Post by Deleted on May 3, 2015 20:52:26 GMT -6
(( Author Note: Sorry this one is shitty, it's re-write number three from a virus, and then people leaving and making a mess of SL I had going...so blah.))
in·som·ni·a
n.
Chronic inability to fall asleep or remain asleep for an adequate length of time.
“What we have inherited from our fathers and mothers is not all that 'walks in us.' There are all sorts of dead ideas and lifeless old beliefs. They have no tangibility, but they haunt us all the same and we can not get rid of them.” – Henrik Ibsen
It took me seventeen years to become who I really wanted to be. It took me seventeen years to gain the confidence I needed to succeed in life and by the tender age of seventeen I had lived the life of an elderly woman. I always wondered was the reason I inherited what some might describe as a drinking habit due to situations in my life prior to my adult years? There was certain things in my past that had been pushed to the back of my mind, certain things I had planned to forget for the rest of my life but every now and then they came creeping back, mocking me with memories of actual emotion. There had been days when I’d wake up and wish I was just like every other teenager on the face of the earth but I wasn’t and I never would be. I learned at a young age that with good looks came jealousy and resentment from people around you, especially women.
I remember being thirteen and dressing up for my first school dance. I was so excited my Mother had splashed all out buying me a new dress and sending me to get my hair done, she seen this as a turning point into my adulthood I guess. I remember looking in the mirror at myself while I applied a little lipstick and smiled at myself the excitement welling up inside me. With long legs, stunning eyes and well developed for a thirteen year old I was every puberty stricken boys fantasy, which had led to a lot of resentment towards me from other girls. They, assuming that I was something I wasn’t, decided that they wanted nothing to do with while even the teachers looked at me with envy. I was thirteen and I was excluded because I was a good looking well off child? To this day I still stand on the outside looking in. The outcast, the lone wolf, all because the choices I make don’t reflect societies norm. People are idiots, my father had thought me that and if enjoying a drink and habitual lust for violence meant that I wasn’t a sheep, following the herd like every other jealous, bitter and emotionally ran female, every mediocre, cocky and sexist male then I was happy to line up the blood soaked trail that was my claim to fame.
7 Years Previous
She stood still, frozen to the spot by her own fear and her own shock. Her mouth was wide open as she stared in front of her not believing what had just happened. The night was warm yet she stood there feeling cold as her body began to shake uncontrollably she felt a hand on her shoulder. The hand felt familiar as it tried to comfort her but nothing, absolutely nothing could take the fear from her heart. Her gaze fell to her hands as she felt tears sting her eyes.
Danny Romanova: “Sweetheart calm down. It’s over now.”
But she couldn’t calm down, how could she. Blood dripped from both of her hands onto her white designer shoes, the same blood that was splattered all over her prom dress. She turned her head slightly looking up at the man who stood with his hand on her shoulder, the familiar face of her father outlined in the bright moonlight.
Danny Romanova: “You did nothing wrong.”
Her heart beating against her chest she looked down at her feet where the knife had fallen, it too was covered in the blood of another.
What have I done?
Her gaze slowly drifted along the ground to where a man lay, slumped against the stonewall, his eyes open, his soul gone as his dead eyes stared at her, accusing, knowing what she had done. She looked down at the ground once again, not wanting to move, not wanting to think, not wanting to be there at all as a small river of blood began to seep from the man with the dead eyes.
Nikita Romanova: “I… I… I killed him.”
Danny Romanova: “Nikita Romanova you listen to me right now. You did not kill him that man was scum, he’d rather your family starve so that he could go out and spend your families money on cheap hookers. Was that what you wanted? That man would have had me sent to prison. You don’t want to see your father go to jail do you?”
Before he could say anymore she slumped to the ground, sitting there oblivious to the World as she continued to shake and watch the blood drip from her hands.
Vlad Mosca: “Boss we got to get out of here.”
Danny Romanova: “Shut the hell up can’t you see I’m speaking to my daughter. Nikita baby come on, we’ll get you cleaned up and get you to the prom you looked so beautiful tonight honey.”
She just sat there silently continuing to stare into the dead eyes of the man she had killed. She didn’t know why she was here, she wished she hadn’t of gotten out of that car. Her father had promised to drop her off at her junior prom after he took care of some business. Why couldn’t she have been more patient? Why couldn’t she have just waited in the car like she had been told to do? She never did what she was told, too spoilt for her own good and look where it had lead her to.
Danny Romanova: “Come on honey…”
Her father leaned forward putting two hands under her arms and lifting her off the concrete floor. The blood from her dress smeared across her father’s expensive suit. He didn’t seem to mind, he had hundreds of suits, this sort of thing probably happened to him on a regular basis. She was not a stupid girl. Nikita had realized at a young age how her father had made her family wealthy, she was neither ignorant nor stupid but she had chose not to acknowledge the fact that her father was a major player in what was one of the city's many syndicates. She gripped on to her father, tears streaming down her face as he held her close to his chest. Business was business and until that day it had never involved his little girl. He began to walk her back towards the car.
Danny Romanova: “I’m sorry it had to happen this way but it would have needed to be done eventually. He wasn’t a good man Nikita you must know that you did not kill a good man. He sold drugs to children and he took money from our family. It’s not murder when the man himself is a murderer too.”
Nikita felt herself relax slightly. Her father’s strength had always made her feel safe and right now despite all that had just happened all she wanted was to be next to her father. She had always seen her father as a type of hero. They went from living deep in the slums of Moscow when she was a young child to living in the suburbs in a house worth millions. It brought her to the assumption that we all must do what we need to do to survive.
Danny Romanova: “The World is a Jungle. The strong survive and the weak perish.”
She nodded. He noticed she was still staring at her hands as he took them in his. He wiped her hands along his suit jacket, cleaning them of the blood of the man with the dead eyes. He looked her dead in the eyes as one of his ‘staff’ opened the door to the car.
Danny Romanova: “We do what we need to do to survive. That doesn’t make us bad people Nikita. When your grandmother came back here she had nothing but the clothes on her back, I didn’t want that for us and neither did your grandfather.”
He took her pretty face in his hands and wiped away the tears that had began to trail down her pink cheeks. When he looked at her he seen heartache, a look her never wanted to see in his little girls eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.
Danny Romanova: “I’m proud of you Nikita Marie Romanova.”
Present Day
Nikita sat in her hotel room in the dark staring at the television. Late night television was always rubbish. She guessed it was because at 2am in the morning if you where still awake you’d watch just about anything. She yawned slowly picking up the television remote control and flicking through the numerous channels of rubbish TV. Ever since she let her guard down and Johnny ruined her hair for a few hours, her friend Sasha left NEW...it was just her and Tegan left...ever since what seemed like a great thing started to spin out she had been finding it hard to sleep at night. She had begun having dreams about her past; reminding her of things she had long forgotten. It was causing her to stay awake at night, filling her with emotions she had not felt since she was a gullible teenage girl.
I need sleep.
Her body felt exhausted and with her match against Blair just around the corner she didn’t need to be sleeping two hours a night, she needed to be on form. She would have blamed it on the habitual drinking but she had even stopped that to see if it would help her restlessness, which it didn’t. Her career was something she had taken quite seriously and this lack of sleeping was only making her more and more frustrated. She needed to get out of the room for a while; it was starting to feel claustrophobic. She stood up from the chair; her elegant body clad simply in jeans and a Misfits t-shirt as she walked across the room and grabbed her purse. She opened the door slowly, looking back over her shoulder at Samantha who was out cold on the couch. A smile crept up on her lips as she turned and walked out the door, hearing it click shut behind her.
There was not a person in sight as she began to walk down the long hallways. She had been thinking a lot about her career lately ever since she hooked up with the Blondes, for the three of them to take the world by storm. A bad idea, she thought, considering Sasha had practically abandoned her and T without a second thought. How can someone lead a group when they can’t even all be on the same page? She had never really liked the idea of being affiliated with a group but she knew what she was doing when she joined sides with Sasha. She needed her name to be known backstage at UWF and what better way to do so than have your name side by side with one of the companies most hated women. She was no longer part of NEW though so she no longer had to pick up the fights Sasha started, she no longer had anything she wanted. She had to focus on Blair and the path for her and T to get ahead in their game of success.
It made her laugh how so many people backstage would call her a basic, a simple girl and every other name that declared a woman who would not whore themselves for fame. If she was a man she would be an absolute hero but because she had breasts and a baby making machine that meant she should dress right and act proper? Why? Who was anybody to say what was the correct way to behave in life. So she wasn’t the type of girl that got a thrill out of shacking up with some man and having her twat all over twitter like Blair did but why did that make her a bad person? If anything it should make her a better person...she was in the sport for the right reasons. Not to be famous and use it as a stepping stone to low brow porn like Blair was.
As she walked down the long hallways she continued to consider things to herself. The hypocrisy that lined the backstage hallways was unbelievable. Women were calling her a dead end and accusing her of not having what it takes to climb the ladder? Women like Blair could turn around and say Nikita was going no where in NEW , and would never make it since she only had the it factor in the ring, all whilst Blair had spread her legs to every mediocre male wrestler in the business. She even let Christ Styles throw one in to her at the end of the night and yet it was Nikita who was the one with no future? It never made much sense to her how the mind worked. It seemed like people where afraid of females who showed little emotion as if they where cold, heartless because they just weren’t what society wanted them to be.
She eventually reached the hotel residents bar, which was empty except for an old man behind the bar in a white shirt and a black tie. Lounge music played softly in the background as she walked slowly across to the bar, her body so exhausted it barely co-operated with her mind. She took a seat on one of the high stools at the bar, leaning forward and resting her elbows and the thick mahogany surface.
Barman: “What can I get you sweetheart?”
Nikita Romanova: “I’ll have a Vodka, straight, no ice.”
Barman: “Well that’s some drink for such a young woman.”
Nikita Romanova: “Yea and I’m pregnant as well, terrible aint it?”
He began to laugh as he walked down to the other end of the bar to get the bottle vodka from the shelf.
Barman: “Feisty aren’t you.”
Nikita Romanova: “Meh….”
He walked back over to the bar in front of her, taking out a glass and pouring the bitter clear spirit in front of her. She watched as the alcohol hit the glass hypnotized because of her lack of sleep.
Barman: “You’re part of that group of wrestlers that are staying here right?”
Nikita Romanova: “I sure am.”
She took the glass from the table and brought it to her lips. Vodka had never tasted nice to her but she had never drank it because she thought it tasted great, she drank it for it’s numbing affect. It was quick to numb the senses as well as the brain.
Barman: “So what’s your name kid?”
Nikita raised her eyes from the drink recognizing the voice for a minute and then realizing it was probably her imagination running wild. She had been getting a lot of things wrong lately due to her state of mind.
Nikita Romanova: “My name is Nikita Romanova.”
Barman: “Nikita… that’s what it is…”
He spoke as if it the recognition had just dawned on him.
Barman: “Nikita Romanova. You have your father’s eyes and you look like a Romanova. The one that got away.”
She stopped still for a minute, shocked at what he had just said.
Nikita Romanova: “Listen old man if your going to talk about him to me, in the state I am in.... I will jump over this bar and hand you your ass.”
The barman began to laugh as he ran an old cloth along the bar wiping up excess drink that had spilled through out the night. She wasn’t ashamed of her past and she wasn’t ashamed of who she was but she had moved on, she was trying to build a career for herself and she didn’t need her past creeping into it and getting in the way. She had made a conscious decision to forget about it all for now.
Barman: “So wrestling eh? What a career change.”
Nikita scoffed at him implicating further that she was in fact who he thought she was.
Nikita Romanova: “Well I was until recently. I made a few bad decisions and well, now I’m paying for it.”
Barman: “Are these bad decisions the reason why your young face looks so worn and exhausted?”
Nikita Romanova: “Could be…”
Barman: “I know I’m just an old man but I’ll give you my advice regardless. Bad decisions can always be reversed. It may seem at the time like you have completely made a mess of things when you haven’t. Everything in life happens for a reason you just have to realize when not to give up. If you believe you have made such a life changing mistake that is has you unable to sleep and drinking at 2am on a Monday morning than rectify it.”
She looked up at him again. She knew he was right, she had to go back and reverse the bad decision she made or she would forever be left in the slump. This wasn’t her and this wasn’t what she did. She assumed the reason why she had taken things so badly was because of her new found love for the business. Because wrestling and NEW was the one thing she had ever loved whole-heartedly that hadn’t disappointed her.
Nikita Romanova: “There’s more than that though. It’s like every time I have a chance in life I purposely throw it away. I don’t know what it is or why I do it. For example I have already have a title shot here in NEW and most likely with the lost of one of the two people who actually had my back I'll either be going to the ring drunk or staying up all night the night before and fucking myself over. And then tonight here I am doing it even though I know I shouldn't, I had my shot to make it, a shot at something I have worked so hard to achieve and yet here I am sitting in a bar at 2am unable to sleep and does it look like I am in any shape to win a match? I went out and beat a legend of the company my first time out. But everyone still see's me as the new girl...sure I beat her. But not like I should have. If I where on form I could have slaughtered her in the ring once and for all but instead, because it is a big match, I didn't finish her off, didn't end her career...she is free to continue wrestling as a second rate wrestling Diva. ”
She took the glass of Vodka up from the bar and threw the remainder of it down her throat, banging the glass down on the hard wood once she had finished.
Nikita Romanova: “Fill me up…”
The barman smiled and went to get the bottle of vodka again. Nikita couldn’t stop thinking about her match that night. Why was she so self-destructive? Why did she continue to ruin her own chances at complete success? She had the ability and she had the skill to be number one yet for some reason, subconsciously it seemed like it wasn’t what she wanted. Was it fear? Fear of being at the top? Fear of reaching her goal and not knowing where to go from there? Could that be the reason she continued to make bad decisions when it came to her career. The barman placed her glass back down on the bar in front of her. She was a monster...but as of late she has not been able to tap into the monster as much as she had in the past...was her monster gone?
Barman: “Far be it for me to tell you how to live your life but vodka never helped solve a problem.”
Nikita Romanova: “Strange as it seems to always help mine.”
Barman: “Those are the last words of a successful man. So you are off your game? So what! There’ll be more chances. Buck up and do what you know you can.”
Nikita looked up from the bar and smirked, he really had no idea.
Nikita Romanova: “So what? So I lost my chance to truly make an impact.”
Barman: “And that’s it? You’ll just give up there.”
Nikita Romanova: “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Barman: “On the contrary my dear I know exactly what I’m talking about. Your father never raised a quitter. Prekrasnaya Printsessa.”
She stopped for a second, the hair stood up on her arms as she heard the man speak the two Russian words she had not heard for years. It was what her father used to call her constantly. His pet name for her.
Nikita Romanova: “How… How did you know that?”
Barman: “I worked side by side with your father for a good many years Nikita and I never forget a face. You have the facial features of a Romanova. You need to realize that this wont be your last chance at success if you don’t let it be Prekrasnaya Printsessa. There will be other chances and there will be other times as long as you start to put things right starting now. You want to beat this Blair girl but don’t feel like you will be able to with the state of mind you are in? Fix your state of mind. Fix the thing that is bothering and then when you are ready reclaim your success. Great things come to those who wait. Remember the World is a jungle…”
Nikita Romanova: “…the strong survive and the weak perish”
The barman smiled and nodded. She knew there was some wisdom behind his words although she also realized that there was more to the situation than he could possibly ever understand but he was right in a lot of the things he said, she needed to start sleeping. She brought the glass of Vodka to her lips once again, knocking down the remainder.
Nikita Romanova: “Tkhak vas starogo druga.”
Barman: “No problem my dear.”
Nikita Romanova: “I take on Blair this week…so I have roughly 24 hours to get my head on right”
Barman: “Is that a good or a bad thing?”
Nikita Romanova: “Bad I guess considering she is ranked one of the top females in NEW, and has been on an up keep. Not to mention she sleeps with the bosses brother. I’d say I’m intimidated by it but I’m feeling too apathetic as of late to give a shit about some girl who has a record, and lives off her past here. I could be cocky though and say that she’s about to go back into her downward trend because I am not Sasha...I a monster much worse then what she has faced here in NEW.”
Barman: “Nothing wrong with confidence.”
Nikita Romanova: “I agree but only if you can back it up and well if I ran my mouth off after the sickening display I put up last week then I’d be as bad as Chris Styles. I barely beat the shit out of a John Wayne worshiping goat humper and now there’s a chance I could lose again this week to a lower class cousin fucking American.”
The barman walked to get her another drink without her having to ask. He must have been able to tell by her glazed over eyes that she wasn’t finished her late night binge just quite yet. It had been a long night and it only felt longer when insomnia began to take over. She felt like this was all a bad dream, like she would wake up and realize she hadn’t lost her chance to make a first impression that left people in fear of her but she knew that it was unlikely. Her dreams usually involved naked women and champagne not sheep humping chicks, rednecks and a hazy alcoholic blur.
Nikita Romanova: “I’m hoping that after I beat Blair. I'll get my groove back, and be set in the right place in my mind to move on to my title shot. But that requires me feeling like I did what I know I can do...and not letting her put up more of a fight then I should...Dixie got far to many blows in for a girl of such shit talent.”
Barman: “Maybe…”
He placed the refilled glass of vodka down in front of her once again. She skimmed the tip of her index finger along the rim of the glass, day dreaming to herself. Blair wasn’t that big a threat after all this place was full of second-rate wrestling talent and if Nikita hadn’t of gotten lazy she would have ended one legend already. It wasn’t that Blair was a great wrestler it was that her opponents where horribly bad.
Nikita Romanova: I can do it. I can take this in bread bitch on. This isn’t the Beverly hillbillies aint no happy ending in this story. I should be afraid in case I catch a missed spot of Chris Styles Jizz off her rather that afraid of the fact that she might put the first loss on my record. The woman isn’t a fabulous wrestler… the woman can’t even spell wrestler! So I’ve made mistakes and lost a friend but at least I have an IQ over 60 and I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose to a woman who’s so stupid she had to put on a second rate game show spin off to peddle her shit. At least she’s not a dumb as she looks, otherwise she’d be mentally retarded.”
Barman: “Ha ha that’s the spirit. I little more confidence a little less self pity.”
She picked up the glass again and slammed back the Vodka. Cringing slightly as the spirit stung her tongue.
Nikita Romanova: “This will be how I correct the mistakes I have made. By making no more of the same mistake. Failing to end one legend due to laziness and my own self-destruction wont be an option anymore. I was raised with more competenza than I am giving myself credit for. This week at Ignite I will demolish Blair and get back on my road to success.”
She gave the bar man an appreciative smile before she stood up from the bar and walked across to the door. Her legs still felt weak below her as she moved. She was so tired, she would do anything at this stage if it meant a good nights sleep. She had made up her mind what she had to do in order to get back on track. She had to correct the bad decisions she had made.
Hours Before Ignite
The camera zooms in and finds her sitting in her locker room. Her hands are taped up and her ring gear is on. Her lips are straight...life is a jungle her daddy taught her that. And if she wanted to be the Queen...the lioness then she had to rip through the piece of meat hanging before her.
Nikita Romanova: “Isn't it funny how I owned a legend, and she still runs off at the mouth. Did you pay a ref off? Is that why your so sure you can handle me Blair? Why you think you and me belong in the same ring? Christ I damn near will break your jaw with a superkick if I thought it would help. But still you ill continue to open that fat trap of yours. I beat you in every aspect of the game. My words are stronger than yours. My in ring performance is stronger than yours....You can't beat me.”
She flashes a grin at the camera as she stands up stretching.
Nikita Romanova: “Put it however you Want to Blair, you are far inferior to me. It's funny how this game works though isn't it? It's funny how even you said in your own way I am better then you. How even you admitted I am all in ring skill ad lack the other areas to get ahead in this sport. But you can have all the show you want, all the glitz, all the glam, all the Chris Styles cock your lips can handle..but tonight...tonight you step into the ring with me! The area even you admit I have all the talent. There will be no mercy, you will not be special, all tonight is going to be...is just another ass kicking handed down from me. Don't you understand that I am the greatest to bless this ring? That I am the greatest you will ever face. You won't get past me. They let Dixie have weapons to try and even the odds against me...Even that didn't work.”
Nikita laughs softly as she leans back against the wall.
Nikita Romanova: “I could cave in that fat fucking ego of yours with one hammer blow, if I ruin your money maker what will you do? But don't worry Blair...I'm not going to hurt you that badly...this time. Why you may ask. Because I'll save it for another time. The time when I'm wearing the TA title around my waist, and you're back down in the curtain jerker division. Then I'll grant you a shot...let you think it's your time to rise up and put me down. And I'll smile at all the passion and blow you put in your system to muster up the power to walk down the ring for a second beating by me. And in that match I can teach you a thing or two about being successful. I am a Queen. I am a Violence.”
Nikita laughed softly as she runs her fingers through her hair.
Nikita Romanova: “Everyone knows going into our match that I will dominate. And that is exactly what will happen. You can't finish me off and you never will. You'll never be on the level of superstardom I stand at. Why? You don't have the ability. Sure you can train twice as hard. Work twice as hard. But still, at the end, you'll never be at this plateau. You can talk your trash, and build yourself up to this great Nikita-stomping, fact finding superstar. But you aren't. Never will be. You'll be that coward, that "paper champion" everyone forgot about. You can't cut it main eventing and history has shown it. Envy beat your ass...you tucked tail and ran like a bitch. RAN LIKE A BITCH. And you really think just because the past is the past your over it...the past always haunts us Blair. So please...try and be a big girl and don't quit on your mommy and Chris after I pound you and leave you a shattered shell of a woman tonight.”
Nikita pauses taking a sip from her water bottle.
Nikita Romanova: “Did you threaten the ref? Tell him that if you lost to me, you'd fuck him up real bad? I'm sure it was damn near close to that. How else could you have so much confidence going into a match that will be a beating unlike any you have had? But it's fine Blair. Wear your little game show costume now, and thank god that your plan worked and Sasha is gone. But remember after I destroy you...after I rip you limb from limb...you will understand not all Blondes are made equal. I just wonder how your mom is going to handle having an ugly daughter the rest of her life...I bet she runs out on you just like you did NEW when the going got hard. Hold your pride as long as possible, because tonight you are in a world of trouble. You know you can't beat me. Which is probably why right now in your locker room right now, slurping and gagging on little Chris...I bet you even beg him don't you? Begging him to even the odds? Begging him to come save you from me...”
She pulls a photo of herself out of the bag and signs it. Tacking it up to the wall behind her, before turning back and looking at the camera.
Nikita Romanova: After your eyes swell shut, your lips are stitched up...I'll come by the med area. I'll get you an autograph. Something to remember your favorite superstar by. With the amount of jealousy you have for me, I don't see how you can function. Round up your boys, get them all working together, because everyone knows who the real power is. Ask Dixie. She's sitting at home without a title, and without much of a future. You'll be on the couch right next to her soon enough. No one looks at you as a threat. No one thinks you are anything special Blair...just lies your mother tells you so she can get rich off your tits and ass. Everyone out back smells something fishy when you walk through the backstage...we all know your cheap and desperate. Cowards always are. I will own you, just I will own you every other time we face in the future. Go back to your roots, go freshen up. I'm always gonna be that one step ahead of you. Because I'm the true future of NEW. Your just an old mess they let back in and felt sorry for. Your just a coward who couldn't hack it and when it got to hard ran off and hid."
She grabs the camera from the camera man and pulls it in close to her face. Her eyes glazed a bit from Vodka, but the fire was there. Ready to destroy and hang Blair out like the old news she was.
Nikita Romanova: “YOU CAN'T BEAT ME. YOU CAN'T COMPETE WITH ME. I am the wrestling Goddess, and I am forecasting a fuckin Russian snow storm that's going to bury your ass... Heh. Fuck outta here bitch.”
FADES TO BLACK
in·som·ni·a
n.
Chronic inability to fall asleep or remain asleep for an adequate length of time.
“What we have inherited from our fathers and mothers is not all that 'walks in us.' There are all sorts of dead ideas and lifeless old beliefs. They have no tangibility, but they haunt us all the same and we can not get rid of them.” – Henrik Ibsen
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It took me seventeen years to become who I really wanted to be. It took me seventeen years to gain the confidence I needed to succeed in life and by the tender age of seventeen I had lived the life of an elderly woman. I always wondered was the reason I inherited what some might describe as a drinking habit due to situations in my life prior to my adult years? There was certain things in my past that had been pushed to the back of my mind, certain things I had planned to forget for the rest of my life but every now and then they came creeping back, mocking me with memories of actual emotion. There had been days when I’d wake up and wish I was just like every other teenager on the face of the earth but I wasn’t and I never would be. I learned at a young age that with good looks came jealousy and resentment from people around you, especially women.
I remember being thirteen and dressing up for my first school dance. I was so excited my Mother had splashed all out buying me a new dress and sending me to get my hair done, she seen this as a turning point into my adulthood I guess. I remember looking in the mirror at myself while I applied a little lipstick and smiled at myself the excitement welling up inside me. With long legs, stunning eyes and well developed for a thirteen year old I was every puberty stricken boys fantasy, which had led to a lot of resentment towards me from other girls. They, assuming that I was something I wasn’t, decided that they wanted nothing to do with while even the teachers looked at me with envy. I was thirteen and I was excluded because I was a good looking well off child? To this day I still stand on the outside looking in. The outcast, the lone wolf, all because the choices I make don’t reflect societies norm. People are idiots, my father had thought me that and if enjoying a drink and habitual lust for violence meant that I wasn’t a sheep, following the herd like every other jealous, bitter and emotionally ran female, every mediocre, cocky and sexist male then I was happy to line up the blood soaked trail that was my claim to fame.
7 Years Previous
She stood still, frozen to the spot by her own fear and her own shock. Her mouth was wide open as she stared in front of her not believing what had just happened. The night was warm yet she stood there feeling cold as her body began to shake uncontrollably she felt a hand on her shoulder. The hand felt familiar as it tried to comfort her but nothing, absolutely nothing could take the fear from her heart. Her gaze fell to her hands as she felt tears sting her eyes.
Danny Romanova: “Sweetheart calm down. It’s over now.”
But she couldn’t calm down, how could she. Blood dripped from both of her hands onto her white designer shoes, the same blood that was splattered all over her prom dress. She turned her head slightly looking up at the man who stood with his hand on her shoulder, the familiar face of her father outlined in the bright moonlight.
Danny Romanova: “You did nothing wrong.”
Her heart beating against her chest she looked down at her feet where the knife had fallen, it too was covered in the blood of another.
What have I done?
Her gaze slowly drifted along the ground to where a man lay, slumped against the stonewall, his eyes open, his soul gone as his dead eyes stared at her, accusing, knowing what she had done. She looked down at the ground once again, not wanting to move, not wanting to think, not wanting to be there at all as a small river of blood began to seep from the man with the dead eyes.
Nikita Romanova: “I… I… I killed him.”
Danny Romanova: “Nikita Romanova you listen to me right now. You did not kill him that man was scum, he’d rather your family starve so that he could go out and spend your families money on cheap hookers. Was that what you wanted? That man would have had me sent to prison. You don’t want to see your father go to jail do you?”
Before he could say anymore she slumped to the ground, sitting there oblivious to the World as she continued to shake and watch the blood drip from her hands.
Vlad Mosca: “Boss we got to get out of here.”
Danny Romanova: “Shut the hell up can’t you see I’m speaking to my daughter. Nikita baby come on, we’ll get you cleaned up and get you to the prom you looked so beautiful tonight honey.”
She just sat there silently continuing to stare into the dead eyes of the man she had killed. She didn’t know why she was here, she wished she hadn’t of gotten out of that car. Her father had promised to drop her off at her junior prom after he took care of some business. Why couldn’t she have been more patient? Why couldn’t she have just waited in the car like she had been told to do? She never did what she was told, too spoilt for her own good and look where it had lead her to.
Danny Romanova: “Come on honey…”
Her father leaned forward putting two hands under her arms and lifting her off the concrete floor. The blood from her dress smeared across her father’s expensive suit. He didn’t seem to mind, he had hundreds of suits, this sort of thing probably happened to him on a regular basis. She was not a stupid girl. Nikita had realized at a young age how her father had made her family wealthy, she was neither ignorant nor stupid but she had chose not to acknowledge the fact that her father was a major player in what was one of the city's many syndicates. She gripped on to her father, tears streaming down her face as he held her close to his chest. Business was business and until that day it had never involved his little girl. He began to walk her back towards the car.
Danny Romanova: “I’m sorry it had to happen this way but it would have needed to be done eventually. He wasn’t a good man Nikita you must know that you did not kill a good man. He sold drugs to children and he took money from our family. It’s not murder when the man himself is a murderer too.”
Nikita felt herself relax slightly. Her father’s strength had always made her feel safe and right now despite all that had just happened all she wanted was to be next to her father. She had always seen her father as a type of hero. They went from living deep in the slums of Moscow when she was a young child to living in the suburbs in a house worth millions. It brought her to the assumption that we all must do what we need to do to survive.
Danny Romanova: “The World is a Jungle. The strong survive and the weak perish.”
She nodded. He noticed she was still staring at her hands as he took them in his. He wiped her hands along his suit jacket, cleaning them of the blood of the man with the dead eyes. He looked her dead in the eyes as one of his ‘staff’ opened the door to the car.
Danny Romanova: “We do what we need to do to survive. That doesn’t make us bad people Nikita. When your grandmother came back here she had nothing but the clothes on her back, I didn’t want that for us and neither did your grandfather.”
He took her pretty face in his hands and wiped away the tears that had began to trail down her pink cheeks. When he looked at her he seen heartache, a look her never wanted to see in his little girls eyes. He leaned forward and kissed her on the forehead.
Danny Romanova: “I’m proud of you Nikita Marie Romanova.”
Present Day
Nikita sat in her hotel room in the dark staring at the television. Late night television was always rubbish. She guessed it was because at 2am in the morning if you where still awake you’d watch just about anything. She yawned slowly picking up the television remote control and flicking through the numerous channels of rubbish TV. Ever since she let her guard down and Johnny ruined her hair for a few hours, her friend Sasha left NEW...it was just her and Tegan left...ever since what seemed like a great thing started to spin out she had been finding it hard to sleep at night. She had begun having dreams about her past; reminding her of things she had long forgotten. It was causing her to stay awake at night, filling her with emotions she had not felt since she was a gullible teenage girl.
I need sleep.
Her body felt exhausted and with her match against Blair just around the corner she didn’t need to be sleeping two hours a night, she needed to be on form. She would have blamed it on the habitual drinking but she had even stopped that to see if it would help her restlessness, which it didn’t. Her career was something she had taken quite seriously and this lack of sleeping was only making her more and more frustrated. She needed to get out of the room for a while; it was starting to feel claustrophobic. She stood up from the chair; her elegant body clad simply in jeans and a Misfits t-shirt as she walked across the room and grabbed her purse. She opened the door slowly, looking back over her shoulder at Samantha who was out cold on the couch. A smile crept up on her lips as she turned and walked out the door, hearing it click shut behind her.
There was not a person in sight as she began to walk down the long hallways. She had been thinking a lot about her career lately ever since she hooked up with the Blondes, for the three of them to take the world by storm. A bad idea, she thought, considering Sasha had practically abandoned her and T without a second thought. How can someone lead a group when they can’t even all be on the same page? She had never really liked the idea of being affiliated with a group but she knew what she was doing when she joined sides with Sasha. She needed her name to be known backstage at UWF and what better way to do so than have your name side by side with one of the companies most hated women. She was no longer part of NEW though so she no longer had to pick up the fights Sasha started, she no longer had anything she wanted. She had to focus on Blair and the path for her and T to get ahead in their game of success.
It made her laugh how so many people backstage would call her a basic, a simple girl and every other name that declared a woman who would not whore themselves for fame. If she was a man she would be an absolute hero but because she had breasts and a baby making machine that meant she should dress right and act proper? Why? Who was anybody to say what was the correct way to behave in life. So she wasn’t the type of girl that got a thrill out of shacking up with some man and having her twat all over twitter like Blair did but why did that make her a bad person? If anything it should make her a better person...she was in the sport for the right reasons. Not to be famous and use it as a stepping stone to low brow porn like Blair was.
As she walked down the long hallways she continued to consider things to herself. The hypocrisy that lined the backstage hallways was unbelievable. Women were calling her a dead end and accusing her of not having what it takes to climb the ladder? Women like Blair could turn around and say Nikita was going no where in NEW , and would never make it since she only had the it factor in the ring, all whilst Blair had spread her legs to every mediocre male wrestler in the business. She even let Christ Styles throw one in to her at the end of the night and yet it was Nikita who was the one with no future? It never made much sense to her how the mind worked. It seemed like people where afraid of females who showed little emotion as if they where cold, heartless because they just weren’t what society wanted them to be.
She eventually reached the hotel residents bar, which was empty except for an old man behind the bar in a white shirt and a black tie. Lounge music played softly in the background as she walked slowly across to the bar, her body so exhausted it barely co-operated with her mind. She took a seat on one of the high stools at the bar, leaning forward and resting her elbows and the thick mahogany surface.
Barman: “What can I get you sweetheart?”
Nikita Romanova: “I’ll have a Vodka, straight, no ice.”
Barman: “Well that’s some drink for such a young woman.”
Nikita Romanova: “Yea and I’m pregnant as well, terrible aint it?”
He began to laugh as he walked down to the other end of the bar to get the bottle vodka from the shelf.
Barman: “Feisty aren’t you.”
Nikita Romanova: “Meh….”
He walked back over to the bar in front of her, taking out a glass and pouring the bitter clear spirit in front of her. She watched as the alcohol hit the glass hypnotized because of her lack of sleep.
Barman: “You’re part of that group of wrestlers that are staying here right?”
Nikita Romanova: “I sure am.”
She took the glass from the table and brought it to her lips. Vodka had never tasted nice to her but she had never drank it because she thought it tasted great, she drank it for it’s numbing affect. It was quick to numb the senses as well as the brain.
Barman: “So what’s your name kid?”
Nikita raised her eyes from the drink recognizing the voice for a minute and then realizing it was probably her imagination running wild. She had been getting a lot of things wrong lately due to her state of mind.
Nikita Romanova: “My name is Nikita Romanova.”
Barman: “Nikita… that’s what it is…”
He spoke as if it the recognition had just dawned on him.
Barman: “Nikita Romanova. You have your father’s eyes and you look like a Romanova. The one that got away.”
She stopped still for a minute, shocked at what he had just said.
Nikita Romanova: “Listen old man if your going to talk about him to me, in the state I am in.... I will jump over this bar and hand you your ass.”
The barman began to laugh as he ran an old cloth along the bar wiping up excess drink that had spilled through out the night. She wasn’t ashamed of her past and she wasn’t ashamed of who she was but she had moved on, she was trying to build a career for herself and she didn’t need her past creeping into it and getting in the way. She had made a conscious decision to forget about it all for now.
Barman: “So wrestling eh? What a career change.”
Nikita scoffed at him implicating further that she was in fact who he thought she was.
Nikita Romanova: “Well I was until recently. I made a few bad decisions and well, now I’m paying for it.”
Barman: “Are these bad decisions the reason why your young face looks so worn and exhausted?”
Nikita Romanova: “Could be…”
Barman: “I know I’m just an old man but I’ll give you my advice regardless. Bad decisions can always be reversed. It may seem at the time like you have completely made a mess of things when you haven’t. Everything in life happens for a reason you just have to realize when not to give up. If you believe you have made such a life changing mistake that is has you unable to sleep and drinking at 2am on a Monday morning than rectify it.”
She looked up at him again. She knew he was right, she had to go back and reverse the bad decision she made or she would forever be left in the slump. This wasn’t her and this wasn’t what she did. She assumed the reason why she had taken things so badly was because of her new found love for the business. Because wrestling and NEW was the one thing she had ever loved whole-heartedly that hadn’t disappointed her.
Nikita Romanova: “There’s more than that though. It’s like every time I have a chance in life I purposely throw it away. I don’t know what it is or why I do it. For example I have already have a title shot here in NEW and most likely with the lost of one of the two people who actually had my back I'll either be going to the ring drunk or staying up all night the night before and fucking myself over. And then tonight here I am doing it even though I know I shouldn't, I had my shot to make it, a shot at something I have worked so hard to achieve and yet here I am sitting in a bar at 2am unable to sleep and does it look like I am in any shape to win a match? I went out and beat a legend of the company my first time out. But everyone still see's me as the new girl...sure I beat her. But not like I should have. If I where on form I could have slaughtered her in the ring once and for all but instead, because it is a big match, I didn't finish her off, didn't end her career...she is free to continue wrestling as a second rate wrestling Diva. ”
She took the glass of Vodka up from the bar and threw the remainder of it down her throat, banging the glass down on the hard wood once she had finished.
Nikita Romanova: “Fill me up…”
The barman smiled and went to get the bottle of vodka again. Nikita couldn’t stop thinking about her match that night. Why was she so self-destructive? Why did she continue to ruin her own chances at complete success? She had the ability and she had the skill to be number one yet for some reason, subconsciously it seemed like it wasn’t what she wanted. Was it fear? Fear of being at the top? Fear of reaching her goal and not knowing where to go from there? Could that be the reason she continued to make bad decisions when it came to her career. The barman placed her glass back down on the bar in front of her. She was a monster...but as of late she has not been able to tap into the monster as much as she had in the past...was her monster gone?
Barman: “Far be it for me to tell you how to live your life but vodka never helped solve a problem.”
Nikita Romanova: “Strange as it seems to always help mine.”
Barman: “Those are the last words of a successful man. So you are off your game? So what! There’ll be more chances. Buck up and do what you know you can.”
Nikita looked up from the bar and smirked, he really had no idea.
Nikita Romanova: “So what? So I lost my chance to truly make an impact.”
Barman: “And that’s it? You’ll just give up there.”
Nikita Romanova: “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Barman: “On the contrary my dear I know exactly what I’m talking about. Your father never raised a quitter. Prekrasnaya Printsessa.”
She stopped for a second, the hair stood up on her arms as she heard the man speak the two Russian words she had not heard for years. It was what her father used to call her constantly. His pet name for her.
Nikita Romanova: “How… How did you know that?”
Barman: “I worked side by side with your father for a good many years Nikita and I never forget a face. You have the facial features of a Romanova. You need to realize that this wont be your last chance at success if you don’t let it be Prekrasnaya Printsessa. There will be other chances and there will be other times as long as you start to put things right starting now. You want to beat this Blair girl but don’t feel like you will be able to with the state of mind you are in? Fix your state of mind. Fix the thing that is bothering and then when you are ready reclaim your success. Great things come to those who wait. Remember the World is a jungle…”
Nikita Romanova: “…the strong survive and the weak perish”
The barman smiled and nodded. She knew there was some wisdom behind his words although she also realized that there was more to the situation than he could possibly ever understand but he was right in a lot of the things he said, she needed to start sleeping. She brought the glass of Vodka to her lips once again, knocking down the remainder.
Nikita Romanova: “Tkhak vas starogo druga.”
Barman: “No problem my dear.”
Nikita Romanova: “I take on Blair this week…so I have roughly 24 hours to get my head on right”
Barman: “Is that a good or a bad thing?”
Nikita Romanova: “Bad I guess considering she is ranked one of the top females in NEW, and has been on an up keep. Not to mention she sleeps with the bosses brother. I’d say I’m intimidated by it but I’m feeling too apathetic as of late to give a shit about some girl who has a record, and lives off her past here. I could be cocky though and say that she’s about to go back into her downward trend because I am not Sasha...I a monster much worse then what she has faced here in NEW.”
Barman: “Nothing wrong with confidence.”
Nikita Romanova: “I agree but only if you can back it up and well if I ran my mouth off after the sickening display I put up last week then I’d be as bad as Chris Styles. I barely beat the shit out of a John Wayne worshiping goat humper and now there’s a chance I could lose again this week to a lower class cousin fucking American.”
The barman walked to get her another drink without her having to ask. He must have been able to tell by her glazed over eyes that she wasn’t finished her late night binge just quite yet. It had been a long night and it only felt longer when insomnia began to take over. She felt like this was all a bad dream, like she would wake up and realize she hadn’t lost her chance to make a first impression that left people in fear of her but she knew that it was unlikely. Her dreams usually involved naked women and champagne not sheep humping chicks, rednecks and a hazy alcoholic blur.
Nikita Romanova: “I’m hoping that after I beat Blair. I'll get my groove back, and be set in the right place in my mind to move on to my title shot. But that requires me feeling like I did what I know I can do...and not letting her put up more of a fight then I should...Dixie got far to many blows in for a girl of such shit talent.”
Barman: “Maybe…”
He placed the refilled glass of vodka down in front of her once again. She skimmed the tip of her index finger along the rim of the glass, day dreaming to herself. Blair wasn’t that big a threat after all this place was full of second-rate wrestling talent and if Nikita hadn’t of gotten lazy she would have ended one legend already. It wasn’t that Blair was a great wrestler it was that her opponents where horribly bad.
Nikita Romanova: I can do it. I can take this in bread bitch on. This isn’t the Beverly hillbillies aint no happy ending in this story. I should be afraid in case I catch a missed spot of Chris Styles Jizz off her rather that afraid of the fact that she might put the first loss on my record. The woman isn’t a fabulous wrestler… the woman can’t even spell wrestler! So I’ve made mistakes and lost a friend but at least I have an IQ over 60 and I’ll be damned if I’m going to lose to a woman who’s so stupid she had to put on a second rate game show spin off to peddle her shit. At least she’s not a dumb as she looks, otherwise she’d be mentally retarded.”
Barman: “Ha ha that’s the spirit. I little more confidence a little less self pity.”
She picked up the glass again and slammed back the Vodka. Cringing slightly as the spirit stung her tongue.
Nikita Romanova: “This will be how I correct the mistakes I have made. By making no more of the same mistake. Failing to end one legend due to laziness and my own self-destruction wont be an option anymore. I was raised with more competenza than I am giving myself credit for. This week at Ignite I will demolish Blair and get back on my road to success.”
She gave the bar man an appreciative smile before she stood up from the bar and walked across to the door. Her legs still felt weak below her as she moved. She was so tired, she would do anything at this stage if it meant a good nights sleep. She had made up her mind what she had to do in order to get back on track. She had to correct the bad decisions she had made.
Hours Before Ignite
The camera zooms in and finds her sitting in her locker room. Her hands are taped up and her ring gear is on. Her lips are straight...life is a jungle her daddy taught her that. And if she wanted to be the Queen...the lioness then she had to rip through the piece of meat hanging before her.
Nikita Romanova: “Isn't it funny how I owned a legend, and she still runs off at the mouth. Did you pay a ref off? Is that why your so sure you can handle me Blair? Why you think you and me belong in the same ring? Christ I damn near will break your jaw with a superkick if I thought it would help. But still you ill continue to open that fat trap of yours. I beat you in every aspect of the game. My words are stronger than yours. My in ring performance is stronger than yours....You can't beat me.”
She flashes a grin at the camera as she stands up stretching.
Nikita Romanova: “Put it however you Want to Blair, you are far inferior to me. It's funny how this game works though isn't it? It's funny how even you said in your own way I am better then you. How even you admitted I am all in ring skill ad lack the other areas to get ahead in this sport. But you can have all the show you want, all the glitz, all the glam, all the Chris Styles cock your lips can handle..but tonight...tonight you step into the ring with me! The area even you admit I have all the talent. There will be no mercy, you will not be special, all tonight is going to be...is just another ass kicking handed down from me. Don't you understand that I am the greatest to bless this ring? That I am the greatest you will ever face. You won't get past me. They let Dixie have weapons to try and even the odds against me...Even that didn't work.”
Nikita laughs softly as she leans back against the wall.
Nikita Romanova: “I could cave in that fat fucking ego of yours with one hammer blow, if I ruin your money maker what will you do? But don't worry Blair...I'm not going to hurt you that badly...this time. Why you may ask. Because I'll save it for another time. The time when I'm wearing the TA title around my waist, and you're back down in the curtain jerker division. Then I'll grant you a shot...let you think it's your time to rise up and put me down. And I'll smile at all the passion and blow you put in your system to muster up the power to walk down the ring for a second beating by me. And in that match I can teach you a thing or two about being successful. I am a Queen. I am a Violence.”
Nikita laughed softly as she runs her fingers through her hair.
Nikita Romanova: “Everyone knows going into our match that I will dominate. And that is exactly what will happen. You can't finish me off and you never will. You'll never be on the level of superstardom I stand at. Why? You don't have the ability. Sure you can train twice as hard. Work twice as hard. But still, at the end, you'll never be at this plateau. You can talk your trash, and build yourself up to this great Nikita-stomping, fact finding superstar. But you aren't. Never will be. You'll be that coward, that "paper champion" everyone forgot about. You can't cut it main eventing and history has shown it. Envy beat your ass...you tucked tail and ran like a bitch. RAN LIKE A BITCH. And you really think just because the past is the past your over it...the past always haunts us Blair. So please...try and be a big girl and don't quit on your mommy and Chris after I pound you and leave you a shattered shell of a woman tonight.”
Nikita pauses taking a sip from her water bottle.
Nikita Romanova: “Did you threaten the ref? Tell him that if you lost to me, you'd fuck him up real bad? I'm sure it was damn near close to that. How else could you have so much confidence going into a match that will be a beating unlike any you have had? But it's fine Blair. Wear your little game show costume now, and thank god that your plan worked and Sasha is gone. But remember after I destroy you...after I rip you limb from limb...you will understand not all Blondes are made equal. I just wonder how your mom is going to handle having an ugly daughter the rest of her life...I bet she runs out on you just like you did NEW when the going got hard. Hold your pride as long as possible, because tonight you are in a world of trouble. You know you can't beat me. Which is probably why right now in your locker room right now, slurping and gagging on little Chris...I bet you even beg him don't you? Begging him to even the odds? Begging him to come save you from me...”
She pulls a photo of herself out of the bag and signs it. Tacking it up to the wall behind her, before turning back and looking at the camera.
Nikita Romanova: After your eyes swell shut, your lips are stitched up...I'll come by the med area. I'll get you an autograph. Something to remember your favorite superstar by. With the amount of jealousy you have for me, I don't see how you can function. Round up your boys, get them all working together, because everyone knows who the real power is. Ask Dixie. She's sitting at home without a title, and without much of a future. You'll be on the couch right next to her soon enough. No one looks at you as a threat. No one thinks you are anything special Blair...just lies your mother tells you so she can get rich off your tits and ass. Everyone out back smells something fishy when you walk through the backstage...we all know your cheap and desperate. Cowards always are. I will own you, just I will own you every other time we face in the future. Go back to your roots, go freshen up. I'm always gonna be that one step ahead of you. Because I'm the true future of NEW. Your just an old mess they let back in and felt sorry for. Your just a coward who couldn't hack it and when it got to hard ran off and hid."
She grabs the camera from the camera man and pulls it in close to her face. Her eyes glazed a bit from Vodka, but the fire was there. Ready to destroy and hang Blair out like the old news she was.
Nikita Romanova: “YOU CAN'T BEAT ME. YOU CAN'T COMPETE WITH ME. I am the wrestling Goddess, and I am forecasting a fuckin Russian snow storm that's going to bury your ass... Heh. Fuck outta here bitch.”
FADES TO BLACK