Post by Alexandra Calaway on Oct 29, 2024 1:05:02 GMT -5
Breakfast
LJ’s Apartment
Las Vegas, Nevada
The morning light filtered through the wide windows of LJ’s Las Vegas condo, casting a warm glow over the breakfast table. Alexandra sat across from her boyfriend, LJ, and her daughter, Ashlynn, her eyes distant and focused, a fierce determination etched on her face. The tension of the upcoming match was still palpable, lingering from the EdgeWalk promo she had cut back in Toronto.
Ashlynn took a bite of her pancake and gave her mother a long look, finally breaking the silence. “Mom, you look like you’re already in the ring, staring down Christian. Can’t breakfast at least be a break?”
Alexandra shook herself out of her thoughts, her gaze softening as she looked at her daughter. “Sorry, Ash,” she said, forcing a smile. “It’s just… this match. It’s supposed to be non-title, and yet, it feels bigger than any title bout I’ve had. Facing Christian—facing him without the Anarchy Championship on the line—is all about proving that I’m not someone Brit can sideline.”
LJ poured another cup of coffee, his steady gaze on her. “Angel, it sounds like you’re not just fighting him, you’re fighting Brit too.”
She nodded, clenching her jaw. “Brit’s been using Christian as her muscle, her enforcer, like a puppet in this little game of hers. She thinks she’s keeping him safe by making it non-title. That’s supposed to be some kind of ‘protection’ for her little empire. But the truth? Brit’s hiding him behind that stipulation because she knows I could take that title right off his waist if given the chance.” Her voice was cold, her fingers tapping impatiently against the table.
Ashlynn set her fork down and looked her mother squarely in the eyes. “Mom, you’re so much more than what Brit or anyone else tries to make you. I mean, non-title or not, this match doesn’t define you.”
“Yeah,” LJ agreed, his voice steady. “Ash is right. Whether there’s a title on the line or not, you’re going into that ring to prove a point—not to them, but to yourself. You don’t need Brit’s validation, or anyone else’s.”
Alexandra nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. “You’re both right. Brit thinks she’s manipulating me, like I’m some chess piece she can move around the board. But I don’t play by her rules, and I don’t need a title match to remind me what I’m worth in that ring. This is about showing them that they don’t control my fate.”
Ashlynn tilted her head, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Then don’t let her get in your head, Mom. Go out there, show them who you are, and leave Brit’s little ‘enforcer’ in the dust.”
A genuine smile crossed Alexandra’s face as she looked between LJ and Ashlynn. “Thank you, both of you. I’m going to step into that ring and fight like it is a title match. Like I have nothing to lose and everything to prove. Because, non-title or not, this isn’t just about me anymore. It’s about making sure no one ever thinks they can control my story.”
“Here’s to rewriting it, then,” LJ said, lifting his mug. “To MY Angel, and to making sure Brit’s empire shakes.”
“To Mom,” Ashlynn chimed in, grinning as they clinked their mugs together.
As Alexandra lowered her mug, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. She wasn’t just fighting for her own future anymore; she was fighting for the people she loved, for the respect she’d earned, and for the freedom to write her own legacy—title or no title.
LJ reached across the counter, his hand warm over hers, grounding her. "But you’re not out there alone. You’ve got people in your corner, people who believe in you beyond the ring, beyond titles. Remember that."
Ashlynn nodded, her eyes unexpectedly serious. “Yeah, Mom. You don’t have to do it all yourself. Not with us here.”
For a moment, Alexandra’s hardened exterior softened, and she squeezed LJ’s hand, reaching across to ruffle Ashlynn’s hair. “Thank you. Both of you. I may be alone in that ring, but I’m bringing you with me—right here,” she said, patting her chest.
“Good,” LJ said, raising his coffee cup in a mock toast. “Then kick some ass in our honor, okay?”
“Already planned on it.” Alexandra lifted her own cup, meeting her family’s eyes with a rare, genuine smile. As they clinked their mugs together, she felt the storm inside her quiet, just for a moment. Then, she braced herself, ready to face whatever lay ahead. Alexandra took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the coffee in her hands calm her. The fight loomed, yes, but with LJ and Ashlynn by her side, it didn’t seem so daunting. She looked at her daughter, remembering how much Ashlynn had seen her endure and overcome. This wasn’t just about standing her ground in the ring; it was about showing her daughter that no one could define her limits or decide her worth.
“I’m not just fighting for myself,” she said, her voice quiet but strong. “I’m fighting so you know, Ash, that strength isn’t in titles, or fame, or how many times you’ve been knocked down. It’s about getting up and making damn sure everyone knows they’ll never keep you down.”
Ashlynn’s eyes gleamed with pride, her admiration clear. “You’re the strongest person I know, Mom. You don’t need some belt to prove it. Brit may think she has you figured out, but she doesn’t understand who she’s dealing with. She’s scared—that’s why she sent Christian after you, right?”
Alexandra smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Scared? Definitely. And it’s time to remind her why.”
LJ leaned in, his voice low but firm. “Then show them. All of them. Make Brit realize she should’ve left you alone, and make Christian regret ever agreeing to be her lackey. And when you walk out of that ring, it won’t matter whether it was a title match or not, because they’ll know they messed with the wrong person.”
“Exactly.” Alexandra felt a renewed fire in her, her resolve hardening as she looked between the two people she loved most. She reached out, taking their hands. “When I step into that ring, I’m not just Alexandra Calaway, the fighter they tried to sideline. I’m your mother. I’m your partner. I’m the one who doesn’t back down.”
A fierce, determined smile spread across Ashlynn’s face. “Then go show them who you really are, Mom.”
With a nod, Alexandra smiled at them, her confidence radiating in waves. She was ready, stronger than she’d felt in years, driven by something far more powerful than a title or a grudge. She was fighting for herself, her family, her future—and nothing could stop her now.
Queenslayers Gambit
The CN Tower EdgeWalk
Toronto, Canada
The scene opens with an aerial shot of Toronto’s bustling cityscape as dusk begins to settle. The sky bleeds in hues of orange and pink, a beautiful yet ominous prelude to the storm brewing in the heart of Alexandra Calaway. The camera pans upwards, zooming in on the towering figure of the CN Tower. But instead of its usual calm, tonight the CN Tower serves as a battleground—a fitting stage for a warrior about to unleash hell. High above the streets, on the EdgeWalk, Alexandra Calaway stands alone against the wind, her hair whipping around her face as the world below spins on, unaware of the fury about to be unleashed.
She stands at the edge, harnessed but calm, her body relaxed yet tense with an electric energy. The camera zooms in, capturing the fire in her eyes. This is a woman on a mission. This is Alexandra Calaway. And tonight, she’s not just talking. She’s delivering a warning.
“This city… It's beautiful, isn’t it? It stretches on forever, endless possibilities, endless dreams. You stand up here, at the very top of the world, and you feel invincible. But that’s the funny thing about standing on top of the world—there’s always someone coming to knock you off. And when you fall from this height… you don’t get back up. Much could be said about some people’s careers in this industry. I’ve seen them come and go a million times over. People who were a lot like you. People who claimed to be untouchable, cut down in the prime of their careers, all because they were linked up with the wrong people.”
She pauses, turning slightly toward the camera, her eyes narrowing as her lips curl into a small, knowing smile.
“Christian Rivers, I’m talking to you. You might think you’re untouchable right now, standing in the shadow of Brit’s protection, with that Anarchy Title strapped around your waist like it makes you something special. But let me remind you of one thing: the only reason you’re holding that belt is because I’m not."
Her smile fades, replaced by a deadly seriousness as she continues.
“That Anarchy Championship? It was my first taste of gold in this company when EPW was still OCW. I held it with pride, with fire, with everything that made me who I am today. But now? It’s nothing more than a prop in Brit’s twisted game—a game you’re all too happy to play, aren’t you, Rivers? A game that let’s face it, puts you in a position where you are in over your head. A game that, let’s face it, you aren’t ready to play.”
She steps closer to the edge, the wind whipping around her like a tempest, symbolic of the storm raging inside her.
“Brit has you doing her dirty work. She’s sent you after me like some kind of attack dog, thinking you can finish what she started at And Justice for Brawl. You’re supposed to be her insurance policy, her ‘final answer,’ but here’s the truth, Christian… you’re not the man she thinks you are. You’re not the indestructible monster she wants you to be. You’re just another puppet in her little game. A pawn she’s willing to sacrifice to keep herself in power. But let me make one thing clear to you—you may be the Anarchy Champion, but in this match, there’s no belt that can save you. There’s no title that can protect you from the reckoning that’s coming.”
Her voice grows sharper, more venomous, as she walks along the narrow path of the EdgeWalk, unafraid of the abyss beneath her feet.
“This isn’t just about a title, Rivers. You’re standing in my way, and that’s a dangerous place to be. Because when I get in that ring with you, it’s not about proving I’m better. It’s about proving that I’m the future. That I’m the one who’s going to take this company by the throat and reshape it in my image. And you? You’re nothing more than an obstacle. A speed bump on the road to my destiny. A toy to play with, a warm up, a prelude to the real game. You are nothing more than a toy Brit is dangling in front of me. A toy I intend to break, not for a title, but just for the sheer fun of it all. Just because I can.”
The camera pans to the ground far below, then back up to Alexandra, emphasizing the distance she’s willing to fall—or make others fall.
“Christian, you’ve built your career on being Brit’s muscle. You’ve been her enforcer, her loyal servant, doing whatever dirty work she orders with a cold, calculated precision. You’ve hurt people, broken them, all in the name of keeping her on top. And that’s fine—if you’re comfortable being a lackey, a hired gun. But me? I don’t follow orders. I don’t take commands from anyone, especially not from someone like Brit, who thinks she can control me. That’s where we’re different. You’re a weapon, a tool to be used and discarded when it’s convenient. I’m a force of nature. I’m unstoppable because I’m fighting for something bigger than myself. I’m fighting for my career, my legacy, my freedom.”
She tilts her head, staring directly into the camera as her voice lowers to a dangerous whisper.
“You might think Brit’s giving you this match to cement your place as the top enforcer, to prove once and for all that you’re the real deal. But let me ask you this, Christian: Why isn’t the Anarchy Title on the line? Why would Brit book this as a non-title match if she had so much faith in you? She didn’t want to risk it. She didn’t want you to lose to me and tarnish that little toy you’re carrying around. You see, even Brit knows I’m a threat. She knows that if that title was on the line, I’d take it back and there wouldn’t be a damn thing you could do to stop me. She knew that I had your number, so she’s holding your hand, making you believe in her bullshit, by keeping you as the champion.”
Her words hang in the air like a death sentence. Alexandra steps closer to the edge, looking out over the vast expanse of the city below her.
“This non-title stipulation? It’s a slap in the face. Not just to me, but to you, Rivers. She doesn’t believe in you enough to put that belt up for grabs. But that’s the difference between us—Brit never had faith in me, and look where I am now. I’m standing at the top of the world, about to take my shot at the World Title, and I don’t owe a damn thing to her or anyone else. You? You’re still clinging to her approval, still fighting for her scraps, when you could be so much more. You could be your own man. All she did when she sprayed me with that can of mace, was free me from the constraints she had placed me in. Now, I can destroy anyone in my path, without worrying about what Brit will do next. And I know she’s running in fear now. The question is, will you be your own man, or her lackey.”
She pauses, letting her words sink in, her voice a mix of anger and disappointment.
“But you won’t, will you? You’ll just keep being her puppet, doing her bidding, because it’s easier that way. It’s easier to follow orders than to carve out your own path, to make your own choices. That’s why you’ll never be more than her attack dog, Rivers. And that’s why, in our match, I’m going to put you down. You will see that unlike the others you’ve faced, I’m not afraid to bust you up. I’m not afraid to bleed you dry. I’m not like them. I’m stronger, better and far more intelligent. You see her little attack, while it blinded me for a few moments, it gave me the clearest view I’ve ever needed. I didn’t need Brit, she needed me to be her monster, her weapon.”
Her eyes blaze with intensity as she steps back from the edge, the wind still howling around her as the CN Tower looms in the background.
“I’ve faced monsters before, Christian. I’ve faced bigger, stronger, more dangerous men than you, and guess what? They all fell. You’re no different. You might think that Brit’s protection makes you invincible, that your title makes you untouchable, but all it’s done is put a target on your back. You’ve been hiding behind her for too long, and now it’s time for you to face someone who’s not afraid of you. I don’t care about your reputation. I don’t care about your title. All I care about is sending a message to Brit that she can’t control me, and she sure as hell can’t control my future.”
Her fists clench as she speaks, the fire in her voice growing with each word.
“This is personal. This is about far more than just a grudge match. This is about me taking back my career, my legacy, and proving that I’m not just another name on Brit’s hit list. You’re just a tool, Christian. A weapon she’s pointing at me, hoping to slow me down before I get my shot at the World Title. But all you two are doing is motivating me. All you’re doing is making me more dangerous, more focused, more determined to take everything you have and more. When we step into that ring, it won’t be a wrestling match—it’ll be a war. And I’m not walking out of that ring until I’ve left you broken, beaten, and bloody in the center of it.”
The camera zooms in on her face, her expression unflinching, her eyes cold and calculated as she delivers her final words.
“Christian, you might be Brit’s ‘perfect enforcer,’ but when this is over, you’ll just be another name on my list of victims. And Brit? She’ll have no one left to protect her when I come for her next. This ends with you, Rivers, but it won’t stop there. It won’t stop until Brit’s empire comes crashing down, and I’m the one standing tall, ready to claim the World Title that’s rightfully mine. You want to try and break me? Go ahead. But just remember—you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. And in the end, you’ll be nothing more than a footnote in the story of my rise to the top.”
She steps back from the edge, her expression softening into a calm, almost serene look as she turns away from the camera and walks toward the exit of the EdgeWalk. The camera lingers on her figure as she disappears into the shadows, leaving only the view of Toronto’s skyline behind her, with the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.
“You can’t break me, Rivers. You can only watch me rise.”
Alexandra Calaway walks back along the CN Tower’s EdgeWalk, her determination visible, as the final shot lingers on the CN Tower bathed in the twilight, a fitting symbol for the epic clash that awaits.
LJ’s Apartment
Las Vegas, Nevada
The morning light filtered through the wide windows of LJ’s Las Vegas condo, casting a warm glow over the breakfast table. Alexandra sat across from her boyfriend, LJ, and her daughter, Ashlynn, her eyes distant and focused, a fierce determination etched on her face. The tension of the upcoming match was still palpable, lingering from the EdgeWalk promo she had cut back in Toronto.
Ashlynn took a bite of her pancake and gave her mother a long look, finally breaking the silence. “Mom, you look like you’re already in the ring, staring down Christian. Can’t breakfast at least be a break?”
Alexandra shook herself out of her thoughts, her gaze softening as she looked at her daughter. “Sorry, Ash,” she said, forcing a smile. “It’s just… this match. It’s supposed to be non-title, and yet, it feels bigger than any title bout I’ve had. Facing Christian—facing him without the Anarchy Championship on the line—is all about proving that I’m not someone Brit can sideline.”
LJ poured another cup of coffee, his steady gaze on her. “Angel, it sounds like you’re not just fighting him, you’re fighting Brit too.”
She nodded, clenching her jaw. “Brit’s been using Christian as her muscle, her enforcer, like a puppet in this little game of hers. She thinks she’s keeping him safe by making it non-title. That’s supposed to be some kind of ‘protection’ for her little empire. But the truth? Brit’s hiding him behind that stipulation because she knows I could take that title right off his waist if given the chance.” Her voice was cold, her fingers tapping impatiently against the table.
Ashlynn set her fork down and looked her mother squarely in the eyes. “Mom, you’re so much more than what Brit or anyone else tries to make you. I mean, non-title or not, this match doesn’t define you.”
“Yeah,” LJ agreed, his voice steady. “Ash is right. Whether there’s a title on the line or not, you’re going into that ring to prove a point—not to them, but to yourself. You don’t need Brit’s validation, or anyone else’s.”
Alexandra nodded, taking a sip of her coffee. “You’re both right. Brit thinks she’s manipulating me, like I’m some chess piece she can move around the board. But I don’t play by her rules, and I don’t need a title match to remind me what I’m worth in that ring. This is about showing them that they don’t control my fate.”
Ashlynn tilted her head, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Then don’t let her get in your head, Mom. Go out there, show them who you are, and leave Brit’s little ‘enforcer’ in the dust.”
A genuine smile crossed Alexandra’s face as she looked between LJ and Ashlynn. “Thank you, both of you. I’m going to step into that ring and fight like it is a title match. Like I have nothing to lose and everything to prove. Because, non-title or not, this isn’t just about me anymore. It’s about making sure no one ever thinks they can control my story.”
“Here’s to rewriting it, then,” LJ said, lifting his mug. “To MY Angel, and to making sure Brit’s empire shakes.”
“To Mom,” Ashlynn chimed in, grinning as they clinked their mugs together.
As Alexandra lowered her mug, she felt a renewed sense of purpose. She wasn’t just fighting for her own future anymore; she was fighting for the people she loved, for the respect she’d earned, and for the freedom to write her own legacy—title or no title.
LJ reached across the counter, his hand warm over hers, grounding her. "But you’re not out there alone. You’ve got people in your corner, people who believe in you beyond the ring, beyond titles. Remember that."
Ashlynn nodded, her eyes unexpectedly serious. “Yeah, Mom. You don’t have to do it all yourself. Not with us here.”
For a moment, Alexandra’s hardened exterior softened, and she squeezed LJ’s hand, reaching across to ruffle Ashlynn’s hair. “Thank you. Both of you. I may be alone in that ring, but I’m bringing you with me—right here,” she said, patting her chest.
“Good,” LJ said, raising his coffee cup in a mock toast. “Then kick some ass in our honor, okay?”
“Already planned on it.” Alexandra lifted her own cup, meeting her family’s eyes with a rare, genuine smile. As they clinked their mugs together, she felt the storm inside her quiet, just for a moment. Then, she braced herself, ready to face whatever lay ahead. Alexandra took a deep breath, letting the warmth of the coffee in her hands calm her. The fight loomed, yes, but with LJ and Ashlynn by her side, it didn’t seem so daunting. She looked at her daughter, remembering how much Ashlynn had seen her endure and overcome. This wasn’t just about standing her ground in the ring; it was about showing her daughter that no one could define her limits or decide her worth.
“I’m not just fighting for myself,” she said, her voice quiet but strong. “I’m fighting so you know, Ash, that strength isn’t in titles, or fame, or how many times you’ve been knocked down. It’s about getting up and making damn sure everyone knows they’ll never keep you down.”
Ashlynn’s eyes gleamed with pride, her admiration clear. “You’re the strongest person I know, Mom. You don’t need some belt to prove it. Brit may think she has you figured out, but she doesn’t understand who she’s dealing with. She’s scared—that’s why she sent Christian after you, right?”
Alexandra smirked, raising an eyebrow. “Scared? Definitely. And it’s time to remind her why.”
LJ leaned in, his voice low but firm. “Then show them. All of them. Make Brit realize she should’ve left you alone, and make Christian regret ever agreeing to be her lackey. And when you walk out of that ring, it won’t matter whether it was a title match or not, because they’ll know they messed with the wrong person.”
“Exactly.” Alexandra felt a renewed fire in her, her resolve hardening as she looked between the two people she loved most. She reached out, taking their hands. “When I step into that ring, I’m not just Alexandra Calaway, the fighter they tried to sideline. I’m your mother. I’m your partner. I’m the one who doesn’t back down.”
A fierce, determined smile spread across Ashlynn’s face. “Then go show them who you really are, Mom.”
With a nod, Alexandra smiled at them, her confidence radiating in waves. She was ready, stronger than she’d felt in years, driven by something far more powerful than a title or a grudge. She was fighting for herself, her family, her future—and nothing could stop her now.
Queenslayers Gambit
The CN Tower EdgeWalk
Toronto, Canada
The scene opens with an aerial shot of Toronto’s bustling cityscape as dusk begins to settle. The sky bleeds in hues of orange and pink, a beautiful yet ominous prelude to the storm brewing in the heart of Alexandra Calaway. The camera pans upwards, zooming in on the towering figure of the CN Tower. But instead of its usual calm, tonight the CN Tower serves as a battleground—a fitting stage for a warrior about to unleash hell. High above the streets, on the EdgeWalk, Alexandra Calaway stands alone against the wind, her hair whipping around her face as the world below spins on, unaware of the fury about to be unleashed.
She stands at the edge, harnessed but calm, her body relaxed yet tense with an electric energy. The camera zooms in, capturing the fire in her eyes. This is a woman on a mission. This is Alexandra Calaway. And tonight, she’s not just talking. She’s delivering a warning.
“This city… It's beautiful, isn’t it? It stretches on forever, endless possibilities, endless dreams. You stand up here, at the very top of the world, and you feel invincible. But that’s the funny thing about standing on top of the world—there’s always someone coming to knock you off. And when you fall from this height… you don’t get back up. Much could be said about some people’s careers in this industry. I’ve seen them come and go a million times over. People who were a lot like you. People who claimed to be untouchable, cut down in the prime of their careers, all because they were linked up with the wrong people.”
She pauses, turning slightly toward the camera, her eyes narrowing as her lips curl into a small, knowing smile.
“Christian Rivers, I’m talking to you. You might think you’re untouchable right now, standing in the shadow of Brit’s protection, with that Anarchy Title strapped around your waist like it makes you something special. But let me remind you of one thing: the only reason you’re holding that belt is because I’m not."
Her smile fades, replaced by a deadly seriousness as she continues.
“That Anarchy Championship? It was my first taste of gold in this company when EPW was still OCW. I held it with pride, with fire, with everything that made me who I am today. But now? It’s nothing more than a prop in Brit’s twisted game—a game you’re all too happy to play, aren’t you, Rivers? A game that let’s face it, puts you in a position where you are in over your head. A game that, let’s face it, you aren’t ready to play.”
She steps closer to the edge, the wind whipping around her like a tempest, symbolic of the storm raging inside her.
“Brit has you doing her dirty work. She’s sent you after me like some kind of attack dog, thinking you can finish what she started at And Justice for Brawl. You’re supposed to be her insurance policy, her ‘final answer,’ but here’s the truth, Christian… you’re not the man she thinks you are. You’re not the indestructible monster she wants you to be. You’re just another puppet in her little game. A pawn she’s willing to sacrifice to keep herself in power. But let me make one thing clear to you—you may be the Anarchy Champion, but in this match, there’s no belt that can save you. There’s no title that can protect you from the reckoning that’s coming.”
Her voice grows sharper, more venomous, as she walks along the narrow path of the EdgeWalk, unafraid of the abyss beneath her feet.
“This isn’t just about a title, Rivers. You’re standing in my way, and that’s a dangerous place to be. Because when I get in that ring with you, it’s not about proving I’m better. It’s about proving that I’m the future. That I’m the one who’s going to take this company by the throat and reshape it in my image. And you? You’re nothing more than an obstacle. A speed bump on the road to my destiny. A toy to play with, a warm up, a prelude to the real game. You are nothing more than a toy Brit is dangling in front of me. A toy I intend to break, not for a title, but just for the sheer fun of it all. Just because I can.”
The camera pans to the ground far below, then back up to Alexandra, emphasizing the distance she’s willing to fall—or make others fall.
“Christian, you’ve built your career on being Brit’s muscle. You’ve been her enforcer, her loyal servant, doing whatever dirty work she orders with a cold, calculated precision. You’ve hurt people, broken them, all in the name of keeping her on top. And that’s fine—if you’re comfortable being a lackey, a hired gun. But me? I don’t follow orders. I don’t take commands from anyone, especially not from someone like Brit, who thinks she can control me. That’s where we’re different. You’re a weapon, a tool to be used and discarded when it’s convenient. I’m a force of nature. I’m unstoppable because I’m fighting for something bigger than myself. I’m fighting for my career, my legacy, my freedom.”
She tilts her head, staring directly into the camera as her voice lowers to a dangerous whisper.
“You might think Brit’s giving you this match to cement your place as the top enforcer, to prove once and for all that you’re the real deal. But let me ask you this, Christian: Why isn’t the Anarchy Title on the line? Why would Brit book this as a non-title match if she had so much faith in you? She didn’t want to risk it. She didn’t want you to lose to me and tarnish that little toy you’re carrying around. You see, even Brit knows I’m a threat. She knows that if that title was on the line, I’d take it back and there wouldn’t be a damn thing you could do to stop me. She knew that I had your number, so she’s holding your hand, making you believe in her bullshit, by keeping you as the champion.”
Her words hang in the air like a death sentence. Alexandra steps closer to the edge, looking out over the vast expanse of the city below her.
“This non-title stipulation? It’s a slap in the face. Not just to me, but to you, Rivers. She doesn’t believe in you enough to put that belt up for grabs. But that’s the difference between us—Brit never had faith in me, and look where I am now. I’m standing at the top of the world, about to take my shot at the World Title, and I don’t owe a damn thing to her or anyone else. You? You’re still clinging to her approval, still fighting for her scraps, when you could be so much more. You could be your own man. All she did when she sprayed me with that can of mace, was free me from the constraints she had placed me in. Now, I can destroy anyone in my path, without worrying about what Brit will do next. And I know she’s running in fear now. The question is, will you be your own man, or her lackey.”
She pauses, letting her words sink in, her voice a mix of anger and disappointment.
“But you won’t, will you? You’ll just keep being her puppet, doing her bidding, because it’s easier that way. It’s easier to follow orders than to carve out your own path, to make your own choices. That’s why you’ll never be more than her attack dog, Rivers. And that’s why, in our match, I’m going to put you down. You will see that unlike the others you’ve faced, I’m not afraid to bust you up. I’m not afraid to bleed you dry. I’m not like them. I’m stronger, better and far more intelligent. You see her little attack, while it blinded me for a few moments, it gave me the clearest view I’ve ever needed. I didn’t need Brit, she needed me to be her monster, her weapon.”
Her eyes blaze with intensity as she steps back from the edge, the wind still howling around her as the CN Tower looms in the background.
“I’ve faced monsters before, Christian. I’ve faced bigger, stronger, more dangerous men than you, and guess what? They all fell. You’re no different. You might think that Brit’s protection makes you invincible, that your title makes you untouchable, but all it’s done is put a target on your back. You’ve been hiding behind her for too long, and now it’s time for you to face someone who’s not afraid of you. I don’t care about your reputation. I don’t care about your title. All I care about is sending a message to Brit that she can’t control me, and she sure as hell can’t control my future.”
Her fists clench as she speaks, the fire in her voice growing with each word.
“This is personal. This is about far more than just a grudge match. This is about me taking back my career, my legacy, and proving that I’m not just another name on Brit’s hit list. You’re just a tool, Christian. A weapon she’s pointing at me, hoping to slow me down before I get my shot at the World Title. But all you two are doing is motivating me. All you’re doing is making me more dangerous, more focused, more determined to take everything you have and more. When we step into that ring, it won’t be a wrestling match—it’ll be a war. And I’m not walking out of that ring until I’ve left you broken, beaten, and bloody in the center of it.”
The camera zooms in on her face, her expression unflinching, her eyes cold and calculated as she delivers her final words.
“Christian, you might be Brit’s ‘perfect enforcer,’ but when this is over, you’ll just be another name on my list of victims. And Brit? She’ll have no one left to protect her when I come for her next. This ends with you, Rivers, but it won’t stop there. It won’t stop until Brit’s empire comes crashing down, and I’m the one standing tall, ready to claim the World Title that’s rightfully mine. You want to try and break me? Go ahead. But just remember—you’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. And in the end, you’ll be nothing more than a footnote in the story of my rise to the top.”
She steps back from the edge, her expression softening into a calm, almost serene look as she turns away from the camera and walks toward the exit of the EdgeWalk. The camera lingers on her figure as she disappears into the shadows, leaving only the view of Toronto’s skyline behind her, with the weight of her words hanging heavy in the air.
“You can’t break me, Rivers. You can only watch me rise.”
Alexandra Calaway walks back along the CN Tower’s EdgeWalk, her determination visible, as the final shot lingers on the CN Tower bathed in the twilight, a fitting symbol for the epic clash that awaits.