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Post by Savannah Taylor on Nov 25, 2016 19:03:29 GMT -5
Thursday, November 24th, 20116 Kingston, Rhode Island ON CAMERA
A lack of brilliance of vitality. Lacking liveliness, vitality, spirit or enthusiasm.
(The sound of a book closing and being deposited onto a wooden surfaces echoes throughout the room. Coming into focus is the familiar face of one Savannah Taylor. Seated in a simple black office-type chair, she clears her throat as she sits back in her chair, making a little motion to the book she dropped onto the desk.)
That is what the good folks at Merriam Webster classify the definition of the word lackluster. Lackluster isn’t the kindest of terms. Lackluster is not something one wants to hear very often, if at all. It’s a slap in the face. It cuts to the core. In short…..it hurts to hear it, especially if someone was used to a glowing report of everything they have done in their career.
It’s more of a wakeup call.
Look, I’m not going to sit here and tell you that everything thus far is all sunshine and roses. It is the farthest thing from that, actually. I’m woman enough to admit that I’ve fucked up more than once. I’ve not risen to my fullest potential. It’s like those comments you got on your report cards back in elementary school. Instead of letter grades, you’d get marks like ‘Above Satisfactory’ ‘Satisfactory’ or ‘Needs Improvement.’ I know enough to know that the recent outings have warranted several ‘Needs Improvement’ marks. This would be the time in the narrative where I would come out and proclaim the bad days to be over and how I was going to flip the script and become a new, better version of myself.
(Savannah pauses for a second as she runs a hand through her hair.)
Truth be told, I’m not really in the right state of mind to be making those types of claims. I know I should be and I know no one can do it but me, but there are some things that happen that are out of our control. Some things that happen that, and this is me being completely and utterly honest, have left me questioning my place in this business. It’s left me wondering if I have that same drive and same fire that I had when I started down this long and winding road. It’ll be a while before I’m anywhere close to being myself, but I have a job to do this Saturday and I have to focus, because given who I’m facing…...I’d rather eat my hat that lose to.
Sup, bro?
s Let me just get this right out of the way. I don’t hate you, Dan. I don’t exactly like you, but I don’t outright hate you. Now before you sit back in your Lay-Z-Boy for your afternoon nap and go off on a harangue about ‘But Savannah, I’ve never done a thing to you. We’ve barely even spoken,’ let me jog your memory. I want you to think back a couple of years to a specific date. The date was February tenth, two thousand fourteen. That date, you were a guest out in what I now not-so-lovingly call Hotel California. You were set to face off against a woman who I hold in the highest regard. I personally was excited to see this match. I knew how good Angela was, and I had heard rumors about your own in ring prowess. I wanted to see the man in person. I wanted to see if the hype was warranted. When the show day happened, I stood backstage and wanted to see you for myself. Hell, at the time I was relatively new to the business and I followed the time honored custom of the newer people introducing themselves to their veteran peers. But as I approached to make my introduction, I noticed something. I noticed the look of almost contempt etched on your face. Not only did I notice that look on your face, but I noticed something else, something that has stuck with me to this very day.
You walked right on past me. Such a dick move, Dan. REAL dick move.
(She reaches off to the other side of the desk and grabs a clear plastic bottle of water. Unscrewing the cap, she takes a long swig before setting the bottle down next to the dictionary.)
Now, in hindsight, I don’t blame you one iota for looking the way you did. At the time though, it rubbed me the wrong way. You have no idea how much I loved watching you get your shiny head handed to you on a silver platter. In my mind, you got what you deserved. Fast forward two years and we are now coworkers. Isn’t it funny how things work out? The anger and near resentment I had two years ago has subsided into pretty much ambivalence. I neither hate nor do I like you. But you can bet your ass that I will move heaven and earth to make sure you are the one taking the L on Saturday, not the other way around. I guess when you think about it enough, our careers here in FGA aren’t all that different. Sure, you may have the the edge when it comes to victories and titles, but we are more alike than you think. I mean, I’m the one who is known for failing to beat certain people and failing to ascend to the next level. And you? You will forever be known as Cordy Stevenson’s bitch. Oh, oh what’s that? Did I hit a nerve? Did I get on a sore subject? Like I give a rat’s ass right now. At the end of the day, you are going to be forever known as the guy who is living in the shadow of his tag team partner. You are always going to be known as the guy who couldn’t get the job done as a singles wrestler so you stuck to tag team wrestling. In short, you stuck to hanging on the apron while your partners did all the work. How else do you explain Status Quo’s success? It sure as hell wasn’t from you. You sat back, let Cordy do the heavy lifting and then stole the spotlight when you guys won. But it’s okay, Dan. I get it. Some people are just better at being the decoy than others. At least you have FINALLY learned your place. Let me offer up one more little nugget of information for you. Much like your tag team partner and VERY much UNLIKE you, I know what it’s like to taste World Championship gold. But hey....
(She takes the bottle and raises it up to her lips, raising her pinkie finger in the air for added effect.)
I know I’m the last person to preach to anyone about failing. I know I am the last one to be knocking anyone about how much they choke or how lackluster their performances have been. But come on now. You make it so freaking EASY. It’s so easy that even a Stormtrooper couldn’t miss. But in all seriousness, there is a more noteworthy example of how you’ve failed the wrestling industry. There is one example that can not and SHOULD not be ignored, and I think you know where I’m going with this. Your biggest example of wrestling failure can be summed up in three simple letters……..G….D…..W.
How can someone who appears to be SO smart and SO business minded fuck up so miserably? When you were GDW owner, you put out a product that people loved, that people wanted to see week in and week out. You were on top of the wrestling world, with loyal fans and an equally loyal roster. But then what happened? You got bored and decided to take your ball and go home. What happened next can only be described by using the word cluster in it. You allowed a revolving door of leadership to filter through, starting with Meagan Collins and running through the circus gambit. From what I was able to gather, Meagan wasn’t fit to rule a book club, much less a wrestling company. From Meagan Collins to anyone with the last name of Jones to even a Braddock or two if I’m not mistaken, you sure did let the quality of your pride and joy slip, didn’t you? But like a triumphant warrior coming home from battle, you returned to save the day! Suddenly with you back at the helm, the ship would be put back on course and all would be right with the world. Except, you WEREN’T alone, were you. At your side was your co owner, who was the worst out of anyone after you left. You ran the company with a woman who is a prime example of the broken justice system in this country. If you knew then what that...that woman was truly capable of, then you would have put the kibosh on that one ASAP. But you still allowed Brianna a position of power, and there is where the Titanic hit the iceberg. I don’t know the details surrounding the closure of your once beloved company, but I do know that you are to blame for everything that happened. If I wanted to know details, I could always call Angela and get the story from her. If it didn’t have the potential to be awkward as hell, I could always visit Detroit and ask Andreas, but I’m not going to do that, and not just because Andreas intimidates the shit out of me.
There is a line from the Bob Dylan song ‘Like A Rolling Stone’ that sticks with me….when you’ve got nothing, you’ve got nothing to lose. Look at me, Dan. I’m a woman who has lost more than she has won. I’m a woman who is about as emotionally low as you can get. But for some reason other than the grace of God….I’m still standing. I’m still standing and I’m more than ready for you this week. I’m not going to be quite the person that you saw drag herself through hell against Magnus Gunner…..but I can come damn close to it against you. See you Saturday…..bro.
(With that, the scene clicks off and fades to black.)
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Nov 10, 2016 20:58:56 GMT -5
Saturday, October 29th, 2016 Springfield, Illinois OFF CAMERA
A thousand and one thoughts go through the mind of a wrestler when the match is over. Each thought, whether it be positive or negative, stick with someone long after the crowds have gone home and they have retreated to the safety and solitude of their hotel rooms. Backstage chatter, from workers or the other wrestlers themselves, affect people differently. Some take it with a grain of salt and let it slide off their shoulders. But for others, they don’t have as easy of a time. Things people say or even do tend to stick with them for a while.
The action out in the Prairie Convention Center was still going strong as the backstage area teamed with activity. The remaining matches of the tournament to crown a new FGA World Champion were continuing out in the main arena. Walking down the hall, somewhat slowly, is the figure of Savannah Taylor. Having come off of a loss in what many were calling a show stealing match to Izzy Anders, she was making the proverbial long walk to the locker room to lick her wounds and regroup. She takes a drawn out sip from the plastic water bottle she carried in her right hand as she reaches the door leading to her locker room. Turning the cool metal handle, she steps inside the small space and shuts the door behind her. She plunks down on the wooden bench and leans back against the cool wall behind her. Her moment of rest is stopped when she hears the faint sounds of The Rains Of Castamere coming from the faded pink duffel bag that was nestled at her feet. The song was the ringtone associated with her sister, whom she had not spoken to in a month and a half. She leans forward and rustles through her bag until she pulls out her gold colored iPhone 6S Plus. Entering in her passcode to unlock the phone, she presses the talk button and raises it up to her ear.
Savannah Taylor: Hey Harper.
Harper Taylor: Hey yourself.
Savannah Taylor: How….how are you?
Harper Taylor: Outside of school and sorority stuff, I’m doing okay. How about you?
Savannah Taylor: Busy as always.
There is a somewhat awkward pause as the younger woman on the other end of the line clears her throat.
Harper Taylor: Listen, I have to get this out and if I don’t do it now, I may never have the chance.
Savannah Taylor: It’s okay.
Harper Taylor: I owe you an apology. How I’ve treated you, my own flesh and blood, it’s not m at all. I acted out in the heat of the moment and I treated you like crap because of it.
Her sister was referring to the literal silent treatment Savannah had received because of an event that took place not long after her birthday. She could still picture the scene at her father’s house, how he was in a vulnerable state after the loss of his wife, Savannah’s mother. The madman Magnus Gunner found his way into the house and what he did, how he got into her father’s head was enough to boil her blood. After that incident, communication between her sister, father and herself had ceased. Until now,, that is.
Savannah Taylor: In retrospect, I understand why you did what you did. You had to watch as some psycho made his way into your home and got under our father’s skin. It wasn’t something you could control. Hell, I didn’t know what he was going to do. So please, stop beating yourself up over this. If anyone should have, and did, beat themselves up over this, it’s been me.
Harper Taylor: Do what now?
Savannah Taylor: Think about it. The guy had been targeting me ever since the crap went down in San Diego. He shows up out of whatever hole he was buried under and I’m number one on his hitlist. I had to deal with the fact that I basically let this happen to Dad and also to you. Hopefully what I went through at Retribution was enough to put him away for good.
Harper listens on the other end of the line as she hears the hurt in her sister’s voice.
Harper Taylor: Listen. There is NO reason why you should have, and I’m gathering you STILL are beating yourself up over this. This was something that was out of your control. But it’s over and done with. You did what you had to do to get rid of a ghost from your past, and you did it well.
Savannah Taylor: You don’t know how much I appreciate hearing that. And thank you for reaching out to me.
Harper Taylor: Hey, we’re family. It’s what we do.
Savannah Taylor: I just wish I could get through to Dad.
Harper Taylor: He’s not talking to you?
Savannah Taylor: Not since...you know. And I’ve tried time after time, but he’s not answering.
Savannah heard her sister sigh on the other end of the line
Harper Taylor: I’m surprised, really. Listen, I’m about to head out. Function with my sorority sisters. I just wanted to reach out to you and let you know I don’t hate you. Also, let me work on Dad. You take care of yourself, okay?
Savannah Taylor: I will, and thank you. Have fun and be safe, okay?
Harper Taylor: I will. Love you sis.
Savannah Taylor: Love you too.
She presses the red button and ends the call. Slipping it back into her bag, she leans back once again. Only this time, she leaned back with a smile on her face. She had repaired one bridge that she thought was fractured beyond repair. That was enough to take some of the sting of losing to Izzy away. There were still more hurdles to overcome and more things to fix. But she was headed in the right direction…..for once.
I’m just going to cut right down to the chase. Two weeks ago in Illinois….things didn’t exactly go the way I had hoped they would. Sure, the tag team phase of this tournament went fine. Izzy and I actually made it through the match without killing each other. Small miracles, people. But when it came down to the quarterfinals, she got the better of me. I’m woman enough to admit that Izzy Anders was the better woman that night. I saw something in her that night that I haven’t seen in especially myself. I saw hunger. I saw desire. I saw a woman who was sick and tired of how things are around here and did everything she needed to in order to get ahead.
Congratulations, Izzy. Just do me a favor and win this whole damn tournament. Be the last person standing and hold that title high over your head.
Now, we move on to other matters. The big Five Year Anniversary show. I’m thrilled to be a part of it. What I am LESS than thrilled about is the fact that I have to face someone I just came off of beating and can’t seem to shake no matter how badly I try.
How you doing, Salem?
Haven’t we done this same song and dance routine before? No matter how many weeks or even months pass, we always seem to circle back around to each other. Aren’t you getting just a WEE bit tired of it? God knows I am. But there is nothing either of us can do about it and so….here we are.
I honestly don’t know what else to say about you that hasn’t already been said. I mean, I’ve already congratulated you on beating the Patron Saint of Starbucks and becoming Mid Atlantic Legacy champion. I’ve pulled every cliché play in the book, so that is out.
How about I tell you a little bit about me, seeing as how you fancy yourself all knowing.
Do you know what it is like to wake up every morning, look at yourself in the mirror and absolutely hate the reflection that is staring back at you? Do you know what it is like to go through day to day events completely and utterly alone? I bet you one hundred dollars that you don’t. You don’t know what it is like to go from having all the confidence in the world and to having everyone believe in you and want to see you get ahead in this business…..to being an island unto yourself. And let’s not even talk about life OUTSIDE of the ring. That is a story for another date and time.
I wanted to beat Izzy Anders so fucking badly, Salem. I wanted to be the one to face Cordy Stevenson and to finally have something go right in my life for a change. Instead, I’m going to have to live with the fact that I’m not moving on in the tournament and I have to face off against you for the umpteenth time.
But don’t worry. Just because I’m disappointed doesn’t mean I’m taking you lightly, so get that notion out of your head.
I’m using this match as a means to prove myself, just like I’ve done time and time again. If beating you sends a message to people that hey, maybe she’s worth a damn after all, then so fucking be it. I have no problem tapping into whatever inner strength I may have to take you to the limit and hammer you from pillar to post. I know you are planning on doing the same and to that I say….bring it on. Just don’t come crying to you wifey when things don’t go your way.
Deuces….witch.
Friday, November 11th, 2016 Atlantic City, New Jersey OFF CAMERA
The elevator made a soft ping sound as it stopped on the fifth floor of the hotel in Atlantic City. Stepping off of the elevator, wheeling a black suitcase behind her, was a tired looking Savannah Taylor. She had been up early this morning to make last minute preparations for her flight from Las Vegas to New Jersey. She didn’t get any sleep on the plane, but that was nothing new. She heaves a somewhat relieved sigh as she steps out onto the carpeted hallway and looks to either side of her before heading off in the direction of her room. Stopping in front of the correct door, she slips the keycard into the lock and waits for the light to turn green before turning the knob. Stepping inside, she quickly slides her shoes off and sets her bag down just inside the door as she shuts it behind her. No sooner had she stepped inside her room for the next couple of days when her back pocket toned out the familiar iPhone ringtone. Rolling her eyes, she pulls it out of her pocket and presses the green button to answer it.
Savannah Taylor: Hello?
Unknown voice: Yes, have I reached Savannah Taylor:
Savannah Taylor: Yes you have. Who is calling?
Unknown voice: My name is Deputy Cartwright with the Clark County Sherriff’s Department.
Hearing that office title caused Savannah to sit down on her bed.
Savannah Taylor: How may I help you?
Deputy Cartwright: I’m afraid I have some news for you regarding your father. He was found unresponsive In his home a few hours ago. Medical personnel tried all they could, but they couldn’t revive him. I’m sorry to inform you that….he’s gone.
Her world stopped at that moment. She was twenty four hours away from a major match, and the carpet had been pulled out from underneath her. She slipped off the bed and fell to the floor, letting the tears fall down. How was she going to be able to go on now? Time would tell.
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Oct 27, 2016 19:57:31 GMT -5
Wednesday, October 26th, 2016 Springfield, Illinois OFF CAMERA
“And be sure to catch the hottest wrestling action around as Frontier Grappling Arts presents Vertigo, live this Saturday Night at the Prairie Capital Convention Center. You can catch all the action right here on WGN America! Eight O'Clock Eastern time!” The chipper sound of the television announcer drifts from the small bedroom of the hotel room and drifts through the open bathroom door. The fluorescent lights illuminate the seafoam green paint on the walls, the almost blinding white appliances and matching towels. Standing at the sink, gazing into the fairly decent sized vanity mirror is Savannah Taylor. Clad in an oversized pair of crimson sweat pants and a charcoal grey sports bra, her bare feet shift slightly on the cool tile floor as she gazes upon her reflection. A normal, everyday occurrence usually brought someone who looked as run-into-a-pole gorgeous as Savannah much joy, but for the Las Vegas native, it was a different story. Turning her body slightly, Savannah glances at her back, taking note of the handful of jagged looking scratches still marking her back, one of many reminders of the hell she went through nearly two weeks ago at Retribution. If she closed her eyes, she could still picture being hurled through plate glass not once, but twice. The sound of her one hundred and twenty pound frame being hurled into the glass like she was a lawn dart was not something that would leave her mind anytime soon. She reaches back with her right hand and delicately traces along one of the jagged lines. Dropping her hand, she turns around and looks at the ‘main attraction’ so to speak. The scar that ran in a diagonal line on the right side of her face from about the middle of her forehead and down to just above her eyebrow was not as red and raw as it was the day she got it, but it still felt that way. She lost count of the number of stitches she received at the emergency room, but it was more than enough to change her. The last time something like this occurred was nearly two years ago. But this thing with Magnus Gunner was different. This was something that she HAD to do. SHE had to be the one to end whatever he had planned before it started. Sure she was victorious, but taking in her appearance, every scar and every bruise that dotted her enviable frame, it cost her more than she gained. She had several bruises, all in varying shades and stages of healing, that seemed to be more prominent on her back and stomach. Touching her stomach, she almost winces as her hand brushes up against one of the more prominent bruises on her exposed flesh. Savannah heaves a sigh as she turns and leaves the bathroom. She picks up her t-shirt resting at the foot of the bed and slips it on, the cool black cotton with it’s vibrant red three headed dragon placed in the very center of the chest. The shirt was as oversized as the pants were, which suited Savannah just fine. She was content in hiding herself for as long as she could until she felt her body was back to a more publicly presentable state. She wasn’t sure when that would be, or if it would even happen. Since her Magnus Gunner-induced downward spiral began back in the summer, she had lost about six pounds. She had let the issues in her personal life affect her to the point where they were not only starting to affect her career, but her wellbeing as well. If it hadn’t been for a much needed intervention/training week with a certain Fallen Angel, who knows what would have happened? She still wasn’t where she wanted to be both physically and mentally, but she felt she was getting better as each day passed. She sits down at the head of the bed and draws her knees up to her chest. She reaches out onto the nightstand and grips the white styrofoam Dunkin Donuts cut, the coffee having cooled somewhat as she takes a long swig. The taste of the warm, pumpkin flavored liquid brought a slight smile to her face as her silence was broken by the sound of her phone ringing. Picking up the gold-colored iPhone 6S Plus, she types in her password to unlock the screen and presses the green answer button when she sees the caller is her uncle. Savannah Taylor: Hey Uncle Eric. Eric Taylor: Savannah! How is my favorite niece? Savannah rolls her eyes as she chuckles to herself. Savannah Taylor: Veeeerrrry funny. Eric Taylor: Hey, can’t blame me for trying. Savannah Taylor: Good point. So what’s up? Eric Taylor: I was just calling to see how you were doing, how you’ve been doing since that……..whatever the hell it was you were involved in two weeks ago. Savannah Taylor: You…..you were? The surprise was evident in her voice as she took another sip of her coffee. Eric Taylor: Why wouldn’t I be? You’re family. Savannah Taylor: Well, it’s just that….you’re pretty much one of the only ones who has called, texted, emailed…..anything. Eric Taylor: Come on. You’re not serious, are you? Savannah Taylor: Outside of Angela, Samantha and now you….no one. There was a brief silence on the other end of the line as she heard her uncle clearing his throat. Eric Taylor: What about your father? Savannah Taylor: Not even him. I haven’t spoken to him in over a month. She instinctively reaches up and touches her right cheek slightly below her eye, the memory of how she got THAT particular bruise fresh in her mind. Eric Taylor: What happened? Savannah Taylor: He hasn’t spoken to me since before SOMEONE paid him a little visit. She made sure to put the emphasis on the SOMEONE part. Eric Taylor: I saw that. Why did he stop talking to you? Savannah Taylor: Because he blames me for what happened. He blames me for basically allowing this madman to get his claws into my family. He places the blame on me for a lot, actually. Eric Taylor: What about your sister? Savannah Taylor: She’s not spoken to me since that incident either. Hell, the last time I tried to call her, the message I got said that this number was no longer in service. Which to me means she got a new number and didn’t tell me. She manages to drink the rest of her coffee in two to three gulps as she tosses the empty cup into the trashcan next to the bed. Savannah Taylor: I just want to know if everyone is okay. I want my family around, because we are all that we have. Ever since Mom died over the summer, things have been…..different. Eric Taylor: How do you mean? Savannah Taylor: Well Harper is off at college clear across the country. She has her own life going on and is still figuring out just who she is and what she wants out of life. She’s dealing with Mom’s passing in her own way. But Dad…… Her voice trails off. Eric Taylor: My brother has never dealt well with grief. At all. When our father died, we were both teenagers. He rebelled so hard against everything out mother tried to teach us, but the woman had the patience of a saint. I can only imagine what it’s like with him losing the other half of his heart. Savannah sits there in silence as she mulls over the information that her uncle was telling her. Part of her wanted to keep what she knew quiet and to herself because she didn’t want to cause any further tensions within the family unit. But on the other hand, the more someone knew meant the greater the chance of getting him some help. Savannah Taylor: You said that when your father died that he lashed out at Grandma. Did he ever get into alcohol at all? Like did he binge drink or anything? Eric Taylor: He did get into the liquor cabinet more than once, yes. How come? Savannah Taylor: Shit….. Eric Taylor: What is going on? Savannah Taylor: I went to go see Dad last month because wanted to check on him to see how he was. Harper has just shipped off to the University of Maine and I was off wrestling on both coasts. Plus I was dealing with…..well let’s just say I was dealing with some of my own issues. I got to the house and as soon as I found him, he….well he looked in rough shape. The five o'clock shadow, eyes looked bloodshot as hell, and he had a drink. I don’t know how long he had been drinking prior to me getting there, but I got there early to mid afternoon. I tried to have a conversation with him, but it boiled down to a one sided argument where he basically was ashamed to admit to people that I was his daughter. Then as I went to leave…..well…. Eric Taylor: What happened? Savannah Taylor: Well the thing is…..he threw the glass he was drinking from right at my head. It caught me right underneath my right eye. The silence on the other end of the line was nearly deafening as Eric clears his throat. Eric Taylor: First things first. Are YOU okay? Savannah Taylor: The bruise had finally managed to go away, thank God. I didn’t break anything, so there is that. I’m just seriously concerned. Who knows how long after Mom’s death he’s been like this. Hell, this could have started before and no one would know a thing about it. Eric Taylor: I’d be more than happy to check on him for you. I try to frequently. Savannah Taylor: I’m just concerned that the longer this goes on, the farther away he is going to slip. If he gets too far out of reach……….I don’t want that particular phone call. Eric Taylor: You let me worry about him this week. You’ve got a tournament to focus on. I know you can do amazing things in it. Who knows? I might even be talking to the future World champion. Savannah Taylor: I don’t know about that. Eric Taylor: Hey, you did it before when no one else even factored you into the equation. Who's to say lightning can’t strike twice? Savannah Taylor: I’ll do whatever I need to in order to win. Eric Taylor: I know you will. You leave getting through to your father to me. I’ll even try to bridge the gap with your sister. Savannah Taylor:At this point, I will take any and all help I can get. Eric Taylor: Help is just what you have now, kiddo. Savannah leaned back against the headboard, moving the pillows out of the way. It was a slight weight off of her shoulders to know that at least her uncle was willing to help her get through to her father and her sister. But she couldn’t dwell on that much longer. She had a World Title tournament to get ready for and an Izzy Anders to team with and possibly fight in the quarterfinals. The part that she projected to the public, the side that people were most familiar with, was confident in how she would fare. But the Savannah that was behind the scenes, the person that very few people got a chance to see and know, was less than confident. That Savannah was more than willing to give up her spot in the tournament to anyone who wasn’t a part of it that didn’t bear the name Dom Harter. She just had to decide which Savannah would show up on Saturday. She was hoping...no...she NEEDED the former to show up. She had too much riding on this to mess up now. There appears to be a theme going on heading into Vertigo this Saturday. That theme revolves around history repeating itself. I recently read a quote that said history repeats itself, but in such cunning disguise that we never detect the resemblance until the damage is done.
Yes I DO know how to read. Fuck you very much.
Now, I can’t speak for the rest of the participants in the World Title tournament, nor will i even begin to. Certain others have a habit of talking themselves up, whether we want to hear them speak or not. But in regards to the tag team match I find myself in, history is definitely repeating itself. With at least Salem and Izzy, I have something of a sense of what each is capable of. I can at least watch their matches back and learn from things.
That is a hell of a lot more than I can say for you, Nero.
Nero let me ask you the question that everyone seems to have been asked in regards to this tournament. Why do you deserve to be World champion? What makes you different than anyone else who is in this tournament? Is it because you are some try hard who wants to do well no matter the odds? Is it because you appeal to some far flung niche market where people go nuts over a multicolored haired waif who speaks like she is five? Wait a second, I think I know the answer. The only reason why you are even in this match, and I’m going to speak as plainly and as slowly as I can because I know you have a hard time understanding adults when they speak……..is because the FGA felt sorry for you. They felt sorry for the poor widdle girl who just can’t seem to get out of her own damn way sometimes. Here’s a newsflash, sweetheart. This isn’t kindergarten recess where you can run around on the jungle gym with your friends. This is real life. This is a big girl’s game. If you aren’t willing to at LEAST put your big girl panties on and deal with the hand that has just been dealt to you, then I’m afraid you stand as much of a chance on Saturday as someone’s favorite character surviving an entire season of The Walking Dead. You may very well be the type of fan favorite character who meets a gruesome end within the first ten minutes of the episode.
Whoops. PROBABLY should have posted a blurb about spoilers or something. My bad.
The point is, Nero, that while Izzy and I are different people, we can be of the same mindset when push comes to shove. You want to know what that means? Nothing good, especially for the likes of you. But don’t worry your pwetty widdle head off. With our combined efforts, Izzy and I can knock your head so hard that you will be speaking the Queen’s English by the end of the night. You know, speaking like an ADULT and not a five year old with a speech impediment. I’ve seen it happen before, so I’m HOPING the same will happen with you. I’m not banking on it though.
Out of everyone in this match,hell, in FGA as a whole, I bet no one is happier about this time of year than you, Salem. I mean, not only are you in contention to possibly become the new FGA World Champion on Saturday, but Monday is a big day for you. I mean, it’s practically your National holiday. Why WOULDN’T you be happy? I can think of one reason for you to be unhappy.
The fact that my tag team partner and I stand between you and your dreams of winning the big one.
You know, I have half a mind to just feed you to Izzy and just deal with the overgrown munchkin myself. But what kind of partner would I be if I left Izzy to deal with you by herself? I’d be a good one, that's what I’d be. But WHEN our paths cross on Saturday, i want you to look into these baby blues. I want you to see me not as someone who knows she is in for a MAJOR uphill battle to reach the mountain summit. I want you to look at me as the yin to Izzy’s yang. She is the hurricane. I am the eye of that storm. I’m the one you really should be worried about, because it only gets worse after I pass over you. Keep that in mind while you prepare for Saturday and after the match while you prepare for your National holiday.
And then there was one.
How you doing, tag team partner? I would ask if you are ready for Saturday, but I already know the answer. I may be a blonde, but I’m not a dumb blonde. Now I would just like to state for the record that I don’t hate you, Izzy. In fact, I’ve stated that before. I actually don’t mind you. Compared to who i COULD have been partnered with, I will take you in my corner any day of the week. But while the tag team match phase may seem like fun and games, the one on one phase is where all bets are off.
I know the score already, Izzy. I know I don’t have the most sterling of records. I know the fire isn’t quite there, so let me spare you the trouble of reminding me. I've already been reminded by several people, thank you very much. I had to deal with that leading up to my match at Retribution. I had to have everyone and their uncle’s cousin’s next door neighbor’s former college roommate tell me that I didn’t stand a damn chance. Guess what? I fucking won. I have more than my fair share of scars to prove it. So until you’ve walked even a mile in my shoes and have seen the shit that I have had to go through, don’t sit there and pretend like you know me, because you pretty much don’t.
I do have one question slash observation to make, Izzy. Let’s say you and I go on to make the quarterfinals and we face each other. Hell, let’s even say you come out and beat me. I’m fine with that. You have your twisted little heart set on being World Champion. We all want the same thing. But let me ask you this. Are you sure you have what it takes? Do you have what it takes to stand toe to toe with the likes of Johnny Cannon, Tony Carmine, Dan Herrera and Cordy Stevenson? I don’t think you do. See, you talk an amazing game. You make yourself out to be this indestructible and Devil may care force of nature. But up against those names? It’s like Superman meeting a chunk of kryptonite. I don’t think you have it in you to win the whole thing. I don’t think you have the guts to take everyone out in your path on your march to glory. But hey, I could be wrong. I’ve been wrong about things before.
Saturday is do or die for a lot of us. But more so for me. I’ve been to the top of the mountain in the past before, and god dammit, I want to get there again. If I have to get through you Izzy to get there, then you can bet your bottom dollar that I’m willing to lay everything out on the line to get what I want. See, you can hurl whatever insults or threats that you desire at me, but the only thing they do is motivate me. They don’t stick with me. Not now. Not ever.
Deuces.
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Oct 13, 2016 19:41:52 GMT -5
Saturday, October 8th, 2016 City Athletic Club Las Vegas, Nevada OFF CAMERA
In the wee hours of the morning, when the normal citizens of the world are safely hunkered down within the comfortable confines of their beds, there are a select few people who rouse themselves from a comfortable sleep and out of their comfort zones. For some, the pre-dawn hours are the only time in their busy lives where people are able to carve out time for themselves. It is the only time of the day where people are free to be alone and bask in the peace that is their quiet time. For others, the early time of the morning is the perfect chance to get a jumpstart on their daily workout routines. In a city such as Las Vegas, there is an oasis hidden in the neon desert. The famed City Athletic Club is a popular, yet exclusive destination for Sin City’s most fitness minded citizens. It offers everything from cardio equipment to perhaps the most impressive collection of free weights in the entire metropolitan area, and it even boasts a spa that rivals any five star spa anywhere. But perhaps more important than any of these was the spacious area in the lower part of the gym that was reserved for heavy bag training, mixed martial arts training and the ever so popular fitness sensation, CrossFit. The gravely voice of Godsmack lead singer Sully Erna plays as background noise in the lower level of the gym. It is about seven in the morning and there is next to no one in the entire facility except for a handful of trainers and two figures standing in the middle of the mixed martial arts cage. The two figures, both blindingly obvious to be female, are going through a series of chain wrestling drills, each series of moves appearing to flow right into the net one. The taller, younger one of the two is Las Vegas native Savannah Taylor. She is dressed down in a pair of black spandex workout capris and a black tank top with the words “Fight Like A Girl” written in pink on the front. Her sparring partner, wearing black and teal workout pants and a teal Jacksonville Jaguars tank top, is veteran wrestler Angela Jameson. The two ladies continue their drill for another minute or so before Angela stops. Angela Jameson: Not bad. Let's take a break, yeah? She says as the two women stand up and begin to walk over to the entrance to the cage and step outside, taking a seat on a bench just outside of the structure. Savannah reaches down for her water bottle and takes a sip. Savannah Taylor: Hey Angela, I just wanted to say thank you for this…..for everything. Angela Jameson: You’re welcome. The original plan I had in mind was for you to come to Florida, but obviously Matthew had other plans. She was referring to Hurricane Matthew, which was churning it’s way up the East coast of Florida. Her hometown of St. Augustine was expected to get hammered by the storm, which caused her and her family to evacuate the city ahead of the mandatory warning. It would be unclear for a couple of days when people would be allowed to return to the oldest city in the United States. Savannah Taylor: Any idea when they’ll let people back in? Angela Jameson: No idea. I’m hoping sometime next week. The younger woman nods as she takes another sip from her bottle. Angela takes a drink from her own bottle and glances over at Savannah. Angela Jameson: There's something else, isn’t there? Savannah Taylor: It’s just…..why are you doing this? Angela Jameson: Doing what? Savannah Taylor: This. Volunteering to help me before next Saturday. Wanting to work with me even after everything that has happened in the past. Angela pauses for a second as she listens to the younger woman speak. Angela Jameson: What happened in the past is just that, in the past. I’ve long since moved past that. To be honest…...I’m concerned about you. Savannah Taylor: You are? Angela Jameson: Yes I am. I’m not looking at this from a wrestling standpoint. I’m looking at your life outside of the ring. To be quite frank...you don’t look like yourself. You look exhausted. She says, taking in Savannah’s appearance. It was true. The normally confident and vivacious Las Vegas native was looking very much like a shell of what she was. Her blue eyes didn’t sparkle as much as they used to. Her skin didn’t seem to have that glow it normally did whenever she was out in public. Even when she spoke, she was speaking in a softer tone of voice and not the kind that made people stand up and take notice. Savannah Taylor: It’s because I am, more mentally than physically. It’s like life is all hitting me at one time and I have NO idea how to deal with everything. I don’t even know where to begin. Angela Jameson: I’ve heard that the beginning is always a great place to start. Have things gotten worse since your mom passed away? Savannah Taylor: It hasn’t gotten any better, I can say that. This whole…...THING with Magnus started the day I found out about my mom. Since then, it has just seemed to be one misstep after another. Angela motions for Savannah to continue, which she does, albeit somewhat reluctantly. Savannah Taylor: Life just seemed to come to a slow crawl uphill after my mom died. I just got her back in my life last year, and now God has decided that I’ve done something to piss him off, so he took her from me. Just the story of my life, you know? It’s almost like I’m not meant to have good things happen to me because one way or another, something happens and I mess things up. She stands up and slowly begins to pace around the bench, running a hand through her hair as she continues to speak. Each time she speaks, the tone in her voice keeps reaching the point where she could break down at any point. Savannah Taylor: Did you know that my father isn’t speaking to me after what happened a few weeks ago after Magnus paid him a little visit? On top of that, my sister, my FREAKING sister isn’t even speaking to me because of what happened to my father. They both blame me for what happened. I can’t say that I blame them though. I’m the reason why that monster has resurfaced. It’s because of me that the people I work with and the fans are now in danger. She turns around and faces Angela, who has stood up from the bench and was watching Savannah intently. Savannah Taylor: I don’t know. Maybe things wouldn’t be so completely screwed up if I had never come here in the first place. Maybe I wouldn’t be in such a slump right now if I was working elsewhere. Perhaps things would have been better if I had just gone off into the sunset after what happened in San Diego…… The sound of a hand connecting with a face echoed throughout the gym as Savannah’s head suddenly jerks to the side. Her hand goes immediately to her cheek as she turns her head back around. If looks could kill, then the look Angela was currently giving Savannah would see the blond six feet under. Angela’s own blue eyes were staring daggers into Savannah’s head as folds her arms across her chest. Angela Jameson: Enough. I didn’t come out here just to watch you beat yourself up. I didn’t volunteer my time and energy to help you get ready for Retribution just so you would spend the entire time talking down about yourself. I’m here because I believe in you. I’m here because I know that underneath what I am seeing and have seen, there is untapped greatness waiting to come out. So if you think for one goddamn second I’m going to stand idly by and let you go further and further down the proverbial rabbit hole, think again. You are better than this. Something about that last phrase stuck with Savannah as she stood there rubbing her stinging cheek. She draws in a breath as she drops her arms down to her sides. Savannah Taylor: Someone else told me that recently. Angela Jameson: I’m well aware of that. You want to know something? He is one hundred percent correct. You know it and I know it. Savannah nods her head as she glances down at her feet, her voice a couple of levels above a whisper. Savannah Taylor: I fucked up, Angela. Angela Jameson: What happened? Savannah Taylor: After my mom died, I pushed him away. I pushed away the one person who was able to look past everything that I’ve done and was able to love me for me. Angela Jameson: Why in God’s name would you fucking do something like that? Savannah Taylor: I don’t know! She looks up, her eyes glistening with the threat of unshed tears. Listening to her speak, it was clear as day one could hear the regret and uncertainty in her voice. Savannah Taylor: I wasn’t dealing well with my mom’s passing and I took it out on those around me. I thought that I didn’t need anyone and that I could deal with the grief on my own. I only fucked things up beyond belief. I couldn’t see that people were only trying to help me so I wouldn’t have to go through this alone. That sure worked out well. This is probably a sign that I am not meant to have nice things. Savannah shuts her eyes to prevent the tears from spilling down onto her cheeks. Angela rubs the bridge of her nose and sighs. She could sympathize with the younger woman probably more than Savannah realized. This was unfortunately out of her control and would have to fix itself on its own, if it even could be fixed. Angela Jameson: I’m letting my inner nerd show through for a second. On the show ‘Game Of Thrones’ as well as in the books, the people who live on the Iron Islands all worship a deity known as the Drowned God. In this worship, they utter a phrase that goes as such….What is dead may never die. To Angela’s surprise, Savannah opens her eyes and responds in kind. Savannah Taylor: But rises again, harder and stronger. Angela smirks as she nods her head. Angela Jameson: You’re a fan. Savannah Taylor: I don’t let many people know I am. Angela Jameson: I don’t have a crystal ball so I can’t see what the future holds for you. What I do know is if you want things to be made right…….you have to leave that up to him. You have to let HIM decide things, okay? I know this hurts to hear and I know it sounds harsh, but maybe this is the wake up call that you need. Savannah Taylor: You’re right. Angela Jameson: Now I know this is a subject very near and dear to your heart, but you’re going to have to push it to the back of your mind for right now. I don’t need to tell you of all people just how serious this match is next week. You can’t let your focus on Magnus Gunner waiver for a single second. Focus on Magnus first and then when things settle down after Retribution…..you can revisit how you’re going to resolve whatever is going on with Chandler. Just make sure you prepare yourself if the answer and or outcome isn’t the one you want. Savannah can only nod because she knew deep down that Angela was correct. Angela looked at the clock on the wall, then back at Savannah. Angela Jameson: It’s seven thirty right now and we’ve been here since five. What do you say we go get cleaned up and get some breakfast? I think you could use some. Savannah Taylor: That sounds genuinely amazing right now. She says with the first trace of a smile that has been on her face in God knows how long. The two women gather up their things and make their way towards the exit, slipping on their shoes as they go. As they walked, Savannah was reminded of a saying that she heard somewhere not too long ago. Sometimes just have to die a little inside in order to be reborn and rise again as a stronger and wiser version of you. Maybe this whole training with Angela was what she needed. Perhaps working with someone as respected, not to mention intimidating, as Angela would help give her the edge that she needed heading into Retribution. What awaits her a week from today was by far the biggest challenge she had ever faced since she debuted in the sport. She was willing to do any and everything to make sure that no one had to suffer under a Magnus Gunner threat again. A quote from one of her favorite movies, Training Day, seemed appropriate. In order to protect the sheep, you gotta catch the wolf, and it takes a wolf to catch a wolf. If stopping Magnus Gunner meant that she had to turn into the woman that she used to be prior to joining Frontier Grappling Arts, then she would do it in a heartbeat. If it meant protecting people that she cares about that may not care too much for her, then she was willing to lay everything out in the open. One way or another, this situation with Gunner would end at Retribution. If she failed to stop a Gunner onslaught, then the alternative wouldn’t be a very pretty picture. Game on. Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.(The achingly familiar voice of Savannah Taylor is heard calling out as the camera comes into focus. The back of a mahogany colored armchair comes into view as it suddenly whirls around, revealing the Las Vegas native herself. Dressed in black jeans, black ankle boots and a simple black fitted t-shirt, the only color that is visible is the pink ribbon fastened at heart level on the left side of her shirt. The pink ribbon, which obviously represents breast cancer awareness, is a subject that Savannah takes to heart. But what is somewhat shocking about her appearance is the fact that her face is completely void of any trace of makeup. The bruise on her left cheek is slowly starting to fade away, but remains untouched by makeup. Her blue eyes focus directly at the camera as she begins to speak once more.) Spanish philosopher George Santayana is well known the world over for this popular phrase about making sure that the past stays a constant thought in someone’s mind. The past is something that, despite what some people may think or say, is something I’ve never forgotten.(Her eyes narrow slightly as she remains as stoic in her facial expressions as she can muster.) After a near two year wait, our paths have finally come to cross in the ring. This is already proving to be a very tumultuous two thousand sixteen, isn’t it Magnus? In another time and on another coast, a match between the two of us would make for what some would call must see television. Now? While the match carries some level of importance, it is nowhere near the marquee level as other matches going on. To the people who are questioning why this match is even on the Retribution card in the first place, I have two words for them…..fuck off. I didn’t make this challenge to you Magnus because I cared what people thought about me. I didn’t make this challenge to you because I thought it would be a right good time between two former coworkers. I made this challenge because I want to prove a point, not just to me but to everyone who has had anything negative to say about me over the past two or so years. A lot of what people have had to say about me stems from my involvement with you and your ideals.
One thing that people to toss around in interviews, either with us wrestlers or any celebrity really, is the question “If you could go back to any point in history and change the outcome, what would it be and why?” For me, there is one date that, if given the chance I would go back and erase in a heartbeat. That date is February tenth of two thousand and fourteen. Do you remember that particular date, Magnus? You should. That was the day where you approached me and gave me this speech about the quality of life in the company at the time and how those in power looked down upon people like me from their gilded cages. If I could change anything about that point in time, I would have told you no. I would have said toodles and went on my merry way, determined to make my own way. Like a fool, I bought into your smoke and mirrors show and joined your crusade to bring about a new age of chaos to San Diego. Did I enjoy being part of a group that ran roughshod over the company for the longest time? At the time i did. I was finally able to make a dent in the once pristine armor that surrounded the hierarchy and their cohorts. In hindsight, while I got the biggest rush out of making those who didn’t adhere to our wishes, there are things that happened that I wouldn’t have normally done on my own. But all of that is in the past and it is something that I’ve managed to put it behind me. Don’t you think it’s time you did the same? If people who knew nothing about you saw you and the crap that you have pulled these past couple of months, they would just assume that you were a madman out for some measure of revenge against someone who supposedly wronged you. To the untrained eye, that is a legit case, but come on Magnus. Look at who you are talking to here. I know you better than most and I know enough to realize that this is simply a continuation of the last time most people saw you. Because I know you as well as I do Magnus, allow me to congratulate you. You have finally done it. After a long process, you have finally evolved into the same brand of sociopath that you spent all those years rallying against in San Diego. The only difference between the two of you is that he is locked up somewhere, hopefully with the key buried under cement. With any luck after Saturday, you can join him and the two of you can live out the rest of your days wallowing in your own misery.
(Savannah brushes a few loose strands of hair out of her face as she clenches and unclenches her fists, choosing to rest her hands on the arms of the chair.) When you first approached me about coming on board with your merry band of misfits, I was a sad, scared little girl who was trying to find her way in the wrestling world and going up against some seemingly insurmountable odds. It may have looked like I was the walking definition of grace under pressure, but underneath the mirror like surface, everything was chaos. Having to deal with all the things that came with the never ending war that YOU brought on yourself, it took everything I had not to crack. Having to play the part of the dutiful soldier and remain stone faced while everyone and their uncle’s cousin’s nephew was hurling any and all insult at you was a LOT to take on for someone who was never really all there or never felt like a complete person for much of their adult life. I bet you never once gave much thought about what the opposition’s mindset was during this whole ‘war.’ Allow me to refresh your memory with a little song from a popular Disney movie.
(She shifts in her seat and pulls out her iPhone 6S Plus. Unlocking it, she makes a few swipes until she comes to the content that she wants. Turning the volume up, she waits a few seconds before a song begins to play. The trademark voice of Governor Ratcliffe soon floats out into the room.) “They’re savages! Savages! Barely even human. Savages! Savages! Drive them from our shores! They’re not like you and me Which means they must be evil. We must sound the drums of war!”
(She stops the song right after the first refrain and slides her phone back into the safety of her pocket.) Savages. Evil. Untrustworthy. You probably don’t, but do you have ANY idea what insults like that, especially hearing them day in and day out and across all social media platforms, really does to a person? It makes them hate themselves. It makes them begin to question things, things that once seemed perfectly normal. Something happened along this journey that made me question if your so called cause was even worth a damn. I should have known better than to trust you to care about anything or anyone other than yourself. Am I just as guilty of being selfish? You’re damn right I am. I have made mistakes that I am still living with to this day and that are affecting me on a personal level. That is something that I have to deal with. That is something that I have to do WITHOUT you playing the role of puppet master and controlling everything everyone says and does. Is that the real issue here, Magnus? Is part of the reason you have been relentless in your psychological and physical attacks on me is because you lost control of someone you once called loyal? Here is a friendly little piece of advice………….GET OVER IT!
Here is another piece of advice for you, Magnus. Keep in mind this is something I’ve had to learn the hard way and am still learning to this day. How about instead of blaming other for things going wrong, why don’t you take responsibility for your OWN actions? You want to blame me for all of your plans going awry? Why not take a close look at your own mania and realize that the only person to blame is yourself. The only person who is truly to blame for your delusions of grandeur going up in flames is Magnus Gunner. You want to blame me for what happened to Nick Kramer? How about instead of blaming me, someone who had NOTHING TO DO WITH HIM, why don’t you take into account the fact that throughout his entire life, he was a sick individual? Come to think about it, when was the last time you tried to reach out to him? I mean, if you cared about him as much as you claimed, then you would have done everything in your power to get him the help that he needed. This just proves my point that the only person you have ever cared about….is yourself.
(She stands up from her chair and begins to slowly pace around.) And since I’m on the topic of your OBVIOUS lack of compassion for your fellow foot soldiers, let me jog your memory with another ‘blast from the past’ so to speak. The date was November seventeenth, two thousand fourteen. As i recall, that was NOT the best of nights for our ragtag little group of rebels. Where were you when your precious little clairvoyant was getting her body broken and beaten by the former West Coast Princess? You were off in your own zone trying to get your dick wet. Where were you when the Little Bird was dragged from pillar to post? You were off doing God only knows what with God only knows who. Where the HELL were you when I was lying in a goddamn hospital bed after having been jumped from behind backstage, wondering not only if my career was over, but if I would even wake up? Surely you would have been dug out of the little grave that Chris dug for you by then. But you didn’t. You not showing up proved to me that you didn’t care and you possibly never did. I only had three people wonder if I would be okay, wondering if I would even wake up. One of them is off living her life to the fullest and I wish I was able to talk to her more. One of them has been giving me a MUCH needed verbal and physical ass kicking in preparation for this match. And the third person? Well, let’s just say they want nothing to do with me at the moment. This only further proves my point that the whole time w all fought beside you, we were fighting for someone who would never even consider shedding blood on our behalf. He would never even give a thought to risking his life if it meant protecting us. Not only that, but it shows that you are no leader. You are no God. You are no monster. Hell, you aren’t even much of a MAN. The only thing you really are…...is a coward.
I have no idea what awaits me on Saturday in St. Paul. All I really know is that since this match if your brainchild, nothing good is going to come out of this. I know that I stand a very good chance of getting hurt. That is a risk I am more than willing to take. I’m pretty much willing to sacrifice myself for the sake of this company. If sacrificing myself in this match means that the FGA fans don’t have to live in fear of attending a show because they don’t know what kind of dark and twisted plans you may have in mind, then I am prepared to do that. If sacrificing myself means that the wrestlers in the back don’t have to look over their shoulders and worry about their own safety because they know you could be lurking anywhere, then I’m prepared to make that sacrifice. I know I am not the most popular backstage. I know people hold where I came from prior to here against me. I know people don’t care for me. I’m okay with that. That doesn’t mean I’m not going to to any and everything in my power to put an end to you before your latest schemes have a chance to take root.
You wanted to get my attention by playing those little mind games with me? You want to get inside of my head by bringing my FAMILY into this? Mission accomplished, Magnus. You have officially gone and made an enemy out of me. Only this time, things are a little different. I’m not Ryuji Kamigawa. I’m not Jerry Matthews. I’m not Kira Zeppeli. I’m not Sally Talfourd. I’m not Lady Magdalena. I’m not even the man whose death you blame me for, Nick Kramer. I am the Siren who is going to lead you right to your downfall. I am the fury that is going to make never get to see the sun rise again. More importantly, I am the woman who is going to bring about the end of the false God once and for all.(She stands with her arms outstretched in a manner that clearly is mocking the same pose Magnus Gunner is famous for.) Welcome to MY New Age.
(She drops her arms to her side and walks off as the scene fades out.)
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Oct 7, 2016 12:17:09 GMT -5
The Savannah Taylor/Magnus Gunner segment brought a darker tone to the show. Fully expecting their match at Retribution to be a blood bath. Oh don't worry................it will be.
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Sept 20, 2016 20:25:41 GMT -5
I enjoyed Cordy vs Strike too. I've been following Strike's retirement tour (and got to be a part of it!) so that was fun for me. Hey! Me too!! (Pssttt.....I won too!) This was a solid show from beginning to end. I had a blast reading the 5 Way Fray match. That, at least to me, was the Match of the Night. The Chandler/Hardaway match was right up there, given the history between the two characters. I am in the same boat as Jerry in the fact that I want to see where this whole Annie/Dom thing goes. Will he get his title shot? Will she say no? Inquiring minds want to know! New Kings and Suspects in cahoots together?? I'm all for this! I am also all for Ruby and Hardaway getting a measure of revenge for the beatdown of Ruby. Y'all done pissed off a woman with an arsenal of guns. On a personal note, the stuff that Allen (Magnus Gunner) and I are working on/have put together....this is legit 2 years in the making. I'm glad that we get to have our first one on one match here. It's going to be an amazing thing to write for and I hope you guys continue to (hopefully) enjoy what we produce! Onward to Vertigo/Retribution!!
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Sept 15, 2016 19:48:25 GMT -5
Tuesday, September 13th, 2016 Las Vegas,Nevada OFF CAMERA
Nearly two months. Seven weeks. Fifty one days. Even more hours, minutes and seconds. That is pretty much the exact amount of time since Savannah Taylor’s life was changed forever. The exact amount of time that she realized things were about to take a turn for the worse in ways that she couldn’t possibly fathom at the moment. First receiving a frantic phone call from her sister early in the evening while she was still backstage at Vertigo was reason enough for her to get up and leave the arena, despite it being in the middle of a show. She had informed the appropriate people that she had a family emergency back in Las Vegas and would be leaving for home immediately. Then came the incident before she had even left the arena. The symbol of perhaps the biggest demon from her past being felt and seen in the flesh after such a lengthy period of time was enough to send a chill down her spine. To this day, she could still recall the feelings she had the moment the little boy presented her with the burlap sack.
But her world would soon turn on its ear when not long after her sister called her that her father called her. Only her father was informing her that her mother, who at the time was fighting breast cancer, had taken a turn for the worse. Every muscle in Savannah’s body was pulling her forward, first to her rental car which would take her to the airport, then when she was back in Vegas, to the hospital where her mother was. She felt an odd sense of calm when she was with her mother, father, and sister in the same room. That sense of calm was short lived when mere hours after Savannah had arrived, her mother, her body giving up and not wanting to prolong the inevitable any longer, had passed away. The once vibrant and confident Savannah Taylor has slowly become a shell of what people were used to seeing. In the days and weeks that would pass, Savannah felt like she was moving underwater in slow motion. Everything around her seemed to be a blur. Sure, she would put on the front whenever she was doing her job, but other than that? She was slipping away. In the midst of all of this chaos, Savannah committed perhaps her biggest and most regrettable mistake to date. She had pushed away the one person in her entire world that had been there for her when no one else would. The one person who treated her like she was something special, even at times when she failed to believe that herself. She had pushed away the one person that she had ever truly and one hundred percent loved more than anything or anyone in the world, and she still does. That fact alone was enough for Savannah to want to hide away from the harsh light of the public eye. That is exactly what she has done too. If she wasn’t working for FGA or elsewhere and wasn’t making the required appearances on behalf of Juicy Couture, she kept to herself. Not because she didn’t want to talk to anyone, though that was part of it. Since her mother’s passing, she had slowly been feeling like she wasn’t worth anyone’s time. Her subpar performances in the ring had done little to bolster her confidence. Now with the fact that Satan himself, Magnus Gunner, had come back to haunt her and make her life generally miserable,
Savannah walked casually up the sidewalk leading to the front door of her father’s home, the mid afternoon sunshine beating down on her bare shoulders. With her sister nearly three thousand miles away beginning her freshman year at the University of Maine and Savannah travelling for work, she was concerned about how her father was doing in the weeks since his world was also turned upside down. Savannah felt bad that she couldn’t be there more for her father, but with her travel schedule being the way that it was, she wasn’t always there for him the way family should be. Slipping her car keys into the front pocket of her pants, she turns the doorknob and steps inside the familiar foyer, letting the door click shut behind her.
Savannah Taylor: Dad?
She calls out to a seemingly front of the house, with the somewhat formal living room off to the left side of the front door. She looks around the entryway, taking note of the sage green paint on the walls, paint that had been there for years, but was new and bright to Savannah. Art hung carefully on the wall opposite the living room, black and white photographs depicting various flora and fauna behind white mats encased in gilded picture frames.
Savannah Taylor: Dad? Are you home?
She calls out again, getting no answer. Making her way towards the back of the house, she stops just shy of the door leading into the den. Sitting in a chair that wasn’t quite facing the door yet it wasn’t entirely with it’s back to the door was her father. He sat as still as possible, breaking his stationary position long enough to take a sip from the cut crystal glass perched on the mahogany side table. His head doesn’t turn as his oldest daughter walks into the room.
Savannah Taylor: There you are. I was wondering where you were or if you were even home.
Martin Taylor: I haven’t left.
His somewhat gruff reply takes Savannah back a bit as he finally turns his head towards his daughter. His eyes, a usually rich shade of sapphire blue, appeared glazed over, as if his mind were millions of miles away. He had a five o’clock shadow on his face as he clutched the glass in his hand.
Martin Taylor: What brings you by? On your way to somewhere else?
Savannah Taylor: I wanted to see how you were and to spend some time with you.
Martin internally scoffs as he takes another sip of the amber colored liquid contained within his glass, drawing in a breath as the drink hits his mouth with a slight burning sensation.
Martin Taylor: I know you have a match on Saturday in Colorado. You’re just here because you have time to kill before you jet off to somewhere that isn’t here.
Savannah Taylor: That isn’t true. I’m here because you’re my father. I’m here because I love you and I wanted to see how you were doing.
Martin Taylor: You’re only here because you feel sorry for me is all.
Savannah Taylor: That isn’t true.
She looks at her father as he picks up his glass and swigs more of what was in it. As Savannah gets closer to her father, she can smell the contents on his breath. Jack Daniels, and it apparently wasn’t the first one that he had that day either.
Savannah Taylor: How many of those have you had?
Martin Taylor: What is it to you?
Savannah Taylor: I’m concerned. It’s not even three o’clock, Dad.
Martin Taylor: Last time I checked, this is my house and I was free to do as I pleased.
Savannah Taylor: But Dad….
Martin Taylor: But nothing!
He almost roars as Savannah takes a step back in shock.
Martin Taylor: Your mother left. You sister is clear across the country. You’re jet setting across the world. Who do I have? No one.
Savannah Taylor: You have me. I’m here now.
Martin looks at her daughter before shaking his head, sipping his Jack Daniels, the ice in the glass long since melted.
Martin Taylor: You’ll leave before long.
Savannah Taylor: Look, I know my job keeps me on the road a lot and I’m not here as often as I would like, and I’m sorry for that…..
A laugh, sardonic in delivery, escapes his lips as he shakes his head.
Martin Taylor: You’ve got the sorry part right.
Savannah Taylor: Excuse me?
Martin Taylor: You heard me.
Savannah Taylor: I heard you. I just…..
Martin Taylor: Just what? Didn’t think I’d say that? Or you just didn’t want to believe it? Think about it. Your career is at a standstill. You have no edge. You’re going nowhere. I look at you now and I’m almost ashamed to admit you’re my daughter.
Savannah stands there, almost rooted in place. She couldn’t believe the words coming from her father’s mouth. The logical part of her brain was saying that this was the alcohol talking at that she shouldn’t take offense or take personally anything that her father was saying. But the smaller part, the part of her brain she found herself listening to more often, was saying that he was right. She knew the score as of late. Her record was less than sterling. She was going through a lot and dealing with things that no one with half of a brain should deal with. That part of her brain is what scares her.
Martin Taylor: Everytime I look at you, I’m reminded…….
Savannah Taylor: Of Mom?
Something inside of Martin seemed to snap because before he could think, the glass he was holding left his hand and collided with his daughter’s head, specifically the side of her face. The glass drops to the floor with a dull thud on the carpet as Savannah stands there holding the side of her face.
Martin Taylor: Get out.
Savannah Taylor: But Dad…..
Martin Taylor: GET OUT!
He roars as Savannah draws a sharp breath and wills herself to leave the room. She hurries down the hall and fumbles a second before opening the door and stepping out into the sunshine, the door flinging shut behind her. She fishes for her car keys as she hurries towards her car. Opening the door, she climbs in and yanks down the visor to check her face in the mirror. Just below her right eye, a welt was forming, possible bruising as well. She shakes her head as she flips the visor back up and sits back in her seat.
Savannah Taylor: Happy birthday to me.
She says with a sigh as she buckles up. All she wanted was to see her father and spend some time with him, especially in the light of her mother passing. The fact that today was her birthday was of course on her mind, but was a constant thought. She would go home, tend to her face, and prepare for Vertigo this Saturday. But what just happened, on today of all days, would stay with her forever. Talk about a memorable birthday, just for all the wrong reasons.
I’m not going to start out with the usual formalities. I don’t want to come out and make any sort of claims about how the match I’m participating in this Saturday is mine for the taking. Why would I do that? Why would I feed my own ego when I know deep down hardly anything I say matters? What weight does anything I have to say as of late carry around here?
Yeah, you just heard me correctly. A wrestler just admitted a major fault and showed a smidge of humility. Alert the media.
When I came out and appeared to have interrupted Fujiko Mine in the middle of her big celebration, I did it so I could not be there to congratulate her on a great match we had at Above and Beyond. Don’t get me wrong. The match that the two of us had was and will continue to be talked about for months to come. Were either of us happy about the result? No we weren’t. I came out there to let her know that the thing that was started that night between us…..wasn’t even close to being over. Apparently a one on one match wasn’t good enough for Miss Mine though. She’s taken it upon herself to make myself and four others to jump through hoops if we want to get a shot at her Pride championship. She acts as if we are her trained circus monkeys, willing to do tricks for a meager reward.
Fuck that noise. But if I must jump through her hoops or play her games in order to get another crack at her, then I’ll do it.
Molly Reid. Noelle Smith. Evan Envi. Mark Storm. All of us made our presence felt last Vertigo. All of us made our cases as to why we should be the one to face Fujiko for the Pride championship. That is probably why this match on Saturday is going to be of the utmost importance. Each of us has something to prove Saturday night. We all want to be the one who, at the end of the night, will be the last man or woman standing and becoming number one contender to the Pride championship. There is just one thing that sets the five of us apart. There is just one thing that makes this match more special.
None of you need this more than I do.
Let's face the facts. With the exception of maybe one other person in this match, there is no one who needs this win more than I do. None of you could possibly know what it is like to have all of the expectations in the world thrust upon you and to fall short in just about every one of them. None of you could possibly know what it is like to have come from a company that has been viewed as a pariah in the wrestling world, and to be treated like a lower life from simply because of where you came from.
Or maybe you do. What do I know?
The cliche thing for me to do would be to sit her and wonder how each and every one of you will fare come Saturday. I could sit here and wonder how you’ll be able to function when not in the shadow of the Patron Saint of Starbucks and crappy puns. I could wonder how you’ll even make it the match on time when you seem to be in seven places at once. Or I could sit back and ponder over the fact that I would have a MUCH easier time explaining the theme of the current season of American Horror Story to a deaf mute than wonder how you even got here in this match in the first place.
Again, I’m not going to do that.
What I AM going to do is go out there on Saturday and show everyone what happens when a woman who has lost more things than she has won is backed into a corner. I’ll show you jst what happens when a woman becomes desperate. You’ll find out that she, and by she I mean me, will do any and everything it takes to win.
By any means necessary.
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Aug 18, 2016 11:50:24 GMT -5
Monday, August 15th, 2016 Las Vegas, Nevada OFF CAMERA
Tick…. Tock…. Tick…. Tock….
The rhythmic sound of the clock mounted on the wall is the only sound in an otherwise quiet office building. Mid-afternoon on a Monday in one of the busiest sections of downtown Las Vegas is always a hub of activity. The office of Doctor Paulette Rollins is something of a quiet oasis in the middle of Monday afternoon chaos. The pale yellow painted walls offer an inviting and comforting environment in a profession that few who seek help find comfort and ease in.Two solid wood bookcases, both in a rich Brazilian cherry finish, line the wall between the door and the large window and are filled with various psychology texts and classic literature novels. Matching cherry frames adorn another section of the wall, showcasing various awards and accolades received over the years, with her undergraduate and graduate degrees being featured front and center. Seated in a large, high back leather armchair was the good doctor herself. Dressed professionally in a crisp pantsuit and matching heels, she has a clipboard in her hand and appears to be jotting something down. Seated on the couch across from her was the patient she was currently seeing, professional wrestler and Las Vegas native Savannah Taylor. Dressed in a pair of black fitted dress pants that tapered at the ankle, simple black ballet flats and a sleeveless canary yellow button down shirt. She looked somewhat apprehensive to be in this office, and who could blame her?
Savannah had been going to see Doctor Rollins off and on for the past year. She was referred to the psychologist not long after the attack that nearly ended her career. After that attack, she was having a hard time just getting her life back on schedule. Since that initial session, Savannah had gone to see her when events in her personal life threatened to overrun her professional life. She went to see Doctor Rollins when she was reunited with her family. She went to go see Doctor Rollins towards the end of her time out on the West Coast. Now she was here in this familiar office because there was one major issue that she was dealing with that has changed her entire world, that being the loss of her mother. Doctor Rollins cleared her throat as she addressed the woman sitting across from her.
Doctor Rollins: So how long has it been now? Since you lost your mother?
Savannah Taylor: About three weeks now.
Doctor Rollins: And how have you been doing since then?
Savannah Taylor: Honestly? Not good. Most days I’m just wandering around in a fog, wondering what I’m doing and how I’m going to make it through to the end of the day.
Doctor Rollins: Were the two of you particularly close?
Savannah Taylor: For most of my life, she wasn’t even a part of it. It wasn’t until about a year ago that we reconnected. I was able to put whatever issues I had behind me and focus on having my mom back. My dad and my sister were a bonus.
Doctor Rollins: How did you find re-getting to know her, and your other family members, after so much time had passed?
Savannah Taylor: It took some getting used to at first, but things slowly started to feel more, I don’t know….natural. I wasn’t always there one hundred percent of the time, but that is due to what I do for a living. They were understanding, but I couldn’t help but feel a little bit……
Doctor Rollins: Guilty?
Savannah Taylor: Exactly.
Doctor Rollins: Is it because you found out about your mother’s illness and wanted to spend as much time as you could with her? Sort of making up for lost time?
Savannah Taylor: In a way, yes. Despite the fact that everyone told me not to worry and to go out and continue to do what I do, there was always that little voice in the back of my head telling me I should stay behind and make the most of what time I had left with her.
She says as steadies her breathing. Details surrounding her mother, or her family in general, were something she kept close to her chest, only choosing to share things with certain people. She’s learned the hard way since a young age the consequences of keeping things to herself ad what happens the longer you keep feelings inside.
Doctor Rollins: How have you been doing professionally since your mother’s passing?
Savannah Taylor: I wish I could say great, but I’d be lying to your face. What I do for a living, you have to push out whatever personal demons or issues you are dealing with and focus on your job. If you aren’t one hundred percent focused, all it takes is one wrong move and you are done for. I haven’t been performing NEARLY up to what I am capable, and that disappoints me.
Doctor Rollins: How so?
Savannah Taylor: I put what people would say is an unwarranted amount of pressure on myself. I want to be the best that I know I can be. I want to live up to the expectations that people seem to put on me. I want to make everyone who has ever believed in me proud. I’ve not been holding up my end of things as of late.
Doctor Rollins: You’ve been through a major, life altering event. It is natural for things to seem off. Have you taken any time for yourself? Have you allowed yourself time to grieve?
Savannah Taylor: I honestly haven’t. The day of my mother’s funeral, and we are talking mere HOURS after she was buried, I was on a plane to Orlando because I had a show the net day. Even in the days after she died, I’ve just been so caught up in everything that I’ve barely had any time to breathe it seems.I don’t know. Maybe I got back to business too soon. Maybe I’m allowing things to cloud my career.
Doctor Rollins: You pretty much hit the nail on the head. Different people grieve in different ways. You need to find the time for yourself, because the longer you go without it, the harder things may become.
Savannah Taylor: That is easier said than done.
She meant it too. With her schedule the way it was sometimes, especially with preparing for the Frontier Lions Cup in Anaheim, it wasn't easy to break away and get out of town. Her cabin in Lake Tahoe was an option, but she let her father use it when she left for Orlando. It was easier for Savannah to throw herself into work than it was to just stop and get away for a while. It was how she dealt with things. In her mind, keeping busy with work meant she didn’t have to worry about whatever it was that was on her mind.
Doctor Rollins: I know it has been a trying couple of weeks for you, but I was wondering about something else.
Savannah Taylor: What about?
Doctor Rollins: I’ve been keeping track of how you have been doing in wrestling and something has stuck out to me, especially in recent weeks. Can you tell me about the presence of this burlap sack?
Savannah sat in silence for a minute. She was still trying to wrap her head around everything. Between the initial presence as well as what happened two weeks ago, it was enough to shake anyone up a little bit. Add to it what Savannah has been dealing with and it was a combustible situation.
Savannah Taylor: What do you want to know?
Doctor Rollins: What does it represent to you?
Savannah Taylor: It represents an era of my past that I am still trying to put behind me. It represents the one ghost that is most in need of an exorcism.
Doctor Rollins: What would happen if this seemingly harmless, everyday object manifests into something more?
Savannah Taylor: You want the truth? If that thing becomes more than what it was, it means the past has officially come back to haunt me. NOTHING good will come of it. People that I work with and people that I love won’t be safe anymore. I can only hope that this nightmare doesn’t come true.
She said as she sat back on the couch. The last thing that she needed right now, especially before getting ready to head to Anaheim and the Frontier Lions Cup was to worry about certain ghosts from her past coming back to haunt her. This tournament was far too important to let her focus waver. Considering the level of competition that was in it this year, she needed to be firing on all cylinders if she was to make an impact in this thing. But the nagging portion of her brain was reminding her to keep her senses up in case her nightmare came true. Heaven help the FGA if it did.
Webster’s Dictionary defines the word disappointment as the feeling of sadness or displeasure caused by the non fulfillment of one’s hopes or expectations.
I’m just going to come right out and say it. Right now, few people personify this word more than I do. Two weeks ago, Vertigo took place in my hometown. The best wrestling company on the planet stopped in Las Vegas, and I was thrilled to be able to wrestle in front of my family and friends. Only, things didn’t turn out QUITE the way I had planned. I didn’t win. I failed to put away Salem Cartier, a woman I’ve defeated before. Oh sure, people can sit there and tell me that I did a good job and I have nothing to be ashamed of. They can tell me that I went out there and laid everything on the line and that Salem and I pushed each other to our breaking point. It is one thing for someone to tell me something. It is a completely different story for me to actually take what they tell me to heart and to believe them. I let people down two weeks ago. I let myself down because I expected so much more than what I gave out in the ring. I let the front office down because they had so much faith in me that I would deliver in my hometown. I let my father, my sister and my moth…...other family members down. I disappointed a bunch of people by my performance two weeks ago.
That all ends this Saturday in Anaheim.
This Saturday, I am one of eight people in the coveted Frontier Lions Cup. A chance for one person to either cement their legacy or be catapulted into superstardom. Am I excited and/or anxious about this tournament? Who wouldn’t be? Do I think I can win it all? I’d say I have about as good of a shot as everyone else, though not as good of a shot as some. But in order for me to advance to (hopefully) the finals, I have to get past someone who is one of the top dogs around these parts. I have to get past a popular figure within the FGA community. Someone who has overcome a great deal on their way to becoming a respected and fighting champion.
Sup, Fujiko?
Let me be quite frank with you, Fujiko. I don’t hate you. I know people are going to paint me as the jealous person who wants what you have and therefore must REALLY hate you. That couldn’t be farther from the truth. In some weird way, I admire you. I admire the way you have seemingly turned things around and made quite the name for yourself. You’ve got something of a cult following that shows up everywhere. Hell, if I want concrete evidence of your popularity, all I have to do is look on social media on Fridays and there it is. I don’t have your following. I don’t have your level of popularity. I’m not loved by these fans. But you know something? I’ve grown accustomed to this. I like to think I’ve taken what many would see as a disadvantage and made it my own thing. But just because I am something of the opposite of what you are Fujiko, that doesn’t mean I’m jealous. Not in the least bit. I know you are looking at the Frontier Lions Cup as your opportunity to finally get to the World Championship level. I know you have World title aspirations. Hell, we all do. At the end of the day, it all boils down to who wants it more. It all boils down to who is willing to put in the work and who is willing to do whatever it takes to win the entire thing.
I don’t think you want this enough.
I don’t think that you have it in you to take that necessary step up in the ranks. You have to be a certain kind of ruthless to reach the heights that others have. Sure, you may have this internal fire that burns like no other and that fuels your desire for greatness. But how well that translates into action is a different story. Quite frankly, I haven’t seen much of it in recent weeks. I haven’t seen the kind of mean streak that is borderline essential to getting ahead in this business. People want to see you succeed and they want you to achieve your dreams. People have all of these wants for you and they want to see someone like you do well. I just want to see you knocked down a peg or two. But not nearly as much as certain people who are not in the Frontier Lions Cup. That happens to be a different story for a different time.
I can see the writing on the wall already, Fujiko. I can hear the whisperings and the rumblings on the internet. People are already saying you are going to make it to the finals. Hell, people are even saying that you may shock the world and win the whole thing. Quite frankly I call bullshit on that, but it is neither here nor there. What bothers me is not so much that people are quick to elevate you right into the finals, is that people are so quick to count me out just because I’m facing you. Let me tell you, that burns. That irritates me more than having to hear about grrfaces all the damn time. But I guess I can’t fault people for thinking that way. Last time I checked, this was a free country and people were allowed to think whatever they want and say whatever they want. It is my job on Saturday to shut them all up and shock everyone when I beat their heralded Pride champion. Why am I so confident despite what the critics are saying? Two reasons. One, the critics are pretty much paid to spin the simplest thing into something bigger than it needs to to. Two, I remind myself that it only takes one wrong move on your part for me to capitalize. Everyone is beatable, Fujiko. Want proof? Look no further than the Summer Olympics going on down in Rio de Janeiro. Everyone and their uncle’s cousin’s brother’s next door neighbor has been cheering for the legend Michael Phelps, and with good reason. The man is literally Aquaman. His trademark even is the butterfly event. He never loses…….or so people thought. In the finals of the one hundred meter butterfly, he had to settle for silver because a relatively unknown kid from Singapore named Joseph Schooling bat him. Not only did he beat him, but he set a new Olympic record in the process. My point is that no one expected their hero Phelps to lose. But all it takes is one TINY slip up and your entire night could be over. Think about it.
I’ve been studying you a lot, Fujiko. I want to get a good picture of the woman I’m facing Saturday. While you’ve been impressive in some showcases, there have been some that have me somewhat concerned. How am I supposed to believe you pose a threat to not only me but to everyone else in the Frontier Lions Cup is you can barely manage to keep you Pride championship against someone who isn’t even in the FGA circle? When I finally saw the match, I was amused. Like it or not, Elizabeth gave you fits in that match, and I don’t think you’ve quite recovered from it. Come on, you were supposed to be the established star in that match and you damn near got upset in your FIRST FREAKING TITLE DEFENSE. Ask me again why people are so quick to pick you over me. I’ll wait.
I hope you take something away from this match, Fujiko. I hope you take away the knowledge that you aren’t as superhuman as you think you are. I hope that you realize that at the end of the day, everyone is bound to have a bad day at some point and that people like me are going to be there to jump all over you. But most importantly, at the end of the day I want you to realize that you are not going to make it to the top. You are not going to realize these dreams that you have of winning the World title. At the end of the day, all your legacy will be remembered for are tits and a hashtag. Nothing more, nothing less. Besides, it isn’t like you are my biggest competition in this tournament.
Johnny Karma. Yun Goeun. Molly Reid. Dom Harter. Mark Storm. All of you are in the same boat as I am. All of us are entering this tournament with our eyes not just on the main event finals, but earning a World championship match against either Johnny, Zero or Tony. I know the skeptics and cynics are making light of the tournament field, saying it lacks star power of that one name that people can rally behind in hopes that they win the whole shebang. I call bullshit on that one, personally. Each one of us can do some serious damage in this thing and any one of us could make it to the finals. It would be even sweeter if any one of us won it all. Unfortunately, things don’t always work out that way.
That leaves just one person left.
I haven’t forgotten about you, Chandler. Honestly, who could? I knew this day would come. I knew the day that the possibility of the two of us facing off with something this important would come. Am I looking forward to it? I think you know me well enough to know the answer to that. I know what is at stake here. I know the significance of what this tournament means to all involved, especially you. You want nothing more than to climb back to the top of the mountain and to reclaim your World championship. I want to see that too. I want you to reclaim your rightful place at the top. I know you are prepared to go through hell to reach your goal. I also know that you don’t care who you have to go through to get it, and that includes me. I want to win this thing just as much as the net person does. I want a potential World title match to actually MEAN something to me and to actually feel legitimate. I know I would have to face you in the finals to make that happen, Chandler. Unlike the last time we faced off against each other, I’ll be better prepared. I just hope that when this is all said and done, when this is all complete and in the record books, that nothing really changes afterwards. Now would be the point where I would wish you luck, but I think it’s pretty clear that some in this tournament need it way more than you do. Whatever happens on Saturday won’t change how I feel about you. Just remember that.
Saturday night, ladies and gentlemen, lives will be changed. For one person, they will be one step closer to the World championship after the dust has settled. The only question is...which one of us will it be? Which one of us is going to rise above everyone else and make their claim to greatness? Only time will tell.
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Aug 7, 2016 11:00:57 GMT -5
A couple of things about the segment I submitted. 1- This is the result of brainstorming sessions between myself and a VERY talented and creative person I've worked with in the past. We just started talking one day and....well....here we are. 2- This is eventually (like fairly soon) going to lead to something epic, and I just have to get this person to sign up for the forums here so we can rock and roll. 3- Answers will be doled out at the PPV, so stay tuned. I'm glad people are liking it though Dear Jesus in Heaven that tag team match! First off, Kevin and Allison are both pretty good writers on their own, but seeing them combine their forces is pretty sweet. The whole handcuffed to the ring deal was a stroke of brilliance. I laughed my ass off reading that, as Kevin, Allison and Von can attest to on Skype. OH YEAH, and Chad is the REAL MVP! #ChadForPresident2016 I felt that all of the matches were pretty great reads this show. I liked the McHannon/Karma match, but if I had to chose my favorite, it would have to be the Annie/SSTC main event. That post match beatdown...yeaaaaaahhhh I can't wait to see that Triple Threat match now! Cannon, Cory and Malik are going to be bringing the fire for sure! I have to say that as much as I joke about being nervous about the FLC (totes am BTW), this is a chance to step up with the big guns. I'm looking forward to this! I can't wait to see what kinds of awesomness people bring to the PPV. This is gonna be good!
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Aug 6, 2016 9:56:52 GMT -5
Saturday, July 23rd, 2016 Tucson Convention Center Tucson, Arizona OFF CAMERA
As the cameras cut from the parking garage into the arena, a bewildered Savannah Taylor is still standing in the middle of the parking lot, still clutching the burlap bag somewhat tightly in her hand. She seemed almost frozen in place, as if the sack was weighing her down like a one thousand pound dumbbell. There was something hauntingly familiar about it, as if it were an object from her past. An object from a time in her life that she has been trying to shed and move past for over a year now.
Savannah Taylor: Why? Why now?
Her words echoed in an empty lot as she pondered out loud. The question of why was one that she wanted an immediate answer to, but wouldn’t get one. Perhaps for a while, or perhaps not at all. She rolls her neck from side to side, a slight cracking noise releasing some unknown tension from within. As odd as this was for Savannah to admit, the distraction moments ago was somewhat welcome. Getting a phone call earlier from her sister was enough for Savannah, who wasn’t booked that night, to book an immediate flight back home to Las Vegas. Her mother, who was currently battling an advanced form of Stage Three breast cancer, hadn’t been doing well for the past couple of months. Her sister called her to tell her that their mother was taken to the hospital. Her sister wasn’t clear on the specifics, but just listening to the tone of her voice was cause for concern on Savannah’s part. She had been concerned about her mother’s almost rapid health deterioration, but had pushed it aside for the sake of her career. Now, she wasn’t sure what to think. Shaking her head, she starts to walk off in the direction of her rental car, still clutching the scratchy burlap sack in her hand. As she approaches her car, there is a chirping sound coming from her pocket. Stopping, she reaches into her pocket and pulls out her iPhone. Pushing the green icon, she puts it up to her ear and starts to talk to the person on the other end of the line.
Savannah Taylor: Hey Dad….yeah, Harper called me and told me about Mom…..I’ve already booked a last minute flight home….Don’t say I didn’t have to. This trumps anything related to my wrestling career. Besides, I’ve already informed the appropriate parties and they are fine with me…...wait, what? …….How…..how bad is it?.......Oh God…..You and Harper are there, yes?....I’m headed to the airport now and it’s a quick flight, so I’ll be home in a couple of hours…..No, I’m coming straight there…...alright, I’ll see you then. Love you too, Dad.
She presses the off button and slides her phone back into her pocket. She takes a second and draws in a sharp breath. Things had just gone from mildly bad to worse in the span of two separate phone conversations. Right now, wrestling was the farthest thing on her mind. Her mind was rightfully back home in Las Vegas. A single thought was rattling around in her head, one that found its way out of her mouth and echoed in the parking lot,
Savannah Taylor: Why is this happening to me?
She said to herself as she unlocks her car and climbs in, tossing the sack on the passenger's seat. Deep down inside, there was a tiny shred of her that felt guilty for missing the rest of Vertigo, especially when there were at LEAST two matches she wanted to see more than anything. But this situation she was told about with her mother, that took priority over everything. She would be hard pressed to find anyone with a conscious to tell her otherwise. She only hoped that when she got to the hospital that it wasn’t too late.
Sunday, July 24th, 2016 University Medical Center Las Vegas, Nevada OFF CAMERA
It had been six hours since Savannah Taylor had stepped off a plane at the famed McCarran International Airport. A little longer than that since she had received a phone call from her sister informing her that their mother was in the hospital. About the same amount of time had passed since her father called her while she was in the parking lot, informing her that her mother had slipped into a coma. Hearing that phrase shook her to her core, and it motivated her to get home as quickly as possible. She is pretty sure she broke a few speeding laws on her way to the airport in Tucson, but hopefully the local authorities didn’t notice. Once landing in Las Vegas, Savannah got in her car, which was parked at the airport, and had driven straight to the airport. She was so caught up in getting to the hospital and being with her family that she didn't even stop at her townhouse to drop off her luggage.Six hours removed from that found her inside of her mother’s room situated on the floor that housed the oncology department. Two chairs sat on either side of the bed that a frail looking Carla Taylor was currently lying on. In the chair closest to the door sat Savannah, who looked extremely tired. In the other chair sat her eighteen year old sister Harper, who was entirely too worried for someone about to head off to college in about 4 weeks. But her worry was more than justified. She had her mother in her life longer than Savannah did, so her worry and concern was well founded. Savannah was having just as hard of a time dealing with what was going on. It wasn’t too long ago that she got a long awaited wish granted, to have her family back together. She wasn’t prepared for her mother’s bombshell announcement. She had spent just about every moment since then reconnecting with her mother and father and getting to know the sister she never knew she had. Her sister shifts in her seat and clears her throat.
Harper Taylor: I didn’t think you’d get here as quickly as you did.
Savannah Taylor: I was already on the phone booking a flight right after you called me.
Harper Taylor: I’m glad you made it, though.
Savannah Taylor: I’m glad you called me.
Harper Taylor: I just wish it were under different circumstances.
Savannah Taylor: You and me both, sis.
She says with a sigh as she leans back in her chair. Because she was a private person, she had only let a small handful of people know what was going on. The public didn’t need to know anything, not that they would want to in the first place. Those she felt comfortable with were in the know, so to speak. The sound of approaching footsteps caused Savannah to turn around, only to be greeted by the sight of her father walking into the room, carrying three bottles of water. Keeping one for himself, he hands the other two to his daughters.
Savannah Taylor: Thanks, Dad.
Martin Taylor: No problem.
She takes the green cap off of the Poland Spring bottle and takes a sip, the cool liquid hitting the back of her throat in a most welcome manner.
Savannah Taylor: Hey Dad, mind if I ask you something?
Martin Taylor: Of course you can.
Savannah Taylor: How bad has Mom been? I mean, how long have things been as bad as they are?
Martin Taylor: Things started to go downhill around Easter. She wasn’t responding to the chemotherapy as well as everybody had thought. She was losing more weight, her appetite was all but gone, and she was growing more lethargic as the days went on. That is when we found out that the cancer had spread past the lymph nodes.
Savannah Taylor: I…..I had no idea it was that bad.
Harper Taylor: None of us did.
Martin Taylor: Your sister is right. Her primary oncologist was going to recommend a more aggressive form of chemo, but your mother didn’t want to go through with that.
Savannah Taylor: I could see what it did to her. She wasn’t the same person as I remember from almost a year ago after she was done.
Martin Taylor: That is the sad thing. Which is why, after some serious discussions with not only all of us but her doctors, she came to the conclusion to stop treatments.
Savannah said nothing as her father talked. Having been part of the discussions he mentioned, she wasn’t too keen on the idea of her mother stopping these somewhat life preserving treatments. But at the same time, she saw what they were doing to her. She saw what her mother was like in the days and weeks after treatment, especially in the past few weeks. Ultimately it was her mother’s call and Savannah supported her choice
Savannah Taylor: So how did she get to this point?
Savannah gestures to her mother’s body on the bed, which was hooked up to a heart monitor and various other equipments. The monitor made a steady beeping sound as Martin began to speak once more.
Martin Taylor: At one of her last checkups, her white blood cell count was found to have dropped to a low level, which made her vulnerable to any outside illnesses. Somehow, and we aren’t sure how, she caught a cold. The coughing was bad enough, but when she spiked a fever, that's when I brought her in here.
Savannah Taylor: Was that before Harper called me?
Martin Taylor: It was the day before, actually. The doctors wanted to make sure there was nothing serious before any calls were made.
Harper Taylor: I wanted to call you earlier, but we had to wait for the oncologist to get here to run some tests. Something about making sure that whatever got her sick was on it’s way out.
Savannah Taylor: I don’t care about the details. I’m just glad you both called me.
She takes another long sip from her water and sets it down on a nearby table. Looking down at her mother and then back at her father and sister, she tucks a strand of hair behind her hear.
Savannah Taylor: Do you think I could have a minute here?
Martin Taylor: Of course you can.
He motions for Harper to follow him as the two move to a quieter corner of the room, allowing Savannah to have a moment with her mother. Savannah turns her chair slightly so she has a better angle,and she takes her mother's hand in hers as she speaks.
Savannah Taylor: Hey Mom. I don’t know if you can hear me or not, but there is something I’ve been wanting to say for a while now. I just wish this were under better circumstances. I’ve been thinking a lot about the circumstances that led us to this point, to this same hospital almost a year ago. I didn’t know what to expect. I hadn’t seen you or Dad in over a year and the last time we all saw each other was under less than ideal circumstances. I had so many questions that I wanted answers to, so many things I wanted to say that I never thought I would be able to. Even though we got past a lot of what happened in the past and even though I have my family back for however long, there is something I never told you.
She draws in a breath as she tries to steady her voice and keep her emotions in check for a moment.
Savannah Taylor: I forgive you, Mom. I forgive you for not fighting for me when you were released. I forgive both you and Dad for some of the choices you both made. I realize now, as pathetic as this may be on my part, that you were doing what best for me. I get that now. There is so much I want you to experience with me, so much that we haven’t been able to do. That is why I want you to fight through this. Please Mom, I want you to wake up and……
Savannah is cut off by by the sudden shrill noise of the heart monitor starting to go flat. Savannah leaps from her chair and looks over at her sister and father, the latter of whom had rushed out the door to yell for the doctor. Within seconds, a trio of doctors, all in their crisp white labcoats, whisked in and immediately converged on Carla’s bed. One of the doctors looked at the family members and quietly started to usher them towards the door.
Doctor: I’m going to have to ask you to wait outside.
Savannah Taylor: What's going on?
Doctor: We are going to do everything we can to make sure she is okay. We just need you three to wait outside.
He says as Savannah, her father and her sister shuffle out the door and into the hallway. The door shuts behind them as Martin and Harper take seats in the pair of chairs across from the door, leaving Savannah to stand against the wall. All three were silent as they stared at the door, wondering what was going on. Savannah kept hoping that somehow, someway, the doctors were able to do something for her mother. But the somewhat realistic and borderline cynical side of her knew that thy end was drawing near. She wasn’t ready to let go yet. She wanted her mother around for a long time, for her to share in any future life milestones she may have. The minutes seemed to drag on as the trio sat in silence, neither one quite knowing what to say. After about seven long and agonizing minutes, the door creaks open and the doctor steps out. His poker face was reminiscent of the most seasoned blackjack player at The Palms. Martin is the first to rise from his chair as the doctor comes over.
Martin Taylor: How is she? Can we go see her?
Doctor: We tried everything we could to revive her. We tried everything in our power to stabilize her. Unfortunately, we lost her. I’m so sorry.
He says as he backs off into the room. It was at this precise moment that time stopped. Savannah could see her father begin to break down as soon as the doctor delivered those painful words. She could see her sister sobbing as she wrapped her arms around their father. But she couldn’t hear them. All she could recall was her sliding down the wall and crashing to the floor. She felt her shoulder shake as the tears flowed from her eyes. She didn’t give a damn that her makeup, something she hadn’t bothered to remove, was going to be ruined. She didn’t care who saw her ugly crying in the middle of a hospital floor. What just happened was something that would change her from here on out. She vaguely felt her father and sister sit down on either side of her, each wrapping an arm around her. One day removed from exactly one year since she reconnected with her mother, she was gone. There would be no more conversations with her mother about any and everything under the sun. There would be no more tales about how the family would gather around the television to watch Savannah wrestle wherever she was. There would be no chance for her mother to see her wrestle in person in two weeks at the Orleans Arena. Savannah’s heart went out to her sister, who wouldn’t have her mother there to see her off to the University of Maine in a few weeks. All future plans were thrown out the window now. Now there were phone calls to other family members to be made and arrangements to be made. As the family sat there sobbing and trying to comfort each other, Savannah thinks back to the words she said only a few hours ago about why this was happening to her. Life had a habit of kicking her down a few times, but she always managed to come out on top. This situation, however, had kicked her so down and so hard that she wasn’t sure how, or even IF she would make it out. It would take a village and some time, that is for sure. Everything would have to take a backseat, including wrestling. That was something she wasn’t ready to face, nor was she sure she ever would again.
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Jul 29, 2016 21:17:41 GMT -5
What does the burlap sack mean? I NEED ANSWERS Hehehehehe. All i will say about that is that this is something that is being plotted by myself and an amazingly talented writer. With what we have planned, all will be (hopefully) revealed at the PPV. And if you liked that segment............it gets better this upcoming show.
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Jul 7, 2016 1:18:32 GMT -5
January 23rd, 1999 Henderson, Nevada OFF CAMERA
Winter in the desert climate of Nevada isn’t like it is in most parts of the country. While most places experience snow, ice and other typical winter conditions, Nevada doesn’t seem to witness any of it. The most drastic change that takes effect is the temperature dropping to the mid fifties, which wouldn’t seem like much, but it was enough to send residents scrambling for warmer clothes. The city of Henderson, located approximately sixteen miles outside of Las Vegas, was experiencing some of the more seasonable temperatures of the winter. In a quiet neighborhood just outside the heart of the city sat a two story house nestled right at the apex of a cul-de-sac. Out in the front yard, remnants of Christmas lawn decorations were still perched up against the hedges in front of the house. The house belonged to the Carmichael family, one of the more well-to-do families in the city. The patriarch of the family, Stephen, was a local city councilor and a lawyer while his wife Marcia was a branch manager at a local bank. They had a fourteen year old son named Brendan whom they thought the world of. The family was very active in their local church, St. Francis De Sales. It was their devotion to the church and the teachings of love and charity that led to them becoming foster parents. Their current foster child, their first actually, was the ten year old from nearby Las Vegas, Savannah Taylor. Stephen and Brendan had taken a shine to the youngster, but Brenda was a different story. Brenda always prided herself on her image and social status. While becoming a foster parent was an admirable thing, there was something about the little girl that didn’t sit right with her.
Savannah was seated at the kitchen table working on some homework, her yellow Pokemon pencil scribbling in her notebook as a textbook lay open in front of her. Brendan was seated at the opposite end of the table, working on a page of complicated-looking math problems. Savannah chewed slightly on the end of her pencil as she concentrated on her Geography, a move that emitted a soft clucking sound from her foster brother.
Brendan Carmichael: You’ve gotta stop doing that, or else you’ll run out of pencils.
Savannah Taylor: Sorry. I just hate this geography homework.
Brendan Carmichael: I know, but if you keep doing that, Mom said she won’t buy you any more.
Savannah sighs as she sets her pencil down. Her relationship with her foster mother was strained at best. The ten year old had no idea why. All she was doing was trying to be as good of a girl as she could. She didn’t get into trouble in school, she always did what was asked of her. The only thing she could think of was there was some lingering issues with what happened to Savannah’s mother, which was a subject that was never brought up thanks to Marcia’s proud nature. Savannah glanced around the table and spotted the local newspaper sitting just off center on the table. She goes to reach for it, but Brendan quickly stops her.
Savannah Taylor: Hey!
Brendan Carmichael: Sorry.
Savannah Taylor: I was going to read that.
Brendan Carmichael: I’m saving this…...for Dad. Yeah.
Savannah rolls her eyes almost in an annoyed manner as she once again reaches for the paper.
Savannah Taylor: All I want is to read the comics. Not fair!
Brendan Carmichael: And I told you I’m saving it for Dad.
But the younger girl wasn't having any of it as she reached out once again and this time was successful in yanking the paper away. Brendan sighs as Savannah sticks her tongue out.
Savannah Taylor: Ha ha. I win!
She gloats as she sets the paper in front of her and begins to flip to the section containing the comics. As she is thumbing through the paper, her eyes catch a small blurb in the section where all of the court and police blotter happenings were placed. She reads the blurb and her head cocks to the side, trying to make out what she is reading. Her eyes scan around the room before landing on a seemingly guilty looking Brendan.
Savannah Taylor: Is this why you kept this from me? So I wouldn’t find out that my mother was released from prison?
Brendan Carmichael: I was just trying to protect you…
Savannah Taylor: Why?
Before Brendan can answer, family matriarch Marcia walked into the room. She looks between the two sitting at the table and looks at the paper Savannah was holding.
Marcia Carmichael: What is going on in here?
Brendan Carmichael: I tried to keep it away…
Marcia turns to face Savannah.
Marcia Carmichael: Why do you have that?
Savannah Taylor: I...I just wanted to read the comics.
Marcia Carmichael: Well you obviously aren’t, now are you?
Savannah Taylor: Why didn’t you tell me?
Marcia Carmichael: Tell you about what?
Savannah Taylor: My mother.
The mere mention of Savannah’s mother made Marcia bristle. In her perfect world, there was no room for an imperfection such as taking in someone whose mother was a convicted criminal. She only took Savannah in a year and a half ago because she and her husband were having trouble conceiving a second child. They figured adoption was a viable option. That was when they took Savannah into their home. Marcia would have preferred someone younger and without the glaring imperfections on their life, but her husband and son wore her down enough.
Marcia Carmichael: Why? You want to know why? Because your mother is a bad person who did some equally bad things. She is taking after HER mother afterall.
Savannah Taylor: Stop it! Grandma never did anything wrong!
Marcia Carmichael: You watch your mouth, young lady. Your grandmother is just as bad, what with the information we were given about her.
Savannah Taylor: No she isn’t. She never hurt me at all.
Marcia reaches over and yanks the paper out of Savannah’s hand.
Marcia Carmichael: I told you to watch your mouth. We have important company coming over for dinner tonight and the last thing I want them to see is this laying around. Imagine if they were to connect the dots and find out that our foster child had a convict for a mother and a reckless child harmer for a grandmother. That would be the end of things.
Savannah could feel tears forming behind her eyes as she crossed her arms over her chest.
Savannah Taylor: I don’t care about their stupid opinions. They are wrong. They were going to find out anyway. They DO read.
She said defiantly as Marcia narrows her eyes. She reaches down and grabs Savannah by the arm, yanking the girl to her feet.
Marcia Carmichael: That is just about all I am going to stand from you. Take your books and go straight to your room. You can forget about dinner. I’m not going to have your mouth and your attitude ruin a perfectly good evening. You can stay there for the rest of the night.
She said with a low tone to her voice, which was borderline scary. Savannah gathered up her stuff and practically ran up the stair to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. She tosses her books onto a nearby chair and flings herself onto her bed, burying her face into her pillow. Ever since she had come to the Carmichael’s over a year and a half ago, she had been welcomed by everyone but Marcia. Marcia had long held the crimes of Savannah’s mother against her and used that to treat her the way that she had been. She may as well have been called Petunia Dursley, after a character in the first Harry Potter book that Savannah secretly loved. Picking her head up, Savannah sits up and wipes her eyes. She reaches over to her nightstand and picks up the magazine that Brendan had loaned her. It was a wrestling magazine. Wrestling was something that she had been introduced to by her foster brother and was yet another bone of contention with Marcia. In Marcia’s world, no girl would be caught dead showing an interest in such a “sport.” But Savannah was more than interested, she was downright hooked. Pretty soon she was thinking that this was something she could do as a career. Of course, she was told that her dream was downright foolish and that she needed to get back to reality. As she began to flip through the magazine, her dream began to push itself to the front of her brain. One day, when she was old enough and had managed to get enough resources together, she would pursue her dream. She would finally be able to silence the naysayers, like her foster mother, who told her that girls just simply didn’t wrestle. Maybe if she kept at it when she came of age, she would be able to have some stability in her life. Maybe wrestling would provide that for her. But for now, she would have to be content with this sliver of paradise in an otherwise turbulent life she had at the tender age of ten. She simply had to find the strength and courage to carry on, and her dream of wrestling would hopefully see her through.
“Good things come to those who wait.”
“Patience is a virtue.”
Out of every possible phrase to use in the entire history of the English language, these two are probably the most annoying to hear and to even speak. Early on in life, hearing people say one or both of these phrases can be helpful and even inspiring. But over time, the repeated use of these colloquialisms can start to wear down even the most strong willed people. It is enough to test the patience of a saint.
I am no saint and I am not the most patient person in the world.
Sure, there are certain instances where being patient pays off, such as waiting for a promotion or for the object of your affection to finally give you that coveted look back. Pretty much this entire business that we work in is one big game of hurry up and wait. It seems all I have been doing is wait. I had to wait months before finally taking the plunge to join the FGA roster. I had to gether. wait years to have my family back together in my life. Now in a couple of days, I will have to wait again to get my chance to qualify for the Frontier Lion’s Cup. If I am being completely honest, I’m downright ecstatic to be chosen to compete in this tournament. Going into something like this, you would assume everyone is on equal footing and that everyone stands the same chance of winning as the next person in line. That right there is a lie. Looking over the names of the people signed up for this, there are names in this tournament that everyone should be afraid to face. These are the people who deserve to be here.
Senso Washi is not one of them.
Now, if this were taking place in another company around this time last year, then the mere thought of facing a newcomer would be downright insulting. I would have more than likely pitched a fit and made it my mission to make said newcomer regret facing me. Do you want to know what is different between then and now?
I’m not throwing a tantrum.
Senso, I want to welcome you here. I want to welcome you to the place where you will find, hands down, the best competition in the entire world. As I have found out, and am still finding out, people here don’t mess around. You have to have a certain kind of skin to be able to handle yourself here. I’ve had that kind of tough skin ever since I came into this business. Forgive me for saying that I don’t think you have what it takes right now.
Or don’t forgive me. Its totally up to you.
Let me set the scene for you. This is a scene of how I think things are going to play out on Saturday. The FGA faithful are going to rally behind the charismatic newcomer and hope he is able to pull off the upset win in his debut match. They will hurl their usual chorus of jeers, boos and catcalls at me because that is just what they do. It is their right to do that. I’m used to it. We are going to go out there and get the crowd as pumped as possible for the rest of the show. But here is where things get interesting. While people have this notion of the newcomer marching in and taking out the loudmouthed Las Vegas native, the reality is quite the opposite. What is actually going to happen is I am going to make good on my word and I am going to get through you to get to the next round of the tournament by any means necessary. What may come across to you as wild overconfidence and arrogance, I see it as the truth. I have stood toe to toe with some of the wrestling world’s best people and I have lived to tell the tale. I have been part of some of the most talked about matches of the past two years. I have won when it matters most, which is in the clutch. Most important of all, I have had to wait as patiently as I could for the rewards to come in. Once they started, it was one of the best feelings in the world. I look at the field and right off the top of my head, I see two people who know the pressures that come with holding the top prize in the game. Want to know a secret, Senso? I also know what it is like to hold the top prize in the game today. The only difference is there are certain events surrounding my title win that I refuse to talk about. All I will tell you is I waited a little over two years for that chance and it was the most bittersweet moment of my career.
I’m going into this qualifying match with a clear goal in mind...making it to the next round. I want to put my name at the top of the topics of conversation around watercoolers. To do that, I’ve got to go as far into this tournament as my abilities will allow me to. In order for THAT to happen, I have to get through you. So please, I invite you on Saturday to come at me with every possible move in your arsenal. I want you to come at me with your very best. That way when I end up pinning you or making you tap, you’ll know you were beaten by better competition. There is no way in hell I am going to allow some newcomer step between me and reaching the next round. I refuse to be made an example of when it comes to shocking upset wins. But don’t worry, I’m sure there will be other chances for you.
Auf Wiedersehen.
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Jun 23, 2016 19:49:21 GMT -5
Friday, June 17th, 2016 Las Vegas, Nevada OFF CAMERA
The mid afternoon sun was blazing high in the sky, creating an additional layer to a borderline unbearably hot day. The recent string of triple digit temperatures wasn’t anything too out of the ordinary for Southern Nevada in June, but this was enough to turn even the most seasoned of residents into sweating grumps with no choice but to take refuge in air conditioned houses and office buildings. The slight breeze that was blowing wasn’t offering much of a rescue from the heat. It was the kind of heat where health officials warned people to stay indoors.But the heat didn’t stop people from making trips to destinations outdoors. A place of serenity and reverence, the Woodlawn Cemetery stood as a sort of oasis where people could go and spend some quiet time with friends or relatives who have passed away. Despite the weather, about a dozen people are scattered throughout the massive resting place, milling about the different shaped headstones, quietly talking amongst themselves. In a quiet corner of the cemetery, just off to the side of a pair of sturdy oak trees sat one particular granite headstone. It’s smooth surface gleamed in the blazing sunlight, adding an element of beauty to an often thought of place of dreariness. A figure was seated with their back resting on the side of the headstone and their legs stretched out in front of them, soaking up the sun. The figure is actually that of favorite Las Vegas native Savannah Taylor. She was dressed in a pair of faded blue jean shorts, a simple white tank top and black sandals, an effort to keep as cool as possible. She lets out a slight sigh as she clears her throat. Savannah Taylor: Well, I told you I’d make it today. With this God awful heat, I almost decided against it. But a promise is a promise and I’d like to think I’m a woman of my word. At least you always thought so. She pauses to wipe a bead of sweat from her forehead as she continues. Savannah Taylor: So let's see, what is new with me. My wrestling career is still going strong. I’ve got a pretty darn good thing going in FGA. The level of competition is outright insane, but in a good way. I think for the first time since leaving San Diego almost a year ago, I’m having fun again. It was true. The end of the year last year was a time of turmoil and uncertainty. A couple of months prior, Savannah could see the writing on the wall, but a part of her was still holding out that things would work themselves out. She made the right choice towards the end in signing with FGA. It was the best thing for her personal and professional lives. Savannah Taylor: I’ve got a fairly important match coming up next week. It’s on the biggest show of the year, so I have that going for me. I’m actually looking forward to the match I have. It’s pretty much the same type of situation I was in when I faced Annie Zellor-Dupree a while ago. Only this time, the person I’m facing is different. Don’t get me wrong. He’s still an uber goody good, but something, and I can’t quite put my finger on it, rubs me the wrong way in regards to him. Either way, I’m just looking forward to putting on what I hope is an amazing match. Savannah reaches up and wipes another bead of sweat from her forehead, a move that made her wish she brought a bandanna or something to keep in her pocket. But deep down, she knew a little heat was worth the price of where she was. Savannah Taylor: And for some reason, I’ve been picking up some pretty prestigious endorsements. I’m the face of a line of perfumes by Juicy Couture. That is something I’m still trying to wrap my head around. I’ve gone from being a relative unknown in wrestling to branching out in ventures outside of the ring. If I’m being completely honest, this is all a little overwhelming and is going to take some getting used to. Assuming I ever really do. Sure, the money she was making from said endorsements was a great bonus. But she had always been somewhat of a private person. Sharing herself like this with the world was foreign territory, but stepping out of her comfort zone and exploring new opportunities were part of the growing process in wrestling. Savannah Taylor: But even though I’ve been blessed beyond comparison and am set to do battle on a large stage in Florida, there is always this one thing that is weighing on my mind. That one thing that, if I keep dwelling on it too much, it will eventually overtake everything and I’ll slip up big time. She heaves a sigh as she sneezes slightly. Savannah Taylor: I’m worried about Mom. I’m worried because she isn’t doing as well as we all thought. Her body isn’t reacting the right way to the chemotherapy treatments. She’s getting weaker and more not herself as each day goes by. She had all she could do to make it through Harper’s graduation two weeks ago. I hate seeing her going through this. I hate being powerless and not able to do anything for her. I want her to be able to see me wrestle in person in August. That’s when the FGA comes to Las Vegas. But if it took a lot of effort on her part to sit through a high school graduation, it would be a damn near Herculean effort to sit through a wrestling show in her condition. Savannah pauses as she takes her gold rimmed sunglasses off and rubs her eyes in an effort to block any tears from falling. Her mother’s condition was a VERY touchy subject that she had only shared with a miniscule handful of people. It was an aspect of her personal life that she didn’t need broadcast all over the airwaves and on social media. Savannah Taylor: I’m scared. I mean, it was last year when I was reunited with not only her and Dad, but found out I had a sister as well. I got my family back and we’ve been getting along pretty well. I’ve finally received the one thing I’ve wanted for GOD knows how long, and now it’s at risk of being ripped apart. There is so much I want to enjoy and share with Mom, so much I want her to experience. To live under the cloud of her being taken from me far too soon…. She sniffs as she takes her glasses off and wipes her eyes with the back of her hand. This whole situation was, at times, hard for Savannah to deal with. When she had to, she did her best to mask what was going on and go about her business. But behind closed doors and when she was around those she trusted two thousand percent, she let her guard down and almost reverted back to her five year old self when her life was turned upside down. In a couple of days, she would be on a plane to Florida, where she was set to take part in the various festivities leading up to All Star Showdown V. While she was in Florida, she would put on the mask she wore when she was concealing her private life troubles. But here in Las Vegas, she was able to be herself. Savannah Taylor: Sorry about that. I’m just used to holding things in while in public. When I get talking about this, I turn into a mess. I know it’s nothing to be sorry for and if you were in front of me, you’d smack my arm. She stands up and brushes off her shorts. Taking a deep breath, she turns and faces the headstone one more time Savannah Taylor: Thanks for letting me vent to you. You always were a great person to talk to. I just wish you were here in person. Beggars can’t be choosers. She laughs softly to herself as she reaches out and places a hand on the cool granite stone. Savannah Taylor: Happy birthday, Grandma. She pauses before giving one last look at her grandmother’s final resting place. She then turns and walks off in the opposite direction. In a few days, she would be immersing herself in her chosen profession. She would be two thousand percent ready for All Star Showdown V and her encounter with Mark Storm. She knew in her heart of hearts that she would be ready. The proverbial raincloud over her head would have to be pushed away, simply for the sake of her craft.
“If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.” These words, spoken several times over in life, pretty much ring true in the wrestling world. People come into this business and expect things to be handed to them on a silver platter with a glass of champagne. Most people nowadays don’t have the internal gumption to go out and get what they want.
I am not most people.
I saw an opportunity to make a statement on FGA’s most important show. I saw an opportunity to give the faithful fans the chance to watch one hell of a match on an already stacked card. I saw an opportunity to get my name out there. You know what I did? I took that chance. I seized the opportunity to do all of that. Unfortunately some people took issue with how I went about things. Unfortunately, not everyone shares my enthusiasm for greater glory.
How you doin’, Mark?
Mark Storm, so we finally get the chance for a proper scrap. The professional part of me is excited. I’m excited to get in the ring with someone who has been around as long as you have. You’ve done more in your career than most people will ever have the chance of doing. Who wouldn’t be the least bit excited over the prospect of facing someone of your stature? But as excited as the professional side of me is over our upcoming match, the more realistic side of me has one simple question for you.
What in the hell have you done?
Are you fully aware of the choice that you made by accepting this match, Mark? I honestly don’t think you are. You may have acted rashly. You may have acted in the heat of the moment when you finally decided to accept my challenge. Maybe you were still pissed off at me for interrupting your little love fest a few weeks ago. Maybe you just woke up one morning and thought to yourself “Hey, I wonder what stupid thing I can do today.” Or maybe it was the repeated blows to your head that caused your momentary lapse in judgement. Either way, you signed your name in the dotted line, thus sealing your fate for All Star Showdown V.
You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?
Look, I can appreciate your fortitude to want this match. I can appreciate you wanting to pick yourself up by the bootstraps and get back on the winning side of things.
I’m just not going to allow you to do that at my expense.
I’ll be the first person to admit that I have done some pretty crappy things in the past in this business. There is an entire chunk of time around the last year to year and a half that I am trying to put past me. Trying to move past what I’ve done is still a work in progress. Thankfully I’m in a place where the people seem more receptive. That is a hell of a lot more I can say for other places on the opposite coast. But one thing I haven’t tried to move past is that tried and true killer instinct. I revel in the fact that no matter the stakes, no matter the match, I am willing to but my body, heart and soul on the line. Why? Because people choose to doubt me. Because people choose to bury their head in the sand and pass me over for the sake of others. Do others deserve it more than me? More often than not, yes. Does this irritate me and push me to be better? You’re damn right it does.
That is where you come in.
The person that awaits you in Lakeland is going to make you regret agreeing to this match. I am not going to be nice towards you because you are a seasoned veteran or may or may not have a few mental issues going on. I am going to treat you the same way that people have taken to treating me ever since I debuted in this business. Believe me when I say that it is not going to be a pretty site for you.
Well, not entirely. I’m the only pretty site in this match.
You can take all of your preconceived notions about me and about how this match is going to go and you can throw them out the window. Our match at All Star Showdown, while it may very well be a showcase of what we can do, it is going to be far from easy. You are going to find out the hard way just what a huge mistake it was to not only accept this match, but to cross paths with me in the first place.
It’s your funeral, I suppose.
Auf Wiedersehen.
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Jun 9, 2016 19:44:56 GMT -5
From the Twitlonger of Savannah Taylor (@lasvegassiren)
I tried to warn you people.
I tried to be the nice person and give you all fair warning what would eventually happen once I arrived here in FGA. I tried to tell those who would listen that before long, a much needed resurgence would take place. After the debacle that went down out West, I made a promise to myself that wherever I ended up that things were going to be different. I wanted to test myself against the best competition out there. I wanted to show the world that the hype that was built up around me was worth the investment. I wanted a fresh start.
That is what attracted me to the FGA.
This has become something of a proving ground if you want to make a name for yourself. Let's face the facts. The level of competition here is second to none. But let it be known that I didn’t come here to be full of sunshine and rainbows and spreading messages of goodwill. I’ll leave that to others on the roster. I came here to be better than what people have seen elsewhere. Did things start off the way I wanted? I’m woman enough to admit that things didn’t start out the way I wanted. But recently I’m getting that renewed sense of confidence back. I’m feeling much better about recent outings. What does this all mean?
Eventual bad news for pretty much everyone around me.
Before I get into this week, let me first talk about something recent, something that has started to ruffle my feathers ever so slightly. Mark Storm. It appears that I may or may not have upset you last Vertigo. What’s the matter? Did the fact that I interrupted your match and called you out on everything that you said upset you? Go ahead and ask me how many fucks I give. The answer is none. If you have such an issue with me, allow me to repeat the same bit of advice I gave you last time.
Do something about it. Please, I’m urging you to put up or shut up.
Now that this particular little subject is done, for this week at least, time to move on. What a step up match I have this week. I get to go one on one with one half of the rough and tumble World Tag Team champions. Any person should be beside themselves with happiness at such an opportunity. A chance to go one on one with one of the lauded champions here in FGA? How awesome is that? I can’t wait to face off against Ricky Valero…...whoops, my bad. I thought for a second that I was going to be facing Ricky for a second. You know, someone who could pose a challenge.
How are you doing, Luke? Feeling anxious? Maybe even a tad bit nervous? Good. You should be. You should be feeling nervous because for the first time, at least in my recent memory, you are stepping out from behind your tag team partner’s shadow and going out on your own in search of validation and acceptance. Trust me when I say I can appreciate that. Hell, I can even respect that a little. For some people, the search for acceptance, validation and respect is a long and arduous process that seems to never end.
Hello preacher. It’s me, the choir.
Seriously Luke, coming out here and saying you are just searching for some respect and validation as a singles wrestler, while admirable, is something I have been searching for my entire career. For everything I’ve accomplished in my career up to this point, there are STILL people out there who want to discredit me. There are still people out there who want to take away everything I’ve done. But instead of hemming and hawing over social media like a depressed teenager, I’m doing everything in my power to shove all of the negativity and all of the character attacks back at people. I’m not begging for attention on Twitter or trying to get people to feel sorry for me. Seriously. My eighteen year old sister didn’t act nearly as badly as you are when she found out she missed out on being salutatorian by less than three points. She took that incident and instead of pulling a temper tantrum, she worked her ass off and was able to net a couple of pretty prestigious academic awards that she will carry with her to college in the fall.
In short, you could learn a thing or two about dealing with adverse situations from my sister.
Was I upset when I was unable to capture the Mid Atlantic Legacy championship? Yes. Was I upset that it was Annie Zellor...whoops...Dupree who walked away with the gold? Yes, but here’s the thing. As much as it kills me to admit this, she was the better wrestler that night. Will she be the better wrestler if we ever meet again? Not if I have anything to say about it. But that begs the question, will you and Ricky be able to pull out a Hail Mary and retain your tag team titles against either Status Quo or Le Pacte de Immortels? Everyone knows how good Dan and Cordy are, and they have proven themselves more than capable of holding tag team gold. I know probably better than most just what kind of person Lady Magdalena is in the ring. Underneath that ethereally beautiful exterior lies a dangerous competitor. So if I were to bet money on you and Ricky retaining your titles, I would be out several hundred dollars. Am I saying you don’t stand a chance? Not exactly. But if things pan out a certain way and you guys do end up losing, I will start taking bets as to how quickly you guys start blaming each other for the loss. That is where the real money is.
Look, I can appreciate the fact that everyone goes through some rough times. I can appreciate the fact that despite whatever is going on in your personal life, you keep fighting on because it is all that you know. In a way I wish more people in this industry had that trait about them. But just because I appreciate the warrior fighting spirit, that doesn’t change the fact that this Saturday I’m going to take great pride in knocking your head clean off your shoulders. You may think you know what you are getting into. You may think that you have me all figured out. Buddy, you have NO idea what you are getting into. You don’t fully know what I am capable of once that bell rings. It’s something akin to watching a tornado. It’s impressive yet terrifying to look at even at a glance. But once you get up close and get a better view, nothing can prepare you for this particular force of nature. Why do you think scientists are still trying to figure out everything that they can about them? They want to know everything that they can because that way, they are able to warn the people in the tornado’s path when it is coming so that they may seek shelter.
By the way, I am far from terrifying to look at. Just an FYI
I could sit here and wax poetic about how much I am looking forward to this match. I could sit here and go on and on about how this match could be a standout on the card. Hell, I could even go on and on about this match features two wrestlers who are both searching for their own identities and wanting to become more than what they are perceived to be. All of these, to an extent, are true. I know, it seems shocking coming from someone like me. I have my moments, trust me. But here’s the thing, Luke. Just because I may come out here and say that this is going to be a damn good match, which is is by the way, doesn’t mean I’m going to take this lightly. Just because I may show some signs of respect towards you doesn’t mean that I’m going to stop myself from dragging you around all corners of that ring on Saturday. While I was making light of the fact that I’m facing the often thought of weaker member of your tag team, I realized that may have been a bit harsh. You are not a weak link in the slightest. You are the Speedy to Ricky’s Green Arrow, the Jimmy Olsen to his Superman, the Ron Weasley to his Harry Potter. I could go on and on, but you must be getting the point by now. I could sit here and remark that people remember the hero but rarely the sidekick. That is mean of me and I apologize.
Or maybe I’m bringing this up as a way of motivating you, because God knows you need it right about now. Seriously Luke, if you wanted some motivation, then all you had to do was ask. You change between fierce competitor to whiny emo kid faster than most people change socks. Pick a personality and stick with it because it’s getting old. I don’t care if anything I’ve said is upsetting you. I don’t care if anything I’ve said is making you mad. I have never been one to do or say things that makes people thrilled to see me, well, with maybe a few exceptions. If you are that upset by what I have to say, I shudder to think what will happen if you ever face someone like Lady Magdalena or anyone of that stature in this company. Trust me, I am an angel compared to others in this company. Do me a favor before Saturday. I want you to reach down deep inside of you and find whatever internal energy you can muster. Do whatever you need to do in order to get you in the right frame of mind. Motivate yourself however you need. Do whatever you need to do in order to get you at your best. I want you at your best because WHEN I win, I want to be the first to remind you that your best simply wasn’t good enough.
Your best will NEVER be good enough.
Auf Wiedersehen.
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Post by Savannah Taylor on Jun 7, 2016 9:14:48 GMT -5
This definitely ranks right up there as one of the best shows I have read in recent months. Yes...MONTHS. Everything seemed to flow together to create one hell of an amazing show!
The Dynamic Duos have been nothing short of FIRE! Nothing against LPDI (Please don't hurt me, Lasie!) but the clear Match of the Night went to Status Quo vs. #RubyWay. It was one of those matches where you didn't know who was going to win, it was that evenly matched. This is also a clear case of how talented Kevin, Allison, Dion and Dan are as writers. I'm pumped for the finals!
Tony Carmine, Zero McHannon and Johnny Cannon is a match I never knew I seeded in my life until now. Seriously. These three characters are three separate egos just waiting to collide. From a fan standpoint, it's hard to pick someone to cheer for because all three characters are massive jerkwads. I mean that in a loving way! Definitely one of the matches I'm most anticipating come All Star Showdown V.
Following the general consensus, I am loving the evolution of Fujiko Mine. While I haven't been around as long as the rest of y'all, I've read enough of her stuff to appreciate the evolution. I'm looking forward to more continued awesomeness from her.
Chandler vs. Jimmy Page.......HOOOOOO BOY!! Dis one gonna be goooooooood!!! This is an amazing example of two guys who not only hate each other, but want to kill each other in the worst way possible. It also shows how incredibly talented Bryce and Steve are. For Steve to go from a character as beloved (and HYPED) as Steve Lenton to a raging psychopath like Jimmy Page shows versatility. I'm just going to go ahead and call their match at All Star Showdown 'The Red Wedding 2: Electric Boogaloo.' It's going to be that bloody.....and that awesome! Here's hoping that there are a few 'CHANDLER'S GONNA KILL YOU!' chants directed at Jimmy before the match starts.
Another character I'm looking forward to seeing slay at the Showdown is Annie Zellor. Ben has been on FIRE with her and I'm anxious to see the buildup for the match with Molly. I'm intrigued reading Ben's RPs and can't wait to see what he comes up with for the PPV.
If this show was this hype, I can only imagine how the one this coming Saturday as well as the PPV are going to be. Good show all around!
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