Post by Deleted on Oct 21, 2023 1:12:15 GMT -5
Ringside Revelations
Houston, Tx.
10/17/23
“5:32PM” by Alex Yarmak, the theme song for Ringside Revelations started playing and Alexandra nodded, looking at the host. Both ladies smile at each other and nod as the podcast starts up.
Host: Welcome, OCW fans, to a special edition of "Ringside Revelations." Today, we have the illustrious OCW Anarchy Champion, Alexandra, joining us ahead of her clash with Blake Anderson. Alexandra, thanks for being here.
Alexandra: Pleasure to be here. Let's dive in.
The two ladies share a smile and a nod, before the host starts to speak, asking some questions that are on everyone’s mind.
Host: The OCW universe is buzzing with anticipation for your ladder match against Blake Anderson. First off, how are you feeling heading into this intense showdown?
Alexandra: Excitement pulses through my veins. Ladder matches are a unique challenge, and facing someone like Blake only adds to the thrill. I've faced adversity before, and each time, I've emerged stronger. This time won't be any different.
The hostess nods her head and continues, having listened to everything Alexandra said.
Host: Blake Anderson has been quite vocal, calling you out for not being a "fighting champion." How do you respond to those claims?
Alexandra: Blake enjoys painting with broad strokes. I don't just defend my title; I defend the essence of Anarchy. I'm not here to satisfy his expectations of what a champion should be. I'm here to redefine them.
Host: Blake has been likened to a mockingbird with a microphone, copying the styles of those he faces. What are your thoughts on his approach?
Alexandra: Blake's mimicry is evident, a repetitive cycle of emulating those who came before. But, I'm not a blueprint; I'm a force. He can mimic all he wants, but he'll find that there's no script to follow when you're in the heart of Anarchy. If he’s a mockingbird, then I’m a crow. The harbinger, a carrion of his destruction.
She nodded with a smirk that said she didn’t fear Blake Anderson or his smoke blowing attempts at one upping her.
Host: Some say Blake's bravado masks a lack of originality. Do you think he underestimates the depth of Anarchy, especially when facing someone as seasoned as you?
Alexandra: Blake's mistake is assuming Anarchy is only about chaos and brutality. It's a subtle dance, a calculated game. If he thinks he can navigate these turbulent waters with brute force alone, he's in for a rude awakening.
Host: Your journey to the Anarchy Championship has been remarkable. What drives you to maintain this level of dominance?
Alexandra: Every battle, every victory, it's a testament to the core of who I am. The drive comes from the desire to transcend, to be more than just a champion. It's about embodying Anarchy, a force that doesn't waver.
What was there that Alexandra hadn’t in this industry? A year ago, it would have been to hold a World Championship. She’s done that. Blake however wouldn’t be like the others. She fully planned on walking into Texas Chainsaw Massacre as the Outcast Championship Wrestling’s Anarchy Champion.
Host: Blake has made some rather theatrical statements about your impending match. He talks about tearing opponents limb from limb. How do you prepare mentally for such a potentially brutal encounter?
Alexandra: Mentally, I embrace the storm. Blake's words are just that—words. In the ring, actions speak louder. I've faced the storm before, and I've thrived in its chaos. The mental preparation is about finding the calm within the storm.
Men like Blake, rarely lived up to their words. His dynasty, his legacy would crumble to ash when Alexandra was done.
Host: Your reign as Anarchy Champion has been impressive, but some critics argue you haven't faced the same level of competition lately. How do you respond to those who doubt your current standing?
Alexandra: Doubters will always exist. I don't measure my worth by the skeptics; I measure it by the challenges I overcome. Blake can join the list of doubters, but once that bell rings, doubts will be replaced by the deafening sounds of Anarchy. I can’t help that there haven’t been any challengers worth noting, well, except maybe York. I don’t control the bookings, that would be on Brit our fearless general manager.
She’s never one for laying around. Never one for resting on her laurels. Despite what people say. Even if Alexandra wanted to, she didnt make the rules in Outcast Championship Wrestling.
Host: Let's talk strategy. Without revealing too much, how do you plan to counter Blake's aggressive and unpredictable style in the upcoming ladder match?
Alexandra: Anarchy thrives on unpredictability. My strategy is not just to counter but to flow with the chaos. I've studied Blake, and I know his moves. The ladder match is not just about climbing; it's about controlling the chaos, and that's where I excel.
The show was coming to a close and there wasn’t much time left until they’d be off the air. The host smiled at Alexandra and continued.
Host: Finally, a message to your fans and, perhaps, a warning to Blake Anderson as we approach this clash at the next show of Anarchy?
Alexandra: To the fans, thank you for your unwavering support. To Blake, prepare for a lesson in Anarchy. This isn't a mimicry; this is a symphony of chaos, and you're about to witness the crescendo. Brace yourself.
Host: Strong words from one of, if not the best champion in OCW. Again, I want to thank you for being here with us today and answering our questions.
Alexandra: It was my pleasure, we will have to do this again sometime.
With the interview concluded, the theme song starts playing again as their microphones go silent and the scene fades out on a video package leading up to their match.
The Legacy and The Dynasty
Houston, Tx.
10/17/23
A camera came up on Alexandra who is leaning against a tree, looking out over an ample cornfield. She takes a moment to pause, thinking things through and starts to speak.
“And there we go, finally he speaks up. Shame that every attempt he made, fell short. Am I supposed to be hurt honey? You're not the first person to make the statements you have. Blake Anderson, the man with big dreams and even bigger words. A little Texas tour, some snapshots with a commentary disaster, and a detour to a place called Baby Dolls. Wow, way to really get to know me. Did you think a buffet visit and a photograph with a struggling commentator could prepare you for the majesty that is me? How sweet of you, Blake. But let's get to the heart of the matter. Blake, your journey, your conquest, your Texas tour—colorful, to say the least. You mock my reign, questioning my credentials as a champion. You ponder whether I'm a "fighting champion." Well, let me illuminate the shadows for you. I'm not just a champion; I'm the embodiment of Anarchy, a force you've yet to comprehend.”
Men like Blake are a dime a dozen in this industry. There was something about him that she respected, but it was only to a certain extent.
“You prance around with your "I'm hungry for success" anthem, as if hunger alone grants you the right to my throne.You prattle on about taking what you want, about the hunger that drives you. Admirable, truly. But, Blake, you've stepped into a realm where hunger is not enough. It takes strategy, resilience, and an understanding of the chaos that defines Anarchy. Your hunger may fuel your ambition, but it won't protect you from the storm I'm about to unleash. You seem to believe that because you've waited in line in other promotions, you've earned the privilege to march into my kingdom. Let me assure you, Blake, your hunger won't be satiated with my Anarchy Championship. You're not walking into a buffet line; you're stepping into a war zone. There’s tons of hungry little wolves out there and if you aren’t careful, one of them might just rip you to shreds.”
Oh no another hungry youngster wanting her throne.He was welcome to come try to take it. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. These youngsters really needed the rub bad enough to make up whatever little scenario in their peanut sized brain to achieve it.
“Oh, and your little medieval theatrics? "Queen Alexandra," "The Dynasty overthrowing my lack of power." Cute. But let's cut through the nonsense. You talk about me being scared to lose my title, Blake. Scared? Darling, I've danced with chaos in the ring, and I've emerged with my crown intact. I don't fear losing; I embrace the challenge. But, dear Blake, do you know what you should fear? The brutality, the violence, the sheer Anarchy I'll unleash upon you in that ladder match.It's all very charming, really, have your dreams Blake. But when the bell tolls, when the crowd roars, it won't be a play; it will be a symphony of Anarchy. Your hunger will be tested, not against the glitz of a Texas tour but against the raw, unbridled power of a Queen who's been tested in the crucible of chaos.”
Again, more with the comments about her being scared and shit. What the ever loving fuck? She shook her head and continued to speak.
“You boast about razor wire and box cutters, about tearing skin off bones. It's all very dramatic, but you forget one crucial detail. This isn't just a hardcore match; this is a ladder match. Oh, the ladder match—a canvas where dreams shatter, and champions emerge. You're so fixated on the brutality, the crimson hues, that you miss the essence. It's not just about tearing opponents limb from limb; it's about ascending, reaching heights beyond imagination. Can your hunger carry you to the summit, Blake? We shall see. It's not about slicing and dicing; it's about reaching heights you've never dreamed of. You talk about my lack of defenses, but let me remind you, it only takes one, Blake. One decisive victory, one triumphant moment to silence all the doubters.”
Ah the joys of the match. It’s a ladder match and Blake is making it sound like it’s a first blood match. Maybe the doctors should check him out and make sure he doesn't have a concussion. Delusional that one is.
“As for your little excursion to Buffalo, New York, well, enjoy your time in the spotlight. Revel in your bravado. But when that ladder is raised, and our fates entwine, remember this—your hunger might drive you, but it won't save you. So, Blake Anderson, revel in your narrative, bask in your bravado. But remember, as you climb that ladder, inch by inch, you're not just reaching for a title; you're reaching for a throne, and it's occupied by a Queen who bows to no one. The Anarchy awaits, Blake. Let's see if your hunger is truly insatiable.”
With that the scene fades away and she seems to have left the fans on the edge of their seats.
Strader Living Room
Houston, Tx.
10/17/23
Alexandra sits on the couch, flipping through a few wrestling magazines. The room is adorned with championship belts and memorabilia from her illustrious career. Her daughter, Ashlynn, enters, carrying a tray with two cups of tea.
“Mind if I join you, Mom?”
“Of course, sweetheart. What's on your mind?”
Ashlynn places the drinks down and sits down next to her mother, looking away for a moment before her gaze goes back to her mothers.
“I was watching some of Blake's recent interviews. He's really confident, huh?”
Alexandra gave her daughter a soft smile and nodded.
“Confidence is one thing. Overconfidence, well, that's a different story. What he views as a strength, makes me see his weakness.”
Ashlynn rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
“Seriously, Mom, he acts like he's the big shot, but I don't see it. He's just a loser trying too hard. He’s acted as if your career has been some kind of joke.”
Ashlynn’s anger brings about a chuckle from Alexandra’s lips. Alexandra ruffles her daughter's hair and begins to speak again.
“Easy there, tiger. Everyone has their own journey. Blake's no exception.”
“But, Mom, he's been saying things about you, calling you out. Doesn't he know who he's dealing with?”
“Ah, the enthusiasm. Blake's words are just that, Ashlynn—words. In the ring, actions speak louder. He’s all talk and pomp.. His little pea sized brained manager, who he thinks would have his back regardless, would sell his soul for more money, despite their claims of being family.”
“I just can't stand the way he disrespects you. I mean, you're the Anarchy Champion. He's just a challenger with a big mouth.”
Alexandra smiled at the sass coming from her teenage daughter. A sense of pride swelled inside her. She patted Ashlynn’s hand.
“Sweetie, in this business, everyone has a role to play. Blake's playing his, and I'm playing mine. It's the dance of wrestling.”
Ashlynn leans forward.
“But what if he actually believes he can beat you? That you’ll be no match for him.”
“Then he's in for a rude awakening. Belief is a powerful thing, but so is reality. I've faced challenges that make Blake's boasts seem like nursery rhymes told by a person who believes tall tales are truth.”
“I know, Mom. It just bugs me that he's underestimating you. You're not just a champion; you're a legend.”
Alexandra smiled at her daughter. She couldn’t believe her little girl was growing up.
“Your belief in me means the world, Ashlynn. But in this business, you have to let the actions in the ring do the talking. Blake will learn, and so will everyone watching.”
“Mom, promise me one thing.”
“What's that?”
“Make him regret ever thinking he had a chance. Show him what a real champion looks like.”
“Consider it a promise, sweetheart. When the dust settles, they'll know the true meaning of Anarchy. And Blake? Well, he might think twice before underestimating the queen.”
She remained close to her daughter, trying to comfort her.
The Mocking Bird and The Crow
Houston, Tx.
10/20/23
In the dimly lit area, sitting by a campfire, Alexandra a solitary figure, bathed in a cascade of soft fire light. The air is pregnant with anticipation, her words cutting through the silence.
“Blake Anderson, the mockingbird of the wrestling realm, perched on the branches of unoriginality, mimicking the echoes of others. It's amusing, really. You see, Blake, a mockingbird imitates, recreates the songs it hears without understanding the essence within. A copycat peddling borrowed notes as if they were his own symphony.”
Her voice, cold and deliberate, carries the weight of disdain.
“Like a mockingbird, Blake, you've perched on the narratives of those who crossed paths with me. You've picked at the carcass of their words, hoping to fashion a narrative that sounds fresh, a tune that resonates as your own. But let me be clear, Blake, there's no originality in your mimicry.”
The metaphorical curtain of darkness descends, and the spotlight shifts its focus.
“Now, contrast that with a crow. A harbinger of destruction, a symbol of death. The crow doesn't mimic; it transforms. It doesn't parrot the words of others; it caws with an individuality that echoes through the desolation it brings. And Blake, let me proudly declare that I have evolved from the echoing mockery of a mockingbird to the ominous resonance of a crow.”
A sly smile plays on Alexandra's lips, the arena holding its breath.
“The crow, Blake, is a symbol of change and transformation. It's a creature that thrives in the shadows, unafraid of the darkness it embodies. I've embraced that darkness, Blake. I've taken the recycled echoes, the borrowed narratives, and forged them into my own symphony, a dirge that heralds the end of illusions.”
The spotlight intensifies, casting Alexandra's silhouette in stark relief.
“So, Blake, continue your mimicry. Continue your attempts to weave a narrative from the fragments of others' stories. But know this, while you linger in the shadows of the mockingbird, I soar as the crow, a symbol of unyielding transformation and a harbinger of the inevitable.”
With those words, Alexandra strides into the shadows, leaving behind the echoes of her transformed narrative, a crow's caw cutting through the silence—a sound that promises an impending reckoning.
Houston, Tx.
10/17/23
“5:32PM” by Alex Yarmak, the theme song for Ringside Revelations started playing and Alexandra nodded, looking at the host. Both ladies smile at each other and nod as the podcast starts up.
Host: Welcome, OCW fans, to a special edition of "Ringside Revelations." Today, we have the illustrious OCW Anarchy Champion, Alexandra, joining us ahead of her clash with Blake Anderson. Alexandra, thanks for being here.
Alexandra: Pleasure to be here. Let's dive in.
The two ladies share a smile and a nod, before the host starts to speak, asking some questions that are on everyone’s mind.
Host: The OCW universe is buzzing with anticipation for your ladder match against Blake Anderson. First off, how are you feeling heading into this intense showdown?
Alexandra: Excitement pulses through my veins. Ladder matches are a unique challenge, and facing someone like Blake only adds to the thrill. I've faced adversity before, and each time, I've emerged stronger. This time won't be any different.
The hostess nods her head and continues, having listened to everything Alexandra said.
Host: Blake Anderson has been quite vocal, calling you out for not being a "fighting champion." How do you respond to those claims?
Alexandra: Blake enjoys painting with broad strokes. I don't just defend my title; I defend the essence of Anarchy. I'm not here to satisfy his expectations of what a champion should be. I'm here to redefine them.
Host: Blake has been likened to a mockingbird with a microphone, copying the styles of those he faces. What are your thoughts on his approach?
Alexandra: Blake's mimicry is evident, a repetitive cycle of emulating those who came before. But, I'm not a blueprint; I'm a force. He can mimic all he wants, but he'll find that there's no script to follow when you're in the heart of Anarchy. If he’s a mockingbird, then I’m a crow. The harbinger, a carrion of his destruction.
She nodded with a smirk that said she didn’t fear Blake Anderson or his smoke blowing attempts at one upping her.
Host: Some say Blake's bravado masks a lack of originality. Do you think he underestimates the depth of Anarchy, especially when facing someone as seasoned as you?
Alexandra: Blake's mistake is assuming Anarchy is only about chaos and brutality. It's a subtle dance, a calculated game. If he thinks he can navigate these turbulent waters with brute force alone, he's in for a rude awakening.
Host: Your journey to the Anarchy Championship has been remarkable. What drives you to maintain this level of dominance?
Alexandra: Every battle, every victory, it's a testament to the core of who I am. The drive comes from the desire to transcend, to be more than just a champion. It's about embodying Anarchy, a force that doesn't waver.
What was there that Alexandra hadn’t in this industry? A year ago, it would have been to hold a World Championship. She’s done that. Blake however wouldn’t be like the others. She fully planned on walking into Texas Chainsaw Massacre as the Outcast Championship Wrestling’s Anarchy Champion.
Host: Blake has made some rather theatrical statements about your impending match. He talks about tearing opponents limb from limb. How do you prepare mentally for such a potentially brutal encounter?
Alexandra: Mentally, I embrace the storm. Blake's words are just that—words. In the ring, actions speak louder. I've faced the storm before, and I've thrived in its chaos. The mental preparation is about finding the calm within the storm.
Men like Blake, rarely lived up to their words. His dynasty, his legacy would crumble to ash when Alexandra was done.
Host: Your reign as Anarchy Champion has been impressive, but some critics argue you haven't faced the same level of competition lately. How do you respond to those who doubt your current standing?
Alexandra: Doubters will always exist. I don't measure my worth by the skeptics; I measure it by the challenges I overcome. Blake can join the list of doubters, but once that bell rings, doubts will be replaced by the deafening sounds of Anarchy. I can’t help that there haven’t been any challengers worth noting, well, except maybe York. I don’t control the bookings, that would be on Brit our fearless general manager.
She’s never one for laying around. Never one for resting on her laurels. Despite what people say. Even if Alexandra wanted to, she didnt make the rules in Outcast Championship Wrestling.
Host: Let's talk strategy. Without revealing too much, how do you plan to counter Blake's aggressive and unpredictable style in the upcoming ladder match?
Alexandra: Anarchy thrives on unpredictability. My strategy is not just to counter but to flow with the chaos. I've studied Blake, and I know his moves. The ladder match is not just about climbing; it's about controlling the chaos, and that's where I excel.
The show was coming to a close and there wasn’t much time left until they’d be off the air. The host smiled at Alexandra and continued.
Host: Finally, a message to your fans and, perhaps, a warning to Blake Anderson as we approach this clash at the next show of Anarchy?
Alexandra: To the fans, thank you for your unwavering support. To Blake, prepare for a lesson in Anarchy. This isn't a mimicry; this is a symphony of chaos, and you're about to witness the crescendo. Brace yourself.
Host: Strong words from one of, if not the best champion in OCW. Again, I want to thank you for being here with us today and answering our questions.
Alexandra: It was my pleasure, we will have to do this again sometime.
With the interview concluded, the theme song starts playing again as their microphones go silent and the scene fades out on a video package leading up to their match.
The Legacy and The Dynasty
Houston, Tx.
10/17/23
A camera came up on Alexandra who is leaning against a tree, looking out over an ample cornfield. She takes a moment to pause, thinking things through and starts to speak.
“And there we go, finally he speaks up. Shame that every attempt he made, fell short. Am I supposed to be hurt honey? You're not the first person to make the statements you have. Blake Anderson, the man with big dreams and even bigger words. A little Texas tour, some snapshots with a commentary disaster, and a detour to a place called Baby Dolls. Wow, way to really get to know me. Did you think a buffet visit and a photograph with a struggling commentator could prepare you for the majesty that is me? How sweet of you, Blake. But let's get to the heart of the matter. Blake, your journey, your conquest, your Texas tour—colorful, to say the least. You mock my reign, questioning my credentials as a champion. You ponder whether I'm a "fighting champion." Well, let me illuminate the shadows for you. I'm not just a champion; I'm the embodiment of Anarchy, a force you've yet to comprehend.”
Men like Blake are a dime a dozen in this industry. There was something about him that she respected, but it was only to a certain extent.
“You prance around with your "I'm hungry for success" anthem, as if hunger alone grants you the right to my throne.You prattle on about taking what you want, about the hunger that drives you. Admirable, truly. But, Blake, you've stepped into a realm where hunger is not enough. It takes strategy, resilience, and an understanding of the chaos that defines Anarchy. Your hunger may fuel your ambition, but it won't protect you from the storm I'm about to unleash. You seem to believe that because you've waited in line in other promotions, you've earned the privilege to march into my kingdom. Let me assure you, Blake, your hunger won't be satiated with my Anarchy Championship. You're not walking into a buffet line; you're stepping into a war zone. There’s tons of hungry little wolves out there and if you aren’t careful, one of them might just rip you to shreds.”
Oh no another hungry youngster wanting her throne.He was welcome to come try to take it. Heavy is the head that wears the crown. These youngsters really needed the rub bad enough to make up whatever little scenario in their peanut sized brain to achieve it.
“Oh, and your little medieval theatrics? "Queen Alexandra," "The Dynasty overthrowing my lack of power." Cute. But let's cut through the nonsense. You talk about me being scared to lose my title, Blake. Scared? Darling, I've danced with chaos in the ring, and I've emerged with my crown intact. I don't fear losing; I embrace the challenge. But, dear Blake, do you know what you should fear? The brutality, the violence, the sheer Anarchy I'll unleash upon you in that ladder match.It's all very charming, really, have your dreams Blake. But when the bell tolls, when the crowd roars, it won't be a play; it will be a symphony of Anarchy. Your hunger will be tested, not against the glitz of a Texas tour but against the raw, unbridled power of a Queen who's been tested in the crucible of chaos.”
Again, more with the comments about her being scared and shit. What the ever loving fuck? She shook her head and continued to speak.
“You boast about razor wire and box cutters, about tearing skin off bones. It's all very dramatic, but you forget one crucial detail. This isn't just a hardcore match; this is a ladder match. Oh, the ladder match—a canvas where dreams shatter, and champions emerge. You're so fixated on the brutality, the crimson hues, that you miss the essence. It's not just about tearing opponents limb from limb; it's about ascending, reaching heights beyond imagination. Can your hunger carry you to the summit, Blake? We shall see. It's not about slicing and dicing; it's about reaching heights you've never dreamed of. You talk about my lack of defenses, but let me remind you, it only takes one, Blake. One decisive victory, one triumphant moment to silence all the doubters.”
Ah the joys of the match. It’s a ladder match and Blake is making it sound like it’s a first blood match. Maybe the doctors should check him out and make sure he doesn't have a concussion. Delusional that one is.
“As for your little excursion to Buffalo, New York, well, enjoy your time in the spotlight. Revel in your bravado. But when that ladder is raised, and our fates entwine, remember this—your hunger might drive you, but it won't save you. So, Blake Anderson, revel in your narrative, bask in your bravado. But remember, as you climb that ladder, inch by inch, you're not just reaching for a title; you're reaching for a throne, and it's occupied by a Queen who bows to no one. The Anarchy awaits, Blake. Let's see if your hunger is truly insatiable.”
With that the scene fades away and she seems to have left the fans on the edge of their seats.
Strader Living Room
Houston, Tx.
10/17/23
Alexandra sits on the couch, flipping through a few wrestling magazines. The room is adorned with championship belts and memorabilia from her illustrious career. Her daughter, Ashlynn, enters, carrying a tray with two cups of tea.
“Mind if I join you, Mom?”
“Of course, sweetheart. What's on your mind?”
Ashlynn places the drinks down and sits down next to her mother, looking away for a moment before her gaze goes back to her mothers.
“I was watching some of Blake's recent interviews. He's really confident, huh?”
Alexandra gave her daughter a soft smile and nodded.
“Confidence is one thing. Overconfidence, well, that's a different story. What he views as a strength, makes me see his weakness.”
Ashlynn rolls her eyes and shakes her head.
“Seriously, Mom, he acts like he's the big shot, but I don't see it. He's just a loser trying too hard. He’s acted as if your career has been some kind of joke.”
Ashlynn’s anger brings about a chuckle from Alexandra’s lips. Alexandra ruffles her daughter's hair and begins to speak again.
“Easy there, tiger. Everyone has their own journey. Blake's no exception.”
“But, Mom, he's been saying things about you, calling you out. Doesn't he know who he's dealing with?”
“Ah, the enthusiasm. Blake's words are just that, Ashlynn—words. In the ring, actions speak louder. He’s all talk and pomp.. His little pea sized brained manager, who he thinks would have his back regardless, would sell his soul for more money, despite their claims of being family.”
“I just can't stand the way he disrespects you. I mean, you're the Anarchy Champion. He's just a challenger with a big mouth.”
Alexandra smiled at the sass coming from her teenage daughter. A sense of pride swelled inside her. She patted Ashlynn’s hand.
“Sweetie, in this business, everyone has a role to play. Blake's playing his, and I'm playing mine. It's the dance of wrestling.”
Ashlynn leans forward.
“But what if he actually believes he can beat you? That you’ll be no match for him.”
“Then he's in for a rude awakening. Belief is a powerful thing, but so is reality. I've faced challenges that make Blake's boasts seem like nursery rhymes told by a person who believes tall tales are truth.”
“I know, Mom. It just bugs me that he's underestimating you. You're not just a champion; you're a legend.”
Alexandra smiled at her daughter. She couldn’t believe her little girl was growing up.
“Your belief in me means the world, Ashlynn. But in this business, you have to let the actions in the ring do the talking. Blake will learn, and so will everyone watching.”
“Mom, promise me one thing.”
“What's that?”
“Make him regret ever thinking he had a chance. Show him what a real champion looks like.”
“Consider it a promise, sweetheart. When the dust settles, they'll know the true meaning of Anarchy. And Blake? Well, he might think twice before underestimating the queen.”
She remained close to her daughter, trying to comfort her.
But when these wings roll through your city
My last name is all you hear
And I refuse to be another
Mockingbird with a microphone
I'll fly the line I choose to brother
Even if that makes me the crow
The crow, the crow
Even if that makes me the crow
The crow, the crow, the crow
Well do that, do this
Unclench your fist
You're too loud, you're too proud it won't work
Well, tell that to twenty five thousand rednecks
With my dumb face on their T-shirt
My last name is all you hear
And I refuse to be another
Mockingbird with a microphone
I'll fly the line I choose to brother
Even if that makes me the crow
The crow, the crow
Even if that makes me the crow
The crow, the crow, the crow
Well do that, do this
Unclench your fist
You're too loud, you're too proud it won't work
Well, tell that to twenty five thousand rednecks
With my dumb face on their T-shirt
The Mocking Bird and The Crow
Houston, Tx.
10/20/23
In the dimly lit area, sitting by a campfire, Alexandra a solitary figure, bathed in a cascade of soft fire light. The air is pregnant with anticipation, her words cutting through the silence.
“Blake Anderson, the mockingbird of the wrestling realm, perched on the branches of unoriginality, mimicking the echoes of others. It's amusing, really. You see, Blake, a mockingbird imitates, recreates the songs it hears without understanding the essence within. A copycat peddling borrowed notes as if they were his own symphony.”
Her voice, cold and deliberate, carries the weight of disdain.
“Like a mockingbird, Blake, you've perched on the narratives of those who crossed paths with me. You've picked at the carcass of their words, hoping to fashion a narrative that sounds fresh, a tune that resonates as your own. But let me be clear, Blake, there's no originality in your mimicry.”
The metaphorical curtain of darkness descends, and the spotlight shifts its focus.
“Now, contrast that with a crow. A harbinger of destruction, a symbol of death. The crow doesn't mimic; it transforms. It doesn't parrot the words of others; it caws with an individuality that echoes through the desolation it brings. And Blake, let me proudly declare that I have evolved from the echoing mockery of a mockingbird to the ominous resonance of a crow.”
A sly smile plays on Alexandra's lips, the arena holding its breath.
“The crow, Blake, is a symbol of change and transformation. It's a creature that thrives in the shadows, unafraid of the darkness it embodies. I've embraced that darkness, Blake. I've taken the recycled echoes, the borrowed narratives, and forged them into my own symphony, a dirge that heralds the end of illusions.”
The spotlight intensifies, casting Alexandra's silhouette in stark relief.
“So, Blake, continue your mimicry. Continue your attempts to weave a narrative from the fragments of others' stories. But know this, while you linger in the shadows of the mockingbird, I soar as the crow, a symbol of unyielding transformation and a harbinger of the inevitable.”
With those words, Alexandra strides into the shadows, leaving behind the echoes of her transformed narrative, a crow's caw cutting through the silence—a sound that promises an impending reckoning.