Post by Aurora Knight on Jun 12, 2016 14:32:41 GMT -5
San Jose turned out to be a bittersweet outing for the Angelz of Destruction. But just because not all of us walked away from our matches with victories under our belts, that doesn’t mean that we’re down for the count. As Damon said, Angelz don’t die; we persevere. When we are knocked back down, we get up, shake the dirt out of our wings, and we take flight all over again.
As for Damon and I, we did exactly what we set out to do, and that’s destroy the competition in that Triple Threat Elimination tag match. First, we sent the Bubblegum Twins running for the hills… and then we took out the so-called veterans of the match. Never thought I’d get that much satisfaction out of hearing an old man scream as I made him tap out. As for KEG, I wonder how much of that kick actually registered in his alcohol-soaked brain.
The next leg of our trip takes us down to San Diego, a place where I’ve spent many holiday vacations as a child on my family’s sailboat. My father may have disavowed my existence, but when you’re the daughter of a locksmith, you learn a thing or two. And you ALWAYS make sure you have extra keys….
But before Damon and I – along with the rest of the Angelz – make our way down to the state’s southern gateway to Mexico, I have to take care of some loose ends. If all goes well, I should be five months away from freeing myself from that four-year mistake. But mistakes are to be learned from, of course, and I’ve learned what I DON’T want when it comes to relationships. The funny thing about relationships is that sometimes, it takes going through the deepest, hottest pits of hell before you find the one you’re supposed to be with. And I think I’ve found what I’m looking for, corny as it sounds….
Change is in the air for the Angelz. What that means for the rest of the world… well, that all depends.
Stay tuned….
Damon’s apartment
Inglewood, CA
June 5, 2016
Aurora felt strange sitting anywhere other than the front of her Harley, but the fact that it meant she could lean her body against that of Damon’s helped to make up for it. Her hands were wrapped tightly around his waist, her head resting against his denim-clad back. Their journey brought them to a rough-looking warehouse surrounded on the corner of two very well-worn streets. Damon cut the engine and Aurora stepped off as Damon tossed the keys back to her. He smiled as he popped the kickstand, staring at the red and black metal beast.
Damon: It’s been a while since I’ve ridden one of these. I’d almost forgotten how awesome it was to feel the wind in your face.
Aurora: You know, since I’ve had her, that’s the first time I’ve ever ridden in the back. Then again, you’re the first person other than me to ride her.
Damon: Well, then I’m even more honored. Now come on… we should get inside before the crazies come out.
A curious smirk played across her face as she looked around. At that moment, as the night sky blanketed the city in a deep, purplish-blue, they were the only two people standing there.
Aurora: The crazies?
Aurora tilted her head to the side slightly, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny.
Damon: During the day, it’s not that bad. But once the sun goes down, that’s when the real whackjobs come out. A lot of people get mugged around here by junkies looking for a quick score.
He ran a hand against the back of his head, a faux-nervous look in his eyes.
Damon: Thing is, I know you can handle yourself in a fight, and I’m not exactly looking forward to having to help clean up the mess once you turn them into pavement grease.
Aurora chuckled as they rounded the corner and headed toward a nondescript door beneath a single, flickering street light.
Aurora: You sure do know how to charm a girl, Puddin’.
Damon shook his head, laughing softly as he rummaged through his pocket for his keys. He then unlocked the door, opening on a narrow, poorly lit flight of stairs. Aurora eyed the path ahead with trepidation, but a reassuring hand on her shoulder, followed by a smile from Damon told her she was safe. They walked up the stairs to a dark, heavy wooden door. After unlocking the deadbolt, he turned to Aurora and sighed.
Damon: I’m gonna warn you right now… it’s nowhere near as swanky as your place is. Mostly guy stuff, plus some art and shit. Some of which is unfinished. But you won’t be tripping over everything.
Taking his denim jacket off, Damon opened the door, motioning for Aurora to enter first. The Angel of Rebellion stepped inside the massive, open space, its exposed brick walls serving as a gallery filled with paintings ranging from scantily clad women to a painting of a black dragon in flight, surrounded by fire. She stared at the painting, in awe at how lifelike it looked; as if at any second, the dragon could turn its head and spew a plume of flame at her.
Aurora: Damon, these paintings are unbelievable! I mean… I knew you could draw, but these paintings are just so… beautiful!
For once, it was Damon’s turn to blush as Aurora admired his artwork. She walked around the room, toward the corner where he kept his easel. She could tell there was a canvas mounted on it, but it was covered by a drop cloth.
Aurora: Is this another one of your paintings?
She went to lift the drop cloth to take a look at what lay hidden underneath, but Damon swooped in, gently grabbing her hand.
Damon: Whoa, whoa, whoa… I’d rather you not look at that. It’s not finished yet, and I don’t want anyone to see what it looks like until everything is absolutely perfect.
Aurora gazed into his emerald eyes and smiled.
Aurora: Fair enough. Just promise me I’ll be the first one to see it once it’s finished.
Damon: Now that, I’ll do. And when it’s finished, bricks will be shat. Anyway, I’d give you the grand tour, but this is pretty much it.
He stood with his arms outstretched, looking around the room, from the corner where Aurora stood, to the corner where his modest kitchen stood; an antique refrigerator humming softly. He glanced casually toward the humble mattress on the floor in the far corner of the room before gesturing toward the couch.
Damon: Well, make yourself comfortable, Harley. You want something to drink? I’ve got some organic soda… that is, if you don’t mind Mandarin Key Lime.
He smiled sheepishly at Aurora, who returned with a nod and a smile of her own.
Aurora: Sounds good. Oogave?
Damon: How’d you know?
Aurora: I’ve made the odd trip to Whole Foods on occasion, if for nothing else to…
Aurora & Damon: …sample all the cheeses.
Damon grabbed a couple of bottles of the aforementioned beverage and joined Aurora on the couch. He popped the caps off, handing one of them to his partner. As her hand clasped around the bottle, her fingers grazed against the tattooed flesh of Damon’s hand. It was enough to send a charge through her whole body. Goosebumps popped up like weeds on the surface of her skin as she bit her lower lip. She giggled softly as she raised the bottle to her lips. The sparkling liquid slid down her throat as she swallowed, then set the bottle down on a nearby table.
Aurora: I guess we’re a lot more alike than we realized. Alicia was right.
Damon: About us being a good team?
Aurora: I can’t believe I’m saying this, but she was right about everything….
Damon’s eyes suddenly lit up. He launched himself from the couch and made a beeline for the covered easel. He threw the drop cloth aside and ripped his shirt off with a fire in his eyes that Aurora had previously only seen in the ring. She watched, completely mesmerized as he squeezed some colors onto a palette and took a brush to the canvas. Periodically, he would glance at Aurora, studying the features of her face and giving her the occasional wink.
She listened to the sound of brush moving against canvas as Damon furiously went to work. Minutes flew by, with splatters of paint falling against Damon’s bare skin; specks of purple, pale yellow, black and pink dotted his flesh as he stood back with a satisfied look on his face.
Damon: There… it’s done!
He set the palette down, then walked over to the couch, holding out his hand. Aurora took his hand as he guided her to the easel, and the finished product…
Aurora was stunned into silence as she stared at the image before her. In her eyes, this painting was better than any photograph ever taken of her. She took a step back, her shoulder making contact with Damon’s chest. She looked up at him, her face still frozen in awe. He looked down into her eyes, and for that moment, everything around them ceased to exist.
Aurora: It’s beautiful…
Damon: I did most of it from memory. But having the real thing to focus on gave me the inspiration I needed to finish. I’m glad you like it, but it doesn’t even begin to do you justice….
He placed a hand on her cheek, his fingers vanishing into her long blonde hair as he slowly pulled her face closer to his own. This time, she didn’t pull away, letting their lips meet in a long, lingering kiss. After a few seconds, Damon pulled away, backing off as he looked at her, as if in shock as to what he just did.
Damon: I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that.
A genuine look of worry washed over him as he moved toward the couch, his hands resting on the arm of the couch as he hung his head, muttering to himself.
Damon: (whispering) Stupid son of a…
Aurora: Damon….
He turned around, a lost look in his eyes as Aurora walked up to him with a look he had never seen before. He arched his eyebrow as she put her hands on his chest, playfully shoving him over the arm of the couch and onto the cushions.
Damon: What the…?
He looked up at her, and the seductive, wild-eyed smile plastered on her face.
Aurora: This is one Harley that you don’t rev up unless you’re prepared to ride…
Before Damon could even say a word, Aurora pounced on him with such force that the couch shattered into pieces. The feet broke out from underneath, and the back completely separated from the seats. Completely lost in the moment, they never noticed the footsteps coming up the stairs, nor did they remember the fact that Damon had never closed the door…
Voice: Hello? Everything okay in here?
If the pair had heard the voice in the doorway, they chose to ignore it. A pair of heels clicked against the concrete floor as Aurora’s manager entered the room.
Alicia: I heard a crash, and when I saw that the door was open, I… oh.
Alicia made her way toward the busted couch, and saw perhaps a lot more than she bargained for. A silent gasp escaped her throat, and the resulting smile that formed on her face was such that she couldn’t have forced it away even if she wanted to.
Alicia: On second thought, I was never here….
She slowly backed up, careful to make as little noise as possible as she made her way back through the open door. Slowly, Alicia shut the door as quietly as she could. Once the door was closed, she pumped her arm and whispered with a huge, cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on her face….
Alicia: YES!
Still snickering from what she had just witnessed – even if it had been completely accidental, Alicia quickly made her way down the stairs.
A lone stool was set up in the corner of Damon Graves’ apartment, beneath a painting of the barrel of a smoking gun… so lifelike that you could almost feel the heat from the barrel. Through the window, the light from the building’s rooftop lighting fixtures cast a pale, bluish glow through the glass, illuminating the long, sleek leg of Aurora Knight as she sat on the stool, clad in a pair of black boy-leg panties and one of the vests Damon wears to the ring, which was held closed by a single button in the front. At the other end of the apartment, the sound of running water pattering against tile could be heard coming from the bathroom, with light shining from beneath the gap at the bottom of the door.
Aurora: Angelz…
Everyone has this image in their heads of throngs of white-winged celestial beings cloaked in robes as white as clouds, but is that truly what an angel is? I think not. You see, angels are more than just the mythical beings we see carved in stone or painted on the walls of church sanctuaries. They are messengers of a much higher power, and the Angelz of Destruction are exactly what we say we are… heralds of a new era; one where the Devlin Scotts of the world and their minions have no place.
They’ve already seen the destruction we’re capable of when we compete as a unit. Already, the Angelz of Chaos and Rebellion have cut down two tag teams, and sent one of those teams running home crying for Daddy. Good riddance. There’s no room in professional wrestling for kindergarteners like the Lee twins.
But I digress. It’s time I focused on some of the bigger fish in this bloody body of water known as New Generation Wrestling.
After a battle royal that saw me take on a whole host of new talent looking to gain a foothold in this company, and after the tag team match that established Damon Graves and myself as the future of the NGW Tag Team division, the brass has seen fit to provide me with the first TRUE test of my skills…
She lowered one leg from the stool to the ground, followed by the other one, as she stepped into the light coming through the window. The light reflected off of the left side of her face, making her left eye sparkle like a pale jewel as she smirked.
Aurora: The powers that be have placed a new target in my sights; a man that calls himself the Prince of NGW – the “Punk,” Drake Hunter. A man who has cast aside his family name as a means of distancing himself from his past.
The Angel of Rebellion scoffed at the mention of her newest opponent, her cheek twitching as her upper lip curled into a sneer.
Aurora: Oh, you’re a punk, alright. But the uncrowned “Prince of NGW?” Please! You can call yourself whatever the fuck you want; doesn’t make you look like any less of a jackass. In fact, I could argue the fact that by changing your name, ALEXANDER…
Aurora flashed a defiant smirk, her eyes half closed as she sat down on the window sill, propping her feet up. Through the glass, the muffled sound of police sirens whined by the building, the police lights flashing red and blue against the window frame before vanishing as quickly as they had arrived.
Aurora: Hmph… Come to think about it, if that were my given name, I’d want to change it, too. But that’s beside the point. Change your name, dye your hair, go around with a paper bag on your head for all I care; all you’re doing is running away from your past. And while you may be comfortable with that, to me, that makes you a coward. I’ve got issues in my past; hell, who doesn’t? But running from it doesn’t solve a damn thing, because all you’re going to be doing from here on out is looking over your shoulder, wondering when your past is going to catch up with you. Of course, as far as you’re concerned, your past is not my problem. Once Vendetta rolls around, however, I become YOUR problem.
I’m not the type to assign myself any labels that I haven’t already earned. I don’t hold to any pretense; what you see is what you get. And while I’m sure there are those that would look at me and see just another girl trying to be one of the boys, but ask around. In only my second match, I’ve taken the fight to a multiple-time champion, and I’m still standing. Am I infallible? Never said I was, but I sure as hell don’t make it easy on anyone.
Now, I’m sure that there are some that might argue the point that the opponents I’ve faced since I arrived in NGW were small potatoes compared to you, Drake. I mean, I made an arthritic old geezer tap out in the center of the ring. Where’s the challenge in that? To be brutally honest, he WAS no challenge. However, I relished in the sound of his old, feeble bones cracking as I held him in the Rebel Yell. To me, it sounded like a symphony of anguish and pain as he pounded on the mat, begging for release. But hey, is it my fault that they put someone in the ring that actually thought they could keep up with a pair of 22-year-olds in top physical condition? Hardly.
And then there was KEG, who I’m sure is probably still guzzling down beer to erase the embarrassment of being pinned by a girl practically half his size. Maybe if he hadn’t been six sheets to the wind, he might have stood more of a chance against me.
She shook her head, a lock of blonde hair falling from behind her ear and spilling onto her shoulder.
Aurora: But you’re different, aren’t you, Drake? You’re younger, faster, and in much better shape than any of the other clods I’ve faced so far. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself, I’m sure. An arrogant little shit like yourself likely spends much of his waking hours inhaling his own funk as if it smelled like fine wine.
It’s just too bad that to the rest of the world, that “fine wine” smells worse than fetid, festering garbage on a hot summer day. And yeah, I know I’ve never been close enough to actually smell you – thank God – I’m just looking for something that sounded a little better than the tired old “guys like you that think their shit don’t stink” line. It’s horribly overused, wouldn’t you agree?
You know something? I’ve always liked walking into a wrestling promotion not really knowing anyone there. It means a fresh crop of faces to rip apart both physically and verbally, and there’s not a person on the face of the planet that deserves it more than you do. Hell, you’re so high on your own hype that you can’t go five seconds without saying “how great I am”.
She rolled her eyes as she let one foot fall from its perch on the window sill. The pad of her big toe ran against the surface of the floor as she stared out the window.
Aurora: In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not impressed in the slightest. I look at you, and all I see is some puffed up little fuckface that’s gotten WAY too big for his breeches and needs to be taken down a peg… or 20.
Sure, you’ve got a decent record so far. To be able to say you have never been pinned isn’t bad for someone that’s been around for, oh, three months. Of course, it means you’ve only averaged about one appearance per month, so your little streak isn’t as impressive as you’re making it out to be. Which begs the question. If you’re such a huge money draw, why haven’t the powers that be given you more airtime? Perhaps the bloom is off the rose, where you’re concerned, and they’re looking to throw in their lot with someone that would clearly look a hell of a lot better with a championship belt around their waist… mainly, me. Or maybe they’re just seeing how far they can push me. Well, in the latter case, they’re going to find themselves doing a whole lot of pushing.
She leaned her head back against the window frame, casting her eyes toward the ceiling for a moment as she pondered her last sentence.
Aurora: You know, that may not have come out quite right. Oh well; if it did, then so be it. It’s not my job to tell everyone else how to think. And while I know you like to tell everyone that every mouth in the world should be screaming your name all the way to the heavens and back, I’m here to tell you that I’m going to be screaming your name is when I’m screaming at you to tap out like the little bitch that you are. Don’t take me for some sort of pushover, Drake, because we all know what happened to the last idiot that was stupid enough to underestimate me. He ended up flat on his back… one, two, three.
At Vendetta, I hope you’re ready to be humbled, because I plan on sticking another mark in the loss column for you and knock your ass down the ladder. I hope you like the view from the bottom, punk.
The water stopped running, and the light in the bathroom had shut off as the latch of the bathroom door disengaged. Aurora rose up from the window sill, walking out of the light and into the shadow, until only her silhouette was visible. As she stood in the shadows, she removed the denim vest she had been wearing before the silhouette of Damon Graves came into the room….
Damon’s Apartment
June 6, 2016
2 am
They stood beside the open window, looking out at the night sky. Damon remained shirtless, but Aurora had slipped into one of his black tank tops, her hair damp from a recent shower. The deep cuts of the armholes exposed much of the flesh of her torso, and had it not been for Damon’s arms wrapped around her, would have been a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. His chin rested on the top of her head as she held onto his forearms.
Damon: So, I guess I know where I stand now…
Aurora looked up at him, smiling at the curious look in his eyes. She rested her head against his chest, giggling as she traced the koi fish tattooed on Damon’s left forearm.
Aurora: Well, considering that I’m calling you “Puddin’” instead of “Hey, Dickface!”
She smirked as Damon chuckled into her hair. A few flaxen strands managed to catch onto the stubble of his chin, falling free before she could notice.
Damon: You know what I mean, Harley…
Aurora: Of course I do, silly! But think about it… I wouldn’t have let you call me anything other than my first name if I didn’t think of us like that. Besides, everyone else already thinks we’re a couple anyway. We might as well give them a reason to talk.
Damon: Since when did you give a fuck about what other people say?
Aurora: You’re right… I don’t give a fuck. The only opinions that matter to me are yours and the rest of the Angelz.
He buried his face into the crown of her flowing blonde hair. The scent of his own shampoo felt odd coming from a woman, but for once, he didn’t care.
Damon: You know what they’re gonna say about this, right?
Aurora let out a sigh, as she visualized the smug grin on her manager’s face once she got wind of their news. The thought elicited a light giggle from the Angel of Rebellion.
Aurora: Well, I know what Alicia’s going to say…
Aurora & Damon: About damn time!
The pair laughed as Damon tightened his grip on her as a cold breeze blew past them.
Damon: Come on… the air’s getting cold. I wouldn’t want you to freeze on me.
Aurora: Though I’m sure you’d have no problems warming me back up.
Aurora winked as Damon released his grip on her, but she grabbed onto his hand as they stepped away from the window. Damon pulled the window shut, and the pair turned their attention to Damon’s now-ruined couch. He ran his free hand through his hair, chuckling at the sight of the wreckage. All four feet had broken off, scattered in all directions. The rest of the couch had been completely flattened, with splintered wood ripping through the fabric of the backrest and arms. The only things that managed to survive were the cushions, which suffered little more than a few tears in the fabric.
Aurora: Sorry about your couch.
A penitent look took hold of Aurora’s face as she looked at Damon. He brushed a hand against her cheek, smiling at her in an attempt to put her at ease.
Damon: Meh. It was old as fuck, anyway; I’d been meaning to replace it for a while, now. If anything, you put it out of its misery. Trust me; you did me a favor by breaking the thing. Now it’ll be much easier to haul it out to the dumpster. Maybe I'll just buy a bunch of big-ass pillows to replace it or something. Less chance of you wrecking them that way.
Indignant, Aurora gently smacked Damon in the shoulder, then smiled as he feigned injury.
Aurora: You’re such an ass, Damon!
Damon: Admit it… you wouldn’t have me any other way.
Aurora: I didn’t say I was complaining… cocky motherfucker.
She turned to him and winked as she stood in front of him, her toes resting gently on top of his. With an impish grin on her face, she looked up into his eyes.
Damon: Uh-oh… that look can only mean trouble….
She giggled, shaking her head.
Aurora: Well, I do have a little bit of a confession to make.
Damon: Oh really now? And just what might that be?
She pursed her lips a little bit, glancing down at the floor beside them.
Aurora: It’s about that bet we made a couple weeks ago.
Damon: What about it? Don’t tell me you threw those races on purpose…
She shook her head.
Aurora: Not the first one. That time, you beat me fair and square. The second race – the one I wagered double or nothing – I may or may not have deliberately crashed myself into a wall or… three.
Damon put his hands on her shoulders, leaning back until he was at arm’s reach. His eyebrow arched as he just stood there, staring at her. And then, he started to laugh. Aurora stepped back with her hands on her hips, scoffing at him.
Aurora: What’s so funny!?
Damon: I didn’t say anything, but I could tell. You see, I could see you out of the corner of my eye. During that first race, I could see the tip of your tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth. You didn’t do that the second time around.
Aurora laughed as she gave him a light shove.
Aurora: Again… You’re an ass!
She smiled playfully as Damon scooped her up into his arms. He carried her over to his bed, carefully setting her down on top of his dark red sheets. Just as he moved in to join her, his phone went off. Damon hung his head, a groan of annoyance as he reached for it. He looked at the display to show a response to a tweet he sent out earlier in the night.
Damon: Motherfucker just had to have the last word…
Grumbling under his breath, he started to type out a response, only to have Aurora grab the phone from his hand.
Damon: What the actual fuck?
Aurora: Oh, no you don’t, mister! Bad enough you had me tagged in that shit and kept me from getting to sleep. No more feeding the troll!
Damon reached toward Aurora’s hand in an effort to retrieve his phone, only for her to throw it across the room. It landed on the cushions of the busted couch. As Damon moved to go after it, Aurora grabbed him by the waistband of his shorts and pulled him back to bed.
Damon: Damn, you play rough!
Aurora: And you wouldn’t have it any other way….
June 6, 2016
9:30 am
The morning once again saw Aurora – still clad in the black tank top – sitting beside the window, looking out over the roof with one knee hovering near the floor. Well, it was less looking out the window and more posing, as Damon sat on a chair, his sketchbook in one hand, a pencil in the other.
Damon: I need you to turn your head just a little to the right…
Aurora turned her head ever so slightly away from the window, her eyes turning toward Damon. The corner of her mouth turned upward as she caught sight of the look of concentration etched on his face as he worked. The scratching of pencil lead against paper eventually stopped, and Damon looked at his work with a satisfied smile.
Damon: Well, that’s the initial line work done. I can clean it up later.
He looked at the clock on the wall, curiously arching his eyebrow.
Damon: Isn’t Hannah supposed to be dropping by?
Aurora: She should have been here by now….
Before she could say another word, there was a knock at the door, which sent Damon walking in a brisk pace to answer it. He returned with NGW interviewer, Hannah Lacey. Aurora stood up as they approached, with Hannah eyeballing the ruined couch. Damon pulled a couple of chairs out, offering one to Hannah and the other to Aurora. He leaned on the back of Aurora’s chair as everyone cast their eyes upon the wrecked piece of furniture.
Hannah: Hmm… tornado?
Aurora and Damon exchanged glances, silently communicating between each other with a series of signals only they could understand. Chuckling, Aurora turned to Hannah.
Aurora: Yeah… something like that. Anyway, I take it my manager told you where to find me?
Hannah: That she did.
Hannah glanced back and forth between the Angelz of Chaos and Rebellion. Their body language suggested that they were far more comfortable with each other than the last time they spoke. It brought a smirk to the interviewer’s face.
Hannah: Well, things between the two of you have certainly progressed….
Aurora: Never mind that, Hannah. You’re not here to discuss my personal life. You’re here to discuss my match with Drake Hunter.
Hannah: Right. Aurora, this will be your first true taste of singles competition in NGW. How does preparing for a match like this differ from your last two matches?
Aurora cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at Hannah. A coy smile played across the face of the Angel of Rebellion as she slowly shook her head.
Aurora: You are a special kind of ignorant, aren’t you, Hannah? I should think that the difference is fairly obvious. I’m going from competing against half the damn roster – and yes, I’m exaggerating – to focusing on one individual opponent.
Singles matches can be a lot simpler, since there are fewer targets to worry about. But at the same time, your opponent could very well have the skills of a dozen wrestlers.
Hannah: You’re giving your opponent a lot of credit, it seems.
Aurora: Like hell I am! The way I see it, it doesn’t matter if there’s one man standing across the ring from me or if it’s a battle royal with ten men. Until the last drop of blood drains from my body, I’ll take the fight to anyone and everyone stupid enough to stand in my way. I came to NGW to become a champion, and I don’t give a flying fuck who I have to go through in order to get there.
Hannah: Even if it’s one of your fellow Angelz?
Aurora glanced over at Damon, then returned her gaze to Hannah, hitting her with a look that stung harder than a thousand knives.
Aurora: I’m sorry… did I stutter? I said I’d face anyone, INCLUDING a fellow Angel, if it came down to it. But I’m not facing a fellow Angel this time. I’m facing the self-proclaimed “Uncrowned Prince of NGW,” or the guy that thinks he’s the reason for the earth’s gravitational pull or some other conceited shit like that.
Hannah: Well, he IS ranked just ahead of you in the Unified division….
Aurora rolled her eyes, an exasperated groan spilling from her throat. The increasingly fierce expression on her face made Hannah shift uncomfortably in her seat.
Aurora: Yeah, for now. He sure as hell isn’t the Number One contender, so right there, that tells you he’s not the best in the business. Think about this; you don’t see me blathering on to anyone that will listen that I’ve never been pinned – how I’m undefeated in NGW. But why would I? I’ve given NGW just enough of a taste at what I can do to prove that I’m not just another chick with a big mouth. I’ve proven that I can back up what I say with what I can do in the ring. Drake Hunter? He came in, ran his mouth a couple of times, bragged about never being pinned. The man’s last match ended by way of a count out. Hardly anything worth bragging about, if you ask me.
Hannah: He still technically won the match.
To Aurora, it seemed as if Hannah was intentionally trying to stir up a hornet’s nest. And while Hannah’s line of questioning certainly was grating on Aurora’s one remaining good nerve, Aurora simply communicated her annoyance through her frigid aquamarine eyes.
Aurora: So what? The bottom line is that his last match ended because his opponent was nowhere to be found. I certainly wouldn’t call it a win. He failed to pin his opponent. So you tell me… which one of us TRULY has a reason to brag?
Hannah opened her mouth as if to speak, but Aurora cut her off by holding up her hand.
Aurora: On second thought, don’t answer that. The answer isn’t what you think it is, because the truth of the matter is that neither one of us has reason to brag until one of us has gold around their waist. Right now, my goal is to make sure I get there before he does.
Hannah: And just how do you plan on doing that?
Aurora: The same way I prepare for every match. I get in the gym… I bust my ass… I bleed, I sweat, I scream…
Damon cleared his throat, prompting a glare from Aurora. He smirked at his girlfriend as she settled against the back of the chair.
Damon: Sorry…
Aurora: As I was saying, I never give any less than 100% in that ring, and anyone that has stepped into the ring with me will attest to that fact. I certainly hope that come Vendetta, Drake Hunter is ready for a fight, because as soon as that bell rings, I will make sure that he learns that he’s nowhere near as great as he thinks he is.
Hannah: Well, I can’t fault you for being confident in your abilities. The problem is, Drake Hunter seems just as confident as you are, if not more so.
Aurora: Oh Hannah, you poor, simple girl. There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance. Drake Hunter is so far over the line he can’t even see it anymore. He’s like the jock in high school that thinks he’s God’s gift to… well, everything! But I’m going to take his little “gift” and shove it so far up his sphincter it’ll be tickling the back of his throat. I can’t wait to see the look on his face, when he’s flat on his back, wondering what the hell just happened. Maybe then, he’ll realize that no matter who you are, or how good you THINK you are, there will always be someone out there, somewhere… that’s better than you. And on Saturday, June 18, Drake Hunter is going to find out that that person…
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she glared hard at the young interviewer.
Aurora: … is ME! Let him come out and flap his gums about how “privileged” the world is that he even exists. Let him crow about how he and that little blonde twat he calls his girlfriend are the Prince and Princess of NGW. I’ve been around wrestling royalty… TRUE wrestling royalty… and it looks nothing like those two walking bags of shit. But hey, if he’s looking to get crowned, I’ll be more than happy to oblige… with my foot upside that tumescent dome he calls a head!
The tone in Aurora’s voice was icier than a glacier; her eyes even colder as she stared a hole through Hannah.
Aurora: I think we’re done here for the time being, Hannah. I’m sure you have a million things to do between now and Vendetta… as do we.
Aurora rose from her chair, walking toward the front door. She leaned against the wall beside the doorway with her arms crossed. The message was clear… time for Hannah to take her leave.
Damon: I’m sure you can see yourself out.
Hannah: Right. I’ll let you two go about your business. Good luck to you both at Vendetta.
Aurora: We’re Angelz, Hannah. We don’t need luck. As long as we keep our eyes on the prize, we’ll be just fine.
Hannah: And that prize would be…?
Aurora said nothing. She merely made a motion across her waist with her hands… as if visualizing a championship belt. A pair of devilish smiles played across the faces of Aurora and Damon as Hannah made her way out of the apartment.
As for Damon and I, we did exactly what we set out to do, and that’s destroy the competition in that Triple Threat Elimination tag match. First, we sent the Bubblegum Twins running for the hills… and then we took out the so-called veterans of the match. Never thought I’d get that much satisfaction out of hearing an old man scream as I made him tap out. As for KEG, I wonder how much of that kick actually registered in his alcohol-soaked brain.
The next leg of our trip takes us down to San Diego, a place where I’ve spent many holiday vacations as a child on my family’s sailboat. My father may have disavowed my existence, but when you’re the daughter of a locksmith, you learn a thing or two. And you ALWAYS make sure you have extra keys….
But before Damon and I – along with the rest of the Angelz – make our way down to the state’s southern gateway to Mexico, I have to take care of some loose ends. If all goes well, I should be five months away from freeing myself from that four-year mistake. But mistakes are to be learned from, of course, and I’ve learned what I DON’T want when it comes to relationships. The funny thing about relationships is that sometimes, it takes going through the deepest, hottest pits of hell before you find the one you’re supposed to be with. And I think I’ve found what I’m looking for, corny as it sounds….
Change is in the air for the Angelz. What that means for the rest of the world… well, that all depends.
Stay tuned….
Damon’s apartment
Inglewood, CA
June 5, 2016
Aurora felt strange sitting anywhere other than the front of her Harley, but the fact that it meant she could lean her body against that of Damon’s helped to make up for it. Her hands were wrapped tightly around his waist, her head resting against his denim-clad back. Their journey brought them to a rough-looking warehouse surrounded on the corner of two very well-worn streets. Damon cut the engine and Aurora stepped off as Damon tossed the keys back to her. He smiled as he popped the kickstand, staring at the red and black metal beast.
Damon: It’s been a while since I’ve ridden one of these. I’d almost forgotten how awesome it was to feel the wind in your face.
Aurora: You know, since I’ve had her, that’s the first time I’ve ever ridden in the back. Then again, you’re the first person other than me to ride her.
Damon: Well, then I’m even more honored. Now come on… we should get inside before the crazies come out.
A curious smirk played across her face as she looked around. At that moment, as the night sky blanketed the city in a deep, purplish-blue, they were the only two people standing there.
Aurora: The crazies?
Aurora tilted her head to the side slightly, her eyes narrowed in scrutiny.
Damon: During the day, it’s not that bad. But once the sun goes down, that’s when the real whackjobs come out. A lot of people get mugged around here by junkies looking for a quick score.
He ran a hand against the back of his head, a faux-nervous look in his eyes.
Damon: Thing is, I know you can handle yourself in a fight, and I’m not exactly looking forward to having to help clean up the mess once you turn them into pavement grease.
Aurora chuckled as they rounded the corner and headed toward a nondescript door beneath a single, flickering street light.
Aurora: You sure do know how to charm a girl, Puddin’.
Damon shook his head, laughing softly as he rummaged through his pocket for his keys. He then unlocked the door, opening on a narrow, poorly lit flight of stairs. Aurora eyed the path ahead with trepidation, but a reassuring hand on her shoulder, followed by a smile from Damon told her she was safe. They walked up the stairs to a dark, heavy wooden door. After unlocking the deadbolt, he turned to Aurora and sighed.
Damon: I’m gonna warn you right now… it’s nowhere near as swanky as your place is. Mostly guy stuff, plus some art and shit. Some of which is unfinished. But you won’t be tripping over everything.
Taking his denim jacket off, Damon opened the door, motioning for Aurora to enter first. The Angel of Rebellion stepped inside the massive, open space, its exposed brick walls serving as a gallery filled with paintings ranging from scantily clad women to a painting of a black dragon in flight, surrounded by fire. She stared at the painting, in awe at how lifelike it looked; as if at any second, the dragon could turn its head and spew a plume of flame at her.
Aurora: Damon, these paintings are unbelievable! I mean… I knew you could draw, but these paintings are just so… beautiful!
For once, it was Damon’s turn to blush as Aurora admired his artwork. She walked around the room, toward the corner where he kept his easel. She could tell there was a canvas mounted on it, but it was covered by a drop cloth.
Aurora: Is this another one of your paintings?
She went to lift the drop cloth to take a look at what lay hidden underneath, but Damon swooped in, gently grabbing her hand.
Damon: Whoa, whoa, whoa… I’d rather you not look at that. It’s not finished yet, and I don’t want anyone to see what it looks like until everything is absolutely perfect.
Aurora gazed into his emerald eyes and smiled.
Aurora: Fair enough. Just promise me I’ll be the first one to see it once it’s finished.
Damon: Now that, I’ll do. And when it’s finished, bricks will be shat. Anyway, I’d give you the grand tour, but this is pretty much it.
He stood with his arms outstretched, looking around the room, from the corner where Aurora stood, to the corner where his modest kitchen stood; an antique refrigerator humming softly. He glanced casually toward the humble mattress on the floor in the far corner of the room before gesturing toward the couch.
Damon: Well, make yourself comfortable, Harley. You want something to drink? I’ve got some organic soda… that is, if you don’t mind Mandarin Key Lime.
He smiled sheepishly at Aurora, who returned with a nod and a smile of her own.
Aurora: Sounds good. Oogave?
Damon: How’d you know?
Aurora: I’ve made the odd trip to Whole Foods on occasion, if for nothing else to…
Aurora & Damon: …sample all the cheeses.
Damon grabbed a couple of bottles of the aforementioned beverage and joined Aurora on the couch. He popped the caps off, handing one of them to his partner. As her hand clasped around the bottle, her fingers grazed against the tattooed flesh of Damon’s hand. It was enough to send a charge through her whole body. Goosebumps popped up like weeds on the surface of her skin as she bit her lower lip. She giggled softly as she raised the bottle to her lips. The sparkling liquid slid down her throat as she swallowed, then set the bottle down on a nearby table.
Aurora: I guess we’re a lot more alike than we realized. Alicia was right.
Damon: About us being a good team?
Aurora: I can’t believe I’m saying this, but she was right about everything….
Damon’s eyes suddenly lit up. He launched himself from the couch and made a beeline for the covered easel. He threw the drop cloth aside and ripped his shirt off with a fire in his eyes that Aurora had previously only seen in the ring. She watched, completely mesmerized as he squeezed some colors onto a palette and took a brush to the canvas. Periodically, he would glance at Aurora, studying the features of her face and giving her the occasional wink.
She listened to the sound of brush moving against canvas as Damon furiously went to work. Minutes flew by, with splatters of paint falling against Damon’s bare skin; specks of purple, pale yellow, black and pink dotted his flesh as he stood back with a satisfied look on his face.
Damon: There… it’s done!
He set the palette down, then walked over to the couch, holding out his hand. Aurora took his hand as he guided her to the easel, and the finished product…
Aurora was stunned into silence as she stared at the image before her. In her eyes, this painting was better than any photograph ever taken of her. She took a step back, her shoulder making contact with Damon’s chest. She looked up at him, her face still frozen in awe. He looked down into her eyes, and for that moment, everything around them ceased to exist.
Aurora: It’s beautiful…
Damon: I did most of it from memory. But having the real thing to focus on gave me the inspiration I needed to finish. I’m glad you like it, but it doesn’t even begin to do you justice….
He placed a hand on her cheek, his fingers vanishing into her long blonde hair as he slowly pulled her face closer to his own. This time, she didn’t pull away, letting their lips meet in a long, lingering kiss. After a few seconds, Damon pulled away, backing off as he looked at her, as if in shock as to what he just did.
Damon: I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that.
A genuine look of worry washed over him as he moved toward the couch, his hands resting on the arm of the couch as he hung his head, muttering to himself.
Damon: (whispering) Stupid son of a…
Aurora: Damon….
He turned around, a lost look in his eyes as Aurora walked up to him with a look he had never seen before. He arched his eyebrow as she put her hands on his chest, playfully shoving him over the arm of the couch and onto the cushions.
Damon: What the…?
He looked up at her, and the seductive, wild-eyed smile plastered on her face.
Aurora: This is one Harley that you don’t rev up unless you’re prepared to ride…
Before Damon could even say a word, Aurora pounced on him with such force that the couch shattered into pieces. The feet broke out from underneath, and the back completely separated from the seats. Completely lost in the moment, they never noticed the footsteps coming up the stairs, nor did they remember the fact that Damon had never closed the door…
Voice: Hello? Everything okay in here?
If the pair had heard the voice in the doorway, they chose to ignore it. A pair of heels clicked against the concrete floor as Aurora’s manager entered the room.
Alicia: I heard a crash, and when I saw that the door was open, I… oh.
Alicia made her way toward the busted couch, and saw perhaps a lot more than she bargained for. A silent gasp escaped her throat, and the resulting smile that formed on her face was such that she couldn’t have forced it away even if she wanted to.
Alicia: On second thought, I was never here….
She slowly backed up, careful to make as little noise as possible as she made her way back through the open door. Slowly, Alicia shut the door as quietly as she could. Once the door was closed, she pumped her arm and whispered with a huge, cat-that-ate-the-canary grin on her face….
Alicia: YES!
Still snickering from what she had just witnessed – even if it had been completely accidental, Alicia quickly made her way down the stairs.
A lone stool was set up in the corner of Damon Graves’ apartment, beneath a painting of the barrel of a smoking gun… so lifelike that you could almost feel the heat from the barrel. Through the window, the light from the building’s rooftop lighting fixtures cast a pale, bluish glow through the glass, illuminating the long, sleek leg of Aurora Knight as she sat on the stool, clad in a pair of black boy-leg panties and one of the vests Damon wears to the ring, which was held closed by a single button in the front. At the other end of the apartment, the sound of running water pattering against tile could be heard coming from the bathroom, with light shining from beneath the gap at the bottom of the door.
Aurora: Angelz…
Everyone has this image in their heads of throngs of white-winged celestial beings cloaked in robes as white as clouds, but is that truly what an angel is? I think not. You see, angels are more than just the mythical beings we see carved in stone or painted on the walls of church sanctuaries. They are messengers of a much higher power, and the Angelz of Destruction are exactly what we say we are… heralds of a new era; one where the Devlin Scotts of the world and their minions have no place.
They’ve already seen the destruction we’re capable of when we compete as a unit. Already, the Angelz of Chaos and Rebellion have cut down two tag teams, and sent one of those teams running home crying for Daddy. Good riddance. There’s no room in professional wrestling for kindergarteners like the Lee twins.
But I digress. It’s time I focused on some of the bigger fish in this bloody body of water known as New Generation Wrestling.
After a battle royal that saw me take on a whole host of new talent looking to gain a foothold in this company, and after the tag team match that established Damon Graves and myself as the future of the NGW Tag Team division, the brass has seen fit to provide me with the first TRUE test of my skills…
She lowered one leg from the stool to the ground, followed by the other one, as she stepped into the light coming through the window. The light reflected off of the left side of her face, making her left eye sparkle like a pale jewel as she smirked.
Aurora: The powers that be have placed a new target in my sights; a man that calls himself the Prince of NGW – the “Punk,” Drake Hunter. A man who has cast aside his family name as a means of distancing himself from his past.
The Angel of Rebellion scoffed at the mention of her newest opponent, her cheek twitching as her upper lip curled into a sneer.
Aurora: Oh, you’re a punk, alright. But the uncrowned “Prince of NGW?” Please! You can call yourself whatever the fuck you want; doesn’t make you look like any less of a jackass. In fact, I could argue the fact that by changing your name, ALEXANDER…
Aurora flashed a defiant smirk, her eyes half closed as she sat down on the window sill, propping her feet up. Through the glass, the muffled sound of police sirens whined by the building, the police lights flashing red and blue against the window frame before vanishing as quickly as they had arrived.
Aurora: Hmph… Come to think about it, if that were my given name, I’d want to change it, too. But that’s beside the point. Change your name, dye your hair, go around with a paper bag on your head for all I care; all you’re doing is running away from your past. And while you may be comfortable with that, to me, that makes you a coward. I’ve got issues in my past; hell, who doesn’t? But running from it doesn’t solve a damn thing, because all you’re going to be doing from here on out is looking over your shoulder, wondering when your past is going to catch up with you. Of course, as far as you’re concerned, your past is not my problem. Once Vendetta rolls around, however, I become YOUR problem.
I’m not the type to assign myself any labels that I haven’t already earned. I don’t hold to any pretense; what you see is what you get. And while I’m sure there are those that would look at me and see just another girl trying to be one of the boys, but ask around. In only my second match, I’ve taken the fight to a multiple-time champion, and I’m still standing. Am I infallible? Never said I was, but I sure as hell don’t make it easy on anyone.
Now, I’m sure that there are some that might argue the point that the opponents I’ve faced since I arrived in NGW were small potatoes compared to you, Drake. I mean, I made an arthritic old geezer tap out in the center of the ring. Where’s the challenge in that? To be brutally honest, he WAS no challenge. However, I relished in the sound of his old, feeble bones cracking as I held him in the Rebel Yell. To me, it sounded like a symphony of anguish and pain as he pounded on the mat, begging for release. But hey, is it my fault that they put someone in the ring that actually thought they could keep up with a pair of 22-year-olds in top physical condition? Hardly.
And then there was KEG, who I’m sure is probably still guzzling down beer to erase the embarrassment of being pinned by a girl practically half his size. Maybe if he hadn’t been six sheets to the wind, he might have stood more of a chance against me.
She shook her head, a lock of blonde hair falling from behind her ear and spilling onto her shoulder.
Aurora: But you’re different, aren’t you, Drake? You’re younger, faster, and in much better shape than any of the other clods I’ve faced so far. Or at least, that’s what you tell yourself, I’m sure. An arrogant little shit like yourself likely spends much of his waking hours inhaling his own funk as if it smelled like fine wine.
It’s just too bad that to the rest of the world, that “fine wine” smells worse than fetid, festering garbage on a hot summer day. And yeah, I know I’ve never been close enough to actually smell you – thank God – I’m just looking for something that sounded a little better than the tired old “guys like you that think their shit don’t stink” line. It’s horribly overused, wouldn’t you agree?
You know something? I’ve always liked walking into a wrestling promotion not really knowing anyone there. It means a fresh crop of faces to rip apart both physically and verbally, and there’s not a person on the face of the planet that deserves it more than you do. Hell, you’re so high on your own hype that you can’t go five seconds without saying “how great I am”.
She rolled her eyes as she let one foot fall from its perch on the window sill. The pad of her big toe ran against the surface of the floor as she stared out the window.
Aurora: In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not impressed in the slightest. I look at you, and all I see is some puffed up little fuckface that’s gotten WAY too big for his breeches and needs to be taken down a peg… or 20.
Sure, you’ve got a decent record so far. To be able to say you have never been pinned isn’t bad for someone that’s been around for, oh, three months. Of course, it means you’ve only averaged about one appearance per month, so your little streak isn’t as impressive as you’re making it out to be. Which begs the question. If you’re such a huge money draw, why haven’t the powers that be given you more airtime? Perhaps the bloom is off the rose, where you’re concerned, and they’re looking to throw in their lot with someone that would clearly look a hell of a lot better with a championship belt around their waist… mainly, me. Or maybe they’re just seeing how far they can push me. Well, in the latter case, they’re going to find themselves doing a whole lot of pushing.
She leaned her head back against the window frame, casting her eyes toward the ceiling for a moment as she pondered her last sentence.
Aurora: You know, that may not have come out quite right. Oh well; if it did, then so be it. It’s not my job to tell everyone else how to think. And while I know you like to tell everyone that every mouth in the world should be screaming your name all the way to the heavens and back, I’m here to tell you that I’m going to be screaming your name is when I’m screaming at you to tap out like the little bitch that you are. Don’t take me for some sort of pushover, Drake, because we all know what happened to the last idiot that was stupid enough to underestimate me. He ended up flat on his back… one, two, three.
At Vendetta, I hope you’re ready to be humbled, because I plan on sticking another mark in the loss column for you and knock your ass down the ladder. I hope you like the view from the bottom, punk.
The water stopped running, and the light in the bathroom had shut off as the latch of the bathroom door disengaged. Aurora rose up from the window sill, walking out of the light and into the shadow, until only her silhouette was visible. As she stood in the shadows, she removed the denim vest she had been wearing before the silhouette of Damon Graves came into the room….
Damon’s Apartment
June 6, 2016
2 am
They stood beside the open window, looking out at the night sky. Damon remained shirtless, but Aurora had slipped into one of his black tank tops, her hair damp from a recent shower. The deep cuts of the armholes exposed much of the flesh of her torso, and had it not been for Damon’s arms wrapped around her, would have been a wardrobe malfunction waiting to happen. His chin rested on the top of her head as she held onto his forearms.
Damon: So, I guess I know where I stand now…
Aurora looked up at him, smiling at the curious look in his eyes. She rested her head against his chest, giggling as she traced the koi fish tattooed on Damon’s left forearm.
Aurora: Well, considering that I’m calling you “Puddin’” instead of “Hey, Dickface!”
She smirked as Damon chuckled into her hair. A few flaxen strands managed to catch onto the stubble of his chin, falling free before she could notice.
Damon: You know what I mean, Harley…
Aurora: Of course I do, silly! But think about it… I wouldn’t have let you call me anything other than my first name if I didn’t think of us like that. Besides, everyone else already thinks we’re a couple anyway. We might as well give them a reason to talk.
Damon: Since when did you give a fuck about what other people say?
Aurora: You’re right… I don’t give a fuck. The only opinions that matter to me are yours and the rest of the Angelz.
He buried his face into the crown of her flowing blonde hair. The scent of his own shampoo felt odd coming from a woman, but for once, he didn’t care.
Damon: You know what they’re gonna say about this, right?
Aurora let out a sigh, as she visualized the smug grin on her manager’s face once she got wind of their news. The thought elicited a light giggle from the Angel of Rebellion.
Aurora: Well, I know what Alicia’s going to say…
Aurora & Damon: About damn time!
The pair laughed as Damon tightened his grip on her as a cold breeze blew past them.
Damon: Come on… the air’s getting cold. I wouldn’t want you to freeze on me.
Aurora: Though I’m sure you’d have no problems warming me back up.
Aurora winked as Damon released his grip on her, but she grabbed onto his hand as they stepped away from the window. Damon pulled the window shut, and the pair turned their attention to Damon’s now-ruined couch. He ran his free hand through his hair, chuckling at the sight of the wreckage. All four feet had broken off, scattered in all directions. The rest of the couch had been completely flattened, with splintered wood ripping through the fabric of the backrest and arms. The only things that managed to survive were the cushions, which suffered little more than a few tears in the fabric.
Aurora: Sorry about your couch.
A penitent look took hold of Aurora’s face as she looked at Damon. He brushed a hand against her cheek, smiling at her in an attempt to put her at ease.
Damon: Meh. It was old as fuck, anyway; I’d been meaning to replace it for a while, now. If anything, you put it out of its misery. Trust me; you did me a favor by breaking the thing. Now it’ll be much easier to haul it out to the dumpster. Maybe I'll just buy a bunch of big-ass pillows to replace it or something. Less chance of you wrecking them that way.
Indignant, Aurora gently smacked Damon in the shoulder, then smiled as he feigned injury.
Aurora: You’re such an ass, Damon!
Damon: Admit it… you wouldn’t have me any other way.
Aurora: I didn’t say I was complaining… cocky motherfucker.
She turned to him and winked as she stood in front of him, her toes resting gently on top of his. With an impish grin on her face, she looked up into his eyes.
Damon: Uh-oh… that look can only mean trouble….
She giggled, shaking her head.
Aurora: Well, I do have a little bit of a confession to make.
Damon: Oh really now? And just what might that be?
She pursed her lips a little bit, glancing down at the floor beside them.
Aurora: It’s about that bet we made a couple weeks ago.
Damon: What about it? Don’t tell me you threw those races on purpose…
She shook her head.
Aurora: Not the first one. That time, you beat me fair and square. The second race – the one I wagered double or nothing – I may or may not have deliberately crashed myself into a wall or… three.
Damon put his hands on her shoulders, leaning back until he was at arm’s reach. His eyebrow arched as he just stood there, staring at her. And then, he started to laugh. Aurora stepped back with her hands on her hips, scoffing at him.
Aurora: What’s so funny!?
Damon: I didn’t say anything, but I could tell. You see, I could see you out of the corner of my eye. During that first race, I could see the tip of your tongue sticking out of the corner of your mouth. You didn’t do that the second time around.
Aurora laughed as she gave him a light shove.
Aurora: Again… You’re an ass!
She smiled playfully as Damon scooped her up into his arms. He carried her over to his bed, carefully setting her down on top of his dark red sheets. Just as he moved in to join her, his phone went off. Damon hung his head, a groan of annoyance as he reached for it. He looked at the display to show a response to a tweet he sent out earlier in the night.
Damon: Motherfucker just had to have the last word…
Grumbling under his breath, he started to type out a response, only to have Aurora grab the phone from his hand.
Damon: What the actual fuck?
Aurora: Oh, no you don’t, mister! Bad enough you had me tagged in that shit and kept me from getting to sleep. No more feeding the troll!
Damon reached toward Aurora’s hand in an effort to retrieve his phone, only for her to throw it across the room. It landed on the cushions of the busted couch. As Damon moved to go after it, Aurora grabbed him by the waistband of his shorts and pulled him back to bed.
Damon: Damn, you play rough!
Aurora: And you wouldn’t have it any other way….
June 6, 2016
9:30 am
The morning once again saw Aurora – still clad in the black tank top – sitting beside the window, looking out over the roof with one knee hovering near the floor. Well, it was less looking out the window and more posing, as Damon sat on a chair, his sketchbook in one hand, a pencil in the other.
Damon: I need you to turn your head just a little to the right…
Aurora turned her head ever so slightly away from the window, her eyes turning toward Damon. The corner of her mouth turned upward as she caught sight of the look of concentration etched on his face as he worked. The scratching of pencil lead against paper eventually stopped, and Damon looked at his work with a satisfied smile.
Damon: Well, that’s the initial line work done. I can clean it up later.
He looked at the clock on the wall, curiously arching his eyebrow.
Damon: Isn’t Hannah supposed to be dropping by?
Aurora: She should have been here by now….
Before she could say another word, there was a knock at the door, which sent Damon walking in a brisk pace to answer it. He returned with NGW interviewer, Hannah Lacey. Aurora stood up as they approached, with Hannah eyeballing the ruined couch. Damon pulled a couple of chairs out, offering one to Hannah and the other to Aurora. He leaned on the back of Aurora’s chair as everyone cast their eyes upon the wrecked piece of furniture.
Hannah: Hmm… tornado?
Aurora and Damon exchanged glances, silently communicating between each other with a series of signals only they could understand. Chuckling, Aurora turned to Hannah.
Aurora: Yeah… something like that. Anyway, I take it my manager told you where to find me?
Hannah: That she did.
Hannah glanced back and forth between the Angelz of Chaos and Rebellion. Their body language suggested that they were far more comfortable with each other than the last time they spoke. It brought a smirk to the interviewer’s face.
Hannah: Well, things between the two of you have certainly progressed….
Aurora: Never mind that, Hannah. You’re not here to discuss my personal life. You’re here to discuss my match with Drake Hunter.
Hannah: Right. Aurora, this will be your first true taste of singles competition in NGW. How does preparing for a match like this differ from your last two matches?
Aurora cocked her head to the side, narrowing her eyes at Hannah. A coy smile played across the face of the Angel of Rebellion as she slowly shook her head.
Aurora: You are a special kind of ignorant, aren’t you, Hannah? I should think that the difference is fairly obvious. I’m going from competing against half the damn roster – and yes, I’m exaggerating – to focusing on one individual opponent.
Singles matches can be a lot simpler, since there are fewer targets to worry about. But at the same time, your opponent could very well have the skills of a dozen wrestlers.
Hannah: You’re giving your opponent a lot of credit, it seems.
Aurora: Like hell I am! The way I see it, it doesn’t matter if there’s one man standing across the ring from me or if it’s a battle royal with ten men. Until the last drop of blood drains from my body, I’ll take the fight to anyone and everyone stupid enough to stand in my way. I came to NGW to become a champion, and I don’t give a flying fuck who I have to go through in order to get there.
Hannah: Even if it’s one of your fellow Angelz?
Aurora glanced over at Damon, then returned her gaze to Hannah, hitting her with a look that stung harder than a thousand knives.
Aurora: I’m sorry… did I stutter? I said I’d face anyone, INCLUDING a fellow Angel, if it came down to it. But I’m not facing a fellow Angel this time. I’m facing the self-proclaimed “Uncrowned Prince of NGW,” or the guy that thinks he’s the reason for the earth’s gravitational pull or some other conceited shit like that.
Hannah: Well, he IS ranked just ahead of you in the Unified division….
Aurora rolled her eyes, an exasperated groan spilling from her throat. The increasingly fierce expression on her face made Hannah shift uncomfortably in her seat.
Aurora: Yeah, for now. He sure as hell isn’t the Number One contender, so right there, that tells you he’s not the best in the business. Think about this; you don’t see me blathering on to anyone that will listen that I’ve never been pinned – how I’m undefeated in NGW. But why would I? I’ve given NGW just enough of a taste at what I can do to prove that I’m not just another chick with a big mouth. I’ve proven that I can back up what I say with what I can do in the ring. Drake Hunter? He came in, ran his mouth a couple of times, bragged about never being pinned. The man’s last match ended by way of a count out. Hardly anything worth bragging about, if you ask me.
Hannah: He still technically won the match.
To Aurora, it seemed as if Hannah was intentionally trying to stir up a hornet’s nest. And while Hannah’s line of questioning certainly was grating on Aurora’s one remaining good nerve, Aurora simply communicated her annoyance through her frigid aquamarine eyes.
Aurora: So what? The bottom line is that his last match ended because his opponent was nowhere to be found. I certainly wouldn’t call it a win. He failed to pin his opponent. So you tell me… which one of us TRULY has a reason to brag?
Hannah opened her mouth as if to speak, but Aurora cut her off by holding up her hand.
Aurora: On second thought, don’t answer that. The answer isn’t what you think it is, because the truth of the matter is that neither one of us has reason to brag until one of us has gold around their waist. Right now, my goal is to make sure I get there before he does.
Hannah: And just how do you plan on doing that?
Aurora: The same way I prepare for every match. I get in the gym… I bust my ass… I bleed, I sweat, I scream…
Damon cleared his throat, prompting a glare from Aurora. He smirked at his girlfriend as she settled against the back of the chair.
Damon: Sorry…
Aurora: As I was saying, I never give any less than 100% in that ring, and anyone that has stepped into the ring with me will attest to that fact. I certainly hope that come Vendetta, Drake Hunter is ready for a fight, because as soon as that bell rings, I will make sure that he learns that he’s nowhere near as great as he thinks he is.
Hannah: Well, I can’t fault you for being confident in your abilities. The problem is, Drake Hunter seems just as confident as you are, if not more so.
Aurora: Oh Hannah, you poor, simple girl. There’s a fine line between confidence and arrogance. Drake Hunter is so far over the line he can’t even see it anymore. He’s like the jock in high school that thinks he’s God’s gift to… well, everything! But I’m going to take his little “gift” and shove it so far up his sphincter it’ll be tickling the back of his throat. I can’t wait to see the look on his face, when he’s flat on his back, wondering what the hell just happened. Maybe then, he’ll realize that no matter who you are, or how good you THINK you are, there will always be someone out there, somewhere… that’s better than you. And on Saturday, June 18, Drake Hunter is going to find out that that person…
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees as she glared hard at the young interviewer.
Aurora: … is ME! Let him come out and flap his gums about how “privileged” the world is that he even exists. Let him crow about how he and that little blonde twat he calls his girlfriend are the Prince and Princess of NGW. I’ve been around wrestling royalty… TRUE wrestling royalty… and it looks nothing like those two walking bags of shit. But hey, if he’s looking to get crowned, I’ll be more than happy to oblige… with my foot upside that tumescent dome he calls a head!
The tone in Aurora’s voice was icier than a glacier; her eyes even colder as she stared a hole through Hannah.
Aurora: I think we’re done here for the time being, Hannah. I’m sure you have a million things to do between now and Vendetta… as do we.
Aurora rose from her chair, walking toward the front door. She leaned against the wall beside the doorway with her arms crossed. The message was clear… time for Hannah to take her leave.
Damon: I’m sure you can see yourself out.
Hannah: Right. I’ll let you two go about your business. Good luck to you both at Vendetta.
Aurora: We’re Angelz, Hannah. We don’t need luck. As long as we keep our eyes on the prize, we’ll be just fine.
Hannah: And that prize would be…?
Aurora said nothing. She merely made a motion across her waist with her hands… as if visualizing a championship belt. A pair of devilish smiles played across the faces of Aurora and Damon as Hannah made her way out of the apartment.