Post by Duane on Apr 18, 2022 16:38:32 GMT -5
Columbia, South Carolina
April 9, 2022, 10:41 a.m.
It had been a rather hectic five months since Angelina Witt had been under the Nocturne mask. After running out of Texas on the heels of their draconian abortion bill being passed into law, she had picked up odd wrestling gigs along the Gulf Coast, including a two-month stint in an Alabama promotion that needed someone to fill in a tag position to continue the promotion’s biggest storyline while the regular member was sidelined with COVID. The turning of spring saw her making her way up the Atlantic coast, with a few stops in Florida and a couple in Georgia before a jaunt to South Carolina. Money was a bit tight—then again, name a full-time wrestler still early in their career where that wasn’t true, and you’d be naming a breakout star—but for Angelina, she wasn’t complaining. She was getting to live her dream after all. What were a few nights spent sleeping in her car to her?
She was just glad that the traffic wasn’t too terrible at this point of the morning. Leaving here the following morning would see her wanting to get onto the interstate as soon as she could, to avoid the massive flux of people heading to church. She’d heard what happened to the last woman to don the Nocturne garb up in Indiana, and didn’t really want a repeat happening to her. Besides, they never book Nocturne two shows running. I shouldn’t have to worry about them any time soon, especially if they’re up there right now.
In addition, she had other things on her mind as Avenged Sevenfold blasted from the vehicle’s speakers. Once she had done her one-off here in Columbia, she would be heading towards Nashville. Music City Pro Wrestling’s promoter had been in attendance for some of her two-month stint in Alabama, and had offered her a tryout for a full-time roster spot. She would be there on the 13th, and depending on the fallout, she might be able to settle down for the time being and work on establishing her career beyond being just a fill-in or one-shot appearances. Though for the right price, and exposure, she’d make appearances elsewhere.
It was as that thought crossed her head that A7X faded into a generic ringtone. And speak of the devil, she mused to herself as she connected the call to her in-vehicle Bluetooth, waiting a second for it to connect. ”Angelina.”
”Hi there, stranger! How’s the south treating you?”
”Now that I’m out of Texas, no complaints. Been keeping busy, have a stop in Columbia tonight and then heading west a little. Might have a more permanent gig lined up in Nashville.”
”Any chance I could convince you to make a stop in Greensboro in a couple of weeks?”
”Normally I’d say no but for you, I’ll make an exception.” Angelina chuckled for a moment. ”Should I presume it’s a new signing again?”
This time there was a slight hesitation on Amelia’s end. ”What makes you say that?”
”Simple observation. Nocturne’s either booked against a new signing so we can showcase their talents, or folks who have a lot going on and need an easy win, like Ahmya last show. So which is it this time?”
”You’re too damn smart for my own good here, Angelina. It’s a new signing, Desmond Knight.”
”I have half a mind to tell you ‘no’ right now and be done with it, Amelia. I’ve seen some of his work online. This is a big ask.”
”I know. My only other option right now is Amanda and she doesn’t want to leave the west coast because of her mother. All the rest are otherwise booked and I would like to keep the various Nocturnes to specific regions for the ease of arranging shows around prior bookings.”
”So why don’t you do it?”
There was a noted hesitation before Amelia answered. ”Because I made a promise that my days in front of the cameras were done when Melody came into my life. I can’t let her be sent back to Denver and their farce of a foster care system, Angelina, because I went into the ring and got manhandled, and some case worker watching the show recognized me. I can’t do that to her.”
”I see. Fine. I’ll do it, Amelia. I might not like it, given what awaits me in Nashville, but I’ll do it this once.”
”Thank you, Angelina. I owe you dinner the next time I’m in the vicinity.”
”Probably a little more than that, but it’ll do,” Angelina quipped back instantly.
”Fair enough.”
The next ten minutes were spent in small talk, avoiding the wrestling business altogether, and eventually the call ended as Angelina got to the building she was scheduled to work in that night. Any further thought of what was to come could wait. There was the here and now to get through first.
One day at a time, as it was, as it always would be.
~~ ** ~~ ** ~~ ** ~~
Red Roof Inn
Nashville, Tennessee
April 15, 2022, 6:41 p.m.
For about the third time in as many days, Angelina seriously debated just telling Amelia she wanted out of this match. And it wasn’t a personal opinion, either. She had watched what she could find, and to a one they screamed that this guy didn’t respect the sport. Keeping your opponents safe obviously didn’t exist in his vocabulary given his history of injuring opponents, and there was a noted size difference between herself and Knight. This screamed “have a living will ready, you may need it after this match.”
She could feel her late lunch sitting heavy in her stomach as she weighed the pros and cons one more time. There was that fresh one-year deal burning a hole in her figurative pocket that she didn’t want to risk. On the flip side was her word as a professional, something that would stand throughout her career as long as she didn’t sully it up. It was that, how she was raised, and Will Prydor’s insistence on being professional at all times that led her to finally committing full-bore to the match.
Though she was sure to mention to Amelia that next time she wanted double pay for such hazardous work, with a smiley emoji at the end of the message. Amelia’s reply back was simply a woman shrugging her shoulders and then “so the signing bonus I provided wasn’t good enough? Damn. I need to work on my business acumen, lol.” Each knew the other was joking, but Angelina would find out the following morning that Nocturne’s appearance fee was already in her account along with an additional deposit from “The Nocturne Collective” for the same amount, making her wonder if Amelia took her too literally through all of this.
She’d also been on the phone with Lisa Macdonald, who had donned the mask for the Brandon Hendrix event, to get some insight on what she should expect given Lisa’s experiences in the ring. It was Lisa who gave her the biggest piece of advice she could have ever asked for with this behemoth of a man waiting in the opposite corner. ”If all else fails, run. Take the countout, since we’re there to lose anyway, and let them try to build the guy up as so fearsome his opponents wouldn’t stay in the ring with him. You’ve got more things ahead of you than just Level Up, there’s no shame is knowing which battles to fight.”
Coming from someone who very nearly died in the ring, that was telling. And it would be those words that had set the table for Angelina finally committing to going through with the match. Put up a good showing if she could. Run like the devil himself was on her heels if he tried to take liberties, and take the countout loss. Was it a bit unprofessional? Yeah, if she told the truth to herself. But was covering her own backside important since she doubted Level Up would pay for medical care needed by one of their contracted wrestlers? Very much so. After all, she only had to look at her home state to see how quickly doing the right thing for people could be swiftly discarded in the name of authoritarian control and capitalism.
Go in, do the job, get out with your health intact. Seems simple. So why was she still worried that things were going to go sideways?
~~ ** ~~ ** ~~ ** ~~
YouTube transcript
Uploaded to channel “NocturnalSonata”
April 18, 2022, 8:35 p.m.
”It is a tricky line to walk, that one between showing bravado against someone unproven in a Level Up ring and respecting the skills they’ve exhibited before coming here. It’s made even trickier when that opponent gives not a single whim about you, and would just as soon injure you for months as beat you in a clean match. That’s the situation I find myself in here, against Desmond Knight.
“I know my voice is going to go unheeded by The Developer. After all, I’m not here to win, and we all know this. So who cares about a loser complaining, right? But I’m still going to put this out there now, and wait for me to be proven wrong or otherwise in the coming weeks.
“Desmond Knight is not a good fit for Level up Wrestling in the long term.”
Nocturne lets this sentence fade into silence before she pushes herself off the wall to stand facing the camera in a more cautious position, as if expecting an attack to come just from the words she’s saying.
”Let’s face it, folks. We’ve seen the videos going around, of how he’s purposefully hurt people in the ring. Is that the kind of guy who fits Level up Wrestling? Someone who won’t hesitate to injure an opponent? I mean, let’s imagine the worst case scenario, and he injures a handful of folks here. Others leave because they don’t want to face him for fear of being injured on purpose. It ends with this man, this rapper, ruling over a one-wrestler Level Up because he’s left himself no one to challenge him. Level Up closes soon after because no one new wants to come in to the place to deal with him. That is how another fledgling promotion dies, because someone decided that their musical empire and body count was more important than the sport of professional wrestling.”
Another pause, as Nocturne lets this sentence sink into the viewers’ minds.
”And yet, The Developer seems to not know, not care, or not believe this to be a possibility given that he’s throwing me at this guy in his first match with the company. A man more than double my weight, half a foot taller than me, and with no empathy for anyone except himself. I wonder if The Developer really has let some bad code get into their programming.
“Desmond, I’m not about to say that I could beat you in a straight fight. That’s a fool’s errand. You’d be just as foolish to think that I will let you put me on the shelf to further whatever musical artist—and I use that term very generously given what I’ve listened to over the last few days coming from your label—you’ve got as the flavor of the month. No, instead I’m just going to name you for what you really are, and let the consequences fall where they may.
“Desmond Knight, I name you a parasite. You look to take from this sport, from those of us who show respect for this sport, and from the companies who look to entertain the masses by providing this sport to them, and keep it all for yourself in some twisted perversion of glory. You could not care any less for anyone in the ring with you, only what you can leech from them to further your own gains.
“Would I like to be proven wrong? Beyond a doubt. Will I be, though? That’s on you to decide for yourself. Just how important is your personal glory? Is it worth the existence of a company you signed with to further yourself, or can you not be a parasite and instead find a way to coexist with Level Up?
“I beg you, Desmond Knight. Prove me wrong.”
