Post by Khloe on Apr 21, 2024 0:51:21 GMT -5
Khloe's glare sears through the dusk, her fists clenched so tight around her Redemption Championship belt that her knuckles turn pale. Once kind eyes now blaze with a fury reminiscent of her mother's stern gaze, a testament to the sheer anger boiling within her after enduring the absurdity of her matches finale.
She carried the weight of self-blame, chastising herself for failing to ensure his cursed foot stayed clear of the rope! Yet, a venomous spite brewed within her for the suddenly "ever honest" owner, Britlyn. Witnessing her console Easton backstage, like a patronizing puppeteer, while he still clutched the championship she rightfully earned, ignited a special fury within her soul.
Khloe’s anger burns hot in the now nearly deserted parking lot her thoughts fixating on the injustice of Easton being coddled despite his unworthiness. “How dare they treat him like some fragile thing to be protected?” she seethes, her voice laced with contempt. “He doesn’t deserve their sympathy, their consolation……”
Her little rant is cut short when her phone goes off in her pocket. Khloe sighs as she opens up the notification seeing its a email from the head offices.
Donnie Harris, a big brute in the ring who had been recently squabbling with SYNN. Apparently they wanted her to try and tap his big ass out in the middle of the ring. Something about a rivalry with Easton and hype for the match she has with him at the PPV.
She honestly didn’t bother to read their reasoning for it, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she had a-lot of aggression Donnie was now going to be the conduit for. The other thing on her mind is who could show her how to break down a man both body and soul.
Khloe stared at her phone, hesitating before dialing Coach Adrian’s number. She knew he could be tough as nails, but she also trusted his expertise more than anyone else’s. With a deep breath, she pressed the call button and waited.
After a few rings, Coach Adrian’s voice gruffly answered, “Yeah, what is it?”
“Hey, Coach,” Khloe greeted, trying to sound confident despite her nerves. “It’s Khloe. I need your help with something.”
There was a brief pause before Coach Adrian replied, his tone slightly softened. “Ah Shortstack it’s been a while.What do you need help with?”
“I need to learn a new submission move,” Khloe explained, her voice determined. “And not just any move—I need to know how to break a man.”
Coach Adrian’s response was immediate, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and approval. “Break a man, huh? Finally ready to get serious, are you? You always were to soft.”
Khloe nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Yes, Coach. I’m done holding back. I want to be the best.”
Coach Adrian chuckled, a sound that held both amusement and pride. "About time, Cox. Meet me at the gym tomorrow afternoon. We’ll start your crash course in breaking bones and spirits. And trust me, by the time I’m through with you, you’ll be leaving a trail of broken competition in your wake."
Khloe goes to start saying something right as the line clicks.
“Right…..I hope this was a good idea.”
The next afternoon Khloe finds herself back at the wrestling school she had graduated from nearly four years ago, Titan Forge Wrestling Academy. She smiles fondly looking up at the familiar sign the wear of time only slightly diminishing its appearance.
At its center stands a towering titan, muscles bulging and poised for action, representing the power and prowess of the wrestlers who train within the academy’s walls. Behind the titan, a roaring forge blazes with fiery intensity, symbolizing the process of transformation and refinement that wrestlers undergo through rigorous training.
As Khloe entered the wrestling school, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu wash over her. The familiar surroundings brought back memories of her time as a student at Titan Forge Wrestling Academy, memories she held dear despite the passage of time.
Lost in her reverie, Khloe almost didn’t notice the imposing figure striding towards her until he spoke.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” The voice was dripping with arrogance, and Khloe turned to face the source.
Standing before her was a muscle-bound wrestler, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded her with a smug smirk. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new recruit,” he continued, his tone laced with condescension. “First day of training, sweetheart?”
Khloe’s jaw clenched, but she forced a sheepish smile and averted her eyes, pretending to be intimidated. “Uh, yeah, something like that,” she muttered, playing along with the charade.
The wrestler’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying his moment of superiority. “Well, let me give you a piece of advice, newbie,” he continued, leaning in close. “This isn’t a game. You gotta be tough to survive in this business.”
Khloe nodded, feigning nervousness as she glanced past him towards a wall adorned with photographs of past alumni. “I-I’ll keep that in mind,” she stammered, her tone and body language trained from literal years in the ring.
The meathead of a jock put a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah a little lady like you should probably just become an announcer or something.”
Khloe's expression hardened as she abruptly removed his hand from her shoulder, her gaze flickering with defiance. Without a word, she stepped forward, her finger pointing directly at a framed picture hanging proudly on the wall behind him.
Her eyes locked onto the image of herself, victorious in the center of the ring, her arm raised high in triumph. "You see that?" she declared, her voice firm and unwavering. "That's me. And I'm not here to play games or be patronized by some wannabe tough guy."
The wrestler's smirk faltered as he followed her gaze to the photograph, his confidence visibly waning. Khloe squared her shoulders, her resolve unyielding. "I'm here to train, to become the best damn wrestler this academy has ever AND will ever see. So, unless you're ready to step into the ring with me and see what I'm made of, I suggest you back off."
With that, Khloe turned on her heel and strode purposefully towards the training area, leaving the asshole standing there, speechless and chastened.
As Khloe entered the training area, her coach greeted her with a nod, gesturing towards the man standing beside him. "Khloe, I'd like you to meet Master Ryker," he said, his tone filled with reverence. "He's a black belt in both Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and Judo, renowned for his expertise in submissions." Khloe's eyes widened in anticipation as she took in the sight of Master Ryker, his aura of confidence and skill immediately apparent.
Master Ryker stood before Khloe, his martial arts gi crisply pressed and impeccably fitted. The fabric, a deep midnight black, accentuated the powerful lines of his physique. Golden embroidery adorned the lapels, depicting intricate patterns symbolic of his mastery in the martial arts. A black belt, well-worn with years of dedication and training, wrapped around his waist, signifying his attainment of the highest level of skill and knowledge. With each movement, the fabric whispered of discipline and precision, reflecting the essence of the man who wore it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Master Ryker," Khloe said, extending her hand in greeting. Master Ryker simply nodded in acknowledgment.
Khloe would awkwardly stand there a big smile on her face as Ryker simply stares at her. His eyes dance over her entire build silently judging it. She would eventually let her hand fall back to her side.
The Master’s outward demeanor remained calm and composed as he addressed Khloe, his voice steady yet carrying an underlying edge. “Khloe, explain to me the psychological act of submission.”
Khloe, accustomed to his authoritative presence, responded with her usual warmth, albeit with a hint of hesitation. “Um, it’s like… acknowledging your opponent’s control and, uh, letting them take the lead?”
Ryker’s expression softened momentarily before a subtle shift occurred, a glint of something darker flashing in his eyes. “Not quite, Khloe. Submission goes beyond mere acknowledgment. It’s about exploiting your opponent’s weaknesses, breaking their spirit, and asserting your dominance over them.”
Khloe’s cheerful demeanor faltered for a moment as his words sank in, a sense of unease creeping into her thoughts. “Oh… I see. So it’s about, um, manipulating their vulnerabilities to gain control?”
Ryker’s smile was reassuring, but his words carried a chilling undertone. “Exactly, Khloe. Submission is about seizing power, by any means necessary.”
As Ryker continued to impart his wisdom to Khloe, the training area door creaked open, and in swaggered the cocky wrestler, a smirk plastered across his face.
“Hey, coach! Heard you needed some extra muscle for training today,” the wrestler announced, his tone oozing with confidence as he strutted towards the mat.
The jerk’s grin widened as he approached. “ I’m ready to show you how it’s done, Khloe” he boasted, flexing his muscles for emphasis.
Before the coach could respond, Ryker turned towards the wrestler, his expression unreadable. “Ah, perfect timing,” he said smoothly, his voice betraying no hint of emotion.
Ryker swiftly closed the distance between them, seizing the wrestler’s arm in a lightning-fast motion.
With fluidity and expertise, Ryker maneuvered the wrestler’s arm into a devastating arm bar, locking it in place with a vice-like grip. The wrestler’s expression shifted from cockiness to disbelief as he felt the pressure building on his joints.
The arm bar was executed with such flawless technique that every movement seemed effortless, yet each subtle adjustment increased the wrestler’s discomfort tenfold. His muscles strained against the hold, but Master Ryker’s control was absolute.
Khloe watched in awe as Ryker demonstrated the arm bar, her eyes fixed on the intricate mechanics of the hold. The wrestler’s pained grunts filled the air, a stark reminder of the power and precision behind Ryker’s movements.
“Notice how I use leverage and technique to control my opponent,” Ryker explained, his voice cutting through the sounds of struggle. “Size matters little when you understand how to exploit your strengths.”
“Now, Khloe,” Ryker said, turning to her with a knowing smile. “Imagine applying these techniques against someone like Donnie Harris. Use your agility and speed to outmaneuver him, and remember to focus on control rather than brute force.”
Khloe nodded, her determination renewed as she absorbed Ryker’s teachings. “Got it, Master. I’ll use my size to my advantage.”
“You need to remain calm against a man of his stature. Often time they will try to get you in a mental trap before the battle even begins. Just remember all men snap the same with enough pressure. We will be helping your Coach toughen your juniors up today and develop your technique….I have a few holds in mind that could translate well to your wrestling toolkit. Now come take his other arm and follow my lead.”
The formerly cocky now throughly humbled student lets out a groan of pain as Khloe steps forward with a giddy look on her face.
"Balancing who I am with who they want me to be—it’s laughable. They want me to fit into their mold, to be their obedient little worker bee. But I refuse. I’m not here to play their game or bow down to their expectations. I’m here to climb even further up the long mountain of success and you, Donnie? You're the next big step up. I don't know how you lost that belt to that sorry excuse of a wrestler no no no….that sad excuse for a man Easton, but I'm damn glad you did. You're here to test my limits, to see if I'm worthy of your former precious championship.
And you know what, Donnie? I’m excited. Excited for a match where all I have to do is break you, make you submit. It’s not often I get to face someone like you—a big, tough brute who thinks he’s untouchable. But let me tell you something, Donnie. No one is untouchable. No one is invincible. And if you think you’re going to walk out of that ring the same way you walked in, you’ve got another thing coming.
I've been in this game for nearly two years, and let me tell you, that's not a lot of time. But in that time, I've headlined pay-per-views, faced literal monsters in that ring, and come out on top, champion after champion. And yet, they still doubt me. They still question whether I have what it takes to be at the top.
Easton? He doesn't want that belt he tosses around like it's nothing. But me? At Shockwave, I'm taking it. But for now, Donnie, I'm stepping down a level just to show you—I'm the new Queen Bee of Danger. You all buzz, buzz, and bow to what I say, because I'm done with all you so-called veterans thinking you're hot shit.
Resting on your laurels is what lost you that belt, Donnie. Maybe you're looking for a handout from the office like Easton? Well, I don't do handouts. You want it? I take it. Belts? I snatch 'em. Wins? Guess what—I earn them.
So when I tap you out in the middle of that ring, Donnie, remember this: all bones break the same. Whether you’re a big tough brute or a sorry excuse for a man like Easton, when you’re in my ring, you’re at my mercy. But dont worry little worker bee we will find someway somehow to keep you relevant…for now keep buzzing.“
She carried the weight of self-blame, chastising herself for failing to ensure his cursed foot stayed clear of the rope! Yet, a venomous spite brewed within her for the suddenly "ever honest" owner, Britlyn. Witnessing her console Easton backstage, like a patronizing puppeteer, while he still clutched the championship she rightfully earned, ignited a special fury within her soul.
Khloe’s anger burns hot in the now nearly deserted parking lot her thoughts fixating on the injustice of Easton being coddled despite his unworthiness. “How dare they treat him like some fragile thing to be protected?” she seethes, her voice laced with contempt. “He doesn’t deserve their sympathy, their consolation……”
Her little rant is cut short when her phone goes off in her pocket. Khloe sighs as she opens up the notification seeing its a email from the head offices.
Donnie Harris, a big brute in the ring who had been recently squabbling with SYNN. Apparently they wanted her to try and tap his big ass out in the middle of the ring. Something about a rivalry with Easton and hype for the match she has with him at the PPV.
She honestly didn’t bother to read their reasoning for it, she didn’t care. All she knew was that she had a-lot of aggression Donnie was now going to be the conduit for. The other thing on her mind is who could show her how to break down a man both body and soul.
Khloe stared at her phone, hesitating before dialing Coach Adrian’s number. She knew he could be tough as nails, but she also trusted his expertise more than anyone else’s. With a deep breath, she pressed the call button and waited.
After a few rings, Coach Adrian’s voice gruffly answered, “Yeah, what is it?”
“Hey, Coach,” Khloe greeted, trying to sound confident despite her nerves. “It’s Khloe. I need your help with something.”
There was a brief pause before Coach Adrian replied, his tone slightly softened. “Ah Shortstack it’s been a while.What do you need help with?”
“I need to learn a new submission move,” Khloe explained, her voice determined. “And not just any move—I need to know how to break a man.”
Coach Adrian’s response was immediate, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and approval. “Break a man, huh? Finally ready to get serious, are you? You always were to soft.”
Khloe nodded, even though he couldn’t see her. “Yes, Coach. I’m done holding back. I want to be the best.”
Coach Adrian chuckled, a sound that held both amusement and pride. "About time, Cox. Meet me at the gym tomorrow afternoon. We’ll start your crash course in breaking bones and spirits. And trust me, by the time I’m through with you, you’ll be leaving a trail of broken competition in your wake."
Khloe goes to start saying something right as the line clicks.
“Right…..I hope this was a good idea.”
The next afternoon Khloe finds herself back at the wrestling school she had graduated from nearly four years ago, Titan Forge Wrestling Academy. She smiles fondly looking up at the familiar sign the wear of time only slightly diminishing its appearance.
At its center stands a towering titan, muscles bulging and poised for action, representing the power and prowess of the wrestlers who train within the academy’s walls. Behind the titan, a roaring forge blazes with fiery intensity, symbolizing the process of transformation and refinement that wrestlers undergo through rigorous training.
As Khloe entered the wrestling school, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of déjà vu wash over her. The familiar surroundings brought back memories of her time as a student at Titan Forge Wrestling Academy, memories she held dear despite the passage of time.
Lost in her reverie, Khloe almost didn’t notice the imposing figure striding towards her until he spoke.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” The voice was dripping with arrogance, and Khloe turned to face the source.
Standing before her was a muscle-bound wrestler, his arms crossed over his chest as he regarded her with a smug smirk. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves a new recruit,” he continued, his tone laced with condescension. “First day of training, sweetheart?”
Khloe’s jaw clenched, but she forced a sheepish smile and averted her eyes, pretending to be intimidated. “Uh, yeah, something like that,” she muttered, playing along with the charade.
The wrestler’s smirk widened, clearly enjoying his moment of superiority. “Well, let me give you a piece of advice, newbie,” he continued, leaning in close. “This isn’t a game. You gotta be tough to survive in this business.”
Khloe nodded, feigning nervousness as she glanced past him towards a wall adorned with photographs of past alumni. “I-I’ll keep that in mind,” she stammered, her tone and body language trained from literal years in the ring.
The meathead of a jock put a hand on her shoulder. “Yeah a little lady like you should probably just become an announcer or something.”
Khloe's expression hardened as she abruptly removed his hand from her shoulder, her gaze flickering with defiance. Without a word, she stepped forward, her finger pointing directly at a framed picture hanging proudly on the wall behind him.
Her eyes locked onto the image of herself, victorious in the center of the ring, her arm raised high in triumph. "You see that?" she declared, her voice firm and unwavering. "That's me. And I'm not here to play games or be patronized by some wannabe tough guy."
The wrestler's smirk faltered as he followed her gaze to the photograph, his confidence visibly waning. Khloe squared her shoulders, her resolve unyielding. "I'm here to train, to become the best damn wrestler this academy has ever AND will ever see. So, unless you're ready to step into the ring with me and see what I'm made of, I suggest you back off."
With that, Khloe turned on her heel and strode purposefully towards the training area, leaving the asshole standing there, speechless and chastened.
As Khloe entered the training area, her coach greeted her with a nod, gesturing towards the man standing beside him. "Khloe, I'd like you to meet Master Ryker," he said, his tone filled with reverence. "He's a black belt in both Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu and Judo, renowned for his expertise in submissions." Khloe's eyes widened in anticipation as she took in the sight of Master Ryker, his aura of confidence and skill immediately apparent.
Master Ryker stood before Khloe, his martial arts gi crisply pressed and impeccably fitted. The fabric, a deep midnight black, accentuated the powerful lines of his physique. Golden embroidery adorned the lapels, depicting intricate patterns symbolic of his mastery in the martial arts. A black belt, well-worn with years of dedication and training, wrapped around his waist, signifying his attainment of the highest level of skill and knowledge. With each movement, the fabric whispered of discipline and precision, reflecting the essence of the man who wore it.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Master Ryker," Khloe said, extending her hand in greeting. Master Ryker simply nodded in acknowledgment.
Khloe would awkwardly stand there a big smile on her face as Ryker simply stares at her. His eyes dance over her entire build silently judging it. She would eventually let her hand fall back to her side.
The Master’s outward demeanor remained calm and composed as he addressed Khloe, his voice steady yet carrying an underlying edge. “Khloe, explain to me the psychological act of submission.”
Khloe, accustomed to his authoritative presence, responded with her usual warmth, albeit with a hint of hesitation. “Um, it’s like… acknowledging your opponent’s control and, uh, letting them take the lead?”
Ryker’s expression softened momentarily before a subtle shift occurred, a glint of something darker flashing in his eyes. “Not quite, Khloe. Submission goes beyond mere acknowledgment. It’s about exploiting your opponent’s weaknesses, breaking their spirit, and asserting your dominance over them.”
Khloe’s cheerful demeanor faltered for a moment as his words sank in, a sense of unease creeping into her thoughts. “Oh… I see. So it’s about, um, manipulating their vulnerabilities to gain control?”
Ryker’s smile was reassuring, but his words carried a chilling undertone. “Exactly, Khloe. Submission is about seizing power, by any means necessary.”
As Ryker continued to impart his wisdom to Khloe, the training area door creaked open, and in swaggered the cocky wrestler, a smirk plastered across his face.
“Hey, coach! Heard you needed some extra muscle for training today,” the wrestler announced, his tone oozing with confidence as he strutted towards the mat.
The jerk’s grin widened as he approached. “ I’m ready to show you how it’s done, Khloe” he boasted, flexing his muscles for emphasis.
Before the coach could respond, Ryker turned towards the wrestler, his expression unreadable. “Ah, perfect timing,” he said smoothly, his voice betraying no hint of emotion.
Ryker swiftly closed the distance between them, seizing the wrestler’s arm in a lightning-fast motion.
With fluidity and expertise, Ryker maneuvered the wrestler’s arm into a devastating arm bar, locking it in place with a vice-like grip. The wrestler’s expression shifted from cockiness to disbelief as he felt the pressure building on his joints.
The arm bar was executed with such flawless technique that every movement seemed effortless, yet each subtle adjustment increased the wrestler’s discomfort tenfold. His muscles strained against the hold, but Master Ryker’s control was absolute.
Khloe watched in awe as Ryker demonstrated the arm bar, her eyes fixed on the intricate mechanics of the hold. The wrestler’s pained grunts filled the air, a stark reminder of the power and precision behind Ryker’s movements.
“Notice how I use leverage and technique to control my opponent,” Ryker explained, his voice cutting through the sounds of struggle. “Size matters little when you understand how to exploit your strengths.”
“Now, Khloe,” Ryker said, turning to her with a knowing smile. “Imagine applying these techniques against someone like Donnie Harris. Use your agility and speed to outmaneuver him, and remember to focus on control rather than brute force.”
Khloe nodded, her determination renewed as she absorbed Ryker’s teachings. “Got it, Master. I’ll use my size to my advantage.”
“You need to remain calm against a man of his stature. Often time they will try to get you in a mental trap before the battle even begins. Just remember all men snap the same with enough pressure. We will be helping your Coach toughen your juniors up today and develop your technique….I have a few holds in mind that could translate well to your wrestling toolkit. Now come take his other arm and follow my lead.”
The formerly cocky now throughly humbled student lets out a groan of pain as Khloe steps forward with a giddy look on her face.
"Balancing who I am with who they want me to be—it’s laughable. They want me to fit into their mold, to be their obedient little worker bee. But I refuse. I’m not here to play their game or bow down to their expectations. I’m here to climb even further up the long mountain of success and you, Donnie? You're the next big step up. I don't know how you lost that belt to that sorry excuse of a wrestler no no no….that sad excuse for a man Easton, but I'm damn glad you did. You're here to test my limits, to see if I'm worthy of your former precious championship.
And you know what, Donnie? I’m excited. Excited for a match where all I have to do is break you, make you submit. It’s not often I get to face someone like you—a big, tough brute who thinks he’s untouchable. But let me tell you something, Donnie. No one is untouchable. No one is invincible. And if you think you’re going to walk out of that ring the same way you walked in, you’ve got another thing coming.
I've been in this game for nearly two years, and let me tell you, that's not a lot of time. But in that time, I've headlined pay-per-views, faced literal monsters in that ring, and come out on top, champion after champion. And yet, they still doubt me. They still question whether I have what it takes to be at the top.
Easton? He doesn't want that belt he tosses around like it's nothing. But me? At Shockwave, I'm taking it. But for now, Donnie, I'm stepping down a level just to show you—I'm the new Queen Bee of Danger. You all buzz, buzz, and bow to what I say, because I'm done with all you so-called veterans thinking you're hot shit.
Resting on your laurels is what lost you that belt, Donnie. Maybe you're looking for a handout from the office like Easton? Well, I don't do handouts. You want it? I take it. Belts? I snatch 'em. Wins? Guess what—I earn them.
So when I tap you out in the middle of that ring, Donnie, remember this: all bones break the same. Whether you’re a big tough brute or a sorry excuse for a man like Easton, when you’re in my ring, you’re at my mercy. But dont worry little worker bee we will find someway somehow to keep you relevant…for now keep buzzing.“
