Post by Damon Cross on Jul 20, 2023 22:04:18 GMT -8
The clip starts off in color as someone carrying some manner of camera walks into the trainer’s room set up at the Mall of America, where NFW’s Brawl of America is winding down. Two trainers are present, one holding up a light while another, with a half-concentrating, half-tormented expression is using a metal tool to do… something… to the face of someone who’s sitting on their table. A white towel is draped over the person’s shoulder, but the moment the camera allows that into view, the tone shifts to black-and-white. Those colored spots on the otherwise-white cloth?
Yeah, you know what that is.
”No matter what you are, someone is going to have a problem with it. My father and brother both told me this early on. But in my naivete, I couldn’t fathom a world so cold as all that. Wrestling has taught me otherwise. Several times, in fact. I guess I’m a slow learner.”
The view trembles a bit, then continues further in. The person holding it directs the device towards a metal tray where intermittently the trainer with the tool keeps dropping pieces of bloody glass of varying sizes. The figure draped in the towel is shivering, though the room is not cold. It comes and goes, usually showing at their shoulders though at times the shake wracks them bodily. Not a sound is made, though. A sweep to elsewhere near the padded bench shows a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid.
Trainer With Light: Do you want another shot?
Lifting their head, the black-haired woman speaks up in a quiet voice, but pauses as another spasm pushes through them.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Mm?
Trainer With Light: You’re shaking. Do you need more painkillers?
During a pause in the tool-wielding trainer’s work, Zoey turns her head enough that she can look in that direction, hissing slightly with the effort. But she looks forward again soon after.
Zoey Madigan-Star: No, thank you.
Trainer With Pliers: Looks like we have most of it, but you’re going to want to visit a hospital as soon as you can. They have better equipment and can find anything we miss. The burns, though…
Katalina Star: Stand aside. I want to see.
Typically very skittish around anyone of the male persuasion, Katalina moves as if they’re not even in the room. The one behind the camera, her high heels click audibly on the floor of the room as she walks around to the front of where her wife sits. However, she’s stopped part-way by Zoey herself. The camera never rises enough to see Zoey’s maligned features, thanks to her hand grasping Katalina’s wrist.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Put that down first.
Katalina Star: This is no time to be vain!
Katalina applies that edge to her voice that occurs when someone needs to be put in their place. A mix of love, concern and frustration is the source. The camera stays where it is, and the view shakes again, though all we’re seeing are two pairs of long legs… one in jeans, one in high heels and nylons.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Put. It. Down.
Seen Puss in Boots: The Last Wish? First of all, you should. Secondly, Zoey sounds, at least in weight of delivery and firmness of tone, like Wolf.
Katalina’s hand tightens around the phone, before she sighs and leaves her arm where it is. Her other one raises, though it is difficult to tell what’s happening visually. She gasps softly and takes a step back, actually dropping the phone. Thankfully there’s no damage as she picks it up, returning to a safe distance from trainers and her wife. The view is back in place, but Zoey’s towel-covered head is already out of sight again.
Katalina Star: And where IS this little slattern now, love? Still wandering around somewhere? Perhaps she’s in the parking lot. I’m sure if I drive around long enough, I’ll… bump into her.
Oddly, this makes Zoey laugh a little. It hurts to laugh and we hear that in her.
Katalina Star: This is NOT funny, love!
Zoey Madigan-Star: No, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just… I’ve never heard you sound so protective before. You know, in a kiddingly, comically-violent way. It’s cute.
Katalina Star: Hmph. Who’s kidding around? She’d make a passable hood ornament I’m sure. Good chew toy for Dominique, perhaps. Would need to be properly fumigated first, though…
Katalina continues to mutter to herself, albeit quietly, while Zoey quiets herself again and lets the trainers finish their task. The Domina with the camera eventually calms down, thankfully. Zoey’s hands, however, grip the sides of the table so tightly that her knuckles are white. The musculature of her arms cords up. There’s a rigid set to her body that is a clear indicator of anger.
But then it releases.
”I’ve dealt with people like you all my life, Coco. You’re not new and you’re not special. Yes, you're vicious and uncaring and I grudgingly admit that you have some talent, but you could say that about a lot of folks. To me, you’re just next. Next with a bullet. And soon enough, you’ll be just another one. Because every time someone tried to get me down, I rose up again and made myself shine even brighter. You’re the kind of girl who has to buy their shine and pay people to tell you how great you are so that you don’t crumble under the weight of your own ego. Then again, you are just a child…”
There’s laughter, but it isn’t from what we’re watching. It’s from Zoey’s own voice over it. The scene fades to give way to a clip from Collision #175, near the end of Coco St. Cloud’s match with Ace Sky, making his debut. Zoey, her face heavily wrapped due to recent injuries, makes her way to the ring, letting her presence divert Coco from her duplicitous, conniving tactics, giving the veteran the chance for a clean win. Joining him in the ring, she raises his arm along with the official, but she’s truly there just to remind Coco that she’s not to be forgotten.
”You should have accepted my apology, Coco. I’m not like most people in this business. When I offer a kind word, an apology or proffer respect, I mean it. It comes from the heart. But, again, you’re a child. You don’t know any better. That’s sad, though. For all your money and style and intelligence, one would think that you’ve got it all together up top. Except… you don’t. My two-year-old nephew, Marco, has full Italian blood and all the temper and fire that comes with that, yet he’s almost the sweetest child I’ve ever known. He does something bad, he gets punished, and then he apologizes! At terrible two! You get something spilled on a dress and you ravage an apologetic person’s face before booting them in the nose just because!
You’re less mature than a two-year-old, Coco. Think on that.”
The view shifts away again, this time to a rather familiar sight: the Boardwalk in New Jersey. Throngs of people out and about, most half-dressed in swimwear, partaking of classics like pizza, funnel cakes, fresh lemonade and more. The rides all lit up, a nice breeze blowing by, strings of bulbs running from booth to booth.
Home again for the Magical Maiden.
And there she stands, back to the camera, wearing a light hoodie over artfully-torn jeans and all-purple cross-trainers. This time, the rise and fall of her shoulders indicates a cleansing breath and a certain amount of peace. Her hands go into her pockets and this time, over the din of the crowd, the jaunty music and the faint crash of the waves, we hear Zoey’s voice directly.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Revenge is an admission of pain. I don’t want revenge. No, nothing so base as that. Not revenge, not vengeance, not justice… in fact, I’m not sure there’s a word for what I want right now, Coco. But I know it’s something money can’t buy and you can’t fathom.
She laughs faintly, a hand lifting to touch her heavily-wrapped face. Combining deep wounds with a stitch or two and those burns, well… Zoey is neither looking nor feeling beautiful. No wonder she won’t let anyone see her. And we all know the pain that comes with wounds like that. They heal, but it’s a rough process.
Still, she’s here for a reason. But why, aside from homesickness?
Zoey Madigan-Star: I’ll figure it out. We Italians have a knack for solving problems, after all. Watch the right movies and you’ll see.
Now that just sounds foreboding. But not so much so as the massive fellow who comes into sight ahead of Zoey. Easily a few inches over six feet tall, broad as hell and thick, with a bald head and a thick, black beard, he looks like… well… like a fucking enforcer of some kind. And he’s walking right up to Zoey, who stands to receive him. He’s wearing an opened-up, white shirt over jean shorts and brown leather sandals, all of which are aged but well-maintained. The man himself seems on in years, but still incredibly vital. And that cross on a gold chain glistens beautifully in the artificial light. Taking off his shades, he puts them in the shirt pocket and, without a word, reaches up to touch Zoey’s heavily-wrapped features. She does not flinch.
Large Gentleman: Dios mio… questo è a causa di un vestito?
Zoey Madigan-Star: Si. Le ho rovesciato addosso del caffè.
Large Gentleman: Che è stato un incidente, sì?
Zoey Madigan-Star: Si, signore.
Large Gentleman: Deve essere una mocciosa ignorante. Stai bene?
Zoey Madigan-Star: Sarò in tempo.
The large man sighs and opens his arms, affecting a smile with shockingly straight and white teeth. Zoey steps into his arms and they hug one another tightly for several moments.
Large Gentleman: It’s really good to see you, Zoey. Wish the circumstances were better, but that’s life, eh? We’re always fighting to stay up or get up, eh?
Zoey Madigan-Star: Always, Insegnante. Rule #13, right?
Large Gentleman: You still remember them all, eh? But how many more times I gotta tell you that you can call me by name now, eh? I’m not your teacher anymore!
Zoey laughs softly, a wonderful sound to be able to hear.
Zoey Madigan-Star: At least once more, Vincenzo.
Vincenzo Ragetti: Ah, music to these old ears!
Vincenzo Ragetti, semi-retired professional wrestler, owner and head instructor of the Sicilian Empire Wrestling School in Trenton, New Jersey. The man who trained Zoey Madigan-Star for her wrestling career years ago. He moves to his most prolific student’s side and offers his arm, like a gentleman. She accepts the gesture and they make their way down the boardwalk, the camera following.
Vincenzo Ragetti: I could make a few calls, you want. Have this little marmocchia taught a lesson. A favor for family, by family.
He offers with a grin, of course, but something in those dark eyes of his reveals that if Zoey said yes, he’d damn well do it. Zoey turns to look up at him and she can’t help the laugh that peals out. Soon Vincenzo is laughing, too, shaking his head a bit.
Italians, right?
Zoey Madigan-Star: You’re sweet, but no. I’m a grown woman. I’ll handle this.
Vincenzo Ragetti: I believe you will. So what brings you home other than to make your old teacher smile?
Zoey Madigan-Star: I need more of a reason than that?
Easy to imagine her winking at him, but there’s obviously more to it than that.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Healing old wounds. Recalling fond memories. Reminding myself of who I am. I’ve been lost for a while, Vincenzo. I’m sure you’ve seen.
Vincenzo Ragetti: Well, you’ve come to the right place. I also got a message from someone else. Supposedly, they’re coming in tomorrow morning.
Zoey Madigan-Star: That’s a relief. I thought work would keep them away.
Vincenzo Ragetti: They need this as much as you do. But time enough for business tomorrow. I won’t put you through a crowd or anything like that, but I should like to share a fine meal with a fine lady, if you’d do me the honor?
Zoey rubs her chin, making a show of being thoughtful and considerate, Vincenzo putting a hand to his heart as though in anticipation of being declined.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Cuore di Roma, then. Coming home and not going there might have the wrong people looking for me.
Unable to keep the boisterous laugh from rumbling up from his chest, Vincenzo just lets it go. He keeps chuckling as he steps away for a moment, over to one of the stands for a pair of lemonades for them. Meanwhile, Zoey takes out her phone and checks for messages. As Vincenzo returns, she puts it away again smoothly and accepts the beverage.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Thank you. I’ve already made reservations, so let’s enjoy a walk and talk and these lemonades first. Should give me just enough time to get to the hotel and make myself presentable after.
Vincenzo Ragetti: Perfecto!
And with that, the old friends continue down the Boardwalk until they disappear into the throngs without a trace.
Yeah, you know what that is.
”No matter what you are, someone is going to have a problem with it. My father and brother both told me this early on. But in my naivete, I couldn’t fathom a world so cold as all that. Wrestling has taught me otherwise. Several times, in fact. I guess I’m a slow learner.”
The view trembles a bit, then continues further in. The person holding it directs the device towards a metal tray where intermittently the trainer with the tool keeps dropping pieces of bloody glass of varying sizes. The figure draped in the towel is shivering, though the room is not cold. It comes and goes, usually showing at their shoulders though at times the shake wracks them bodily. Not a sound is made, though. A sweep to elsewhere near the padded bench shows a syringe and a bottle of clear liquid.
Trainer With Light: Do you want another shot?
Lifting their head, the black-haired woman speaks up in a quiet voice, but pauses as another spasm pushes through them.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Mm?
Trainer With Light: You’re shaking. Do you need more painkillers?
During a pause in the tool-wielding trainer’s work, Zoey turns her head enough that she can look in that direction, hissing slightly with the effort. But she looks forward again soon after.
Zoey Madigan-Star: No, thank you.
Trainer With Pliers: Looks like we have most of it, but you’re going to want to visit a hospital as soon as you can. They have better equipment and can find anything we miss. The burns, though…
Katalina Star: Stand aside. I want to see.
Typically very skittish around anyone of the male persuasion, Katalina moves as if they’re not even in the room. The one behind the camera, her high heels click audibly on the floor of the room as she walks around to the front of where her wife sits. However, she’s stopped part-way by Zoey herself. The camera never rises enough to see Zoey’s maligned features, thanks to her hand grasping Katalina’s wrist.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Put that down first.
Katalina Star: This is no time to be vain!
Katalina applies that edge to her voice that occurs when someone needs to be put in their place. A mix of love, concern and frustration is the source. The camera stays where it is, and the view shakes again, though all we’re seeing are two pairs of long legs… one in jeans, one in high heels and nylons.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Put. It. Down.
Seen Puss in Boots: The Last Wish? First of all, you should. Secondly, Zoey sounds, at least in weight of delivery and firmness of tone, like Wolf.
Katalina’s hand tightens around the phone, before she sighs and leaves her arm where it is. Her other one raises, though it is difficult to tell what’s happening visually. She gasps softly and takes a step back, actually dropping the phone. Thankfully there’s no damage as she picks it up, returning to a safe distance from trainers and her wife. The view is back in place, but Zoey’s towel-covered head is already out of sight again.
Katalina Star: And where IS this little slattern now, love? Still wandering around somewhere? Perhaps she’s in the parking lot. I’m sure if I drive around long enough, I’ll… bump into her.
Oddly, this makes Zoey laugh a little. It hurts to laugh and we hear that in her.
Katalina Star: This is NOT funny, love!
Zoey Madigan-Star: No, you’re right. I’m sorry. I just… I’ve never heard you sound so protective before. You know, in a kiddingly, comically-violent way. It’s cute.
Katalina Star: Hmph. Who’s kidding around? She’d make a passable hood ornament I’m sure. Good chew toy for Dominique, perhaps. Would need to be properly fumigated first, though…
Katalina continues to mutter to herself, albeit quietly, while Zoey quiets herself again and lets the trainers finish their task. The Domina with the camera eventually calms down, thankfully. Zoey’s hands, however, grip the sides of the table so tightly that her knuckles are white. The musculature of her arms cords up. There’s a rigid set to her body that is a clear indicator of anger.
But then it releases.
”I’ve dealt with people like you all my life, Coco. You’re not new and you’re not special. Yes, you're vicious and uncaring and I grudgingly admit that you have some talent, but you could say that about a lot of folks. To me, you’re just next. Next with a bullet. And soon enough, you’ll be just another one. Because every time someone tried to get me down, I rose up again and made myself shine even brighter. You’re the kind of girl who has to buy their shine and pay people to tell you how great you are so that you don’t crumble under the weight of your own ego. Then again, you are just a child…”
There’s laughter, but it isn’t from what we’re watching. It’s from Zoey’s own voice over it. The scene fades to give way to a clip from Collision #175, near the end of Coco St. Cloud’s match with Ace Sky, making his debut. Zoey, her face heavily wrapped due to recent injuries, makes her way to the ring, letting her presence divert Coco from her duplicitous, conniving tactics, giving the veteran the chance for a clean win. Joining him in the ring, she raises his arm along with the official, but she’s truly there just to remind Coco that she’s not to be forgotten.
”You should have accepted my apology, Coco. I’m not like most people in this business. When I offer a kind word, an apology or proffer respect, I mean it. It comes from the heart. But, again, you’re a child. You don’t know any better. That’s sad, though. For all your money and style and intelligence, one would think that you’ve got it all together up top. Except… you don’t. My two-year-old nephew, Marco, has full Italian blood and all the temper and fire that comes with that, yet he’s almost the sweetest child I’ve ever known. He does something bad, he gets punished, and then he apologizes! At terrible two! You get something spilled on a dress and you ravage an apologetic person’s face before booting them in the nose just because!
You’re less mature than a two-year-old, Coco. Think on that.”
The view shifts away again, this time to a rather familiar sight: the Boardwalk in New Jersey. Throngs of people out and about, most half-dressed in swimwear, partaking of classics like pizza, funnel cakes, fresh lemonade and more. The rides all lit up, a nice breeze blowing by, strings of bulbs running from booth to booth.
Home again for the Magical Maiden.
And there she stands, back to the camera, wearing a light hoodie over artfully-torn jeans and all-purple cross-trainers. This time, the rise and fall of her shoulders indicates a cleansing breath and a certain amount of peace. Her hands go into her pockets and this time, over the din of the crowd, the jaunty music and the faint crash of the waves, we hear Zoey’s voice directly.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Revenge is an admission of pain. I don’t want revenge. No, nothing so base as that. Not revenge, not vengeance, not justice… in fact, I’m not sure there’s a word for what I want right now, Coco. But I know it’s something money can’t buy and you can’t fathom.
She laughs faintly, a hand lifting to touch her heavily-wrapped face. Combining deep wounds with a stitch or two and those burns, well… Zoey is neither looking nor feeling beautiful. No wonder she won’t let anyone see her. And we all know the pain that comes with wounds like that. They heal, but it’s a rough process.
Still, she’s here for a reason. But why, aside from homesickness?
Zoey Madigan-Star: I’ll figure it out. We Italians have a knack for solving problems, after all. Watch the right movies and you’ll see.
Now that just sounds foreboding. But not so much so as the massive fellow who comes into sight ahead of Zoey. Easily a few inches over six feet tall, broad as hell and thick, with a bald head and a thick, black beard, he looks like… well… like a fucking enforcer of some kind. And he’s walking right up to Zoey, who stands to receive him. He’s wearing an opened-up, white shirt over jean shorts and brown leather sandals, all of which are aged but well-maintained. The man himself seems on in years, but still incredibly vital. And that cross on a gold chain glistens beautifully in the artificial light. Taking off his shades, he puts them in the shirt pocket and, without a word, reaches up to touch Zoey’s heavily-wrapped features. She does not flinch.
Large Gentleman: Dios mio… questo è a causa di un vestito?
Zoey Madigan-Star: Si. Le ho rovesciato addosso del caffè.
Large Gentleman: Che è stato un incidente, sì?
Zoey Madigan-Star: Si, signore.
Large Gentleman: Deve essere una mocciosa ignorante. Stai bene?
Zoey Madigan-Star: Sarò in tempo.
The large man sighs and opens his arms, affecting a smile with shockingly straight and white teeth. Zoey steps into his arms and they hug one another tightly for several moments.
Large Gentleman: It’s really good to see you, Zoey. Wish the circumstances were better, but that’s life, eh? We’re always fighting to stay up or get up, eh?
Zoey Madigan-Star: Always, Insegnante. Rule #13, right?
Large Gentleman: You still remember them all, eh? But how many more times I gotta tell you that you can call me by name now, eh? I’m not your teacher anymore!
Zoey laughs softly, a wonderful sound to be able to hear.
Zoey Madigan-Star: At least once more, Vincenzo.
Vincenzo Ragetti: Ah, music to these old ears!
Vincenzo Ragetti, semi-retired professional wrestler, owner and head instructor of the Sicilian Empire Wrestling School in Trenton, New Jersey. The man who trained Zoey Madigan-Star for her wrestling career years ago. He moves to his most prolific student’s side and offers his arm, like a gentleman. She accepts the gesture and they make their way down the boardwalk, the camera following.
Vincenzo Ragetti: I could make a few calls, you want. Have this little marmocchia taught a lesson. A favor for family, by family.
He offers with a grin, of course, but something in those dark eyes of his reveals that if Zoey said yes, he’d damn well do it. Zoey turns to look up at him and she can’t help the laugh that peals out. Soon Vincenzo is laughing, too, shaking his head a bit.
Italians, right?
Zoey Madigan-Star: You’re sweet, but no. I’m a grown woman. I’ll handle this.
Vincenzo Ragetti: I believe you will. So what brings you home other than to make your old teacher smile?
Zoey Madigan-Star: I need more of a reason than that?
Easy to imagine her winking at him, but there’s obviously more to it than that.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Healing old wounds. Recalling fond memories. Reminding myself of who I am. I’ve been lost for a while, Vincenzo. I’m sure you’ve seen.
Vincenzo Ragetti: Well, you’ve come to the right place. I also got a message from someone else. Supposedly, they’re coming in tomorrow morning.
Zoey Madigan-Star: That’s a relief. I thought work would keep them away.
Vincenzo Ragetti: They need this as much as you do. But time enough for business tomorrow. I won’t put you through a crowd or anything like that, but I should like to share a fine meal with a fine lady, if you’d do me the honor?
Zoey rubs her chin, making a show of being thoughtful and considerate, Vincenzo putting a hand to his heart as though in anticipation of being declined.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Cuore di Roma, then. Coming home and not going there might have the wrong people looking for me.
Unable to keep the boisterous laugh from rumbling up from his chest, Vincenzo just lets it go. He keeps chuckling as he steps away for a moment, over to one of the stands for a pair of lemonades for them. Meanwhile, Zoey takes out her phone and checks for messages. As Vincenzo returns, she puts it away again smoothly and accepts the beverage.
Zoey Madigan-Star: Thank you. I’ve already made reservations, so let’s enjoy a walk and talk and these lemonades first. Should give me just enough time to get to the hotel and make myself presentable after.
Vincenzo Ragetti: Perfecto!
And with that, the old friends continue down the Boardwalk until they disappear into the throngs without a trace.
