Post by priscilla on Feb 23, 2024 0:21:58 GMT -6
The Smoothie King Center
New Orleans, Louisiana
February 6, 2024
On Camera
Priscilla lifts Dresden up, placing her on the top turnbuckle and climbing to the second turnbuckle. Rylee saw this and quickly grabbed the table! She set the table up, not too far from Priscilla and Dresden!
Jill Mathews: Superplex through the table coming possibly? Abbigail is trying to slug it out with Priscilla to avoid it though! But, wait Rylee has run over and is now out on the ring apron and just leaped up nailing a ELBOW TO THE BACK OF ABBIGAILS HEAD!!!
Vince Walters: YES!!! SEND DRESDEN THREW THAT TABLE!!! Priscilla!!!
Jill Mathews: Priscilla lifts up DRESDEN AND IT”S A RELEASE SUPERPLEX!!!!! SHE LETS GO OF DRESDEN!!!!!
But just before Dresden came crashing through the table, Justice managed to move the table, so Dresden landed flat on her back. Dresden was obviously still hurting, but the match didn’t end there. Justice, fully at her feet, saw Priscilla leap off the turnbuckle and hit her with Lights out! An R.K.O. Priscilla hit the mat like a ton of bricks. Justice dropped to one knee, as Rylee was now back in the ring picking up a chair and slammed it in Justice’s face. Rylee falls back a little, but caught herself on the ropes. Justice, possibly out cold, Priscilla still down from that reeling R.K.O. Dresden gets back to her feet, as Rylee sees her, Dresden goes running for a clothesline, but Rylee fell to one knee, causing Abbigail to miss and fall over the top rope onto the cement. Rylee crawls over Justice and comes to her feet, trying to yank Justice along with her but she’s dead weight. Rylee finally manages to pick Justice up and roll her onto the nearby table. Lifting her up, Rylee drops a Fall Into Ruin and slams Justice through the table!
DING!!!!!!! DING!!!!!!
Jill Mathews: What a match…. Wow…. Carnage and destruction, But, it was that chair Rylee threw so violently at the face of Justice that caused the true end to this match as it knocked Justice Cross legit out..
Vince Walters: The Little Monster and Priscilla WIN! I love it! But, uh yeah awesome match I agree.
Jill Mathews: Nice uh pivot there Vince….
Vince Walters: Yes it was masterfully done by me I agree!
Tom Davis: Here are your winners PRISCILLA WHITE AND RYLEE RUIN!!!!!!
As the match ended, the medical crew flew into action, rushing to the still very much unconscious Priscilla and rushing her out of the arena. Behind the scenes, everything moved like a well-oiled machine. Priscilla was moved into the medical wing of the arena, where the horrifying pile of human bruises became a show for the whole team. Gabe, meanwhile, was fighting to get back to her, even utilizing a few of the Wolves who’d been assigned by Cela to guard her.
“Ms. White!”
“Sugar?!”
“Ms. White!”
The voices seemed so far away… She fought hard to answer, but everything sounded … off. Echoy. Almost as if she were screaming into nothing. Her body felt heavy. Weighed down.
“Ms. White!”
Christ, lady, WHAT?!
“Ms. White!”
“Check her vitals again…” “They’re stable, Doctor… No change.”
“The fuck is wrong with her?!” Gabe was rightfully worried, the woman he loved, was seemingly alright, but wasn’t responding to any external stimuli.
She woke to a black room. Nothing around her. Desolate. More of that same echo. “Hello?” She called out in the abyss, oddly marveling at how she didn’t hurt. Rubbing her neck, that should most certainly ache, feeling her face that should have cuts and bruises; but nothing. She was flawless.
A figure loomed in the distance; was it standing still or getting closer, she couldn’t tell. “Hello?” She called out again, no fear in her voice, but a hint of annoyance. A small laugh rang out in the shadows. One she vaguely recognized. She furrowed her brow, making the decision to walk closer to the figure, who in turn, began to walk towards her.
After what seemed like forever, Priscilla finally came face to face with the woman. It was her mother.
Dru stood there, ever defiant, ever vigilant and smiled at her daughter. This was when Priscilla knew she was in trouble. “Did I die?!” Her voice was dripping with panic, her eyes wide and feral, as she looked at her own hands as they touched her chest and torso. That chuckle erupted once more from Dru, who embraced her daughter.
“No, sweet girl, you aren’t dead.”
Priscilla’s lower lip began to quiver, she felt her muscles weakening as she melted into her mothers arms. Dru hugged her tightly, and smiled softly. She took in her daughter's features. She hadn’t seen her, in what felt like, years. The two looked as if they were twins.
“Listen, Cilla…” Dru’s voice was soft. Gentle. But serious. “You’re going to be reaching for a title soon. You have to take it seriously. You can’t pussyfoot around this. Who your opponent will be, may seem like a joke to you, but he, ironically, has a bit of talent. It’s random when it does show up, but don’t assume he’s easy. You have to truly want this. You have to let go of the rage you’re holding inside, let go of the hurt, and be who YOU are meant to be.” Priscilla pulled away from her mother, for a moment, about to answer when she felt a sharp shock in her chest.
She fell to the ground, writhing in pain, as Dru looked down over her. “Spread your wings, Priscilla.” Another shock ripped through her, and she fought to catch her breath. She only managed to choke out one, single word; “Mom!” But it was too late, a third shock rocked her senses and yanked her back from the abyss.
The vision of Dru faded into nothing as she opened her eyes to a bright, white light and the sounds of people scuttling around her. Her whole body ached, her throat felt like it was on fire as she tried to speak, but a wracking cough overtook her.
She felt a hand grasp hers, one she recognized as Gabe’s, and suddenly someone was yanking her eyelids open and another white-hot light was shone in them. She cringed and hissed as she railed back, ready to deck someone. Where was she? She had no clue.
The voices all rambled into one dull drone, as she tried to focus her eyes on her person beside her. Slowly, Gabe’s features became clearer and clearer, and she could see the worry on his face. Her balled up fist released and she touched his face. She felt the stubble on his cheeks, and a wetness against this flesh that she could only assume was tears. He’d been crying. She blinked several times, and while the voices were still muffled to her, her vision was returning.
She looked around the room she was in and saw a heart monitor, an EKG machine and a defibrillator, beside a tray of tools and wrappings she’d assumed they’d used on her. Had she died?? Had her heart stopped? Was that whole scene with her mom a figment of a dying imagination? Or, was it an omen?
She wasn’t going to tell Gabe about what she saw, she knew she’d sound crazy. As crazy as she sounded to herself when she thought about that black fucking Maine Coon cat that followed her around and fucking TALKED to her. Those were two things she was going to keep to herself.
“Wh--What happened?” She squeaked, obviously needing a drink of water. Gabe took her hand once more and grabbed the styrofoam cup behind him, offering it to her. She took a drink and the cool, crisp water tasted so good, she drank more and more until the cup was empty. She gulped, swallowing hard and sighed softly, leaning back. She winced. Her head hurt like hell. She reached back to touch it.
She didn’t feel any stitches, but she sure felt a knot back there. What had hit her? As Gabe started to explain to her, everything that had happened, she began to drift off. She felt a little woozy, grasped Gabe’s hand again and faded off into another dream. The voices dulled. The lights dimmed. And all she could feel was warmth.
One week later…
Koven Mansion
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Off Camera
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Off Camera
Sitting, once again, at her mothers desk, Priscilla was overlooking some paperwork. But, that question still nagged at her. She wasn’t sure about her match this week, as she had never fought Hunter, nor had she seen much cause to watch him in the ring. He was inconsequential to her, but he stood between her and the Battleborn Title. Not a safe place to be, honestly. She was determined to walk out of that arena, that night, with that belt across her shoulder.
It would be hers.
In what could only be deemed as a severe lack of judgment, she rang the only person she thought would help her.
Johnny fucking Stylez.
She picked up her address book, and flipped a few pages. Found his number and called him, thankfully it was a video call though. She was a wonderful judge of people's demeanors. She’d know if he was fucking with her. Or if he was, for once, being straight with her. In a way, she trusted him. Mainly because, if her mother trusted this man, she felt she could. Or, perhaps, she was just too high and had a lapse in judgment…
Ring…
Ring…
Ring…
Suddenly a voice picks up on the other end…
“SuP SQuiRT?” His voice grated on her very nerves, and the way he called her “squirt” almost pushed her to the extreme edge, where she wanted to slam his face into the concrete. But, she knew that was just WHO and HOW Johnny Stylez was.
She rolled her eyes, before responding; “What do you know about some cuntnubbin named Hunter Valentyne? I evidently face him this week for the Battle Born title. And I don’t know shit about him. Other than he ain’t won many fights so far.”
She is able to hear him chuckle the moment his name struck his eardrum, He paused briefly before giving his answer. “Well Pris, I mean don’t get me wrong the dude is a PHUCKING CLOWN in every sense of the word…Well I take that back because he isn’t amusing or funny in the least. Actually I’m pretty sure he has dementia because that is really the only medical reason someone can be as dim as that muddah phucker. Now having said that, this is a Championship match dear, and well he doesn’t win much but he does do it on occasion, and if you don’t pay this match, that belt, and that deadbeat dickhead their proper due this may very well turn into one of them very occasionz, ya digg?”
“Why do you think I called, Johnny?” She growled, softly. “I am takin’ this seriously. I am legit about this. I wanna win, and I wanna make sure to put him down… Got it?” She lit a cigarette and leaned back in the old chair. Contemplating before she continued. “Ma said I could trust ya, can I trust ya? Ya gunna help me, ‘r ya gunna fuck around?”
Before she can say another word, he interrupts her, in a very Johnny Stylez way at that…
“Wa, wa, WA, WAITTTT HoL UP!...Quick QuE$TiON…I think it is very possible I could do both…huh?...HuH?”
She sighed. “Look, gimme his style. Tell me about him. Gimme what I need to make sure I’m prepared. This ain’t somethin I’d joke about, Stylez. I want this belt. I WANT this win. Ya Dig?”
Again his stupid almost insufferable chuckling as she speaks in a tone there is no mistaking for anything but serious…And still this ass just laughs, what a FUCKIN DICK!
“Yeah, yeah I hear ya girly! OK, well look first off, he’s mad at me and Jesse so his focus won’t be on you one hundred percent, especially after that bullshit he pulled that cost us our tag match to those two dildos Roger and Valora…His eyes will be focused on that entrance ramp as he now anxiously awaits what he knows is an ass whoopin he’s had coming for a long time, he just don’t know when…TaKe AS MUCH ADVaTaGe oF THaT As YOU CAN! Also when the ref isn’t looking, take cheap shots, they are just wonderful! Especially against a mook like him! But that should always be the main objective SqUiRT! FInd their weakness and don’t just exploit it, rub their PHUCKING NOSES IN IT… WaIT!!PLEASE TELL ME UR WRITING THIS SHIT DOWN!!!!”
She rolled her eyes, inhaling deeply before she continued. “I know he’s got weaknesses. He’s 2:1. Two pitiful losses to one weakass win. It was a street fight. If he lost that one, he’d have been probably the worst possible wrestler in the business, right? So sure, he’s a scrapper. Got some street chops. I can work with that. I’m sure he’s got a history, we all do. But, how bad does he actually want this belt? Does he deserve it? No. He doesn’t. He sees this belt as a fucking stepping stone. From what I know, Stylez, he wants YOUR belt. Not this one. That ain’t right. Ya can’t use one to get to another. That’s a fucking dipshit move.” She took a drink of her DruBrew, mulling over what she wanted to say next. “Say he won Battle Born. Then he lunges for your belt. Fucker can’t defend both titles, with the same energy. He’s too tired. Too broken down.”
This time no laughing…It was almost kinda creepy, maybe even scary. This was Johnny’s serious tone, she heard it last time when he was speaking about her mother, now it’s almost as if he was speaking to her, but every single word this time resonated as you could clearly tell this was something the present New Edge Wrestling Champion felt some kinna way about!
“Settle down BEAVIS, stop…STOP! Clear your head of all that NoN$eNSE IMMEDIATELY! One thing you never…EVER, EVER NeVeR WaNNa DO IN THIS BIZ, is FuTuRe TRIP!...Ala don’t put the cart before the jackass, feel me KiDDo?...He wants it pretty bad! Very bad, I’d even argue desperately, and when men are as phucking desperate as that up jumped gas station HOBO he will resort to any and every method at his disposal to put you down. Because the only way a dildo like him has any fighting chance at getting at who and what he wants is if he emerges from Tension as the Battle Born Champion, but again LiL BiT, he NEEDS IT, which means the fear of him losing another CHAMPIONSHIP promise is something you can eventually turn and use against him. He’s an idiot, very easy to rile up…It’s almost like playing hide and go seek with blind kids! But if you’re not paying attention one of them bitches can tag you all the same. If you want my suggestion, I would allow him to come at you. He needs to win because he has something to prove so he will come at you full tilt if you are able to withstand the barrage he will be exhausted and then you pick him apart. He may piss you off to where you wanna take your time and enjoy humiliating him, and I'm tellin’ ya now as fun as it actually is smashing his head into the sound of thunderous applause, DON’T, the VICTORY is what matters here. You pull this one down mam and the doors will swing open for you. Who is this prodigy they’ll say…ANd then I'll tell ‘em to phuck off, because from now on, YOU LISTEN TO ME, K?”
She took a drag off her cigarette, spinning the lighter idly in her other hand. “So, you’re tellin’ me, to let him rage out like the fuckin’ Hulk, then go for the kill, and go dirty? Like a wrestlin’ Rope-A-Dope?” She chuckled a bit, while Stylez was a smartass, he had a point. She needed to focus her mind on what was happening now. Focus on what she wanted. How badly she wanted it. And what she’d do to achieve it. “Nothin’ fancy, just down an dirty fightin’. Rile ‘im up and watch ‘im spin out, then when he’s winded; go for the finisher. That what ya sayin’, Stylez?”
He sighed, as he briefly paused, opting to choose his next words carefully…
“Actually, yeah, if I was gonna tell ya anything else, I’d phuckin’ tell ya to remain focus on how badly you want this, because in any scrap, battle, war is typically won by the ones who want it more and are willing to go to any length to get it…SO, just make sure you want it more than Mr. Magoo does!”
That wasn’t a hard thing for her to do, honestly. She had a knack for bringing anyone’s hackles up, and making them see red. Anger was a blinder. She knew that. She checked her own rage at the curtain. Maybe her mom was right. Maybe Johnny knew a thing or two about a thing or two. If Priscilla could withstand his showboating ways, maybe he could be useful in advancing her career in this business.
…Then he goes and says something stupid like this here…
“Ohhh and Pris, I will be watching and hypothetically speaking if you were able to pick up this huge win for NEW’s brand new Battle BoRN title over a vet like Hunter I won’t be the only one watching from now on, which means you will almost…ALMOST be cool enough for me to consider consider training you full time, but we will see. GuESS THaT DePeNDZ on YoU DeaR…NoW…DON’T PHUCK THIS UP, gotta GO LuVyaKYBYEEEEEEE…”
…CLICK
…What a dick!
She blinked, flustered a bit, looking at the phone on her desk and scowled. This man drove her up the goddamned wall. But, sadly, he had a fucking point. This was an important match. This could define her career. Was she worth it? Could she hack it? Did she have what it took to beat a veteran in this sport, or was she the trash she’d been called her whole life?
That was what tipped the scales.
That single question sent her into a tizzy of more questions than answers… And a full blown panic attack.
Why was she doing this?
Was Priscilla trying to prove something to someone? To herself?
Was she fighting the ghost of her mother?
In all honesty, all jokes aside, she was doing this, to prove to herself that she could. That she was worth it.
She’d spent most of her life being judged and looked down on for not having parents, or being under the thumb of a Mob Boss; and called trash as a result. She grew up fast, and grew up with a vicious streak a mile wide. But, when it came to her world crashing down around her, and her mother coming back into her life, and then the death of her mother, she lost all sense of who she was.
Outside of her chosen hobbies, who was she? Who was Priscilla White?
She was compared to her mother. In every aspect. Business. Personal. Looks. Personality. Abilities. Everything. Which wasn’t what Priscilla wanted. She wanted something for herself. And when Johnny came a-calling about New Edge, she saw an opportunity to show the differences between her and her mother.
However…
“That wasn’t right. Fuck… I fucked that up.” She shook her head, holding her hands out in front of her as if she had meant to run them through her hair but stopped. They were shaking. Priscilla’s hands were shaking. “Fuck, I.. Wait.. What did he mean?” She closed her eyes, leaning forward, touching her fingertips to her temples. “Those questions weren’t right.” Her breathing wavered, almost jagged. “What should I have asked?”
Her world began to spin, her body swayed back and forth as her mind raced with a million questions she SHOULD have asked him. She hated to admit it, but Johnny was one of the biggest in the business and she could have asked him any fucking question, and THOSE were the ones she chose?
“I gotta get outta here…” Her breathing was jagged now, she was panicking. Her heart was racing. Almost as if it would thump right out of her chest. She lunged out of the chair and stumbled to her feet, reeling from a thousand voices in her head screaming for her failures.
Fumbling for her keys, she noticed they were not in her pockets, and she raced to the front foyer, and the key hooks by the front door. Gabe flew to his feet, noticing her anxious, almost feverish look on her face and he was instantly worried.
She waved him off, searching for her keys, when she happened across an old photo of Dru.
She stopped for a moment, leaning against the end table in the foyer, looking at the photo of Dru with her arms in the air, holding a title belt in her hands. She remembered that night. Dru had taken a chance on the Bareknuckle title, in an old wrestling promotion, now closed, and had come out the victor.
She stood there. Body shaking, from anxiety and panic, her mind roused with a million questions, but this picture seemed to calm her down. She brushed a finger over the photo, missing her mother even more now, but she noticed something. Some indents in the photo, writing. She looked harder, realizing it was on the back… She yanked the photo from the frame and flipped it over. It was Dru’s handwriting.
That woman left notes everywhere.
*FIGHT!NYC title match; Bareknuckle match. Versus Sarah Wolf.*
Priscilla smiled, tears in her eyes. This was the first night she and Dru had spoken about her career as a wrestler. After she’d won the title. Honestly, after Dru had won the hearts of millions and millions of people; she came home to Priscilla.
*This was the match, I proved myself worthy of my daughter. This was for you, Priscilla.*
Oh Christ… Priscilla was weeping now, fighting off Gabe for the moment. He protested vigorously, but she couldn’t be stopped. She clutched the photo close to her and ran out the front door. Escaping into her Dodge Hellcat Hearse and thundering out of the driveway.
A few miles down the road, in the swamps, Priscilla stopped the car. She sat there, silently for a moment, wiping her eyes. “Jesus Ma, you didn’t have ta prove nothin’ to me…” She sobbed. “I loved you for who you were!”
Deep Within the Bayou
Location: REDACTED
On Dash Camera
The Shoot
Location: REDACTED
On Dash Camera
The Shoot
That photo, tear stained now, sat on her steering wheel, looking at her.
Dru didn’t have to prove a damn thing, to anyone, but still she took that title for her. To show her daughter exactly how to fly. And that’s what Priscilla needed to do.
She knew Wolf was vicious. Underhanded. A sore loser. And honestly, that was Valentyne. While she and Valentyne shared no personal beef, they both wanted the same title. And for Priscilla to achieve it, she needed to figure out how badly she wanted it. And why.
What was her motivation? Why did she need this title? What would she do, or go through, to win this belt?
Anything and Everything.
Priscilla was willing to break her own bones, shred her own flesh and leave her own blood in that ring to walk out of that arena with the title behind her name. If it meant taking the win from Valentyne by risking snapping her own spine? She’d do it.
“This was made for me.” She whispered, looking at the photo of her mother.
She propped one leg up on the seat, resting her elbow on her knee. “This title, this championship was meant to be mine. Who else can say they were Battle Born? I’m a White. I’m a La Roux. A daughter of the Witch they Burned. The progeny of the Ghost of New York. I’ve been beaten. I’ve been broken. I’ve been down and out; but I just keep getting up.” She took a deep breath.
“I’ve been weighed. I’ve been judged. And I’ve been sentenced to this life. I didn’t choose it, it chose me. And this is me owning it. I will overcome Hunter Valentyne and be crowned the Battle Born Champion. Everything has led to this. Every time I was knocked down. Everytime I lost a fight. Every Time I failed. This is my redemption. This is my story. This is me.” She nodded, firmly.
Priscilla, for the first time in her life, was truly believing in herself. And that’s what made her dangerous. Especially for Hunter. She knew he was a scrapper; but so was she. She knew he lost a few matches, but who hasn’t? If it meant leaving it all in the ring, dancing with that devil between four turnbuckles, she’d accept that dance with a wicked smile on her face.
She drank from the cup of everlasting life, and this was her trial. Valentyne was the titan, whom she needed to defeat.
She folded the picture and tucked it in her pocket, a Knight’s favor she would keep close to her to always remind her of what she was doing. And for whom it was for.
This wasn’t for Johnny.
This wasn’t for Jesse.
This wasn’t for the Wolves.
This wasn’t for anyone else; except her.
Then her eyes moved upwards, meeting the camera's lens. Her whole body changed, the very air about her seemed to grow. Seemed to raise in stoicism.
“Come Tension in Texas, I Will be the Battle Born Champion, and I will reign over any who challenge me. Valentyne’s days are numbered. His execution date? February 27th. Who will carry his coffin?” She smiled, a twisted, sickening smile. “No one.”
“He talks a big game. Challenging anyone who’ll listen. Guffing everyone around him. But he didn’t count on me. He didn’t see me, when I took out Justice Cross. Or when I worked with Ryleigh. I don’t exist in his mind, and that was his biggest mistake. Me? I’ve watched him. Seen how he moves, seen how he works his opponents. Seen how he screws others over. And that, that I cannot stand for.” She growled, softly, taking a deep breath to center herself.
“Hunter is probably one of the worst, most talented FuckMuppets I have ever seen enter a wrestling ring; and I have seen quite a few before him. But that’s where this stops. He didn’t earn this championship. He doesn’t go to bed dreaming about it. He doesn’t wake up with it on his mind. He only sees the shiny belt in front of him; not the meaning behind it. Doesn’t feel the title CALL to him any time he enters the dressing room at whatever arena is sponsoring us that week.”
She lit a cigarette, a roll your own, that was obviously much more than just tobacco. She took a drag, holding it briefly before exhaling. “Yeah, he’s got a history. Wins. Losses. Fuck offs. But we all do. Everyone has a record. He’s been the victor. The loser. The no-show-er. The clown. The champ.”
“Battle Born isn’t him. Battle Born is someone who has lived, and died, in the field of battle. Someone who was literally reborn on that same field of corpses, and rose above them to conquer their murderer.” She snarled. “That’s me. Sure. I fucked up when I faced River Rose. I underestimated her. But, that ain’t what’s happening here. I know I’m in for a fight. One that I will live or die in the middle of. Hunter ain’t a Navy SEAL. Hunter ain’t a mob boss, throwin’ a tantrum. He ain’t a street fighter, determined to win no matter what. He’s a veteran of the ring. Someone whose name is etched in the halls of many promotions. And I’m a damned greenhorn; determined to write my name on those same walls.”
“THAT is the difference. He’s done it before. He’s faced the likes of Stylez. Moore. Probably a dozen others. His name carries weight. Mine? Not so much. My mothers? TONS! So, this is MY shot. MY Chance. MY TITLE! When I walk into that arena on the 27th, I walk in as Priscilla White. But, Gods be willing, I will walk out as Priscilla “The Prophet” White, Battle Born Champion. Because, that is who I am.”
She took another drag off her cigarette, choosing her words carefully. “This is a niche that was created for me. Something I can mold to greatness, and let it shine as bright as any star in the fucking sky. A belt that could rival any International Title, heavyweight title, TransAtlantic title or whatever else is out there. I Will make Battle Born as prestigious as ANY of the ones before it. Because I can. I am the heart of it. The soul. I will spread my wings, and I will soar higher than the likes of Blair Buchannan, Johnny Stylez, Brandon Moore, Justice Cross, and even Jesse fucking Styles himself!”
“This is my retribution, this is YOUR judgment day. When the Valkyries call, I know exactly which one of us will stand and walk beside them. When the gates to heaven glide open, I know which one of us will be cast down to Hel.”
She ashed her cigarette out the car window, and smiled, a twisted grin that showed the fearlessness in her eyes. “Come February 27th, I will show the fucking world exactly who I Am, and what I am capable of. The pure carnage that will be left in that ring will go down in history amongst those in New Edge. I’m not scared anymore. I KNOW who I am and I KNOW where I belong.” Her eyes looked skyward, as wolves howled in the bayou behind her. Almost idyllic.
But, before she could say anymore, two white wolves and that godsdamned black cat stepped in front of her car, the cat, then jumping onto the hood. All three were staring at her. All three are silent as the grave. Priscilla’s eyes widened, not with fear, not with anxiety or panic, but with pure, unadulterated wonderment.
“THIS is where I BELONG!” Her voice, somehow stronger than ever before, had a deeper tone. Almost feral. “It’s not in my nature to give up, it’s not who I am to quit. I don’t give mercy, I only bring pain. Hunter Valentyne will try, but he will fall as I claim the Battle Born championship. Tension in Texas will be painful. It will be bloody. It will be gory. Can you handle the vengeance that I personify? I KNOW I can!” She snarled again, as the wolves slowly moved to flank her vehicle, and the cat climbed the hood, closing in on the windshield. This did not stop Priscilla.
“Johnny Stylez says Howdy, Hunter. He warned you about me, but you didn’t listen. Now, you get to suffer my vengeance… Make sure your affairs are in order, booboo. I’m ready to reach Valhalla… Are you?” She canted her head to the side, the wolves began to howl a haunting song just as the camera quit recording sending the scene to an eerie
BLACK.
The Wolves have returned; Can you survive?
Tension in Texas; LIVE from Ft. Worth, Texas
February 27th, 2024
Tension in Texas; LIVE from Ft. Worth, Texas
February 27th, 2024