Post by mikaxattano on Sept 15, 2023 23:34:30 GMT -5
Mika woke slowly, her eyes fluttering open to the soft rays of morning sunlight seeping through the curtains. For a moment, she thinks about the night before, the laughter, the connection, the shared stories. The warmth of his presence still lingering on her skin and lips.
But as she stretches and sits up, a sense of solitude washes over her. The realization that Trent is no longer beside her in the bed is met with a mixture of emotions—confusion, disappointment, and a touch of longing. She had hoped for more time together, more moments to explore the connection they'd found. A sigh escapes her lips as she reaches for the rumpled sheets, now cold and empty.
Mika slips out of bed, wrapping herself in a sheet as she stands near the window, gazing out at the city beyond. She can't help but wonder if this was a one-time encounter or if they were meant to fall back into each other’s arms, starting where they left off some years ago. The memories of their passionate night still ignite a spark within her, and she can't help but smile at the memory of their shared laughter and connection. Realizing that she was cutting it close to her own promo time, Mika got in the shower and got dressed in the clothes she had worn the night before. Her gym back, sitting in her locker room, had the clothes she needed for her promo. She would change when she got there.
The walk to the arena was nice but she hadn’t expected to see him on the waterfront shooting his promo. Cocking her head, she moved silently around the crew, making sure to avoid being seen by the camera but knowing that he would see her. The smirk on his lips made her smile softly as she walked past. She had fifteen minutes before she had to meet the crew in her locker room. Plenty of time.
Mika Attano sat alone in her dimly lit locker room, bathed in shadows, nursing a glass of whiskey. The room was a sanctuary of solitude, a place where she could retreat from the chaos and theatrics of the wrestling world. Her leather-clad fingers traced the rim of the glass as she took a slow sip, relishing the burn that coursed down her throat.
“Well, well, well, Bradock. It seems you've had quite the time by the pool drinking your Pabst Blue Ribbon and crushing cans against your skull by the poolside while bragging about your abilities. I must hand it to you; you have a unique way of expressing yourself, and I can't deny your track record in the ring. But let's set a few things straight, shall we? First, I may be smaller than you, but I've never let size define my abilities. You might have been a bouncer, but this isn't a bar brawl; it's professional wrestling. And in this ring, I've faced opponents of all sizes and come out on top. So, don't underestimate what I bring to the table. You may think you're a Deathmatch Juggernaut, but in my world, I am the master of shadows, the puppeteer of fear. You may be willing to go to extremes, but I assure you, I've walked the darkest paths, and your violence is nothing but a child's tantrum in comparison.”
The wrestling arena buzzed with life outside, the distant cheers of the crowd a stark contrast to the quiet darkness enveloping her haven. Mika had always been a creature of the night, and this locker room was her refuge, her sanctuary.
“Our match at Uprising will be a dance of darkness and ego, and I will revel in every moment. As for your obsession with Donnie Harris and the OCW World Championship, let me remind you that darkness always triumphs over those who dwell in the light. Prepare yourself, Braddock, for when you step into the ring with me, you enter a world where chaos reigns, and your ego will crumble in the face of true malevolence.”
As she leaned back in her chair, the soft glow of a single, flickering candle cast eerie shadows on the walls, creating a tapestry of darkness. Her gaze drifted to the mirror before her, where her reflection stared back with an enigmatic intensity. The Mistress of Shadows, a character she had fully embraced.
“Your words may be as sharp as your mohawk, but they won't pierce the shadows that surround me. Size, strength, and submissions may be your forte, but this is not a contest of physicality alone. In the world of wrestling, it's not always about the brute force; it's about the psychological warfare, the mind games, and the mastery of the unknown. I am not just "a little cutie." I am the embodiment of darkness, the enigma that you can't fathom.”
Mika's mind was a labyrinth of thoughts and emotions, a maze of past and present. Wrestling had been her escape from the grim realities of her youth, a path she had forged with her bare-knuckle street fighting skills. But it had also been a journey of self-discovery, a quest to understand the darkness that dwelled within her.
“As for your "Comrades-in-Arms," Zephyr and Nox, I welcome the challenge. They may have their agenda, but it won't change the outcome. You may be their muscle, but I am the darkness that engulfs all. They won't be a factor in our match; it's just you and me in the abyss. Your journey to the OCW World Championship may be paved with aggression, but remember this, Braddock: while you chase the spotlight, I dwell in the shadows. At Uprising, you will face the darkness you underestimate, and it will be a reckoning you won't forget.”
She took another sip of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the candlelight. The taste was bitter, but it was a bitterness she welcomed, a reminder that darkness was a part of her, as much a part of her as the blood coursing through her veins.
“As for your submission stipulation, you seem quite confident in your ability to make me tap out, but let's not forget that I've trained for various scenarios. I'm well-prepared to counter your moves and find a way to victory, no matter how many holds or chokes you throw my way. Your trash talk about Donnie Harris and your upcoming championship match is irrelevant to our showdown. I'm not concerned about what happens after our match; my focus is solely on facing you at Uprising.”
Outside, the roar of the crowd reached a crescendo, signaling the climax of another match. But Mika remained in her cocoon of solitude, lost in her thoughts, lost in the darkness. In the wrestling world, she was a force to be reckoned with, a Mistress of Shadows who could manipulate the minds of her opponents. But in this moment, in her quiet locker room, she was simply Mika Attano, a woman who had found solace in the embrace of darkness and the warmth of whiskey.
“So, Braddock, enjoy your poolside relaxation and your Pabst Blue Ribbons while you can because when the time comes, actions will speak louder than words. Get ready for a fight you won't forget, because I'm determined to show the world that I can overcome any obstacle, no matter how big or loud. Get ready for a fight you won't forget.”
As she raised the glass to her lips once more, she knew that the night was far from over. The wrestling world would continue to spin, and she would continue to play her role as the Mistress of Shadows. But for now, in this moment of solitude, she could simply be herself, a woman who had found comfort in the dark and the quiet, a woman who had found her place in the shadows.
Stepping out of her car, Mika cracked her neck as she looked at the dark windows of her home. It made her long for the warmth left behind in the hotel room, but Mika wasn’t expecting more than just meetings in hotel rooms. Their romance before had been one of locker room showers, hotel beds with rare meetings at someone’s rented flat. She had barely reached the door when she noticed it was cracked open. Pausing for a moment, she listened to hear anything inside before pushing the door open and stepping into her living room. Setting her bag on the floor and the keys on the coffee table, she paused when she felt arms wrapping around her waist and his scent filling her senses.
“Just like old times?” She purred, feeling his lips on her neck.
“Wouldn’t want it any other way.” He grumbled, turning her in his arms and guiding her towards the back bedroom. “Sorry l left so early this morning, I was late for my promotional work. I didn’t want to wake you. Forgiven?”
“Yes.” He pulled her into him closely and shut the door, closing out the world.
But as she stretches and sits up, a sense of solitude washes over her. The realization that Trent is no longer beside her in the bed is met with a mixture of emotions—confusion, disappointment, and a touch of longing. She had hoped for more time together, more moments to explore the connection they'd found. A sigh escapes her lips as she reaches for the rumpled sheets, now cold and empty.
Mika slips out of bed, wrapping herself in a sheet as she stands near the window, gazing out at the city beyond. She can't help but wonder if this was a one-time encounter or if they were meant to fall back into each other’s arms, starting where they left off some years ago. The memories of their passionate night still ignite a spark within her, and she can't help but smile at the memory of their shared laughter and connection. Realizing that she was cutting it close to her own promo time, Mika got in the shower and got dressed in the clothes she had worn the night before. Her gym back, sitting in her locker room, had the clothes she needed for her promo. She would change when she got there.
The walk to the arena was nice but she hadn’t expected to see him on the waterfront shooting his promo. Cocking her head, she moved silently around the crew, making sure to avoid being seen by the camera but knowing that he would see her. The smirk on his lips made her smile softly as she walked past. She had fifteen minutes before she had to meet the crew in her locker room. Plenty of time.
Mika Attano sat alone in her dimly lit locker room, bathed in shadows, nursing a glass of whiskey. The room was a sanctuary of solitude, a place where she could retreat from the chaos and theatrics of the wrestling world. Her leather-clad fingers traced the rim of the glass as she took a slow sip, relishing the burn that coursed down her throat.
“Well, well, well, Bradock. It seems you've had quite the time by the pool drinking your Pabst Blue Ribbon and crushing cans against your skull by the poolside while bragging about your abilities. I must hand it to you; you have a unique way of expressing yourself, and I can't deny your track record in the ring. But let's set a few things straight, shall we? First, I may be smaller than you, but I've never let size define my abilities. You might have been a bouncer, but this isn't a bar brawl; it's professional wrestling. And in this ring, I've faced opponents of all sizes and come out on top. So, don't underestimate what I bring to the table. You may think you're a Deathmatch Juggernaut, but in my world, I am the master of shadows, the puppeteer of fear. You may be willing to go to extremes, but I assure you, I've walked the darkest paths, and your violence is nothing but a child's tantrum in comparison.”
The wrestling arena buzzed with life outside, the distant cheers of the crowd a stark contrast to the quiet darkness enveloping her haven. Mika had always been a creature of the night, and this locker room was her refuge, her sanctuary.
“Our match at Uprising will be a dance of darkness and ego, and I will revel in every moment. As for your obsession with Donnie Harris and the OCW World Championship, let me remind you that darkness always triumphs over those who dwell in the light. Prepare yourself, Braddock, for when you step into the ring with me, you enter a world where chaos reigns, and your ego will crumble in the face of true malevolence.”
As she leaned back in her chair, the soft glow of a single, flickering candle cast eerie shadows on the walls, creating a tapestry of darkness. Her gaze drifted to the mirror before her, where her reflection stared back with an enigmatic intensity. The Mistress of Shadows, a character she had fully embraced.
“Your words may be as sharp as your mohawk, but they won't pierce the shadows that surround me. Size, strength, and submissions may be your forte, but this is not a contest of physicality alone. In the world of wrestling, it's not always about the brute force; it's about the psychological warfare, the mind games, and the mastery of the unknown. I am not just "a little cutie." I am the embodiment of darkness, the enigma that you can't fathom.”
Mika's mind was a labyrinth of thoughts and emotions, a maze of past and present. Wrestling had been her escape from the grim realities of her youth, a path she had forged with her bare-knuckle street fighting skills. But it had also been a journey of self-discovery, a quest to understand the darkness that dwelled within her.
“As for your "Comrades-in-Arms," Zephyr and Nox, I welcome the challenge. They may have their agenda, but it won't change the outcome. You may be their muscle, but I am the darkness that engulfs all. They won't be a factor in our match; it's just you and me in the abyss. Your journey to the OCW World Championship may be paved with aggression, but remember this, Braddock: while you chase the spotlight, I dwell in the shadows. At Uprising, you will face the darkness you underestimate, and it will be a reckoning you won't forget.”
She took another sip of whiskey, the amber liquid glinting in the candlelight. The taste was bitter, but it was a bitterness she welcomed, a reminder that darkness was a part of her, as much a part of her as the blood coursing through her veins.
“As for your submission stipulation, you seem quite confident in your ability to make me tap out, but let's not forget that I've trained for various scenarios. I'm well-prepared to counter your moves and find a way to victory, no matter how many holds or chokes you throw my way. Your trash talk about Donnie Harris and your upcoming championship match is irrelevant to our showdown. I'm not concerned about what happens after our match; my focus is solely on facing you at Uprising.”
Outside, the roar of the crowd reached a crescendo, signaling the climax of another match. But Mika remained in her cocoon of solitude, lost in her thoughts, lost in the darkness. In the wrestling world, she was a force to be reckoned with, a Mistress of Shadows who could manipulate the minds of her opponents. But in this moment, in her quiet locker room, she was simply Mika Attano, a woman who had found solace in the embrace of darkness and the warmth of whiskey.
“So, Braddock, enjoy your poolside relaxation and your Pabst Blue Ribbons while you can because when the time comes, actions will speak louder than words. Get ready for a fight you won't forget, because I'm determined to show the world that I can overcome any obstacle, no matter how big or loud. Get ready for a fight you won't forget.”
As she raised the glass to her lips once more, she knew that the night was far from over. The wrestling world would continue to spin, and she would continue to play her role as the Mistress of Shadows. But for now, in this moment of solitude, she could simply be herself, a woman who had found comfort in the dark and the quiet, a woman who had found her place in the shadows.
Stepping out of her car, Mika cracked her neck as she looked at the dark windows of her home. It made her long for the warmth left behind in the hotel room, but Mika wasn’t expecting more than just meetings in hotel rooms. Their romance before had been one of locker room showers, hotel beds with rare meetings at someone’s rented flat. She had barely reached the door when she noticed it was cracked open. Pausing for a moment, she listened to hear anything inside before pushing the door open and stepping into her living room. Setting her bag on the floor and the keys on the coffee table, she paused when she felt arms wrapping around her waist and his scent filling her senses.
“Just like old times?” She purred, feeling his lips on her neck.
“Wouldn’t want it any other way.” He grumbled, turning her in his arms and guiding her towards the back bedroom. “Sorry l left so early this morning, I was late for my promotional work. I didn’t want to wake you. Forgiven?”
“Yes.” He pulled her into him closely and shut the door, closing out the world.
