Post by Magdalena Lockheart on Dec 6, 2021 21:37:50 GMT -5
UGWC Synergy - Backstage
November 29th
"What kinda soft-ass, two-thousand twenty-one era shit is this?!"
A door slammed so hard that it tremors on its hinges and bounces back instead of latching. Feverish pacing that would leave grooves in the floorwax. Her hands gripping the sides of her head so tight that she feels like she might explode. Her fingertips digging at her temples...
"I'm sorry... I-I... I'm just following protocol. Your health and well-"
"Protocol? Pssh... cut the crap JK!" She screamed. "We go out there and we put our bodies on the line every fucking week! No one ever gave a rat's ass about how we felt before... psshhtt... pull me due to 'mental health' concerns? That's insulting to everyone and anyone who has ever stepped foot in that ring-"
"Look, there's been a lot of wrestlers that have come forward about their, uhh, not-so-physical struggles lately. There's literally nothing for you to be ashamed of to admit the truth..."
"It's insulting my intelligence, Jordan," she said as she pointed a finger directly into his chest. "This had Ichabod written all over it and you fell for it!"
"Me?" King took a step back and pointed at himself. "I fell for it? Okay, Mags. Whatever you say."
Magdalena Lockheart nodded her head as she continued to pace about the medical suite. The footfalls of her boots, thunderous. Her ring gear, much like her hair, completely untouched. Yet Lockheart was still beginning to sweat all the same.
"...and what's that supposed to mean?" Her hands, wild and trembling. She turned on a dime. Other trainers could more than sense the frustration that had been mounting like pressure in the air of the room. Many took to the exit leaving King alone to deal with her.
"Look at yourself... I mean right now, just look at you. You're a mess."
The head trainer, a former competitor in his own right, wasn't as intimidated as his fellow staff.
"What's your business with Ichy anyway? What's your goal here? Huh? What's the endgame lassie?"
"You should know by now what the endgame is."
"Maybe I don't," King replied, in his rich austrailian accent, "Maybe I've been far too concerned with the way you've been acting as of late... and the tweets I've been seeing lately."
"Tweets? The hell are you talking about?"
"Uhh, lets see here, the one where you're begging Ichy to end your career, and perhaps your life?" Jordan tosses his arms up in the air. "That's not a big red flag... like at all."
Maggie rolled her eyes.
"Oh, and the whole thing with Lucy... 'stop me or I'm going to literally choke the life out of you'-"
"Come on, did you honestly think that I was going to kill Lucy Wylde?"
"Yes!" JK spat back with emphasis. "You forget that I was there, I was the first one to see the carnage after the match and you both damn sure look like you tried at the very least."
Lockheart pointed her finger at him again.
"I tried to make it believable because that's what Lucy needed."
"Bloody rubbish."
"You don't believe me?"
King turned toward her, not backing down at all.
"You know what I think? I think you're both taking this 'Jenova' bit a little far for my taste... but at least Lucy can handle it."
"What did you say?"
Her eyes lit up like a bonfire, eyelids drawn back as far as her will could pull them.
"Look at her and look at you," King reiterated, "She might go off the deep end a bit but at least she has support."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"When's the last time you been home, Maggie? Hmm?" JK pointed toward the exit. "And how do your ribs feel by the way... I bet you've been taking great care of them..."
"Screw you." Maggie huffed.
"Screw me, huh?" King chuckled. "Lass, I'm about the last person that truly gives a damn about'chu. But ya only see one end to this and you're pushing everyone away to get it."
"Oh, I see only one end, huh?" Lockheart laughs back, sardonically. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, that I was trying to goad Ichabod into a match? Huh? Huh?"
She slammed her closed fist down on a nearby examination table.
"I've got nothing to offer him... nothing to make him want to fight me."
"And why do you of all people want to fight him so badly, huh?" King spouted. "What's ol' Choady ever done to you?"
November 29th
"What kinda soft-ass, two-thousand twenty-one era shit is this?!"
A door slammed so hard that it tremors on its hinges and bounces back instead of latching. Feverish pacing that would leave grooves in the floorwax. Her hands gripping the sides of her head so tight that she feels like she might explode. Her fingertips digging at her temples...
"I'm sorry... I-I... I'm just following protocol. Your health and well-"
"Protocol? Pssh... cut the crap JK!" She screamed. "We go out there and we put our bodies on the line every fucking week! No one ever gave a rat's ass about how we felt before... psshhtt... pull me due to 'mental health' concerns? That's insulting to everyone and anyone who has ever stepped foot in that ring-"
"Look, there's been a lot of wrestlers that have come forward about their, uhh, not-so-physical struggles lately. There's literally nothing for you to be ashamed of to admit the truth..."
"It's insulting my intelligence, Jordan," she said as she pointed a finger directly into his chest. "This had Ichabod written all over it and you fell for it!"
"Me?" King took a step back and pointed at himself. "I fell for it? Okay, Mags. Whatever you say."
Magdalena Lockheart nodded her head as she continued to pace about the medical suite. The footfalls of her boots, thunderous. Her ring gear, much like her hair, completely untouched. Yet Lockheart was still beginning to sweat all the same.
"...and what's that supposed to mean?" Her hands, wild and trembling. She turned on a dime. Other trainers could more than sense the frustration that had been mounting like pressure in the air of the room. Many took to the exit leaving King alone to deal with her.
"Look at yourself... I mean right now, just look at you. You're a mess."
The head trainer, a former competitor in his own right, wasn't as intimidated as his fellow staff.
"What's your business with Ichy anyway? What's your goal here? Huh? What's the endgame lassie?"
"You should know by now what the endgame is."
"Maybe I don't," King replied, in his rich austrailian accent, "Maybe I've been far too concerned with the way you've been acting as of late... and the tweets I've been seeing lately."
"Tweets? The hell are you talking about?"
"Uhh, lets see here, the one where you're begging Ichy to end your career, and perhaps your life?" Jordan tosses his arms up in the air. "That's not a big red flag... like at all."
Maggie rolled her eyes.
"Oh, and the whole thing with Lucy... 'stop me or I'm going to literally choke the life out of you'-"
"Come on, did you honestly think that I was going to kill Lucy Wylde?"
"Yes!" JK spat back with emphasis. "You forget that I was there, I was the first one to see the carnage after the match and you both damn sure look like you tried at the very least."
Lockheart pointed her finger at him again.
"I tried to make it believable because that's what Lucy needed."
"Bloody rubbish."
"You don't believe me?"
King turned toward her, not backing down at all.
"You know what I think? I think you're both taking this 'Jenova' bit a little far for my taste... but at least Lucy can handle it."
"What did you say?"
Her eyes lit up like a bonfire, eyelids drawn back as far as her will could pull them.
"Look at her and look at you," King reiterated, "She might go off the deep end a bit but at least she has support."
"And what's that supposed to mean?"
"When's the last time you been home, Maggie? Hmm?" JK pointed toward the exit. "And how do your ribs feel by the way... I bet you've been taking great care of them..."
"Screw you." Maggie huffed.
"Screw me, huh?" King chuckled. "Lass, I'm about the last person that truly gives a damn about'chu. But ya only see one end to this and you're pushing everyone away to get it."
"Oh, I see only one end, huh?" Lockheart laughs back, sardonically. "Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, that I was trying to goad Ichabod into a match? Huh? Huh?"
She slammed her closed fist down on a nearby examination table.
"I've got nothing to offer him... nothing to make him want to fight me."
"And why do you of all people want to fight him so badly, huh?" King spouted. "What's ol' Choady ever done to you?"
To be continued...
