Post by gabriellecrimson on Aug 5, 2024 19:53:30 GMT -8
This footage opens up to an undisclosed location, though it does look like it’s backstage at some wrestling show. Maybe it’s backstage at the One Arena, one would just have to look real good. Sitting on top of a crate, clutching her trusty baton, is the “Scottish Shortstack” Domino Evans, fully kitted out in a spiked jacket and ripped jeans. The red, black and turquoise tartan she wears like a waistband is a stark contrast to all the dark colors all over her.
As the “One-Lass Rebellion” speaks up, she has no shame in letting her strong accent show. She’s not being paid to be understood, nor to put subtitles under her words.
There’s a simple reason why A crossed an entire ocean in order tae be here.
Don’t worry, A’m nae here to tell you no story about no tragic upbringing; A’m not here to kiss yer babies or pour ye no tea, but it’s gonna be messed up enough for you to understand why A have what A have going on inside me heid. And A guess me two last matches here in the Movement have nae really told you what A’m all about, which means that either A have nae been clear enough about me intentions, or you have all missed the memo. All good – A’m here to address every single one of those things.
A’m not gonna fool meself thinkin’ A’m the second coming of yer favourite wrestler’s favourite wrestler, but let’s put things in perspective real quick. Two matches… Two victories. The first against a former champion, a man who fancied himself a prince, yet his first reaction to being faced with a meter-n’-sixty wee bird from across the piss pond was to invoke me mum’s fuckin’ tits, as if that was supposed to rile me up. The second, against a lad who fancies himself a chicken, whom A took great pleasure in pluckin’ an’ pickin’ apart, laughing as A tore my way through the poor sod’s flesh. See, A dunnae have nothin’ personal against either of these lads, but if gettin’ them to want to punch me face just so I can FEEL something oot of those encounters, you can bet your bottom quid that A fucking WILL.
She clutches her bton even harder, spinning it around her fingers.
A was made for the pain from the very beginning. A was trained by an icon, a legend in hardcore wrestling. Ye dinnae need to hear her name, A know exactly what’ll come outta yer mouths either way, and this isnae aboot them. This is aboot the pint-sized arsehole who came to the Movement for the broken bones and the spilled blood, ‘cause A’m fuckin’ here for THAT.
She stops for a moment and laughs at her own thought.
Ever heard of the old and… Honestly, kinda corny line, “A didnae choose the life, the life chose me”? Cheesy as it may sound, that’s me relationship with punk. A didnae quite chose to subscribe to it, but it drew me in regardless, and A’m fully immersed into it. And it goes deeper than making garbage noise in me garage with a guitar. It goes through being able to fight the pain and the blues, to endure the hurt, and carry on with what A think is right for me. It’s aboot having the guts to look at your haters in the fuckin’ face and laughin’ at them even though they’re oot to bust yer balls at the earliest convenience. It’s aboot reveling in the taste of iron in your own tongue when your mouth is filled with blood, your own damn blood, and knowing that when you flash your haters your pearly whites, they’ll be stained with passion carmine. THAT is why A want the hardest competition there is around here – ‘cause the moment A settle down for second best, that’s when A’v decided A’v peaked. And that isnae happening in a million years from now.
With her free hand, Domino signals the number 2 again.
Two matches as a professional. But as many scars and nightmares A could write a book about ‘em. A’v bled and been broken before, just so A could have the chance to be here and call meself a worthy fighter. A’v been bathin’ meself in this pain ever since A’v known meself to walk and breathe. And tae be quite honest, A see the shite going on around here an’ A’m EXCITED! Fire balls? Meat hooks tae the skin? Broken glass an’ tacks? Feck yeah, gimme some of that shite! Because THAT is what’ll take me to FEEL. ALIVE. AGAIN.
A twisted smirk is drawn on her lips.
If you cannae tell already, A feel immense glee in being something of a broken person. A dinnae carry a steel chair and a baton to the ring just fer the show of it; A do it because the first moment A get the chance to pound someone senseless with ‘em, A’ll take it. Just like A’ll never fault nobody for comin’ at me with their worst. And YES, this is me calling ALL of ye oot – A dinnae gie a feckin’ toss about who you are, A need you to step up and gie me that adrenaline rush that A crave so bad, gie me that searin’ pain of feelin’ me own blood runnin’ down me face just so A know A still have that searing hot red coursing through me goddamn veins.
And A cannae really complain A’m not bein’ given a chance to prove me worth. After all, the brass has decided that A get to play with not one toy come Glory 39, but two. Rebecca Kavanagh an’ Mark Kelly. Two opponents that, fer some reason, come at me from opposite directions, and A’m excited to be in the center of this beautiful car crash. A mean… You know, one’s a self-proclaimed Diamond, the other needed a month and a half to recover from a figure-four, so A’m guessin’ there isnae nothin’ too hard about ye. Going by that synopsis alone, A guess A have all the reasons tae be disappointed and yearning for more, but you know what? A wanna see what a bird who claims herself the hardest gemstone there is, and a roaster with a whole lot to prove in the ring so he doesnae come off looking like his limbs are made o’ dry twigs an’ spit can offer. A’m nae just coming for me third victory in a row, but for that–
And then, unexpectedly, Domino smacks her own head one, two, three times with her own baton, hard enough to open a gash. She thrives in feeling the first droplets of blood running down her face. It’ll soon become a full fledged crimson mask.
–FECKIN’ rush of adrenaline that none has given me yet! A was promised the HARDEST competition there is when A came to America, so A’m not challenging you tae step the hell up an’ show me that me trainer was not wrong! Show me that A wasn’t wrong in choosing this hellhole of a place that reminds me far too feckin’ much of that wasteland people call London ‘stead of paintin’ the streets of me bonnie Edinburgh in red! A’m fucking hungry, me lads – FEED ME!
She then runs her free hand over the blood running down her forehead and smirks. After licking it off her palm, she smears what’s left of it all over her face, and smirks sickly.
Because if you cannae break me… A’ll feast on your broken arses. And A’ll keep tearing through the weak until A find the strong, and when A do find the strong, A’ll step right up to that howlin’ bawbag and do it all over again. And if you think that’s me bum oot the window… Yer welcome to come at me and say it to me face.
Mummy’s ready for dinner. This isnae a threat, this is a heads-up: Domino Evans is here to Start a Rebellion.
Fade to black.
As the “One-Lass Rebellion” speaks up, she has no shame in letting her strong accent show. She’s not being paid to be understood, nor to put subtitles under her words.
There’s a simple reason why A crossed an entire ocean in order tae be here.
Don’t worry, A’m nae here to tell you no story about no tragic upbringing; A’m not here to kiss yer babies or pour ye no tea, but it’s gonna be messed up enough for you to understand why A have what A have going on inside me heid. And A guess me two last matches here in the Movement have nae really told you what A’m all about, which means that either A have nae been clear enough about me intentions, or you have all missed the memo. All good – A’m here to address every single one of those things.
A’m not gonna fool meself thinkin’ A’m the second coming of yer favourite wrestler’s favourite wrestler, but let’s put things in perspective real quick. Two matches… Two victories. The first against a former champion, a man who fancied himself a prince, yet his first reaction to being faced with a meter-n’-sixty wee bird from across the piss pond was to invoke me mum’s fuckin’ tits, as if that was supposed to rile me up. The second, against a lad who fancies himself a chicken, whom A took great pleasure in pluckin’ an’ pickin’ apart, laughing as A tore my way through the poor sod’s flesh. See, A dunnae have nothin’ personal against either of these lads, but if gettin’ them to want to punch me face just so I can FEEL something oot of those encounters, you can bet your bottom quid that A fucking WILL.
She clutches her bton even harder, spinning it around her fingers.
A was made for the pain from the very beginning. A was trained by an icon, a legend in hardcore wrestling. Ye dinnae need to hear her name, A know exactly what’ll come outta yer mouths either way, and this isnae aboot them. This is aboot the pint-sized arsehole who came to the Movement for the broken bones and the spilled blood, ‘cause A’m fuckin’ here for THAT.
She stops for a moment and laughs at her own thought.
Ever heard of the old and… Honestly, kinda corny line, “A didnae choose the life, the life chose me”? Cheesy as it may sound, that’s me relationship with punk. A didnae quite chose to subscribe to it, but it drew me in regardless, and A’m fully immersed into it. And it goes deeper than making garbage noise in me garage with a guitar. It goes through being able to fight the pain and the blues, to endure the hurt, and carry on with what A think is right for me. It’s aboot having the guts to look at your haters in the fuckin’ face and laughin’ at them even though they’re oot to bust yer balls at the earliest convenience. It’s aboot reveling in the taste of iron in your own tongue when your mouth is filled with blood, your own damn blood, and knowing that when you flash your haters your pearly whites, they’ll be stained with passion carmine. THAT is why A want the hardest competition there is around here – ‘cause the moment A settle down for second best, that’s when A’v decided A’v peaked. And that isnae happening in a million years from now.
With her free hand, Domino signals the number 2 again.
Two matches as a professional. But as many scars and nightmares A could write a book about ‘em. A’v bled and been broken before, just so A could have the chance to be here and call meself a worthy fighter. A’v been bathin’ meself in this pain ever since A’v known meself to walk and breathe. And tae be quite honest, A see the shite going on around here an’ A’m EXCITED! Fire balls? Meat hooks tae the skin? Broken glass an’ tacks? Feck yeah, gimme some of that shite! Because THAT is what’ll take me to FEEL. ALIVE. AGAIN.
A twisted smirk is drawn on her lips.
If you cannae tell already, A feel immense glee in being something of a broken person. A dinnae carry a steel chair and a baton to the ring just fer the show of it; A do it because the first moment A get the chance to pound someone senseless with ‘em, A’ll take it. Just like A’ll never fault nobody for comin’ at me with their worst. And YES, this is me calling ALL of ye oot – A dinnae gie a feckin’ toss about who you are, A need you to step up and gie me that adrenaline rush that A crave so bad, gie me that searin’ pain of feelin’ me own blood runnin’ down me face just so A know A still have that searing hot red coursing through me goddamn veins.
And A cannae really complain A’m not bein’ given a chance to prove me worth. After all, the brass has decided that A get to play with not one toy come Glory 39, but two. Rebecca Kavanagh an’ Mark Kelly. Two opponents that, fer some reason, come at me from opposite directions, and A’m excited to be in the center of this beautiful car crash. A mean… You know, one’s a self-proclaimed Diamond, the other needed a month and a half to recover from a figure-four, so A’m guessin’ there isnae nothin’ too hard about ye. Going by that synopsis alone, A guess A have all the reasons tae be disappointed and yearning for more, but you know what? A wanna see what a bird who claims herself the hardest gemstone there is, and a roaster with a whole lot to prove in the ring so he doesnae come off looking like his limbs are made o’ dry twigs an’ spit can offer. A’m nae just coming for me third victory in a row, but for that–
And then, unexpectedly, Domino smacks her own head one, two, three times with her own baton, hard enough to open a gash. She thrives in feeling the first droplets of blood running down her face. It’ll soon become a full fledged crimson mask.
–FECKIN’ rush of adrenaline that none has given me yet! A was promised the HARDEST competition there is when A came to America, so A’m not challenging you tae step the hell up an’ show me that me trainer was not wrong! Show me that A wasn’t wrong in choosing this hellhole of a place that reminds me far too feckin’ much of that wasteland people call London ‘stead of paintin’ the streets of me bonnie Edinburgh in red! A’m fucking hungry, me lads – FEED ME!
She then runs her free hand over the blood running down her forehead and smirks. After licking it off her palm, she smears what’s left of it all over her face, and smirks sickly.
Because if you cannae break me… A’ll feast on your broken arses. And A’ll keep tearing through the weak until A find the strong, and when A do find the strong, A’ll step right up to that howlin’ bawbag and do it all over again. And if you think that’s me bum oot the window… Yer welcome to come at me and say it to me face.
Mummy’s ready for dinner. This isnae a threat, this is a heads-up: Domino Evans is here to Start a Rebellion.
Fade to black.