Post by Isabel Rios on May 21, 2021 20:07:40 GMT -5
“‘If she dies, she dies.’ Alright, Ivan in-Drag-o, if it’s like that it’s like that. Cool.”
Isabel Rios is outside in the sun, though this time it’s no Caribbean resort. She’s at a football field, seated on the bottom step of the bleachers, dressed for a workout in shorts, sports bra, sneakers and sunglasses, glistening with sweat.
“Too nice a day to do cardio inside, not when I can run stairs out here. But I don’t wanna talk about my workout regimen. Don’t wanna talk about photo shoots. I wanna talk about how the other shoe is about to drop. See, when I won this belt-”
Rios pauses, picking up the Amazons belt from where it sat next to her, holding it up for the camera before laying it down in her lap.
“When I won this, I said ‘line’s on the left.’ I said I’d be a fighting champ, I’d take on all comers, and I will. But I need every woman in NPW, in SWAT, and anyone from anywhere else in the XHF network who might think about coming for my belt to understand something.”
Rios leans forward, raising her sunglasses, staring into the camera, voice quiet and firm as she speaks again.
“When you shoot at the champ, the champ shoots back. When you take aim at the target on my back, you put a target on yours, too. Some people seem to act like being a champion is a defensive thing, like you’re trying to survive a siege, wave after wave of attackers trying to break down your walls and take over the kingdom. Queendom? Whatever, I’m not a monarchist. No queens when it comes to this belt ‘cause queens are born into glory and baby, I’ve earned mine. Point is, I’m not gonna sit back and wait passively for anyone to come take this. I’m gonna meet you coming, head on. Think of it like a game of chicken, but I don’t flinch. So you can either swerve away and put yourself in the ditch, or you can meet me coming and hope you can walk away from the wreckage.”
Rios allows herself just a bit of a grin as she lowers her sunglasses once again.
“Sinclair Godfrey is pissed because SWAT didn’t book me while I was prepping for my first defense, wants to know why I’m not in Detroit. You wanna ask where I am? Sin, where were you at No Man’s Land? When I beat three top competitors to get my title shot? But hey, you wanna bring chaos you bring chaos. SWAT, let’s make this match, I'm game whenever you can fit it into the cards. If the boss doesn’t think you’ve earned a title shot we’ll just do it for the sake of doing it, but I’ve got zero compunction about putting my gold on the line when I face anyone. But remember this Sinclair, you reap what you sow. You opened your mouth and you sowed the wind, now you get to reap the whirlwind. Congrats on that.”
The smile fades as she continues.
“Commandrix, you know what’s coming for you when I get to you. You know what happens when I’m feeling mean and you know what I’ll do to get a win. Think of how much more I’ll do with my gold on the line. Keep your words soft and tender, ‘cause you might choke on them otherwise. And you’re well aware of how that feels with me, right?”
Isabel sat back a little on the bench seat, still focused on the camera.
“But before everyone else, there’s Esmerelda von Krauss, and I promise I'm not looking through you, sister. I'm not looking through you, I'm staring down a scope at you with my finger on the trigger. Yeah, you're six feet, three inches of sociopathic glory. You throw strikes? I throw suplexes. You kill in the ring? I don’t need to, and I’d rather watch you live to deal with your loss anyway. And I don’t care how many old people you order murdered or what you’ve got planned in Atlanta, I'm neither impressed nor intimidated. See EVK, I’ve got plans too.”
She scoops the belt up again, draping it over her shoulder.
“My plan is to be the Amazons champion for a long, long time. Not the kind of champ who only defends the belt when they have to, who only fights when they have to, who hides behind flunkies or gets themselves counted out or disqualified or basically does whatever shady, gutless thing they have to to keep the belt. This champ doesn’t hide, she hunts. So EVK and any and everyone else who’s standing in line behind you? The champ’s coming, make sure you’re ready. And if you take your shot? Don't. Fucking. Miss.”
Isabel picks up the belt again, moving it in close to the camera, filling the shot as we fade out.
Isabel Rios is outside in the sun, though this time it’s no Caribbean resort. She’s at a football field, seated on the bottom step of the bleachers, dressed for a workout in shorts, sports bra, sneakers and sunglasses, glistening with sweat.
“Too nice a day to do cardio inside, not when I can run stairs out here. But I don’t wanna talk about my workout regimen. Don’t wanna talk about photo shoots. I wanna talk about how the other shoe is about to drop. See, when I won this belt-”
Rios pauses, picking up the Amazons belt from where it sat next to her, holding it up for the camera before laying it down in her lap.
“When I won this, I said ‘line’s on the left.’ I said I’d be a fighting champ, I’d take on all comers, and I will. But I need every woman in NPW, in SWAT, and anyone from anywhere else in the XHF network who might think about coming for my belt to understand something.”
Rios leans forward, raising her sunglasses, staring into the camera, voice quiet and firm as she speaks again.
“When you shoot at the champ, the champ shoots back. When you take aim at the target on my back, you put a target on yours, too. Some people seem to act like being a champion is a defensive thing, like you’re trying to survive a siege, wave after wave of attackers trying to break down your walls and take over the kingdom. Queendom? Whatever, I’m not a monarchist. No queens when it comes to this belt ‘cause queens are born into glory and baby, I’ve earned mine. Point is, I’m not gonna sit back and wait passively for anyone to come take this. I’m gonna meet you coming, head on. Think of it like a game of chicken, but I don’t flinch. So you can either swerve away and put yourself in the ditch, or you can meet me coming and hope you can walk away from the wreckage.”
Rios allows herself just a bit of a grin as she lowers her sunglasses once again.
“Sinclair Godfrey is pissed because SWAT didn’t book me while I was prepping for my first defense, wants to know why I’m not in Detroit. You wanna ask where I am? Sin, where were you at No Man’s Land? When I beat three top competitors to get my title shot? But hey, you wanna bring chaos you bring chaos. SWAT, let’s make this match, I'm game whenever you can fit it into the cards. If the boss doesn’t think you’ve earned a title shot we’ll just do it for the sake of doing it, but I’ve got zero compunction about putting my gold on the line when I face anyone. But remember this Sinclair, you reap what you sow. You opened your mouth and you sowed the wind, now you get to reap the whirlwind. Congrats on that.”
The smile fades as she continues.
“Commandrix, you know what’s coming for you when I get to you. You know what happens when I’m feeling mean and you know what I’ll do to get a win. Think of how much more I’ll do with my gold on the line. Keep your words soft and tender, ‘cause you might choke on them otherwise. And you’re well aware of how that feels with me, right?”
Isabel sat back a little on the bench seat, still focused on the camera.
“But before everyone else, there’s Esmerelda von Krauss, and I promise I'm not looking through you, sister. I'm not looking through you, I'm staring down a scope at you with my finger on the trigger. Yeah, you're six feet, three inches of sociopathic glory. You throw strikes? I throw suplexes. You kill in the ring? I don’t need to, and I’d rather watch you live to deal with your loss anyway. And I don’t care how many old people you order murdered or what you’ve got planned in Atlanta, I'm neither impressed nor intimidated. See EVK, I’ve got plans too.”
She scoops the belt up again, draping it over her shoulder.
“My plan is to be the Amazons champion for a long, long time. Not the kind of champ who only defends the belt when they have to, who only fights when they have to, who hides behind flunkies or gets themselves counted out or disqualified or basically does whatever shady, gutless thing they have to to keep the belt. This champ doesn’t hide, she hunts. So EVK and any and everyone else who’s standing in line behind you? The champ’s coming, make sure you’re ready. And if you take your shot? Don't. Fucking. Miss.”
Isabel picks up the belt again, moving it in close to the camera, filling the shot as we fade out.
