Post by Caitlyn Wright on Feb 8, 2018 17:46:00 GMT -5
"ONE FOR ONE, BAYBAY!" The cry of joy echoes through the cramped apartment, and the first thing anyone sees is Caitlyn Wright in a pair of Mega Man-patterned pajama pants and a plain grey T-shirt that looks to be a size too large, performing a victory dance with all the aptitude of someone who was never meant to dance. "Uh-huh! Oh yeah! Who won? It's me! Well, us! Still counts! Uh-huh! Uh-huh!"
From down the hall, a door creaks open, and a groggy voice floats down the hall towards Caitlyn. "Some of us enjoy sleeping, you mutant gremlin. Why are you doing this? Whyyy?"
Caitlyn pauses her celebrations to shout back, grin never leaving her face. "I won my debut in Combat, Sun! And I've got another match! This is a job! An actual regular job wrestling! I've wanted this for years, do you think I'm going to be subtle about it?"
"You're never subtle," Sun laments, and we hear the sound of shuffling sheets from within the bedroom. After a few moments, Sun emerges, hair messy as can be and an expression that screams "not ready for this" on her face. She takes a long look at Caitlyn, shaking her head slowly. "God, you're hopeless. Normal people aren't up at this unholy hour."
Caitlyn blinks, looking over to the microwave and squinting at the clock. "...Sun, it's 10:30. Most people are awake by now."
Sun seems momentarily taken aback, but walks over to the microwave herself, leaning in and inspecting the clock with a focused, contemplative expression. After a long moment, Sun finally speaks, voice full of gravitas and import. "...huh." She glares back at Caitlyn, who shrugs apologetically. "Well, fuck you and your being technically accurate, then. It's my day off."
"So go back to bed." Caitlyn fires back, unwilling to let her mood subside. "Some of us have work to prep for. Specifically, I've got a match to look forward to. First round of a tournament to crown the first...ever...Combat...Women's...Cham-pion." She emphasizes the last word with a pop of her lips, and Sun looks over, baffled. Caitlyn's grin only seems to grow at the expression of surprise. "Uh-huh. Boss set up a tournament, and I'm in it. How ya like them apples?" She winks, miming firing a finger gun at Sun, who just groans.
Sun walks over to the fridge, yanking it open, and grumbles as she paws through its contents. "So, you know what your opponent's name is? Do you know WHO she is? More importantly, are we out of eggs again?"
"Behind the milk." Caitlyn points behind a gallon of milk, and Sun grunts affirmatively, retrieving the carton from its hiding place. "I mean, yeah. She's Amber Cooke. Minnesotan Bouncing Betty. Cranky and ex-Army. Not the sort of person I want to associate with."
"Yeah, exactly." Sun straightens up, turning and pulling a skillet from an overhead cabinet. "She's ex-military. That means you're literally dealing with someone who's trained to kill people. Literally kill people. You're a track sprinter that started wrestling because someone called you out of the audience. Doesn't that worry you just a little?"
"Nahhh." Caitlyn shakes her head, smiling, and opens her mouth to speak. "I mean, it's ju—" She abruptly cuts herself off, eyes slowly beginning to widen as a look of creeping realization spreads across her face.
Sun, not seeing this, merely cocks an eyebrow, beginning to crack her eggs into the skillet. "Hm? Just what?"
Caitlyn forces a smile, shaking her head just as Sun turns around. "N-nothing! Nothing at all! You, uh, you enjoy your breakfast, I'm going to go take a shower, okay?" Without giving Sun a chance to respond, Caitlyn takes off down the hallway, darting into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.
Sun shakes her head, turning back to the stove and turning on the heat. As she reaches forward to set the temperature, however, she's startled by a loud scream of frustration from the bathroom. The jolt causes her to overrotate the knob, and a brief gout of flame shoots up from the stove, causing Sun to leap back. "Goddammit, woman..." she mutters under her breath, reaching carefully around the flame and dialing the heat down. We fade to black on an irritated-looking Sun, carefully beginning to cook her eggs as Caitlyn continues to panic in the privacy of the bathroom.
We click in on Caitlyn sitting on her bed again, wearing a bright pink T-shirt with a stylized rabbit head on it and "NERF THIS!" written underneath in white lettering. She grins at the camera with infectious enthusiasm, cracking her neck and bouncing in place on the bed. "What's going on, Combat Wrestling fans? Welcome to episode two of my vlog, which we're tentatively going to be calling Dropkick Party. This week, we get the start of the OFFICIAL! INAUGURAL! COMBAT WRESTLING WOMEEEN'S CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNEY!" Caitlyn throws her hands up in the air, cheering as graphic streamers are superimposed over the screen and the sound of a roaring crowd plays.
She lets the "crowd" die down before continuing, still grinning. "First round action this week! Last week's It Girl, Dawn Halliwell, takes on Lizzy Dalmon in a battle of the Heathers vs. the metalheads! Every Man's Fantasy implodes, as Zelda Knite takes on Crystal Hilton! And finally, the Queen of Games herself, yours truly, Miss Caitlyn Wright, takes on the GI with general issues, Amber Cooke. Exciting stuff all around!"
Caitlyn cracks her neck, smirking. "Alright, let's call up the TALE OF THE TAPE!" With a flourish, a graphic comes up on the screen, showing promotional stills of both women over a series of vital statistics. "So, it looks like...well, her background's in the military, mine's in track. Edge her. She's 5'6", I'm 5'2". Edge her. 135 pounds, 125. Edge her...reach...edge her...huh. I, uh, I guess the only thing I have the edge in is win-loss record." she winces. "Y'know, maybe we need to put away the tape, grab some scissors, and cut to the heart of things." The graphics are quickly ushered off-screen, to the sound of an off-screen crash.
Caitlyn sighs as the camera zooms in slightly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "So maybe trying to measure myself up to you like that's a bad idea. But you know what? That's fine. Traditional metrics don't cut it, because we're nontraditional people in a nontraditional world. I don't need to try to fill your combat boots. I've got my own life, my own ambitions, my own story." she nods, taking a deep breath. "And this right here? This week is the start of my next chapter. Hold in there, Amber, 'cause I'm gonna hit things hard and fast."
She stands up, beginning to pace and gesture as she speaks. "While you prattle on about your precision, bloviate about how brutal you are, have you ever stopped and thought about just how sad you really are? I mean, come on. We've got the opportunity of a lifetime here, and you're acting like you're scrubbing latrines! You think you've got to be ironclad all the time, never off the clock, never taking a moment to stop and smell the roses because you're afraid there's a bomb lurking in the bouquet." She sighs. "It's depressing, Amber. It really is."
"But you know what?" she looks up, a playful grin on her face. "I'm betting I can pull something out of you. See, unlike Lizzy Dalmon, I respect what you can do. I respect your service to our country, and I respect the fact that you're dangerous as hell. But if you think that means I'm gonna wave the white flag, think again, because I'm ready to be all I can be, and I KNOW I can be Combat Women's Champion. To do that, I've gotta run through you. You're the first boss on my quest for glory, and I'm not giving up that easily. If you think I'm going to fold like Superman on laundry day..."
Caitlyn spins on her heel, pointing at the camera with an accusatory finger. "You've got another thing coming!"[/color] She grins, cracking her neck, and settles back into as close to a resting position as she can. "I'm going to hit you fast, I'm going to hit you hard, and I'm going to leave you reeling like Mr. Sandman after a Star Punch. Believe you me, Amber, just because I didn't sign up to go to war doesn't mean I can't fight. Make the mistake of thinking otherwise...well, ask Crystal Hilton how her jaw's doing."
She winks into the camera, grinning. "So see you in the ring, Amber. Time to step up or step aside. Test your might. Choose your destiny. And meet me...in Friday Night Combat!" We cut to black, the Mortal Kombat theme playing over the black for a few seconds before the video ends.
From down the hall, a door creaks open, and a groggy voice floats down the hall towards Caitlyn. "Some of us enjoy sleeping, you mutant gremlin. Why are you doing this? Whyyy?"
Caitlyn pauses her celebrations to shout back, grin never leaving her face. "I won my debut in Combat, Sun! And I've got another match! This is a job! An actual regular job wrestling! I've wanted this for years, do you think I'm going to be subtle about it?"
"You're never subtle," Sun laments, and we hear the sound of shuffling sheets from within the bedroom. After a few moments, Sun emerges, hair messy as can be and an expression that screams "not ready for this" on her face. She takes a long look at Caitlyn, shaking her head slowly. "God, you're hopeless. Normal people aren't up at this unholy hour."
Caitlyn blinks, looking over to the microwave and squinting at the clock. "...Sun, it's 10:30. Most people are awake by now."
Sun seems momentarily taken aback, but walks over to the microwave herself, leaning in and inspecting the clock with a focused, contemplative expression. After a long moment, Sun finally speaks, voice full of gravitas and import. "...huh." She glares back at Caitlyn, who shrugs apologetically. "Well, fuck you and your being technically accurate, then. It's my day off."
"So go back to bed." Caitlyn fires back, unwilling to let her mood subside. "Some of us have work to prep for. Specifically, I've got a match to look forward to. First round of a tournament to crown the first...ever...Combat...Women's...Cham-pion." She emphasizes the last word with a pop of her lips, and Sun looks over, baffled. Caitlyn's grin only seems to grow at the expression of surprise. "Uh-huh. Boss set up a tournament, and I'm in it. How ya like them apples?" She winks, miming firing a finger gun at Sun, who just groans.
Sun walks over to the fridge, yanking it open, and grumbles as she paws through its contents. "So, you know what your opponent's name is? Do you know WHO she is? More importantly, are we out of eggs again?"
"Behind the milk." Caitlyn points behind a gallon of milk, and Sun grunts affirmatively, retrieving the carton from its hiding place. "I mean, yeah. She's Amber Cooke. Minnesotan Bouncing Betty. Cranky and ex-Army. Not the sort of person I want to associate with."
"Yeah, exactly." Sun straightens up, turning and pulling a skillet from an overhead cabinet. "She's ex-military. That means you're literally dealing with someone who's trained to kill people. Literally kill people. You're a track sprinter that started wrestling because someone called you out of the audience. Doesn't that worry you just a little?"
"Nahhh." Caitlyn shakes her head, smiling, and opens her mouth to speak. "I mean, it's ju—" She abruptly cuts herself off, eyes slowly beginning to widen as a look of creeping realization spreads across her face.
Sun, not seeing this, merely cocks an eyebrow, beginning to crack her eggs into the skillet. "Hm? Just what?"
Caitlyn forces a smile, shaking her head just as Sun turns around. "N-nothing! Nothing at all! You, uh, you enjoy your breakfast, I'm going to go take a shower, okay?" Without giving Sun a chance to respond, Caitlyn takes off down the hallway, darting into the bathroom and locking the door behind her.
Sun shakes her head, turning back to the stove and turning on the heat. As she reaches forward to set the temperature, however, she's startled by a loud scream of frustration from the bathroom. The jolt causes her to overrotate the knob, and a brief gout of flame shoots up from the stove, causing Sun to leap back. "Goddammit, woman..." she mutters under her breath, reaching carefully around the flame and dialing the heat down. We fade to black on an irritated-looking Sun, carefully beginning to cook her eggs as Caitlyn continues to panic in the privacy of the bathroom.
We click in on Caitlyn sitting on her bed again, wearing a bright pink T-shirt with a stylized rabbit head on it and "NERF THIS!" written underneath in white lettering. She grins at the camera with infectious enthusiasm, cracking her neck and bouncing in place on the bed. "What's going on, Combat Wrestling fans? Welcome to episode two of my vlog, which we're tentatively going to be calling Dropkick Party. This week, we get the start of the OFFICIAL! INAUGURAL! COMBAT WRESTLING WOMEEEN'S CHAMPIONSHIP TOURNEY!" Caitlyn throws her hands up in the air, cheering as graphic streamers are superimposed over the screen and the sound of a roaring crowd plays.
She lets the "crowd" die down before continuing, still grinning. "First round action this week! Last week's It Girl, Dawn Halliwell, takes on Lizzy Dalmon in a battle of the Heathers vs. the metalheads! Every Man's Fantasy implodes, as Zelda Knite takes on Crystal Hilton! And finally, the Queen of Games herself, yours truly, Miss Caitlyn Wright, takes on the GI with general issues, Amber Cooke. Exciting stuff all around!"
Caitlyn cracks her neck, smirking. "Alright, let's call up the TALE OF THE TAPE!" With a flourish, a graphic comes up on the screen, showing promotional stills of both women over a series of vital statistics. "So, it looks like...well, her background's in the military, mine's in track. Edge her. She's 5'6", I'm 5'2". Edge her. 135 pounds, 125. Edge her...reach...edge her...huh. I, uh, I guess the only thing I have the edge in is win-loss record." she winces. "Y'know, maybe we need to put away the tape, grab some scissors, and cut to the heart of things." The graphics are quickly ushered off-screen, to the sound of an off-screen crash.
Caitlyn sighs as the camera zooms in slightly, rubbing the bridge of her nose. "So maybe trying to measure myself up to you like that's a bad idea. But you know what? That's fine. Traditional metrics don't cut it, because we're nontraditional people in a nontraditional world. I don't need to try to fill your combat boots. I've got my own life, my own ambitions, my own story." she nods, taking a deep breath. "And this right here? This week is the start of my next chapter. Hold in there, Amber, 'cause I'm gonna hit things hard and fast."
She stands up, beginning to pace and gesture as she speaks. "While you prattle on about your precision, bloviate about how brutal you are, have you ever stopped and thought about just how sad you really are? I mean, come on. We've got the opportunity of a lifetime here, and you're acting like you're scrubbing latrines! You think you've got to be ironclad all the time, never off the clock, never taking a moment to stop and smell the roses because you're afraid there's a bomb lurking in the bouquet." She sighs. "It's depressing, Amber. It really is."
"But you know what?" she looks up, a playful grin on her face. "I'm betting I can pull something out of you. See, unlike Lizzy Dalmon, I respect what you can do. I respect your service to our country, and I respect the fact that you're dangerous as hell. But if you think that means I'm gonna wave the white flag, think again, because I'm ready to be all I can be, and I KNOW I can be Combat Women's Champion. To do that, I've gotta run through you. You're the first boss on my quest for glory, and I'm not giving up that easily. If you think I'm going to fold like Superman on laundry day..."
Caitlyn spins on her heel, pointing at the camera with an accusatory finger. "You've got another thing coming!"[/color] She grins, cracking her neck, and settles back into as close to a resting position as she can. "I'm going to hit you fast, I'm going to hit you hard, and I'm going to leave you reeling like Mr. Sandman after a Star Punch. Believe you me, Amber, just because I didn't sign up to go to war doesn't mean I can't fight. Make the mistake of thinking otherwise...well, ask Crystal Hilton how her jaw's doing."
She winks into the camera, grinning. "So see you in the ring, Amber. Time to step up or step aside. Test your might. Choose your destiny. And meet me...in Friday Night Combat!" We cut to black, the Mortal Kombat theme playing over the black for a few seconds before the video ends.