Post by Deleted on Feb 18, 2021 18:24:06 GMT -5
"Everywhere you look there are people hiding behind their masks."
This time the room remains dark. Mystique's breathing is the only thing that can be heard. There's no rush to her breathing. Just a calmness as she sits back in the dark room and speaks.
Ms. Brookes. While people recognize me as someone who wears the mask it is actually you who is doing so. You see, a mask typically prevents the mouth from speaking clearly. It prevents your words from coming out audibly and coherently. While you may mot be physically wearing a mask you have Mr. Matthews, your dear brother, muzzling your mouth to prevent you from saying what YOU might want to say. I would have expected a stronger woman out of you. To be in a business like this and to constantly go up against some of the best talent the sport has ever seen .. to see that you have a mouthpiece speaking your thoughts is quite a shame.
Mystique quietly scoffs in the darkness.
And who are you, Mr. Matthews, to tell me who I am? Do you even know who you are? What it looks like, to me, is that you are Ms. Brookes' bitch. Doing and saying what she wants .. a dreadful man who doesn't have a mind of his own. Unfortunately for me, it's not you who I get to put through a table at Masquerade. It's that mindless sister of yours. And while you are "a bitch" .. Ms. Brookes, as you say, is a "bad bitch". But unfortunately for her .. at Masquerade she is dealing with "THE bitch."
Mystique points at herself in the darkness, regardless of whether anyone can see it or not.
"The problem with you, Mr. Matthews, is that talk is cheap. That's why she can afford for you to speak for her because her ability doesn't earn her enough to back her own mouth up. Anybody can come out here and spout off the type of bullshit that you did, but not everyone can go out there and back it up. Of course .. that is all that I have done, up to this point.
Mystique's smile is so wide that it can almost be seen in the pitch-black of the room.
"OWA Goddesses Champion" or not, you mean just as much to me as the other five people I have stepped into the ring with since I got to this place: absolutely nothing. You can take a Goddesses Championship and shove it up your ass.
As for The Prick ..
I actually listen to your words and I tend to get sucked into them. Because you do not think like all of the others, but rather a lot more like myself. Your drive .. your intentions. You don't exactly want to watch the world grow; YOU WANT TO WATCH IT BURN. But the problem is that there can only be one pyromaniac in this existence. It's not your job to take over the NLW and burn it to the ground. It's MINE. I've said that from the beginning.
Mystique takes a deep breath, this one a little more of a huff as she grits her teeth through her words.
But you want to call me a fucking masquerade? What do you call what you did when you turned from Maze into The Prick? Oh, you just think you're so clever .. trying to make the world seem like you're a different man than you used to be. But the fact of the matter is that you were a con man and you still are. You hide behind a mask of self-dignity that you don't even have and self-preservation that just so happens to peek out once in awhile when you say that you aren't what you used to be. But that's nothing but a load of bullshit. You used to be "this and that" and none of that even matters. What matters is: what will you be at Masquerade? Will you be the man you say you are now and put two "little girls", as you called us, through tables? Or will you simply be the same chicken-shit con man that talks out of his ass?
Mystique chuckles a little bit.
I'm glad that you got to know my physical features so well, Prick; the hair, the mask, the clothes. This means that I've already won over you. I am permanently etched in your brain. And come Masquerade .. you'll be permanently etched into a fucking table.
The scene ends abruptly.
Ms. Brookes. While people recognize me as someone who wears the mask it is actually you who is doing so. You see, a mask typically prevents the mouth from speaking clearly. It prevents your words from coming out audibly and coherently. While you may mot be physically wearing a mask you have Mr. Matthews, your dear brother, muzzling your mouth to prevent you from saying what YOU might want to say. I would have expected a stronger woman out of you. To be in a business like this and to constantly go up against some of the best talent the sport has ever seen .. to see that you have a mouthpiece speaking your thoughts is quite a shame.
Mystique quietly scoffs in the darkness.
And who are you, Mr. Matthews, to tell me who I am? Do you even know who you are? What it looks like, to me, is that you are Ms. Brookes' bitch. Doing and saying what she wants .. a dreadful man who doesn't have a mind of his own. Unfortunately for me, it's not you who I get to put through a table at Masquerade. It's that mindless sister of yours. And while you are "a bitch" .. Ms. Brookes, as you say, is a "bad bitch". But unfortunately for her .. at Masquerade she is dealing with "THE bitch."
Mystique points at herself in the darkness, regardless of whether anyone can see it or not.
"The problem with you, Mr. Matthews, is that talk is cheap. That's why she can afford for you to speak for her because her ability doesn't earn her enough to back her own mouth up. Anybody can come out here and spout off the type of bullshit that you did, but not everyone can go out there and back it up. Of course .. that is all that I have done, up to this point.
Mystique's smile is so wide that it can almost be seen in the pitch-black of the room.
"OWA Goddesses Champion" or not, you mean just as much to me as the other five people I have stepped into the ring with since I got to this place: absolutely nothing. You can take a Goddesses Championship and shove it up your ass.
As for The Prick ..
I actually listen to your words and I tend to get sucked into them. Because you do not think like all of the others, but rather a lot more like myself. Your drive .. your intentions. You don't exactly want to watch the world grow; YOU WANT TO WATCH IT BURN. But the problem is that there can only be one pyromaniac in this existence. It's not your job to take over the NLW and burn it to the ground. It's MINE. I've said that from the beginning.
Mystique takes a deep breath, this one a little more of a huff as she grits her teeth through her words.
But you want to call me a fucking masquerade? What do you call what you did when you turned from Maze into The Prick? Oh, you just think you're so clever .. trying to make the world seem like you're a different man than you used to be. But the fact of the matter is that you were a con man and you still are. You hide behind a mask of self-dignity that you don't even have and self-preservation that just so happens to peek out once in awhile when you say that you aren't what you used to be. But that's nothing but a load of bullshit. You used to be "this and that" and none of that even matters. What matters is: what will you be at Masquerade? Will you be the man you say you are now and put two "little girls", as you called us, through tables? Or will you simply be the same chicken-shit con man that talks out of his ass?
Mystique chuckles a little bit.
I'm glad that you got to know my physical features so well, Prick; the hair, the mask, the clothes. This means that I've already won over you. I am permanently etched in your brain. And come Masquerade .. you'll be permanently etched into a fucking table.
The scene ends abruptly.