The Queen Of Diamonds
Oct 22, 2023 3:59:18 GMT
Post by Peregrina Loca on Oct 22, 2023 3:59:18 GMT
"Honor, is like a river..."
Peregrina Loca's familiar tone cuts through the air as the GRBG camera starts rolling in a small, dimly-lit room, in the center of which a poker game unfolds between the luchadora and three shadowy figures. The air is flooded with cigarillo smoke, the lurching coils struck vibrant by the glare of spot lamps from three of the four corners. Mamá no Más is clad for the occasion, in a slightly-rumpled formal pantsuit, as black as her highly questionable actions in Guadalajara. She's relaxed, and shuffling the cards as she continues.
"However strong you swim, you are forced to follow that current; make choices as you strive to stay your course, crashing against your doubts and fears, rebounding - if you survive, only to find yourself still fighting not to drown. Always fighting."
The woman pauses, tilts her head and passes a sly smile across the table.
"You can fight with the river, but you cannot beat it. It beats you. You will drown, gentlemen."
That statement hangs for a moment, as she flashes a crooked grin.
"Ante up."
The figure opposite raises a glass, returning her gesture with a shark-like glint of white teeth. Chips are tossed, and the round begins. Half Pera's attention remains on the game, the rest roaming toward the watchful lens. She speaks with only a little distance.
"Craneo tells me I lack patience. Mierda, perhaps that's true. But I also have dreams, ambitions, plans."
Glancing at her cards, she nods thoughtfully, then raises.
"If she had the first idea, what's running through my head, every single day..."
The man opposite mutters something under his breath, and takes the bet.
"The current pulls me along, so hard I might scream. But once you hold every possible card, you can afford to rush a little. Crash off a rock or three, break a bone or two. After all, there's no risk if you're prepared for everything, sí?"
Through whorls of cigar smoke she meets her opponent's stare. Neither shifts an inch.
"I made a promise to Araña, and I kept that promise. Sometimes, good things happen to good people."
It's spoken as if making a point - and she is, a private and near-forgotten one, punctuated by a defiant curve of the brow. The woman who knows, will know, and the rest of her audience is not left hanging, swept along with a smile and a breezy wave of her free hand.
"So we come from the ascension of Araña Oscura, to more troubled waters, reflecting the stars above. To the Space Shaman, Ace Sky."
Pera raps on the table, signifying a check.
"You were not part of my plan, Ace. You're a boulder in my course. Unexpected, and plenty dangerous. There's no shame in being out-done by the better men who have left you in their wake. Maverick, Garcia, Warren; these are great names, belonging to great men. Pero lo siento..."
Shark's teeth gleam. The opposition raises again.
"My honor has slipped, and I need to find my path once more. We are going to light up the skies over Nevada, take their breath away as we show them what six decades of striving to be the best and the brightest star under heaven looks like."
Pera is swept away on her words, her attention seemingly lapsed from the game as she shoves her chips forward. All in.
"I will shake your hand in that ring, because I respect you and everything you so badly desire to achieve, but it is with regret in my heart that I tell you - I will also break you. No mercy. No más."
She picks up her own whiskey glass, sloshes the heady liquid, and knocks it back, slamming the glass onto the table.
"Your Sky is burning, as mine darkens. I am running out of time, and I will run through you to get this done. Whatever it takes; whatever I must. For one night only, faithful of RAZOR Wrestling, Peregrina Loca is going to play the bad guy."
Embers burn in the shadows as the room smolders in anticipation, cigarillos lit and breathing on standby. Pera inhales what they exude, her eyes lidding as she stares levelly at the camera's lens. Beyond it, to the man she's indirectly addressing.
"And if you don't fold beneath me, if you refuse to yield as you should, 'Galaxy Guru'... you're going to need Thetan Therapy."
It's spoken so emphatically - and is so ridiculous - that one of the men begins to laugh. Pera's own 'poker face' breaks and she barely curtails a giggle to a mere snicker, leaning forward with more of her usual, matronly air, a smile turning disarmingly kind and helpful as she explains,
"Because I'm going to hurt your soul. I'd say it's nothing personal, mi amigo, but I'd be lying. It's very, deeply personal, and it neither began with, nor ends with, you. You and I, we're going to tear the roof of the Bobby Shitake Arena into teeny, tiny pieces. Steal the show, by any means. Pero..."
She breathes out slowly, and reveals her hand. Straight flush. Diamonds.
"Pero te voy a ganar. I am going to beat you."
There's an expulsion of cursing in Spanish, chips angrily flying as Pera plucks up the Queen of Diamonds and flexes her dexterously between her digits; then flicks her cheekily into the camera lens.
"¡Terminado!"
Cut.
Peregrina Loca's familiar tone cuts through the air as the GRBG camera starts rolling in a small, dimly-lit room, in the center of which a poker game unfolds between the luchadora and three shadowy figures. The air is flooded with cigarillo smoke, the lurching coils struck vibrant by the glare of spot lamps from three of the four corners. Mamá no Más is clad for the occasion, in a slightly-rumpled formal pantsuit, as black as her highly questionable actions in Guadalajara. She's relaxed, and shuffling the cards as she continues.
"However strong you swim, you are forced to follow that current; make choices as you strive to stay your course, crashing against your doubts and fears, rebounding - if you survive, only to find yourself still fighting not to drown. Always fighting."
The woman pauses, tilts her head and passes a sly smile across the table.
"You can fight with the river, but you cannot beat it. It beats you. You will drown, gentlemen."
That statement hangs for a moment, as she flashes a crooked grin.
"Ante up."
The figure opposite raises a glass, returning her gesture with a shark-like glint of white teeth. Chips are tossed, and the round begins. Half Pera's attention remains on the game, the rest roaming toward the watchful lens. She speaks with only a little distance.
"Craneo tells me I lack patience. Mierda, perhaps that's true. But I also have dreams, ambitions, plans."
Glancing at her cards, she nods thoughtfully, then raises.
"If she had the first idea, what's running through my head, every single day..."
The man opposite mutters something under his breath, and takes the bet.
"The current pulls me along, so hard I might scream. But once you hold every possible card, you can afford to rush a little. Crash off a rock or three, break a bone or two. After all, there's no risk if you're prepared for everything, sí?"
Through whorls of cigar smoke she meets her opponent's stare. Neither shifts an inch.
"I made a promise to Araña, and I kept that promise. Sometimes, good things happen to good people."
It's spoken as if making a point - and she is, a private and near-forgotten one, punctuated by a defiant curve of the brow. The woman who knows, will know, and the rest of her audience is not left hanging, swept along with a smile and a breezy wave of her free hand.
"So we come from the ascension of Araña Oscura, to more troubled waters, reflecting the stars above. To the Space Shaman, Ace Sky."
Pera raps on the table, signifying a check.
"You were not part of my plan, Ace. You're a boulder in my course. Unexpected, and plenty dangerous. There's no shame in being out-done by the better men who have left you in their wake. Maverick, Garcia, Warren; these are great names, belonging to great men. Pero lo siento..."
Shark's teeth gleam. The opposition raises again.
"My honor has slipped, and I need to find my path once more. We are going to light up the skies over Nevada, take their breath away as we show them what six decades of striving to be the best and the brightest star under heaven looks like."
Pera is swept away on her words, her attention seemingly lapsed from the game as she shoves her chips forward. All in.
"I will shake your hand in that ring, because I respect you and everything you so badly desire to achieve, but it is with regret in my heart that I tell you - I will also break you. No mercy. No más."
She picks up her own whiskey glass, sloshes the heady liquid, and knocks it back, slamming the glass onto the table.
"Your Sky is burning, as mine darkens. I am running out of time, and I will run through you to get this done. Whatever it takes; whatever I must. For one night only, faithful of RAZOR Wrestling, Peregrina Loca is going to play the bad guy."
Embers burn in the shadows as the room smolders in anticipation, cigarillos lit and breathing on standby. Pera inhales what they exude, her eyes lidding as she stares levelly at the camera's lens. Beyond it, to the man she's indirectly addressing.
"And if you don't fold beneath me, if you refuse to yield as you should, 'Galaxy Guru'... you're going to need Thetan Therapy."
It's spoken so emphatically - and is so ridiculous - that one of the men begins to laugh. Pera's own 'poker face' breaks and she barely curtails a giggle to a mere snicker, leaning forward with more of her usual, matronly air, a smile turning disarmingly kind and helpful as she explains,
"Because I'm going to hurt your soul. I'd say it's nothing personal, mi amigo, but I'd be lying. It's very, deeply personal, and it neither began with, nor ends with, you. You and I, we're going to tear the roof of the Bobby Shitake Arena into teeny, tiny pieces. Steal the show, by any means. Pero..."
She breathes out slowly, and reveals her hand. Straight flush. Diamonds.
"Pero te voy a ganar. I am going to beat you."
There's an expulsion of cursing in Spanish, chips angrily flying as Pera plucks up the Queen of Diamonds and flexes her dexterously between her digits; then flicks her cheekily into the camera lens.
"¡Terminado!"
Cut.