Post by Melissa on Nov 18, 2016 1:59:08 GMT -5
“Mary-Jane Braxton.” Melissa Reeves turns toward the camera, her face contorted to what looks like disgust as the taste of that name lingers on her mouth. Her hand moves to her mouth and she wipes across it once. “Now there is a name I keep hearing, a face I keep seeing.”
She looks less than impressed, her disdain for the girl clear on her face. “And why? Why do I keep hearing of you, Mary-Jane? Hmm, why do I keep seeing you? That’s simple, isn’t it? It’s because you have made it so. You wanted to get noticed and trust me, you have been noticed.”
Melissa takes a moment to lick her lips and think before continuing. “You know, I agreed to a match with you at Code Red the moment that we both signed here. I agreed to take you on in a professional contest, as I would anyone. It would have been a hard fought battle, and I would have respected you for it. But you just couldn’t stop at that, could you?"
She shakes her head and sighs.
"You wanted more. You wanted to be part of my life, to be friends, for me to be part of your little ‘team’. And hey, that could have happened, but then you wanted to live with my boyfriend - yes, my boyfriend. You started shit with my ex. And I did my best to let it slide, because you were friends with Ally Morrow and I was trying to be your friend too. But then, just as I started to warm to you, you tried to sleep with the guy that my best friend has feelings for - the same best friend who you claim to be ‘sisters’ with, the same best friend whose ex husband you are now dating! I mean, what the hell? Really? Aren't you so very classy, Braxton? And that's only scratching the surface with you, isn't it?
"And you actually had the nerve to come at me, talking about shaking my hand after the match? No, that's reserved for people I respect, and that sure as hell isn't you. So let me lay this out, nice and simple. I'm sick of your attitude. I'm sick of how you treat people, how you treated me and people I care about. You should have kept things professional, but you have made them personal.”
Walking toward the camera, Melissa stops at a board. A photograph of Mary-Jane is pinned at the top left, with pages of details arranged neatly beside it. “You see this, MJ? This is what I do when you’re jumping from man to man or sat there on Twitter spouting nonsense about how great you think you are. This is what I do when you’re trying to sell merch, trying to make your name known, when you’re blabbering on about how you ‘dominated’ Legacy and when you’re annoying just about everyone with your constant, incessant, backstabbing, selfish bullshit.”
Smirking, Melissa stretches out a hand and presses her finger again of the pieces of paper. “This one here? Oh that's your Legacy record. How many times did you claim dominance there, hmm? Let's see, oh, there it is. Do you know what I see? I see a 2-0 record.”
With a slight shrug and slow nod, Melissa pauses before talking again. “Hey, don’t get me wrong, that’s a good start. But dominance?" She scoffs, shaking her head. “I hardly think so. It wasn’t even the best win streak in Legacy when it closed, was it now? And don’t think I didn’t notice how you went silent when I pointed that out, Braxton. What, truth hurts? You resort to texting me, texting me, telling me to stop talking to you on Twitter because I dented your ego when I showed the fundamental flaws in your claims? Are you so fragile, MJ? Are you so weak?”
Melissa pulls down the main image from the board and moves toward the camera again, placing it on a desk at the side. She looks down at the photo, her brow furrowing a little and her nose contorting in agreement with it. She lingers for a for more before looking back to the camera. Tapping a finger on the photo, Melissa scoffs, her voice showing signs of her annoyance.
“The funny thing is that we really could have been friends, Mary-Jane. But you never actually had the respect to ask. You acted like I owed you something. I don't. You acted like I should recognise you as part of my friendship circle. You're not. And thanks to your actions, you never will be."
She rolls her eyes, clearly sick of her opponent's behaviour.
"But that's you in a nutshell, isn't it, Braxton? I mean, just how many people have you pissed off this week alone, huh? And did you think I've forgotten you acting like beating me would be a given? You acted like you somehow have a right to use my name - which I fought tooth and nail to get out there - as a means to make yourself famous. You acted like I’m just a springboard for your success. You're a fucking leech, Braxton, hanging on to people you look up to in the hope of them somehow making you more relevant. You're a poison that hurts everyone who gets too close, and I am done playing nicely with you."
She sighs, pulling out her phone and reading the texts from MJB, shaking her head as she remembers the things said. “I mean, one minute you’re asking me to sleep with you...yeah, I didn’t forget either. And then next? The next you’re threatening me. One minute you want me on your Team PMPKIN or TRNBCKL or whatever the fuck it is this week. And then the next it's like I'm...your mortal foe, like I somehow betrayed you. So which is it, hmm? Friend or foe? Make your damn mind up, Braxton!
“Ha, and you said, oh and I remember it very clearly, that you want to destroy me, Mary-Jane. You said that you want your boot at my throat, to make everyone forget who I am.” She half smiles, disbelieving that she’d even said that. “You will not take my name from me, MJ. You will not take my reputation from me. You will never take my friends from me. So what does that actually leave you with, MJ, if not just empty threats and hollow words?”
Melissa licks across her lips, shaking her head and shrugging. “Nothing. Nothing is what you have, just your own sad little obsession with me.” Chuckling, Melissa shakes her head. She picks up the photograph and looks at it again. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter. Regardless of why, we both know you will continue to play your little games. We both know you will continue messing people around, hurting them and then saying sorry and then threatening them and then trying to be their friend. I mean, holy shit, can you hear how that sounds? It's not normal. So no matter what, I want nothing more to do with you after this. This is our one and only match. Your one chance to prove you can indeed beat me. And since you think you can beat me so easily then please, come and try.” The desk judders a little as she slams the photo back down to its surface. Her face turns far more serious, her voice elevated by her clear anger.
“But make no mistake who it is you're facing. I was the Iron Maiden of Honor Wrestling, the one and only person to carry that mantle. I have beaten far bigger, far more experienced and frankly far better opponents than you. And they, MJ, they were not stupid enough to make things personal with me, to actually piss me off. And they were not foolish enough to underestimate me. Those people were professional conquests, necessary victories for my career You though? Oh you will be a personal victory. So come, bring me your best shot. Watch in horror as you swing, miss, fall short and fail.
“Continue underestimating me. Continue counting me out, dismissing who I am and what I can do. No, really, I insist.” She smirks. “Because that hubris of yours will damn you. You say it’s what brought you to the dance... Well careful preparation and the understanding of my opponent’s weaknesses is what brought me to the dance and I do see you for what you are, Braxton. I know what you can do, and I know your shortcomings.
“So when I beat you and you are looking up at the lights, dazed, confused and sad, just don’t come crying to me because I ruined your charade and exposed you as the fraud we both know you are. In that moment I want you to remember that I warned you against making things personal, that I warned you that you’re not as great as you believe. But, more than anything, I want you to remember that this, all of this, is your fault, Mary-Jane. I want you to remember that wanted this battle...” She nods slowly, grabbing the camera with both hands and leaning in close. “...and that I brought you a war!” A malicious look sweeps over Melissa’s face, her eyes cold and her lips pushed to a sly smile. She leans around the camera and the feed fades to black.