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Post by Morgan Payne on Jul 22, 2022 18:21:38 GMT -5
Author's Note: The following chapters are being posted to give context to future RPs that will come as part of this character's run in Chaotic Pro. Prologue: Reignited Camera: OFF Asheville, NC The sound of the engine hummed in her ears as her bike carried her along that winding back road. She’d lost count of how many times she’d taken this route on days where she needed to clear her head. Those days where she needed to either make sure it was screwed on straight or to get herself into that proper zone before a big moment that lied ahead. She knew this road by memory, at this point. Every curve and every marker had become ingrained in her mind. This was, in a way, her road. Perhaps it made her somewhat predictable to her beloveds within The Collective: whenever she said she needed to go for a ride, they knew where she would be. Just head to the outskirts of Asheville, North Carolina where she had made her home around three years ago. Head there and start taking that empty, winding road where seldom did anyone see another vehicle traveling along. Head there and, sooner or later, as they followed that serpentine route, they would find her. More recently, if she went out and they ever came looking, they would find her parked on the side by a clearing of tall grass with shorter patches scattered about for a couple hundred yards before reaching the dense treeline up ahead.She pulled up to that clearing right now, actually; her bike slowing to a stop with the engine’s growl dropping to a low idle. Morgan switched off the engine and let the sound of nature take over the mechanical hum that she had been listening to for the better part of an hour. She lit a cigarette and laid a hand, garbed in a fingerless glove, on the tank of the custom Harley. Her fingers brushed over the snarling face of Eddie the Head and the Iron Maiden logo painted on it. The bike was a gift from one of her wives. Stephanie and her cousin Khary had worked tirelessly on it to make sure it was ready for her birthday two years ago. There was even a little inscription underneath the bold, red lettering.“To: Morgy. From: Steph. Ride with the wind.”A smile crept its way slowly across her lips as she traced a finger over the inscription. Morgan lifted her head and looked out at that clearing again. She remembered the last time she was here like it was yesterday. Then, it had been with her 1969 Pontiac GTO Judge Ram Air IV, parked out there in the grass where Stephanie and the others had found her amidst a pile of pill and liquor bottles. The foul odor of booze and body odor radiating around her after a two day binge that left her teetering right on that proverbial edge. In any other instance, alcohol tended to serve as an accelerant to a flame. For her, it was what almost extinguished it all together. Snuffed it out entirely. It was the support of those closest to her that kept the flame inside burning in spite of it all. Five months out of rehab and she still, at times, needed them to lean on to keep herself steady. They were there, though. Just as they all promised they would be. Her sparks. Her flames. Her family.Morgan started out at that empty field, yet in her mind, she could still see last October playing out in her head like a movie. Each and every one of The Collective, even those within The Kingdom overall, came as soon as she was found out there at her lowest point. Lowest point, indeed. However, it’s like the saying goes. “Once you hit rock bottom, the only way left to go is up.” Even when a flame looked like it had completely died out, it could always be reignited. Her inner fire was burning hotter than ever now. She wasn’t about to let it die out again. Now was the time to use it. To let that fire be what drove her forward. Her past mistakes, trials and tribulations would serve as the fuel to keep it raging on. Morgan finished her cigarette and fired up the engine again. She flipped up the kickstand and turned her bike around, headed home.Reignited.And goddamn did it feel good!
Camera: ON Asheville, NC The Castle: Home Of The Kingdom Date TBD The recording starts off with the camera in motion. Crossing over the soft grass of the Castle’s back lawn, the perspective approaches the glass door to the private, albeit massive, gym on the property. A slender, feminine arm with a healthy, olive toned tan reaches out and opens the door to step inside. Somewhere in the distance, there’s the sound of someone going to town on a heavy bag.“Ooh, someone’s getting it!”A gentle, almost sweet voice - that of Gabby Cassiano - comes from behind the camera as it traverses through the gym, past the numerous weight racks and cable machines, past the treadmills and ellipticals. As the POV approaches the training ring in the center, it focuses on a distant figure standing at a heavy bag with their back to the camera. Approaching closer, Morgan Payne is seen at the bag in black Muay Thai shorts and a black sports bra with black and yellow MMA gloves on her hands. Her long brown hair hangs behind her back in a series of four thick braids that fly around her head as she violently lays into the bag with everything from punches, elbows, knees and kicks. Each impact sends a resounding *WHOMP* echoing throughout the gym.“Heeeey cugina! Come stai?”Morgan brings down a leg after driving a wicked roundhouse into the bag and catches it with her hands to stop it from swaying. She looks over her shoulder at first then turns when she sees Gabby with the camera. Sweat pours down her face, neck, arms and stomach.“Fuck is you doin’?”Morgan picks up a fitness shaker cup filled with water and sips at it.“You got your big debut coming up! Wanted to show everyone you’re ready; maybe get your thoughts on the match?”Morgan makes a face, sets her cup down on the chair and turns back towards the bag.“Gabby, c’mon. Whattaya tryina be, an interviewer right nah?”She starts tapping at the bag again with jabs and crosses. *WHOMP*. She blasts the bag with another roundhouse.“I mean… Well, no…? Listen, you’ve been on fire ever since you got out of rehab. You walked back into New Frontier and reminded everyone there who you are, right? Now, you’re about to step into unfamiliar territory and–”“EWC ain’t unfamiliar territory, Gabs. I been watchin’ them for awhile.”“Yeah, but you’ve never been in one of their rings!”Gabby says matter of factly. Morgan pauses in her combo, makes a face and shrugs. Her cousin’s got a point.“C’mon, Morg! Four years and you’re finally doing it! Think about all of the dream matches you’ve been talking about! Sam Hamilton! Kyle Gautier! Ace King! Killjoy Ito! Hey, he’s the big champ there now, ya know that right?”Morgan just smirks and taps her temple before working on the bag some more. Gabby giggles.“Okay, what do you think about Peach Gelato?”*WHOMP* Morgan slams her elbow into the bag and stops it again. She looks past the camera, right at Gabby, incredulously.“Da fuck? Peach Gelato? What da hell’s dat gotta do wif my EWC debut?”“Uhh, I mean–”“Peach gelato tastes like shit, Gabs. Chocolate banana’s where it’s at.”Morgan does a quick little chef’s kiss and starts hitting the bag again. Gabby just holds the camera on her for a moment, at a complete loss of what to follow up with. Barely a moment goes by before Morgan drops the act and stops the bag again. She turns towards the camera.“Ohhhhhhh! Ya mean dat Peach Gelato!”“Yeah!”Morgan stops Gabby with a raised hand. She takes another sip of her water then grabs a towel and starts padding the sweat off of her skin.“Yanno…? I didn’t sign to da Extreme Wrestlin’ Corporation to work house shows. I didn’t send emails and match tapes to Big Mac to come into da biggest promotion in da business and get into da ring against some no name bitch who names herself after a summer treat. And I gotta do dis in Japan? Shit, da last time I was in Japan, I put Eavan Maloney on her ass in an explodin’ barbwire deathmatch. Last Woman Standin’! She din’t get up! I did! I walk dahn da streets and anybody who watches wrestlin’ knows who da fuck I am. So, my question for you Peach…”Morgan pauses, holding up a hand with her index finger curled against her thumb, other fingers extended, as she stresses her next words.“...is Who. Da fuck. Is you? I want you to take a good look in da mirror before you come walkin ahtta Gorilla position to meet me in dat ring. Look yaself dead in da eyes and ask yaself “am I really ready for dis?” Honestly. Ask yourself dat. ‘Cuz yanno what? I ain’t gonna throw any disrespect towards Mac or Grizzly for dis bookin’. We all gotta start somewhere when we’re da new chick on da block. You, however. I want you to do somethin’ else, Peach. If you see dis in time before we’re standin’ across da ring from each other, I want ya to go to Grizzly Duggan. I want ya to go to Big Mac. I want you to tell them…thank you. You tell them “thank you” for dis opportunity, ‘cuz while dis may be my debut into EWC, dis is gonna be da biggest match of your fuckin’ career. Dis is your moment more than it is mine. You ‘bout to step into da ring wif da baddest bitch to step outta da Burgh and into a wrestling ring. Theoretically, you got a chance to make somethin’ of yaself and embarrass me in front of a crowd of, arguably, da most critical wrestlin’ fans in da world.”She pauses again, smirking as she lowers her hand. Morgan scoff-chuckles and shakes her head.“But’chu won’t. You won’t. ‘Cuz da fact dat someone of yer level ain’t even fightin’ dis bookin’ says dat you got no idea who da fuck yer dealin’ wif. So, again, thank Big Mac. Thank Grizzly Duggan. Thank them for putin’ you in da ring wif one of da unsung greatest wrestlers in da world. After ya thank them? Pray to whatever God you believe in dat you make it outta dis in one piece. ‘Cuz if I gotta prove what I’m capable of to da suits of EWC against da likes of yer leggy ass?”Morgan states her question, bringing up a lazy finger to point at the camera before shaking her head and scoffing again.“S’gonna be a bad night for you, chick. Mark me. I’ll seeya in Japan, Princess. Itadakimasu.”Morgan clicks her tongue and winks at the camera. Behind it, Gabby says nothing. She just lets out a low whistle before reaching up and switching it off.
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Post by Morgan Payne on Jul 22, 2022 18:23:33 GMT -5
Chapter 1: Rehab Camera: OFF10/09/2021 Los Angeles, CA Betty Ford Rehabilitation Center She stood there in the receiving room, watching as the somber Collective exited through those doors. Somehow, it hadn’t quite set in yet that this would be the last time she would see them for a while. That door closed and she watched, through the glass, as they drifted away. It was the touch of a hand to her back, one that was ever so gentle, that snapped her out of her thoughts.“Right this way.”The nurse said gently, bidding that she follow through the doors, leading further into the Rehab Center. With each step she took, she could feel her heart sinking deeper and deeper into her gut. The reality still hadn’t taken hold yet but something just felt…off. Nerves, perhaps. This was a journey she’d never seen herself taking but it was a necessary one if she wanted to heal. Years of alcohol abuse and the added months of substance abuse had driven her to this point where her life was falling apart. How many nights did she even remember over the past four years? How many of them weren’t lost in a drunken, inebriated haze? Years of addiction that lead to many nights of bad decisions. Had it not been for her really overdoing it just two days ago, she might not have had the intervention from her loves within The Collective that led her to agreeing to this. She might have still been on that dark road, leading her towards ultimate disaster; time being the only factor until her next night of binging on booze and painkillers. It probably would have been after her next intense match inside the ring. Perhaps an argument with some idiot on social media. Yeah. Morgan knew she had a temper and she never exactly coped with it very well. Piss her off and there she’d go, walking into a bar or digging out a bottle from her hidden stash in her bedroom.Then there were the nightmares. Oh, those were always fun. The nightmares where she relived some of the worst traumatic moments of her life; of her childhood. She usually preferred to go to sleep completely high or drunk off her ass because it meant she slept so deep that the dreams never came. If it wasn’t the dreams, it was her failures that spurred her episodes on. That was what led to the final straw that brought her here. Just a few days ago, she was a champion. A record setting champion, at that. When her opponent, Milisandre Crowthorne, decided to make things personal, Morgan fell right into her trap. Crowthorne had a way of knowing how to get into people’s heads and hit them where it hurt. For Morgan, it was people she cared about. The more innocent, the better the target. Thus why she targeted her best friend, Danielle Deballion. Danni had sustained her own personal trauma. That was no secret. The murder of her boyfriend, Markus Rael left her with her own emotional scarring and constant nightmares. Morgan was always one of the people who tried to be there for her when she had a bad day. So, one would be absolutely right that Morgan took it personally when Milisandre Crowthorne targeted Danni; pushed her to the point of a public panic attack on a TV broadcast. Why? Because she knew it would fuck with Morgan just as much. It meant Morgan coming into their match with her head clouded by anger. Unfocused and more bent on vengeance than getting the job done. Victory would have meant she avenged her friend. However, the defeat that Morgan sustained, resulted in that feeling of failure. That failure pushed her to a 36 hour binge. That binge saw her waking up in that empty field with her wife Stephanie hovering over her, worried sick but relieved in the same breath.Morgan walked down that hall with that nurse, tossing all sorts of questions through her mind. What if Stephanie hadn’t found her? What would have come of her then? She could have been found by the wrong people. Perhaps worse, she might not have woken up at all. It was something she didn’t want to think about, as much as she couldn’t help but wonder just that.“Here we are.”The nurse’s voice snapped Morgan out of her head again and they stopped in front of an office door. The nurse knocked and a man’s voice called from the other side.“Come on in!”The nurse opened the door and, with a smile, bid Morgan to go inside first. Sitting at the desk, the doctor stood and offered a smile. It seemed kind and welcoming enough but Morgan still felt on edge. He was accompanied by a young woman wearing uniform scrubs with an ID badge clipped to her top. Morgan’s eyes instinctively darted to the badge and she skimmed over details in a quick second.Bonnie ReyesRN, CHAPRN meant Registered Nurse, Morgan figured. Maybe a Rehab Nurse in this case. But CHAP? What the hell was that? Her eyes flashed over to the man sitting at the desk and to his badge, next.RIchard BeckmanDOCTOR“Doctor, this is Morgan Cassiano. She just arrived.”“Oh, yes. Ms. Matthews called about her yesterday, right?”Morgan’s brow furrowed slightly. Yesterday? That meant either Jasmine or Mary called shortly after they found her to set this up. They had this all set up before they called her downstairs at The Castle for her Intervention, she realized. For some reason, she felt a flash of annoyance but she pushed that feeling away. She still agreed to this, in the end. So, now, here she was. The nurse pulled out a chair and offered a seat to her. Morgan stepped over to it, shaking the Doctor’s hand when he offered it out to her, before sitting down.“Well, Morgan, hello. It’s good to have you here. I’m Doctor Beckman, I’ll be overseeing your treatment while you’re here. This is Bonnie. She’ll be your Chaperone over the next three days.”“...Chaperone?”She looked from the Doctor to Bonnie. Her smile was kind. Genuine. Morgan still wanted to slap it right off of her face. She shifted in her seat and folded her hands in her lap. Doctor Beckman touched his fingertips together, resting his hands on the desk.“For the first 72 hours, we’re going to have to put you on Suicide Watch. It’s standard procedure for all new admissions. We’re going to start you on Detox, immediately, as well. The process of rehabilitation and recovery will start once your watch and detox are finished.”Morgan shifted in her seat again and searched for what she wanted to say. She sighed as all she could get out was…“But…I ain’t suicidal, though….”That was a lie. Morgan had lost count of how many times the idea had crossed her mind but something always pulled her away from it. A call or text from a friend. One of her loves or the kids coming up to her when she was having a moment, completely oblivious to what was going through her head and distracting her from it. She’d made it this far without being on any kind of watch; she didn’t need a damn chaperone but Doctor Beckman, obviously stayed persistent on the matter.“It’s just part of the process. Please, trust me. Trust us.”Morgan scoffed and fidgeted; rubbing her thighs with her palms. Trust. Yeah right. The doctor continued.“Now, Bonnie will be with you everywhere you go. Your room, the recreational area, courtyard, restroom, shower–”“Say fuckin’ what?!”Morgan looked back up at the man incredulously. Her eyes flashed to Bonnie then back to Doctor Beckman as he held his hands up as a sign of surrender.“It’s just to keep an eye on you. Everything’s going to be fine. I promise.”“You’ll still be given your personal space, Give you my word.”Bonnie, the nurse, spoke up and Morgan turned that incredulous look towards her.“What’chu gon’ do? Hand me da soap when I need to wash? You gon’ pass me da toilet paper when I need to wipe my ass?”Morgan saw Bonnie shift where she stood. She knew the question made her uncomfortable. A quick look back to Doctor Beckman saw the man just silently pleading with Morgan to understand. Perhaps he was searching for the right response. He didn’t need to, however, as Morgan just sighed and waved her hand dismissively.“Man… A’ight, fuck it. If I gotta spend my first week here bein’ treated like a lil baby, da fuck else can I do?”You could always get up, right now, and leave.Her inner voice told her.This is still voluntary. You don’t have to take this shit.…But if I leave, I lose them. This is part of the requirements to keep those I love in my life.Morgan gripped the arms of the chair she sat in and sighed again.“A’ight then. Let’s go. Da hell we doin’?”Doctor Beckman visibly relaxed and opened up a folder with papers inside, sliding them across the desk to her.“I have your file here. I just need you to fill some things out. Information, emergency contacts, food allergies. All of that.”“Ugghhh…cheese an’ crackers…”Morgan rolled her eyes and picked up the pen as she went over the documents. She pushed that negative thought and the idea of walking out right out of her head. How hard could this all be, anyway?Oh, bitch. You have no idea…
Camera: ON 05/29/2022 Asheville, NC The Castle - Home of The Kingdom The camera starts rolling as a hand comes away from the lens. No telling who’s recording. More than likely, it’s Gabby again. The shot pans backwards while the ambient sound of birds is suddenly interrupted by a thunderous gunshot. The camera pans over to a line of dummy targets set up in a staggered pattern. Another shot rings out as a bullet hole appears right through the center mass of one of the dummies. More shots ring out, each one hitting one of the targets, without fail, as the shot pans over further. We eventually see Morgan Payne causing these holes with an M4 Carbine. She pops off a couple more shots before the chamber empties. During the process of clearing the weapon, Morgan glances over to see that she’s being filmed.“Tch…Gabby, what’chu doin’?”Morgan sets the cleared weapon down on the table and starts sorting through ammo boxes.“Guess what time it iiiiiiiiiiisssss!!!!”Gabby’s sweet, cheerful voice sounds full of absolute excitement as the shot suddenly bounces up and down. Morgan rolls her eyes and starts pushing rounds into an empty magazine.“Man, c’mon. I’m doin’ shit, right nah.”“Aww, c’moooon Morg! Say something! Think of how big this match is! How much it means!”Morgan pauses in her work as a small smile creeps onto her lips. She finally relents, setting the magazine down and turns to face the camera. This reveals, of course, her Behold The Kingdom, cutoff tee with the sleeves removed. She picks up an old, Pittsburgh Steelers flatbill cap off of the table and puts it on her head, backwards.“Nah, it do mean a lot, don’t it? Hell yeah… Hell yeah, yessir.”She chuckles as she reached into the thigh pocket of her black cargo pants, fishing out a Star Wars zippo and an open pack of Newports. She pops one in between her lips and lights it, savoring that first puff before she continues.“I’m da new fish in a big ocean of some tough, mean ass competition. S’my first match on actual Rampage an’ I’mma be steppin’ into da ring wif da likes of Phoenix Winterborn, Autumn Raven, an’ Moxie.”As she says their names, she motions with the hand not holding the cigarette like she’s placing invisible objects in front of her. She takes another puff at her own leisure and clicks her tongue as she exhales the smoke through her nose.“We doin’ dis, lady an’ gents. We in here. Shit, they makin’ dis a Wildcard shot for da Best Of Rampage Tourney.”Her shoulders shake as she gives a sly grin. She takes another puff of her Newport, pulling it from her mouth with a soft smack of her lips.“I know all ‘bout Wildcards. They can spell doom or opportunity, dependin’ on how da rest of da cards play aht. By personal experience, da Kingdom’s history wif Wildcards been pretty hot so far. Usually means one of us is walkin’ away wif a title in da very near future. Now, I dunno ‘bout how yinz feel comin’ into dis match but me? Shit. All I’mma point aht is, dis is my second ever match in EWC, da first match on da brand I signed a contract for, an’ shit…I guess my words two weeks ago reached da right ears, cuz here I am. I’m bein’ put right in my element wif an opportunity dropped right into my lap. Now, some of yinz might look at dis lineup an’ ya see names like Winterborn, Raven and Moxie, then ya see me. Ya sit there an’ think: well dis bitch dunno what she’s gettin’ herself into. She prolly thinks dis is gon’ be a walk in da park.”She looks off into the distance as she puffs on her Newport some more and shrugs before her eyes shift back to the camera.“I mean, maybe. Maybe not. I ain’t ever stepped into a ring wif any of yinz before. However, comma!”She holds up an index finger to stress her point.“...Yinz ain’t ever stepped into a ring wif me, either. Now, see, when I look at alla us in dis match, I see we got more than just wrestlers. We got more than just athletes. We got fighters. We got pure, hardass, rough edged, gahdamn fighters. We like to throw dahn. We like to get nasty. We like to get dirty. I know all ‘bout gettin’ dirty. I grew up havin’ to know how to fight just to make it home from school durin’ da week. So, if dis is gon’ be a street fight where we beat da shit outta each other, I just hope yinz are really da type to go as hard as I do. Now, I noticed a couple areas where we differ. Autumn Raven, girl ya seem like ya don’t like to bleed dat much. Maybe you worried it’s gon’ ruin ya makeup, n’at.”She motions around her face with a hand, indicating Autumn Raven’s face paint she wears. Morgan shakes her head.“Chick, if dat’s da case, then how you gon’ expect to even come into dis type of match with any hope of winnin’? Four of us in da ring where disqualification usually gets thrown out along wif da rule book. Guaranteed somebody’s gon’ fuckin’ bleed an’ if you ain’t willin’ to bleed, let alone make someone bleed? Honey, you gon’ have a bad time, cuz I promise you there will be blood. OR!”She quickly holds her hands out as if to stop anyone from saying anything.“Or…an’ hear me aht…or…”She shrugs.“Maybe ya don’t like things to end too quickly. Issa possibility, yeah? You like it when ya can hurt people, don’cha?”She takes a puff, grins, clicks her tongue, snaps her fingers and points at the camera.“Yeah, dat’s you ain’t it? You sound like my kinda bitch. Anywho! Movin’ on…”She snaps her fingers and points to the camera again.“Phoenix. My dude, I can tell you like to go da distance. Ya like to fight and ya like to fight hard. Maybe you like dat whole unpredictability a fight can bring, but’chu not much for submissions. Bad history wif ‘em, huh? Whassamatta, my guy?”Morgan takes one last puff on her cigarette as she leans towards the camera. She blows the smoke out and we hear Gabby stifle a cough behind the camera.“You got some physical weaknesses you worried ‘bout?”Her eyes flash up over the camera for a split second and she mouths a quick “sorry” to her cousin before focusing back on the camera as she stubs her cigarette butt out on the table and leans back against it.“Cuz see, I’m like a wolf who smells blood on da wind wif dat shit. You got a weakness? I’mma sniff dat shit aht. I’mma hone in on it an’ I’mma go right for da throat. Well…arm, leg, what have ya. Armbar, kneebar, Three Rivers Crossing. Take ya pick. I will gladly go for your biggest target an’ exploit da fuckin’ shit outta it. An’ I got a thing for accuracy, as you can probably tell.”She thumbs back over her shoulder at the target dummies riddled with bullet holes before slapping her fist down into her palm.“You got a thing against submission wrestlin’? Jagoff, I’m one of da last bitches you wanna roll wif. Which brings me to last but not least….”Morgan rubs her hands together, almost gleefully as she chuckles and shakes her head.“Moxie, Moxie, Moxie…da man who’s just full of moxie….”She breaks into a harder laugh and claps her hands together once.“Hey man, how many people make dat joke at’chu? Nah, s’cool. I’m jus’ messin’. Yanno what, though? I’m almost a bit disappointed dat dis match ain’t just you an’ me in dat ring. Outta everyone I’ma steppin’ into da ring wif, Mox, yer exactly da kinda opponent I look for when dat bell rings. S’almost like we’re two of a kind, paisan. We mean. We hungry. We like to scrap. We like to take shit to da limit. We like to make people hurt, whether it’s knockin’ ‘em arahnd, slammin’ ‘em on da mat or findin’ dat soft spot an’ diggin’ in just enough dat they can’t take anymore…”As she pauses again, she leans forward, resting her hands on her thighs, idly rocking back and forth on her heels.“...Then we push it further until we feel somethin’ snap, crackle or pop. Yeah. Yeah… Dis shit right here… Friday night on June third…Tokyo, Japan… I’mma enjoy dis shit. Best Of Rampage Tournament’s goin’ on an’ we got a Wildcard opportunity. But see, I feel like I got da better chance comin’ into dis match, cuz see, yinz been here awhile. Yinz know what to expect from each other, I’m sure, but me?”Morgan bites her bottom lip and makes a tsk tsk tsk sound as she shakes her head.“I’m willin’ to bet yinz ain’t seen shit from me yet. Two weeks ago on Gambit? Peach Gelato?”She scrunches up her face and shakes her head.“Nah. Dat wasn’t shit. Dat wasn’t shit compared to what I’m finna bring to Meiji Jingu Stadium. I know I got da odds stacked against me here but dat just makes me ready to fight harder. You can put me in a position where most people struggle; where most people try and fail, but me? I’mma walk right up in dat bitch like Teddy “Ballgame” Williams and knock it outta da park. Batter up, jagoffs. We goin’ yardo on dis one, an’ when da fat lady sings? After da Steel City Kaiju finishes tearin’ dat mothafucker dahn? Yinz are already gonna start wonderin’ ‘how da hell do we stop dis bitch?’”Morgan pauses and just stares into the camera for a moment longer before she straightens her posture and opens her arms out, down at waist level, flaunting her t-shirt.“Behold The Kingdom…”She holds the pose for a few seconds before looking up at her cousin behind the camera and makes a chopping motion across her throat to cut the video.“Yo, cut dat off and help me pick these casings up, yeah?”“Okay!”The video ends….
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Post by Morgan Payne on Jul 22, 2022 18:36:00 GMT -5
Chapter 2: Hurt Camera: OFF06/08/2022 Asheville, NC The Castle - Home of The Kingdom The Castle: the private residence of The Kingdom. One of professional wrestling’s prominent factions. A faction led by Jasmine Matthews, daughter of late, multi-time champion, David “Snake” Matthews. Mostly anyone had probably heard the man’s name and knew of his career history, unless they’d been living under a rock…or, to be fair, were newer to following the sport itself. Since his passing, his legacy had been carried on by his son and daughter. Dean and Jasmine. Both decorated champions and viable opponents inside the ring within their own right. Jasmine, however, had built something with her accumulated fame and power.The Kingdom: a collective force of some of wrestling’s top competitors that had cemented their names across multiple promotions. Competitors such as Marilyn Matthews. River Chance. Jonna and Jamie - the Austin sisters. Even Stephanie Kenyon was on her way to lacing up the boots for the first time, looking to show the world what she was capable of. They had been larger in number before, sure. Before their size had dwindled due to various circumstances. They’d lost some people, unfortunately. Christina Olson and Lilith Meadows - the Last of the Valkyries. Tren Descarrilado. Lluvia Cane. Different reasons for different individuals.The Castle was more than just their home. It could have easily been considered as their base of operations, if one wanted to put it that way. A massive piece of property on the country outskirts of Asheville, North Carolina served as the grounds for the massive estate that had been built by David Matthews and later acquired by Jasmine after his death. Through an iron gate lied the main house: a four floor mansion with more than enough rooms to accommodate the residents and a considerable number of guests if they wished to have company over. Henceforth was how Morgan’s cousin Gabby had been staying with them since March before next year’s college courses started.Behind the residence itself was the rest of the estate that held different luxuries for the Kingdom to enjoy. There was no need for a gym membership to stay fighting fit for a match. The grounds had its own rather sizable establishment with all accommodations one might need, including a ring. There was even a fenced in stable for horses for those of the group that enjoyed the occasional afternoon ride when the weather was nice. Clear across from there was the target range - more specifically an addition put together by Morgan for days that she wanted to brush up on target practice, be it with firearms…or knives. One of the newer additions to the property lied near the gym in the form of River’s forge for she who had a deep love for blacksmithing.Was it a dated trade? Perhaps. Was it completely useless in today’s age? Not at all. What else could be said about this place? They had it made. The Kingdom had everything they could ever want, right at their fingertips. One would have to be crazy to even want to leave it, if even for a brief getaway. Yet, here she was, packing a small bag for a trip that would take her South for a few days before she headed to the far East for her next match.Inside the mansion itself, on the second floor, Morgan stood by her bed, packing clothes into a travel bag. She wouldn’t be gone long. Truth be told, she probably didn’t even have to go to Louisiana to make her point but in light of certain circumstances, it felt almost poetic. Her upcoming opponent, Tanja Devereaux, was from New Orleans. She had spent a considerable amount of time there last year after rehabbing in Los Angeles failed her. It was where she found clarity and true healing that a “professional medical center” couldn’t provide for her. Morgan put the last of her things into her bag and zipped it closed. She moved over to her vanity mirror to grab her phone when her eyes fell on…it.Hanging from the top corner of the mirror, it stared back at her with a blank expression. The vacant eye holes of a plastic face painted black with a cracked white skull. To anyone and their brother that didn’t know, it looked like nothing else than a Purge mask painted with Marvel Comics’ Punisher motif. To her, however, it was a reminder. A reminder of trauma. Of suffering. Of healing. Of recovery. Morgan reached out and touched the mask. Her fingertips softly brushing across the rough, painted surface.“Hey, baby.”Morgan turned, almost abruptly at the voice behind her. She smiled warmly at her very obviously pregnant wife standing in the open doorway.“Hey, Boo.”Mary slowly made her way into Morgan’s room. She moved to a chair and slowly eased herself down into it. She lets out a sigh as she gets herself comfortable.“You really gonna need all of that? How long you gonna be gone for?”“Just a few days. S’not as much as it looks.”Morgan answered and stepped away from the mask hanging on the mirror. She came to squat down in front of Mary and took her hands into hers with a smile.“Ya feelin’ okay?”Mary watched Morgan’s movement with a smile. She knew the mask was Morgan’s reminder of the bad times. To help her remember how far she could fall. She gave her wife a warm smile and a quick kiss on the cheek.“Aside from being tired and sore most of the time? Yeah I’m fine. Getting more stir crazy and cabin fever over anything else.”
“Funny ya say dat, considerin’ I’m headed to a cabin.”Morgan snickered before turning serious again.“So hey, you been wrestlin’ longer than me. Yanno anything ‘bout Tanja Devereaux?”Mary paused for a moment before answering. She had to dig deep into her memory to try and find something that might be useful.“Not a whole lot, sadly. She is a tough one. So do not take her lightly. Not saying you aren’t tough as nails. But to overlook something could lead to a loss.”
Mary smiled at Morgan again. She gave her hands a reassuring squeeze. Morgan smiled back, lifting one of Mary’s hands to place a kiss on her knuckles.
“You taking your tablet with you on the trip?”“I was thinkin’ ‘bout it, yeah.”That reminded her that she still had to pack it. She stood up and moved to her bedside table, coming back over to Mary with her iPad in hand.“Been brushin’ up on her much as I can. See? Lookit this chick. She wild.”She handed the tablet down to Mary and leaned over behind her; her arms going around her wife’s shoulder. When Mary tapped play on the video Morgan had up, it resumed a recording of Tanja Devereaux’s last match in EWC against Ace King for the HBO Broadcast Championship.“See? King’s throwin’ everythin’ he got at her an’ she still comin’.”Morgan sighed softly and gave Mary a light squeeze.“I can’t lose dis one, Boo. Ahnno losses ain’t everythin’ but takin’ two L’s inna row on Rampage? After all dat shit I talked comin’ in? How’s dat gonna make me look?”Mary watched a small portion of the video and tapped the screen to pause it. She sat the tablet down on her lap and looked up at Morgan.
“Yes, she is tough indeed.”
Mary gave Morgan’s arms a squeeze back and kissed one of Morgan’s arms.
“It won’t matter, babe. All it will do is make people underestimate you more. They’ll think you are full of hot air. Then you can break their faces with a laugh and a grin.”
Mary picked the tablet back up and started to rapidly tap the screen. Her fingers were a blur as they worked.“You takin others with you, yeah? You gonna be driving or no?”“Gabby an’ Bailey’re comin’ wif me. Yanno how Gabby’s basically elected herself my camera girl, an’ I figure let Bailey come so she ain’t left sittin’ ‘round here by herself for da most part.”As to the question of them driving there, Morgan made a face and shook her head.“All da way to Louisiana? Shit nah. Figure we’ll take da jet, get a rental when we get there.”Morgan’s eyes, those mismatched gems of blue and green due to her heterochromia watched as Mary’s fingers flew across her screen. She couldn’t help but giggle as she placed a little smooch on her shoulder while watching.“You an’ them magic fingers, heh. What’chu doin/?”“Little bit of jiggery-pokery. Make sure you have all the knowledge you need to win at your disposal.”
Mary gave Morgan a playful grin as her fingers continued working. Her eyes focused on the tablet in her hand as the screen changed rapidly with her typing. She worked for a few seconds, and a dozen screen changes, more before smiling and holding the tablet to Morgan.
“There ya babe. You should have access to every bit of knowledge on Tanja that has ever been put out into the ether. All right here.”
Mary pointed to a little icon of a blue nineteen sixties style British police call box. Morgan took the tablet back and smiled, leaning down to place a kiss on her lips.“Thank you, Boo. Any an’ everythin’ helps.”Once more, she briefly excused herself as she switched her tablet off and slipped it into her travel bag. When she walked back over, she resumed her original squatting posture in front of Mary, resting her hands on her knees.“Still got a few hours before we take ahff. Ya need anything, baby?”Mary watched Morgan with a smile. Things had been rough but they were all holding together. They would come through their troubles stronger than before. She knew it.
“Maybe something to eat? I swear, even with the worst case of the munchies before, I ain’t ever been this hungry before.”
Mary chuckled and then reached a hand out for Morgan to take.“Help me up as we can go into the kitchen?”“‘Course!”Morgan reached out for Mary’s hands, pausing for a moment as she stood and leaned in towards her round belly.“An’ you, lil miss! Ya need t’stop kickin’ mama so much. Dis her first time.”She jested, placing a kiss on Mary’s tummy before finally taking her hands and helping her to her feet. Morgan let her lead the way out of the bedroom as she turned her attention, one final time, to the mask on her mirror again. For a brief moment, her smile faded and she closed her eyes, remembering. Finally, she opened them again and shook the thoughts out of her head as she turned and followed Mary down to the kitchen.
Camera: OFF 10/10-10/15/2021 Los Angeles, CA Betty Ford Rehabilitation Center They weren’t kidding when they broke down just how Suicide Watch was going to be. Never alone? Morgan wished she could have called that an understatement. If she was in the cafeteria? There was Bonnie. If she wanted to go out back for some air? There was Bonnie. Restroom usage? Bonnie wasn’t far off, granted just enough privacy was allotted. The same went for anytime she needed to shower. The curtain was about the only thing separating her from her chaperone for the day; and if it wasn’t Bonnie, then it was Rachel during night hours. Neither of them were bad, per say. Give them credit where credit was due; they did their best to be kind, warm and understanding. Still, it did nothing to remove that feeling of being hounded to the point that it was practically overwhelming.It only got worse from there. Constantly being watched and monitored, onset with the withdrawal symptoms kicking in. Morgan had spent the better part of two years relying on alcohol and analgesics to numb the pain, both physical and emotional whenever it hit her. Whether it was following a particularly tough match in the ring or being jerked out of her sleep from a nightmare. Hell, even something so simple as having a bad memory triggered throughout the day. She had relied on her vices for so long and now was the time to overcome that dependance.Easier said than done.Delirium tremens. A rapid onset of confusion usually by withdrawal from alcohol. It usually occurred three days into going cold turkey. Did Dr. Beckman warn her about it during orientation? Sure, of course he did. Did he warn her about the severity of which she would likely experience DT? Of course. Did any of that do anything to prepare her for when it actually hit? Absolutely fucking not! Three days in, last day of her Suicide Watch and Morgan was feeling that withdrawal hit her like a freight train. The agitation, the fever, the sweating, the pain. Oh god, the pain. Morgan thought she knew physical pain until it was hitting her all over, in places she didn’t know she could even feel anything. Two nights into her symptoms and Morgan’s wails of agony were ringing through the halls of the Betty Ford Clinic. Was it disturbing the rest of other patients in the vicinity? Very likely. Did she care? Not at the moment. She just wanted it to stop. She wanted the pain to go away. Sweat poured down her face as she muffled another scream into her pillow in the wee hours of the night. It had already soaked through her t-shirt and sweatpants. Morgan gripped the sheets with white knuckles. She clamped down on the pillow with her teeth as heavy sobs burst out of her. Morgan’s body tensed and she pulled at the bedsheet until she heard a tearing of the fabric. What she didn’t hear was the door opening and the next thing she knew, she was being grabbed by the shoulders. This sent her into fight or flight mode and she jerked up, thrashing against whoever it was, flailing her arms in an effort to get them off.“Morgan! Morgan! Hey, hey! It’s me. It’s Rachel.”The nurse offered her best smile as she leaned over the bed, holding onto Morgan in an effort to just get her to relax. Morgan could see the woman try to hide a grimace as she grabbed onto her arms and squeezed, her nails digging into her skin, but Rachel - ever the professional - maintained her composure. It was like the nurse understood what she was going through.“It hurts, Rachel! It hurts so fuckin’ bad!”Morgan managed to get out between sobs. She was trembling. Shaking. Rachel nodded with sympathy in her eyes.“I know, sweetie. I know. It hurts now but it’ll–”“I need somethin’. Anything!”“Morgan…”“I just want the pain to stop!”Rachel sighed, shaking her head and climbed up to sit beside Morgan in the bed. She cradled the inconsolable woman in her arms and rocked slowly back and forth. Morgan supposed this was where she lucked out being here. She somehow wound up with two of the most caring nurses of the center.“I can’t give you anything, Morgan. I’m sorry… I am so sorry. But you gotta be strong, okay? You can do this. I know you can. You know you’re my boy’s favorite?”The words caught her off guard as she sat cradled against Rachel. Her grip on the woman’s scrubs loosened as the mental distraction almost made the agony she was feeling subside.“I…what…?”“Mhmm! My son Andy. He’s 10. You’re his favorite wrestler.”Somehow, Morgan was able to smile and let out a weak chuckle.“...S’my dad’s name.”Rachel laughed and nodded.“I know. Funny coincidence, right? He’s got your t-shirts, your figures, he’s got a Kingdom backpack for school. He runs around the house yelling ‘Dal Primo Giorno!’.”Morgan shook with a little laugh but another sharp pain made her wince and cut that joy short. Rachel felt this and rubbed her back.“But what I’m getting at is…you’ve got people who care. Even if they don’t know you personally, you bring joy to people’s lives and they wanna see you get through this. They’re rooting for you, Morgan. You can get through this. You’ve just gotta stay strong and keep fighting. You can do this.”Morgan nodded, a shaky exhale being let out as she relaxed in Rachel’s arms. The reassurance…the encouragement…it helped a little. She almost felt herself about to drift off to sleep again. It was just as her eyes were starting to close, that she saw the figure across the room. Shrouded in black, sitting in a chair against the wall with that all too familiar, devilish smirk. She recognized it because…it was her devilish smirk. Morgan stared across the room right back at a haunting visage of herself that, unfortunate as it already was, wasn’t something new to her. She’d seen this before in nightmares. It was always herself. A twisted, malicious version of herself. There were usually two of them. That one and then a polar opposite. She’d always attributed them to perhaps a guardian angel and the devil on her shoulder. Or perhaps her own self consciousness fighting in her head. That was always in dreams, though. She was awake this time, so why was she seeing this now?
“Morgan?”
Rachel asked as Morgan gently pulled away from her and sat up straight on the bed, staring across the room.“Morgan what is it? What are you looking at?”And in the time it took Morgan to look at Rachel and look back at the figure…she was gone. Morgan opened her mouth to say something but nothing came out. Rachel gave a sympathetic look and brushed some wet strands of hair out of her face.“It’s the DTs, sweetie. Don’t let it get to you. Try to lay down. I’ll get you some water.”Morgan bit her bottom lip, full of confusion now as she slowly laid down in an attempt to do so as painlessly as possible. It still hurt all over but the wave was passing. So, she lied there in bed, waiting to fall asleep. Even as it overtook her, though, she saw that figure again, sitting across the room in front of her again. Morgan glared back at the twisted mirror image of herself…and it just winked back at her. There was no comfort the next night when that wave of DTs hit. Rachel wasn’t scheduled for the night. Morgan didn’t even know the name of the nurse that was on duty. She certainly wasn’t as helpful as she or Bonnie were. Morgan had no option but to lie there in the bed, groaning into her pillow as that agonizing pain tore through every inch of her body. Gripping the sheets again, as she always did, she writhed in place, inwardly begging for the pain to pass.“Nurse…?”She strained to get the word out as clear as possible, calling for the worker on duty.“Nurse…! Nurse!!!”Morgan almost reached the point of shouting when the nurse finally came walking over to her bed. She approached quickly, to her credit, but Morgan didn’t miss the look of annoyance on her face.“Yes, what is it?”Words spoken in an agitated tone as she stood by the bed with her hands on her hips. Morgan flashed a scowl up at her before a look of flat out pleading.“C-can I just get some water…? Anything…?”“Alright, fine. Wait here.”The nurse sighed and stepped away, leaving Morgan to question in her head where the hell she expected her to go. She laid her head back on the pillow and struggled to take deep breaths. She was still waiting on her water when the wave of nausea hit her. C’mon. Not now. She pleaded with herself. It wasn’t passing, though. Matter of fact, it was getting worse and Morgan realized she had to get to the bathroom. Every movement hurt like hell. Every inch of her body screamed with pain as she forced herself to sit up and get her feet on the floor. The cold tile sent an unpleasant chill through her bare, sweaty feet as she carried herself across the room as quickly as she could.She closed the door behind her, locking it as she did. At least now, she could use the bathroom in private without someone hovering over her. It hit her as soon as she turned the latch and Morgan threw herself onto her knees in front of the toilet, retching loudly. The milkshake she’d had for dinner came up first. More retching brought up whatever else she had left in her stomach to get rid of until she reached the point of dry heaving.She was thankful when it finally passed, reaching up and fumbling for the lever to flush the putrid mess down before she pulled herself up to her feet and proceeded to clean up in the sink. She washed her face, rinsed her mouth out, taking a deep breath as she straightened her stance and opened her eyes to look at herself in the mirror. Only…it wasn’t quite herself.“You look like shit, chick.”Morgan jumped back as the black clad visage of herself spoke as clear as day. She almost tripped over her own feet but caught herself on the wall. She bit back the pain and pointed at the reflection that stared back at her. A mirror image that wasn’t quite exactly that. Morgan, herself, was wearing a white “Betty Ford Rehab Center” t-shirt, gray sweatpants and her long hair was a matted mess. Her visage that stared back at her from the mirror - and moved on her own - looked much more presentable: a black tank top tucked into a pair of black BDU pants, cinched off with a belt with her hair pulled back into a tight bun. A cigarette hanging between her lips, burning at the tip. That was about as “normal” as it came before it got to the deathly pale skin and the clouded eyes.“...You ain’t real. Go da fuck away…”“Fuck you, I ‘ain’t real’. I’m real as you’re standin’ there like the strugglin’ addict dat ya are!”“Shut up!”Morgan snapped and her visage threw up her hands in mock surrender, plucking the cigarette out with a smack of her lips - just like she, herself did. Smoke seeped from her lips as she spoke.“Just speakin’ truth, babe! S’what I do. Yanno dat.”“Truth, my ass. Whattaya want…?”Her visage puffed on the cigarette again and raised her eyebrows.“What do I want? I want da same thing you want. I want outta dis gahdamn shithole. The fuck is we doin’ here?”“I need to be here. I’m gettin’ help.”Morgan scowled, pushing her hair out of her face. Her visage scoffed, spewing the smoke from her cigarette out of her lips like the rejected words Morgan just threw at her.“Gettin’ help? Does dis look like yer gettin’ help? Huh? Sure as shit don’t feel like it, do it? We’re fuckin’ dyin’ in here, Morg.”“We ain’t doin’ shit! YER NOT REAL!!!”“I’M REAL AS YOU ARE, BITCH! I AM A PART OF YOU!! AND YOU FUCKIN’ KNOW IT!!”Morgan was about to respond when there was a knock at the door and she heard the night nurse’s voice on the other end.“Hey. You okay in there?”Morgan looked at the door, alarmed for a second. She looked back at the mirror, expecting that maybe the hallucination would be gone and she’d be staring back at herself. No. Her visage stood there, shrugging her shoulders with a face that said ‘you better think fast.’ Morgan shook her head and called back through the door.“...I-I’m fine, a’ight? Just…just gimme a minute…”“Alright, well…your water’s sitting by your bed. Try to keep it down.”“A’ight, I’m sorry!”Morgan responded through the door before her head snapped back to the mirror and, for a split second, she forgot how uneasy the haunting image of herself made her feel as she lunged up to the mirror, bracing her hands on the sink.“A’ight, you listen t’me! For da past two years I been flushin’ my life down da drain, washin’ it away wif booze an’ shit dat I should prolly be in jail for even havin.’ I came dis close—”She held up her thumb and forefinger just centimeters apart.“--to losin’ da people dat I actually give a shit about an’ if I don’t wanna lose them, dis is what I gotta do, a’ight? I gotta do dis. I’m gonna do dis!”Her visage scoffed, shaking her head as she chainlit a fresh cigarette.“Mmm. No you ain’t.”She tossed the old butt behind her and took a deep drag on her fresh Newport.“You just don’t fuckin’ get it do ya? Look at all yer goin’ through in just da first week. Ya think dis is bad? It’s only gonna get worse! Have I ever steered you wrong? Think ‘bout dat before ya answer.”Morgan fell silent as her visage waited, patiently smoking as she raised her eyebrows. Morgan was confident in her answer, though as she pointed at her.“You said they didn’t care ‘bout me. Dat they was gonna push me out an’ get rid o’me! Dat never happened!”“Uhh, hello?!”Her visage shrugged her hands up and looked around her side of the restroom.“Where we at now, huh? I said dat shit awhile ago, yeah. Sure. I said one day they would get rid of you. Look now! They figured out a way!”Morgan felt a lump in her throat. She forced it down as she shook her head with defiance.“What? No. No, ya dumb bitch. Dis is how I keep them. Dis is how I stay wif them!”“Uhhh, ‘no. Ya dumb bitch!’ Dis is how they finally get rid o’you. Yer outta their hair. Yer outta the house. They know you ain’t gonna be able to stick dis out. Jasmine knows it. Stephanie knows it. Lily knows it. They all know it! Jason and Carlisle know it.”Her visage grabbed the sink, mirroring her posture and leaned forward, hissing the next words with venom in her voice.“Mary knows it. They been tryina get rid o’you ever since you took up wif Na Fianna–”“--dat’s in da past! We got over dat–”“--and then da outcast of Na Fianna took up wif another outcast dat they can’t fuckin’ stand!”Morgan was left speechless as the realization hit her. Her visage raised her eyebrow.“Yeah? FM? Ringin’ a bell? Yanno damn well how much dat burned Jasmine’s ass when ya took up for her after she and her ilk shat all over her family legacy. And yanno damn well how vindictive Jasmine can be.”“N-no. She’s not. Jasmine’s not…”Morgan shook her head and her visage busted out with a loud belly laugh that filled the restroom.“You are in such fuckin’ DENIAL!!!! Ya know it deep down but’chu just don’t wanna admit it. I get it. I really do. It sucks. It hurts. But’chu need to realize dat I’m right. You got nobody, Morg. Nobody. You been cast aside like a piece o’garbage!”“SHUT UP!!!”Morgan shrieked at the top of her lungs and drove her fist into the mirror. The glass shattered, spider webbing out around her fist. She winced and pulled back bloody knuckles. Inside the damaged glass, her visage laughed and shook her head.“Get pissed all ya want. Yanno I’m right!”“I SAID SHUT DA FUCK UP!”She drove her other fist against the glass, shattering it more. Shards of glass fell from the mirror, clattering into the sink. Now, her visage was gone but she could still hear her voice as if she were inside the room.“You ain’t shit to them, Morgana. Yer nothing to them! All ya got right now is you. Me! Us!”“Please…just shut up. Leave me alone! Stop it!”Morgan leaned over the sink, sobbing loudly. The pain throbbing in her bloodied knuckles, odd as it was, dulled the pain in the rest of her body. Behind her, she heard a frantic knock on the door. The nurse.“Morgan? Morgan, open the door. Let me in.”The doorknob jiggled and the knocking resumed to the point of a panicked banging.“Morgan! Let me in! Open the door!”She drowned the voice out but that other voice persisted as clear as ever.“Ya want it to stop? Yanno what ya need to do. Nobody’s gonna care. Nobody’s gonna miss you. Nobody’s gonna give…a single…fucking…damn. But you’ll be free from it all. We will be free from it all…”Tears streamed down her face as she let out a shaky breath. Her bloodied fists trembled against the sink as she stared down at the shards of glass. She reached for them, digging out a particularly large, jagged piece. It would certainly do the job.“Be free, Morgan.”“MORGAN, OPEN THE DOOR!”“Be free…”“MORGAN!”Morgan gripped the glass in her hand, wincing as she felt the sharp edge cutting into her palm and fingers and lifted it up. At that point, everything else: the pain coursing through her body, the churning in her stomach, the banging on the door and the pleading calls from the nurse on the other side; it was all drowned out while she let out a blood curdling scream as she dug the sharp tip of the glass deep into her face….
Camera: ON 06/09/2022 11:15AM New Orleans, LA The Cabin The shot opens with the handler of the camera fumbling with their phone. At first we get a brief glimpse at Gabby Cassiano as she stares down at the lens. The young, soon to be college student’s eyes go wide as she realizes she’s got the camera facing the wrong way.“Oopsie!”She taps at the screen and the shot switches around to in front of her where we see her following behind Morgan Payne as they walk. They’re not on The Kingdom grounds this time. They don’t even look like they’re in North Carolina anymore. Gabby and her camera follow Morgan as they walk through a remote, backwoods, bayou of Louisiana. For a brief moment, the camera swings around to show a black lexus that stands out in this area like a sore thumb.“Sooo, there’s the rental…aaaaand here we are!”She swings the shot back around to focus on Morgan Payne as the woman leads the way up to a cabin that looks like it belongs out here more than the car does. It’s a moderate sized structure with a few outdoor luxuries. A picnic table and benches, a couple of lounge chairs with a small table and umbrella in between. Off to the side lies a stump for cutting firewood with an axe buried deep in the center. It’s quickly obvious that the two women are the only ones here yet Morgan doesn’t seem the least bit unsettled by the location.“Lemme get this right, you actually want me to film you, this time?”“Yup. Fuck it, why not?”Morgan steps up onto the front porch to the cabin and opens the front door. She turns to the side and motions with her head, allowing Gabby to go inside first. Gabby guides the camera into the cabin’s interior revealing a surprisingly homey looking setup. Book shelves. Sofa and chairs by a fireplace. A kitchen table and chairs. She briefly sweeps the camera around to show where it looks like the bedrooms might be located.“Whooooaaaaa! This is so cool! I mean…I’m kinda getting Friday the 13th vibes, but it’s still pretty cool!”“Hatchet.”“Huh?”“We’re in Louisiana, Gabs. If we was in a horror movie, we’d be in Hatchet. Friday the 13th took place in Jersey.”“Oh. Right. I never saw Hatchet.”Morgan suddenly steps into the frame with an incredulous look on her face.“Get aht, you serious?”“I don’t watch scary movies! They’re scary!”Morgan makes a face and shakes her head.“S’da point, cugina. Ya watch ‘em, ya get scurred, ya cuddle up t’Bailey and she makes ya feel safe.”Brief pause as the camera swings around to show Gabby’s girlfriend, Bailey Hartwell, standing beside her. The pint sized bodybuilder just grins and winks at the camera. Gabby giggles and brings the camera back to focus on Morgan who’s shrugging.“Mmh…maybe… So, this is where you stayed for rehab?”“Yup! Dis is where I got better. C’mon, cut that thing ahff for now. I’ll show yinz da rooms.”“Oh! Okies!”
Camera: ON 06/09/2022 12:45PM Baton Rouge, LA The Cabin The camera comes back to life with the shot looking as if the phone is propped up on the coffee table in the living room of the cabin. In the foreground of the shot, Morgan Payne fumbles with it to make sure it’s steady before she sits back on the sofa, leaning forward with her elbows resting on her knees. She’s wearing faded blue jeans with holes in the knees, her Timbs and a black, sleeveless, faded BBMAK t-shirt with a Kingdom bandana around her head like a thick headband. Hanging around her neck on a leather string is her latest sobriety coin of which she’s drilled a hole into it in order to wear it like she is now. She rests her scarred knuckles against her lips as she stares into the camera with narrowed eyes.“A’ight, I’mma cut right to da chase. I ain’t had da best start in EWC. Dat’s fine. S’no problem. Shit happens. My first Rampage match coulda been better but it coulda been worse. So if anyone thinks losin’ - s’cuse me, lemme clarify dat - if anyone thinks not winnin’ my official Rampage debut is gonna throw me off my game, bitches yinz got another thing comin’. Now!”She punches her fist into her hand and leans back against the back of the sofa.“Let’s talk ‘bout what’s next for da Steel City Kaiju. I’m comin’ back to Japan again. Flyin’ into Fukuoka to go one on one wif Tanja Devereaux.”Morgan leans forward again, slowly rubbing her hands together.“Now, ahnno what’cha prolly thinkin’ Tanja. ‘Dis bitch hopped on a jet and flew all da way to “N’Awlins” just to walk arahnd and talk shit on my hometown.’ Nah, girl. Nah….”She shakes her head and leans back again to reach into her jeans pocket and dig out her pack of Newports and lighter. She takes one out, tosses the pack onto the coffee table and taps the filter on the back of her hand.“See, if it’d been anyone else, I mighta done dat. If it’d been anywhere else, I mighta walked da streets wif my phone in my hand and talked ‘bout all da cons an’ none of da pros to being here. Nah, see, dis place? It actually holds a special place in my heart. Dis state. Dis town. Dis spot right ‘ere.”She points at the floor beneath her feet, indicating the cabin.“It means somethin’ t’me. Ya see, late last year…”She sticks the Newport in her mouth and starts lighting it as she talks.“Most errbody knows I reached a low point in my life. After two years o’alcohol and substance abuse, I crossed a line dat I knew I’d gone too far. My family knew I’d gone too far. Somethin’ had t’be done. I wasn’t able t’beat somebody that I felt was my personal gahdamn responsibility to beat. In dat moment, I felt like a failure. I felt like I failed my family, I felt like I failed my best friend, and most importantly I felt like I failed myself. So what’d I do? I did what I usually did back arahnd dat time. I tried to wash da feelin’ away wif booze. I tried to numb da pain my opponent put my body through wif painkillers. I did whatever I thought would make it all go away.”Morgan pauses, staring into the camera. As she sits there, she idly fiddles with her Steelers zippo, flipping the lid up, sparking the flame and snapping the lid closed. She repeats this process over and over to the point it’s as if she’s doing so on autopilot.“I was given a choice by those I love da most. Get clean or get aht. Was it a harsh demand? Maybe. Tough love n’at, but sometimes dat’s what a person needs in order to get better. Sometimes ya need to hit rock bottom before ya can start climbin’ again. An’ I hit rock bottom. Oh, did I ever. I reached a point while in da Betty Ford Rehab Clinic where I wanted to give it all up. I couldn’t take it anymore an’ I thought I had nobody who fuckin’ cared anymore. I tried to end it.”She pauses, letting her last words sink in there for a second as she sucks on her cigarette filter. The cigarette comes out with that light smack of her lips.“Yeah. I’m admittin’ it to all who might watch dis. I, Morgan Payne, tried to end my life in rehab. I, Morgana Cassiano, felt like such a failure, such a gahdamn burden to da people I care ‘bout dat I felt like they’d be better off if I wasn’t here anymore.”There’s a pause and she closes her eyes, looking down with a shake of her head.“Now…thankfully…I was experiencin’ what rehab calls Delirium tremens at da time. S’when yer detoxin’ off alcohol. Da body goes through more pain than ya can prolly even imagine. Da mind starts slippin’. Ya become delirious. Start hearin’ shit, seein’ shit, thinkin’ shit. Normally, they can give somethin’ for da pain but I was detoxin’ offa analgesics n’at, so I had to just ride dat shit aht. So ‘cause o’dat, I didn’t know what da hell I was doin’ at da time. I grabbed a piece o’broken glass and I just started cuttin’.”She leans in a little bit closer so viewers, namely Tanja Devereaux if she sees this, to see her face as she runs her finger down a few spots along her temple and cheek bones.“Ya can’t even see da surgery scars where doctors had to completely reconstruct my face. They did a good job in dat regard….”She leans back again and takes a puff off of her cigarette.“Dat’s ‘bout all they did right on. S’far as gettin’ me where I needed t’be up here?” She taps her temple and shakes her head. “They ain’t know shit ‘bout what I needed. I sat there after I got outta da hospital bein’ shown ink blot pictures, layin’ on a sofa while some quack psychiatrist tried to hypnotize me to see where some trauma began. Then I met my friend Robi. Da Valkyrie. Robi Sorrensen. Yinz know her? She saw what I needed when them doctors didn’t. She saw it when I didn’t. I needed someone, who could take me through da steps to recovery dat actually gave a damn. So, I checked outta Betty Ford and I came here.”She looks around her at the interior of the cabin and gestures with her hands around her before looking back at the camera.“Robi introduced me to more people dat gave a fuck. One of them - my ‘new shrink’, Linnea Lacroix - she knew what da source of da trauma was. She knew just by lookin’ me in da eyes ‘cause she’d been through da same shit. She picked me up an’ made me wanna continue. She made me wanna go on. I fell into a hole and I pulled myself outta it ‘cause I was helped to realize dat I can do better. I can be better than I was. No matter what obstacle life might put in front o’me, I can push through and overcome anything. Which brings me t’you, Tanja…”Morgan smiles a sly, almost cold smile as she sucks on the cigarette filter again. She exhales the smoke through her nose.“Like I said, I had a rough start here in EWC. I came in wif a head full o’steam but dat engine wasn’t burnin’ hot enough an’ I crashed into a wall right as soon as I got goin’. But we’re still in da beginnin’. I can still pick myself up and keep goin’. You an’ me, Tanja, we’re set on a collision course in Fukuoka, on Friday Night Rampage, June 17th. S’almost fitting, seein’ as we’re both comin’ off losses from Tokyo. Hell, some might say I could be a lil pissed off…”She sucks on her cigarette some more and squints at the camera, almost accusingly at her upcoming opponent and anyone else watching.“If you’d beaten Ace King, maybe I’d be ‘bout to wrestle for da HBO Broadcast Championship. But’chu didn’t, didja? Dat eat’chu up, Tanja? Hmm? It bother you a lil bit dat’chu couldn’t beat da Gambler? I mean, shit, I ain’t knockin’ ya for it. Ace is a tough dude. He’s who inspired me when I first broke into da pro scene. Yo Ace! If you watchin’, how’s Shelley? Whatchinz up to?”Morgan cracks a more genuine smile before it fades and she takes one more drag on her cigarette before snuffing it out in the ashtray in front of her. She sits up straighter, just a little bit, and rubs her mouth with her hand before rubbing her palms together again in that slow, idle rhythm.“Title or no title, Tanja, it don’t matter to me one bit. Not dis time. What matters is dat I walk into dat ring on Friday in Fukuoka and I beat da livin’ shit outta you. Ya can throw whatever ya want at me. I know yer a scrapper just like me. Bring all ya got. I wanna see first hand what da Bayou Witch is capable of. I seen enough from da spectator’s side. Ya got a pretty solid singles record here. Got wins over Ruby Clifton and Autumn Raven dis year so far. Not bad. See, we already got a lot in common, Tanja. We’re pretty squared away when it comes to one on one. Multi-person matches? Mmh, not so much. But look at da bright side, Tanja. It’s just you an’ me in dat ring. You get to try an’ work all yer dark magic on just me.”Around this point, as Morgan is speaking, the front door to the cabin opens in the background. Her cousin Gabby and Gabby’s girlfriend Bailey walk in from outside. As they start to head towards their assigned room, Bailey hears the tailend of Morgan’s words, stops, turns and calls out in a put-on Jamaican accent.“Voodoo magic?!”Without missing a beat, Morgan leans back against the couch and throws her arms up in the air, making metal horns with her fingers, and yells back in the same accent.“FUCKING VOODOO MAGIC, MON!!!!”The two share a laugh as Bailey follows Gabby, disappearing into their room and Morgan directs her attention back to the camera.“All jokes aside, Tanja, I see you. I see you, chick. Yer one of da tough nuts to crack. An’ I most definitely intend to crack you open. Literally and figuratively. You like to bleed? I’ll make ya bleed. You like to hurt? I’ll make ya hurt. I’mma give you all da pain and agony you can hope for until you don’t want anymore. I’ll tell ya da same thing I told Phoenix Winterborn: walkin’ into a match against a submission specialist - like me - wif a target errbody knows about? Yer gonna have a bad time, Tanja. See, I ain’t just ‘bout winnin’. I like to hurt people. I like to twist things da way they shouldn’t be twisted. I like to bend them da wrong way. I like to see how far they can be pushed before…”She brings up her fists side by side together and makes the motion of breaking something, complete with making the sound effect of something snapping. She leans forward again, rubbing her chin a thoughtful expression on her face.“What do I wanna twist, though? What do I wanna bend? Maybe finish Ace King’s work on yer ankle? Or maybe I’ll give ya somethin’ new to worry ‘bout in da future. Dat Three Rivers Crossing o’mine is a real bitch on da shoulder. How dangerous is da Wicked Witch of da Bayou gonna be if I decide to clip one o’yer wings?”She says as she makes a scissor motion with her fingers.“Why don’t we find aht ‘bout dat, yeah? As easy as it might be t’dunk da Cajun Queen on her head and pin yer shoulders to da mat, I wanna see what yer pain limit is, Tanja. Snap or tap. S’yer choice.”She leans forward then and picks up her phone as she stands up from the couch. Morgan starts walking through the cabin, holding the phone out in front of her with a sly grin on her face as she starts singing.“♫Ding dong, the witch is dead!Which ol’ witch?Da Bayou Witch!Ding dong, da Bayou Witch is dead!♫”Morgan stops and brings the camera closer to her face. She grins…giggles…and winks…before the camera cuts off….
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