Slayter McKinney vs. Kordellia Amida

[Team Desire]

Slayter McKinney vs. Kordellia Amida 
 
 
 
1 RP Limit for singles matches; 2 RP limit for tag;
Deadline: Noon ET Tuesday, September 4, 2018

[Slayter]

Episode 2

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Sacrifices

“Let’s talk about sacrifice.”

She much prefers the locker room to the bright lights of a studio for her promos. Of course, she’d prefer the bright lights of any ring to either, but that’ll come. It’s like foreplay before sex. The two-step before the waltz. Under the dimmed, buzzing halogen bulbs, Slayter McKinney sits once more on a typical locker room bench in repose.

“Coming into this match against you, Kordelia, on social media I had people warning me. Cautioning me that you’re one of the craziest, possibly the most dangerous competitors in SCW. They tell me there’s no line you won’t cross, that you’ve tried to eat faces. I don’t take any warnings lightly, but I also don’t scare easily. I’ve not entered SCW expecting a walk in a park. As I’ve said, I’ve had to give up a lot to be here, and I’ll give up even more to excel here.”

She watched her thumbs graze gently along the skin of her hands, in slow circles massaging the inside of her palms, and the backs of her hands. Her eyes drift up to meet the viewer.

“Do you know what sacrifice means, Kordy? When you rise up yet again after I hit you with the strongest blows I can muster, will you be willing to lay every single ounce of strength you have to do the same to me? And, more importantly, are you so certain that I won’t have that one extra bit of drive left in me that you don’t have when all is said and done to go that last extra mile to make sure you’re put down for the three count once and for all?

I have sacrificed everything to be here, Kordelia Amida. I will not stop sacrificing everything to climb to the top of this mountain, to the very peak and pinnacle of Supreme Championship Wrestling. In the end, against a woman they tell me is crazy, I’m willing to get even crazier to get to where I want to be.”

“You promised you’d take him,” Sleater, (read: Slayter McKinney, we’ve been over this but it never hurts to remember,) hushed her exasperation over the cell phone, shielding the sound of her voice in the quaint kitchen. She listened with increasing urgency to the voice on the other end of phone line telling her of yet another reason why he would be unable to fulfill custody duties for his son, their son, for this week.


“I need this, John. You promised.” She could feel Dylan and Shannon Coswell, the boys oft-attendant listening to her in the other room in spite of her best efforts to keep this conversation private.

“Well, no, actually, it’s a wrestling match,You knew about it!” she scolded, and grew ever more tense as the conversation heated up. “Yes. -- For SCW. -- You’re damn right I am! I have EARNED this, John. -- Excuse you?! Well, where were you when--” She was half-shouting now before the frustration compelled her to hit END on the phone before she said anything further, knowing full well that this wasn’t a conversation for her and the father of her child alone.

Sleater gripped the bridge of her nose tightly to stave off an impending headache and wracked her brain. Eventually, she glanced up to see Shannon standing in the doorway staring at her with pregnant pause.

“He’s such a shit,” Sleater said finally, choking back desperate tears. “He knows how badly I want this.”

“He’s got other plans?” Shannon asked, not sounding surprised. Her thoughts had drifted to the little boy in the other room who had to hear his mother struggling to deal with the realities of being a single working mom who just so happened to have travelling as a cornerstone of her chosen profession.

“Yeah,” Sleater said already looking for a plan B. Like a bolt of eureka, her fingers flipped through her phone contacts. “He’s such a shit, but I’m not licked yet.” She said before readying another call.

Shannon crossed her arms and leaned on the door frame, halfway in and out of the kitchen regarding her friend with a mixture of pity and annoyance. The call rang. And rang before reaching voicemail. Sleater looked frustrated and left a quick message.

“Hi, Kayley, it’s Sleater,” she began to pace in a tight circle on the kitchen floor. Shannon watched, bemused, and unsympathetic. “Listen! I’m sorry this is so last minute, but I’ve got to get out of town for a few days, and there’s no one available to watch Dylan and I guess I was wondering if, maybe, you could watch him for a few days? Just a few. You can have him over there, or… or, I don’t know! Call me back when you get this either/or, yeah? Thanks. Bye.” She looked defeated and pressed END, immediately looking to Shannon for sympathy.

“Damn him!” She slumped in a pouty huff against the countertop. “He knows how much this means to me!”

“Delinquent dad not doing what he should?” Shannon stated dryly.

“Yeah,” Sleater hung her head, glad someone empathized.

“How dare he put something before his own son, eh?” Sleater nodded, happy to have backup like Shannon right about now.

“He’s just so consistently inconsistent, you know? Always finding a reason not to be here for Dylan. Always putting something first.” She shook her head. “God, I hate him.”
“Good thing you’re here to set an example.” Shannon stated, sounding as cross as she felt. It took Sleater a moment to pick up on it before she straightened and eyed Shannon curiously.

“What does that mean?”

“You knew about my trip weeks ago, Sleater. You knew about your booking well in advance, you practically demanded it on the last episode of Breakdown.”

“John was supposed to come through for me, Shannon. I can’t cancel the booking now. It’ll set me back with the company. This match is huge. The biggest of my career.”

“They’ve all been huge, so far, to hear you tell it, Slay,” Shannon shook her head and averted her gaze. This wasn’t a hill she felt like dying on, and stopped herself from saying the flood of thoughts she wanted very badly to share. Sleater hadn’t fully connected the dots Shannon was pointing to, anyway.

“I know you’re going out of town, Shan, but do you think maybe you can bring Dylan with you?”

Shannon blinked softly at her friend, so calloused and oblivious to the irony of what she was asking -- her putting something before Dylan, yet again. The boy noticed, and she was the one he told. Sleater looked ready to weep.

“It’s just for a day or two for the trip, and maybe the night after the match and then I’ll meet you.” Shannon sighed silently, her eyes never wavering from her friend’s persistently pleading gaze.

“All right,” she responded, eventually.

“Thank you,” Sleater said warmly and embraced her as tightly as she could. “What would I do without you?” She asked into the silence of her friend slowly returning her embrace. And then Sleater slipped into the living room to greet her son warmly.

“Great news! Shannon’s taking you on her trip with her!” Shannon thought of the extra expense of the plane ticket for the child that was quickly beginning to feel more like hers than Sleater’s. She felt the irate ramblings racking up in her mind that Sleater seemed to be sacrificing any and everything to chase this long lost career. She wanted to tear into her for pretty well doing the exact same thing her ex, John, was doing.

But she didn't. She stepped into the living room behind Sleater and looked to the 8 year old, who’s eyes shifted from his mother’s, to hers, knowingly with a hint of disappointment.

“One day, somewhere down the road, someone will be booked against me, and they’ll have to warn this person the same as I have been warned about you, Kordelia.” Her eyes had once more drawn to the floor to consider her words carefully.


“One day. But this day? This match? This match is one more stone along the path I’m walking to get to where I need to be. One brick in the wall of a career many will come up against in the future and stare at in awe, and fear, and trembling.”

She had to stop herself, her eyes lighting up with all the hopes and aspirations she was hanging on her words, and this match, forcing herself inwardly to temper her expectations.

She could lose to Kordelia. The thought shot a moment’s worth of panic into her eyes, before she fought it back, and once more looked into the camera.

“My toughest challenge to date, and I find myself at peace with whatever may come, Kordelia. I’m ready for whatever you bring to bear against me at Breakdown.

I know that there’s no way to prepare for your degree of surprises, but that’s what I’m prepared for. Sounds silly, doesn’t it? To prepare for the surprises, the unexpected.

I tell you I have run all the drills, done all the warm-ups, and training I can put my body through. I have trained my body to react to just about every conceivable situation I could possibly find myself in that ring, leaving the only thing no one could possibly prepare for: the unexpected surprises of Kordelia Amida.

I have spent countless hours in the gym, hitting the pavement every morning to jog listening to replay audio commentary of your past matches, and all I can say is: Bring it.

Whatever you’ve got, whatever incredibly terrifying feat of power; whatever mystifying feat you come at me with: Bring. It.

Don’t hold back.

Cause I won’t.” She shot a serious look to the viewer.

“Prepare to be as surprised by me, as I’m preparing to be with you, Kordy, if you’re capable of it. I’m not expecting a walk in the park. But neither should you be. I’m expecting absolute hell, and I’m prepared to walk through whatever hell you hope to unleash in order to finally step over you and raise my hand in victory at the sound of the bell.

There's no end to the sacrifices I am willing to make.

You better be prepared to do what I’m prepared to do to win this match, Kordy.

At the end of it all, the question you need to be able to answer as I have is: what are you willing to sacrifice?”

One last glare of finality to the viewer, before the scene fades.