savannah to move in closer.
Heather: You’ve found your glory and success. You continue to rise. And I just can’t let that happen anymore. I know I’m not the only one sick of seeing Dom Harter dominate FGA as he has. There are so many other talented wrestlers, waiting for their opportunity to reach the top of the mountain. Take Savannah here. Full of raw talent. Beautiful to a damn fault. Plays by her own rules. And you hate her for that. Because, just like you always do, you see in your tunnel vision instead allowing your gaze to widen to see the bigger picture. I know more about this woman than anyone could hope to know. I know her struggles, her fears, her hopes, her goals. There’s more to Savannah than the surface… She just chooses not have her heart on her sleeve.
A wicked grin crosses her face as a thought enters her mind.
Heather: Take the current Undisputed Champion, Izzy Anders. Your dislike for her couldn’t be more apparent. What is it about her, exactly, that you despise so much? Is it because she did things her own way and got the job done? Who are you to judge how she got her hands on that belt? Dirty play, so what? Do you mean to tell me that you, Dom Harter, never ONCE resorted to dirty tactics to win a match? Stop acting like you’re some kind of saint, you aren’t. Izzy and Savannah haven’t once done a thing that you haven’t done yourself. So really… Quit your fucking bitching and man the fuck up.
Heather rolls her eyes and tightens the noose again. Savannah shifts nervously. Heather tips her head back towards the camera and smiles sweetly. She looks at Savannah with a quizzical look on her face.
Heather: Did I miss anything I wanted to say?
Savannah shrugs.
Savannah: I don’t know, you’ve um… Made several points VERY clear.
Heather: Well then… I guess I ought to wrap this up.
Heather walks all the way up to the camera and puts her hands on either side of it. Nothing but her eyes can be seen. As she speaks, they begin to glow vividly.
Heather: Heed my words, Dom: I’m not in this match to win or lose. I’m here for a fight. I’m here to make a statement. I’m here to start a movement. You think I’m behind on the times… I’m returning to shake them up. I’m not here to run with the breeze, I’m coming to change the direction of the wind. You’re so caught up in winning matches and wearing gold… You don’t even see how mundane you really are. You’re wrestling's perfect child. You march in the direction of the drums, you’ve conformed yourself to be exactly what the crowds and the suits want you to be.
This may be hard for you to believe… But there is more to this than winning… It’s the thrill of the fight. The way your heart races before you enter the ring. The way the crowd's roars deafen you while you walk down to that ring, are IN that ring. You look around and all you see are targets and championships. I look around and what do I see…
Heather stops and ponders this for a moment. She looks back up at Savannah for a moment and her those luscious lips quirk up into an unsettling smile.
Heather: I see the potential in everyone around me. I see others like me, who see beyond just winning meaningless championships and giving themselves titles beyond their station. I see others who recognize that accolades don’t always have to be represented by gaudy leather and gold. What we do in that ring… It’s going to be more than a match. You have the honor of being the first example of the change that is on its way. The era of Dom Harter is quickly coming to an end… Can you feel it in the air? That feeling like the walls are closing in and everything you believed in was a lie? No, I don’t suppose you do… You lack the imagination to follow such a vision.
Heather’s smile is absolutely malevolent now as her eyes blaze an electric purple. Off-camera, Savannah looks extremely unsettled but continues to film.
Heather: You won’t bow so easily, I know this about you. They don’t call you “tenacious” for nothing, I know this. But I warn you now… Things are about to change around here. It’s already happening, look around you! The wheels are in motion and you have two options: bend with the change in the wind… Or break.
Either way… I’ll see you tomorrow night.
She pauses for several long moments, looking thoughtful. When she glances back towards the camera, those eerie eyes are dancing like purple flames. Finally, she speaks once more. A single line, but in a voice low and threatening, all traces of her usual feathery accent vanished.
Heather: Niech skrzydła szatana ukołyszą cię do snu.
Heather blows a kiss to the camera before shoving her hand into it. Savannah nearly drops it to the ground. Heather grabs it and hits the button. Fade to black.
Heather: Hellooooooooooo out there! Welcome to my little amateur documentary! As you can see, I am recording specially for my much-anticipated return with FGA at Vertigo! Oh, and did I mention that it's going to be LIIIIIIIIIVE, FROM MY HOME STATE OF TEXAS!
She does a once over of herself, showing off a Tudor-era dress cut into a ring jacket.
Heather: The time has come, the walrus said, to talk of many… Wait, no, that’s not right, is it?
She bites her lip, looking as though she’s really trying to get this right.
Heather: My time to rise is here at last, and my star couldn’t be higher! Everything has lined up in my favor and the time to strike has come! Soon, so very soon, I have the opportunity to topple the biggest nuisance FGA has ever had to suffer!
Heather swings the camera back outwards, capturing Dom Harter’s name taped to a piece of paper on a glass shop door. Patrons and employees look at her in confusion, unsure how to react. She rips the sign off the door and waves it around. Some of the patrons look a bit nervous now. Heather chuckles gleefully at this and turns the camera back to face her.
Heather: I know, right?! It’s hard to believe that ferrett looking little bastard lasted this long. Even those people look disgusted. Oh well, it must be nice to be the owner's little favorite… Oh, wait…
Heather puts a hand over mouth. She feigns an expression of contrition, but the sentiment doesn't reach her eyes. Heather lowers her hand and the grin returns.
Heather: Eh, who the hell am I to judge? I mean, let’s be honest: in this industry, it’s traditional for the bitches to get ahead on their knees, right?
A few folks within earshot react with gasps and dirty looks. Heather laughs loudly and turns the camera outwards. The camera begins to shake again as she starts dancing along the sidewalk to a song only she can hear.
Heather: F*cking aye, where IS everyone?! I know people have jobs and school and the like, but not all at the same time! Damn it, man!
She skips along, humming a little tune. She turns the camera outwards again, the lens bouncing along with her steps. She begins to speak again, swinging the camera back and forth.
Heather: I feel like I should start going up and interviewing people. What am I even doing here… RIGHT, Dom! Match! Promo and sh*t. I’m really ever so forgetful… No, no that’s not quite right. Oh, I know what it is, HE’S so forgettable! I really need to write myself a sticky note and attach it to my face. ‘Match with Dom! Do… Not… Forget… AGAIN!’
From seemingly out of nowhere, Heather produces a pad of post-it notes and a sharpie. She sets the camera down, facing upward. The bottom half of her face and golden hair is all that can be seen through the glaring lights from the ceiling. She hastily scribbled the note and sticks it to the middle of her forehead. She then picks up the camera and turns it facing her.
Heather: Still, though… I feel like I should get back on subject a bit. What to say… What to say…. HEY!
Heather begins to run as the camera catches the briefest glimpse of another stunning blonde, standing at the entrance of a bistro. Heather lets the camera fall to her side and begins recording the sidewalk and two pairs of feet, both in stylish, high fashioned heels.
Heather: Savannah, baby! What a coincidence meeting YOU here!
Heather picks up the camera and turns it to face her, a look of shock all over her face. She turns the camera to Savannah and whistles.
Heather: Don’t you look just ravishing, as usual?
The other blonde shuffles her feet as she laughs, flipping her hair over her shoulder and giving the camera a smouldering look.
Savannah: You’re too kind, Heather. Too kind indeed.
Heather is heard chuckling. Arms come into view and once again, the dizzying shakiness of the camera before the gorgeous face of Savannah Taylor comes into focus. Heather does a once over of the leggy blonde before turning the camera back to herself and winking.
Heather: That, folks, is what you call a bonafide bombshell.
Heather turns the camera back to Savannah, who is smirking.
Heather: So Princess Pretty, let’s have your thoughts on what’s in store for Vertigo! If I might make a prediction, I see a lot of the usual blah blah blah… Sprinkled with a little bit… a lot a bit of the same stupid jokes, the saaaaaaaame dreadfully boring predictability that is Dom Harter. Remind me to grab my noose when he starts to speak! Right, when it's not turning into Harter’s Harping Hour, we Haaave… Drama, drama, drama, some ‘Holy sh*t! Did they really just do that… again?!’ And don’t forget the one, the only, also returning JOOOOOOOOOOOOHN BLAAAAAAAAAAAADE!
Heather closes her eyes as she yells out the name. She throws her arms out wide, almost knocking Savannah out with the camera as she does so. Savannah manages to dodge, looking completely bewildered at her friend’s outlandish behavior. Heather’s eyes suddenly pop open and she rights the camera to get both she and Savannah in the frame. She looks at Savannah and says the next word in a loud, conspiratorial whisper. Her voice turns serious, though one eyebrow is arched and her lips are quirked in a suppressed grin.
Heather: However!
Heather’s voice turns serious. She tries to give Savannah a serious expression, but a smile is already creeping back across her lips as her eyes sparkle. She quirks an eyebrow and clears her throat.
Heather: We can always pray for change, right?
The Texas Rose turns the camera (and her attention) back to Savannah, backing up to get the full shot. The Las Vegas native grins before slowly nodding her head.
Savannah: We can hope and we can pray all we want. Only we can decide when it happens.
Heather chortled merrily, her violet eyes lighting up.
Heather: Quite f*cking right! Just like only we can decide our next course of action… Or our REACTIONS to certain stimuli. Take my glorified opponent, for example…
Savannah and Heather exchange an expression of evil intent. Heather turns back to the camera, but before she can speak, Savannah takes it from her. Heather gives a curtsy of thanks, to which the camera bobs as Savannah returns the salute.
Heather: Dom, sweetheart, that really was a… I really, REALLY want to say riveting piece you put out earlier. But once again, you’ve done what you always do. You look for the worst in others while elevating yourself into some kind of villain turned hero. I hate to break it to you, sweetness, but you and I were once cut from the same cloth. You may not like the thought, but we were. Neither one of us ever wanted to admit to ourselves because it meant admitting that we were no better than the other. It's funny how that works, isn't it? Priorities changes and your outlook with them. So I’m going to lay down some truth. I hope you’re sitting down for this. Remember when I called myself the “Golden Child”? Of course, you do; you scoffed so hard, I could hear you from whichever barely legal vagina you had yourself buried in at the time. If you really want to know how I got that nickname, do what any competent fuckwad would do: Research. If you’d bother to do your homework instead of constantly touting your own accomplishments… Which, by the way…
Heather reaches under her dress and pulls an actual noose out. Savannah gasps audibly as she puts it around her neck and tightens it slightly. She twirls the knots between her fingers as she looks back at the camera with sideways expression.
Heather: If we have to hear about how you beat so and so in such and such match, or how you crushed this person's dreams one more time, I’m going to put this around YOUR neck and hang you above the ring. My god, I’ve never heard such a broken record. I, unlike you, have paid attention. I’ve been doing my homework, I’m fully aware of all your precious accolades. Not once did I ever deny it or take it away from you. YOU put those words in my mouth.
Heather holds out her hands and gives exaggerated applause.
Heather: Bravo, bravo, take your bow… Then get the f*ck off the stage and let someone ELSE speak of their accomplishments. You see, you make the mistake of only going as far as my careers in EXODUS and PDW. You judge my entire career based off of what you’ve seen, two different chapters in a long story. I admit I’m not the decorated champion. Tenures in other federations haven’t gone quite the way I wanted. I’m a mid-card glory. I know my place, I’ve always known my place. Here’s the thing: Everywhere I’ve gone, I’ve left my mark. I may not have been a multiple time, top-tier champion… But by f*cking god, anywhere I’ve gone, people have remembered the name, Heather Halliwell.
Savannah can be heard making a noise of approval. Heather throws her hands in the air and twirls in the spot. When she faces the camera again, there’s a feral smile on her face.
Heather: XWF. SIN. WGWF. To name a few. I’ve wrestled against names that you probably don’t know, but could NEVER go toe to toe with. Steve Jason. Centurion. Tomoko Hanahara. Ranma Saotome. Dan Fierce. RAGE. Then there are some that might be a bit familiar to you. T-Money. Star Deveraux. Aidan Collins. Not even in your wildest dreams could you ever hope to be what they were in this business.
Heather closes her eyes for a moment, reminiscing on times past.
Heather: You want to talk about my career, Dom? Do your research. Or are you really just that lazy and unbelievably stupid? I’d ask if it were a show of disrespect but... Come on, it IS you we’re talking about. You EXCEL in disrespect, you’ve made it a god damn art. But it’s so HILARIOUS to me… That when someone dishes it back, you turn into the biggest cry baby bitch.
Savannah laughs so hard, she shakes the camera. Heather nods, her face still serious but those violet eyes glowing now.
Heather: What’s wrong, Dommy Pooh? Did my doubt of your “new leaf” hurt your feelings? It must have, you seem to think I’m following the sheep. That I’m bitter, angry even… Over what? OUR history? Oh honey, please.
Heather waves a hand carelessly in the air.
Heather: I married the best man I've ever known and definitely one of the greatest the business has ever seen. It was a bumpy trail to get to him, I admit. He's literally a dream come true. My prince on a white steed after kissing so many frogs. But it took a man like Andreas Lasiewicz to settle down this wild pony. You certainly weren’t man enough to do the job, you STILL aren’t. You lack the capacity to settle down and keep your cock in one woman.
Savannah snorts derisively from behind the camera. Heather smirks and carries on.
Heather: Is this bitterness over actions long past? Maybe… I hadn’t really thought about it like that until you brought it up. I mean, let’s look at the facts. Riley revealed to me what a shit weasel you were the entire time we dated. I never did ask you that; Why did you even bother getting with me when your heart was with someone else? I’ve pondered that, you know. Wondered if there was ever any point while we were together that you ever actually cared about me. It’s was with a heavy heart that I finally realized that no, you never did. You had a choice: follow your heart and elevate your name by dating an established star. Smart… When I was younger, I did the same thing.
Heather licks her lips. Her eyes gleam with the tracest amount of regret.
Heather: I can feel it in this heart, there ARE still feelings for you here. A heady mixture: regret, remorse, a dash of anger, a touch of resentment. I loved you, Dom. But I can admit now that I was never IN love with you. Just like I was never IN love with Zero McHannon. I fancied myself so at one point. I was caught up in my feelings for you and the fun we had. But I can admit now that even then, I knew we wouldn’t last. We were then, just as we are now, in two totally different places in our lives. And there is nothing wrong with that. But here’s the thing.
Heather smiles mischievously and beckons for Savannah to move in closer.
Heather: You’ve found your glory and success. You continue to rise. And I just can’t let that happen anymore. I know I’m not the only one sick of seeing Dom Harter dominate FGA as he has. There are so many other talented wrestlers, waiting for their opportunity to reach the top of the mountain. Take Savannah here. Full of raw talent. Beautiful to a damn fault. Plays by her own rules. And you hate her for that. Because, just like you always do, you see in your tunnel vision instead allowing your gaze to widen to see the bigger picture. I know more about this woman than anyone could hope to know. I know her struggles, her fears, her hopes, her goals. There’s more to Savannah than the surface… She just chooses not have her heart on her sleeve.
A wicked grin crosses her face as a thought enters her mind.
Heather: Take the current Undisputed Champion, Izzy Anders. Your dislike for her couldn’t be more apparent. What is it about her, exactly, that you despise so much? Is it because she did things her own way and got the job done? Who are you to judge how she got her hands on that belt? Dirty play, so what? Do you mean to tell me that you, Dom Harter, never ONCE resorted to dirty tactics to win a match? Stop acting like you’re some kind of saint, you aren’t. Izzy and Savannah haven’t once done a thing that you haven’t done yourself. So really… Quit your fucking bitching and man the fuck up.
Heather rolls her eyes and tightens the noose again. Savannah shifts nervously. Heather tips her head back towards the camera and smiles sweetly. She looks at Savannah with a quizzical look on her face.
Heather: Did I miss anything I wanted to say?
Savannah shrugs.
Savannah: I don’t know, you’ve um… Made several points VERY clear.
Heather: Well then… I guess I ought to wrap this up.
Heather walks all the way up to the camera and puts her hands on either side of it. Nothing but her eyes can be seen. As she speaks, they begin to glow vividly.
Heather: Heed my words, Dom: I’m not in this match to win or lose. I’m here for a fight. I’m here to make a statement. I’m here to start a movement. You think I’m behind on the times… I’m returning to shake them up. I’m not here to run with the breeze, I’m coming to change the direction of the wind. You’re so caught up in winning matches and wearing gold… You don’t even see how mundane you really are. You’re wrestling's perfect child. You march in the direction of the drums, you’ve conformed yourself to be exactly what the crowds and the suits want you to be.
This may be hard for you to believe… But there is more to this than winning… It’s the thrill of the fight. The way your heart races before you enter the ring. The way the crowd's roars deafen you while you walk down to that ring, are IN that ring. You look around and all you see are targets and championships. I look around and what do I see…
Heather stops and ponders this for a moment. She looks back up at Savannah for a moment and her those luscious lips quirk up into an unsettling smile.
Heather: I see the potential in everyone around me. I see others like me, who see beyond just winning meaningless championships and giving themselves titles beyond their station. I see others who recognize that accolades don’t always have to be represented by gaudy leather and gold. What we do in that ring… It’s going to be more than a match. You have the honor of being the first example of the change that is on its way. The era of Dom Harter is quickly coming to an end… Can you feel it in the air? That feeling like the walls are closing in and everything you believed in was a lie? No, I don’t suppose you do… You lack the imagination to follow such a vision.
Heather’s smile is absolutely malevolent now as her eyes blaze an electric purple. Off-camera, Savannah looks extremely unsettled but continues to film.
Heather: You won’t bow so easily, I know this about you. They don’t call you “tenacious” for nothing, I know this. But I warn you now… Things are about to change around here. It’s already happening, look around you! The wheels are in motion and you have two options: bend with the change in the wind… Or break.
Either way… I’ll see you tomorrow night.
She pauses for several long moments, looking thoughtful. When she glances back towards the camera, those eerie eyes are dancing like purple flames. Finally, she speaks once more. A single line, but in a voice low and threatening, all traces of her usual feathery accent vanished.
Heather: Niech skrzydła szatana ukołyszą cię do snu.
Heather blows a kiss to the camera before shoving her hand into it. Savannah nearly drops it to the ground. Heather grabs it and hits the button. Fade to black.