There was a small clamor as a few dozen reporters chatted amongst themselves. There was a podium on a stage in front of the few rows of folding metal chairs the reporters were sitting in, and the backdrop for the stage had a spattering of the UOW logo as well as the logos of some of the UOW’s sponsors. A microphone sat perched on the podium, awaiting a speaker who was not yet present. The gathered reporters seemed to be growing impatient as whoever they were here to see appeared to be running late. Of course, they were all too polite to raise any sort of fuss over the matter beyond their annoyed utterances to each other.
Suddenly, the mood changed as a door to the left of the stage swung open. UOW’s public relations manager stepped through the door first, then motioned to the stage to the person following behind them. A moment later, one half of the UOW Tag Team Champions, Rayven, stepped out through the door. She was wearing a black leather jacket and matching pants that fit her curves just perfectly. She had her Tag Team Championship belt draped over her shoulder as she made her way to the podium. A few anxious reporters began trying to ask questions, but Rayven just held up a finger and shushed them. She shrugged the title from her shoulder and placed it on the podium, carefully arranging the belt around the microphone so that the main plate was facing the crowd squarely. She then dusted some dust from the top of it and leaned forward on her toes to kiss the belt before returning to her natural stance behind the podium.
Rayven::
“I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’ve gathered you here today…”
She grinned a cheshire cat grin at her comment, but the public relations manager leaned in and whispered to her.
PR::
“You didn’t gather them here. This is your contractually obligated time to talk to the press about your upcoming match?”
Rayven narrowed her eyes at the man who stood a few inches shorter than herself.
Rayven::
“You’re not my supervisor!”
PR::
“Actually, in a way, I-”
Rayven held up a hand to stop him, and then waved him away in dismissal. She then turned back to the gathered crowd of reporters who only seemed to be more annoyed by her antics at this point. She cast her gaze over each of them and finally shrugged.
Rayven::
“Riiiight, so, in order to get paid this week, I have to come out here and talk to all of you and answer all of your questions and...play nice. ahem SO, here I am, and I brought my precious golden child with me. She’s so pretty, don’t you all think?”
Rayven grinned widely again and began to caress the top of her title belt with a hand. A reporter in the front row, having grown far too annoyed with her by now stood up and demanded the microphone from the PR rep.
Reporter 1::
“Rayven, first of all, congratulations on your victory last week and capturing the tag team titles.”
Rayven::
“Well of course we won the titles. I was in the match. Was there really any doubt that the outcome would be anything else?”
Reporter 1::
“Well, it’s just that you haven’t had the best of luck with trying to win Tag Team titles in the past. Your team with Trine Larsen in WWG failed on multiple occasions to win the tag titles.”
Rayven::
“First of all, we don’t speak ill of the dead.”
Reporter 1::
“Trine Larsen isn’t dead?”
Rayven::
“Well she may as well be dead to me. She hasn’t returned my calls in five months. And I’ve called her like two thousand times waiting for her to call me back…”
Reporter 1::
“She’s probably working on getting a restraining order…”
Rayven narrowed her eyes at the reporter and the veins popping out in the side of her neck looked like she would eat the man if she were able to.
Rayven::
“I’m sorry, was there a question in there?”
Reporter 1::
“Given your track record with prior tag team partners, how do you think this team with Evolution will play out? After all, the two of you didn’t exactly pick each other as teammates, you were kind of thrown together by management.”
Rayven clapped her hands together and smiled before leaning forward on a forearm on the podium.
Rayven::
“See? They can be taught. I’d say good question, but it really isn’t. You see, I started to realize what the problem was, why I never won the tag titles with Trine. Or any one else that I chose to try and make that attempt with. It’s because you can’t rely on people. Yep, that’s exactly what it was. I picked Trine and every other partner I ever had because I thought that I could rely on them, and that I could trust them to help me win the titles. But at the end of the day? What happened? I don’t have to tell you, you already know, you already rubbed it in my face before you got around to asking your silly question. So do I think that I can rely on Evolution?”
Rayven shrugged and heaved a heavy sigh directly into the microphone.
Rayven::
“How the hell should I know? I barely know the guy. He’s always being some kind of weird and mysterious backstage and when I try to talk to him, he doesn’t say anything to me. Honestly, with that level of cooperation, I’m surprised we won these titles, but hey, here we are. And now, just a single week later, we’ve got to defend these titles. Do I think I can trust him? I don’t know. Do I think he’ll even show up for the match? Clueless. Do I think we’ll win? I’m fifty percent one hundred percent positive we will.”
A reporter in the second row on the other side of the room stood up now.
Reporter 2::
“Rayven, can you clarify what you mean by that? ‘Fifty percent one hundred percent positive’? It sounds like some Steiner math to me…”
Rayven rolled her eyes.
Rayven::
“Who let this smark in here? Steiner math. You do realize that all of his numbers add up and the final total is actually one hundred forty-four and two thirds? Call the guy crazy, but he can do some quick maths up in his head space. But fine, I’ll clarify what I mean. I’m one hundred percent sure that I would win the match even if it was just me against both members of the other team. I don’t lose, I don’t let myself down. Letting me down is what other people do. That’s where the fifty percent comes in. I’m assuming Evolution will actually show up to the match, which means that there’s a fifty-fifty chance I’ll be in the ring and involved in the outcome. That’s the fifty percent I’m not sure about. I don’t know if I can trust the guy to win the match for us. I’d like to hope that I can depend on him, but it’s burned me in the past, and I don’t know jack about this guy. But I do know one thing.”
Rayven lifted the title belt and stared into the face plate for a moment before she gently laid it on her shoulder. She took the microphone from its stand and stepped out to the side of the podium, pacing back and forth a bit.
Rayven::
“I do know that I will do everything in my power to keep this precious gold belt right where it belongs. Around my sexy waist. If that means fighting by myself, I’ll get the job done. If that means supporting Evolution because he wants to do it all himself, then I’m there. If it means stabbing his oddly sexy lizard ass in the back if I have to, you’re damn right I will. I will do whatever it takes to keep this title. The way that it feels against my skin, the smell of it, it’s all just so intoxicating and I refuse to let it go. I’ve felt that pain before, of having something I love so much torn away from me. And I hate it when that happens. If you think I’m a bitch now, you should see me when I’m -really- angry.”
Rayven walked back to the podium and returned the microphone to its stand. A reporter in the middle of the crowd stood up now.
Reporter 3::
“What are your thoughts about your opponents in your upcoming match against Boris Drago and Dasha Ivanova? They’re newcomers to UOW and not a lot is known about them yet other than, well, they’re Russian.”
Rayven just smirked and shook her head.
Rayven::
“You know, I really shouldn’t answer that question. I should have put a clause in my contract that excuses me from answering stupid questions like the one you just asked. But fine, I’ll humor you. The short and sweet of it is, I’m not afraid of anything that comes from Russia. Especially a couple of wrestlers. Like, don’t get me wrong, some good things have come from Russia. Like, have you tried their vodka? Good shit. And for a brief moment they had some good political thinking, but then they went and bastardized what Marx was trying to say and fucked it all up. Which is exactly what I expect Boris and Natasha to do in this match, they’re gonna fuck up their opportunity at taking this lovely title away from me. Maybe they should go back to trying to hunt moose and squirrel, they’ll probably have better luck.”
Just then, the PR manager stepped up to Rayven and did his best to speak in hushed tones, but the microphone picked up what he was saying anyways.
PR::
“Rayven, you need to stop saying fuck so much. This is being broadcast in countries with strict censorship and we’re having a hard time keeping up with bleeping you out.”
Rayven slammed a hand down on the podium and shrugged the title belt higher on to her shoulder.
Rayven::
“You know what, fuck it.”
Rayven turned to walk away, only made it two steps, and then turned around like she’d forgotten something. She leaned in to the microphone.
Rayven::
“No further questions.”
She turned from the mic and began to walk towards the door she’d originally appeared from. The PR manager jumped in front of her.
PR::
“You’re slated for another ten minutes, get back up there and answer more questions!”
Rayven::
“Not a snowball’s chance in hell. I answered enough questions. And that asshole brought up Trine! I could swear I put that in my contract that NO ONE ever mentions Sparkles in my presence! I’m out of here. Fine me if you have to, I don’t care, I’ve got money. Better idea! Make me spend more time at therapy with Dr. Quack. I’m already having to do way more hours of that than I’d ever care to, what’s a few more hours each week?”
Rayven pushed past the PR manager and made her way through the door, quickly followed by the PR manager. The camera just barely picked up one more comment before the door closed completely.
PR::
“Did you say Evolution was sexy?”
Rayven::
“ODDLY sexy!”