Post by Delilah Black on Jan 14, 2018 22:29:49 GMT
The flash of a camera blinds me for a moment, leaving me frozen. Deer, meet headlights. The Kensington Gore that streaks my body is hardening quickly under the sweltering overhead lights. My sweaty palms struggle to keep ahold of the axe. A huffy, nasally voice whines at me from behind the camera: "give me more rage."
I part my lips and gnash my teeth, widening my eyes and flaring my nostrils as I raise the axe high overhead, ready to bring it down on the mannequin on the floor in front of me. I hesitate to look down at the thing; I swear it was ripped right out of the uncanny valley.
Flash. The light tugs at my retinas and stays put when I blink.
"Now swing that fucking thing."
Without question I bring the axe down on the mannequin, splitting its plastic skull in two. More of the sticky red stuff splatters against my bare skin courtesy of a technician just outside of the camera's eye. Nevermind that the spatter trajectory is off (coming from the side instead of the front). Zabel and the man behind the camera, some UC Berkeley dropout whose name I can't remember assured me beforehand that no one cares about accuracy. They do, however, love shout-outs which explains why the theme of this photoshoot is American Psycho. The backdrop is thematically appropriate at the expense of strict adherence to the source material: an unfinished office building. The gritty emptiness of 80s yuppie culture emanates from the familiar design.
What better way to get the point across. I'm whacked: out of my mind and incredibly dangerous.
Hey, Paul.
Flash.
"Again."
I raise the axe and swing it again, and again. I don't bother waiting for the flash, for my vision to fail me and leave me paralyzed. The flashes come and go, the clicking of the shutters drowned out by grunts and the sound of sharpened steel scraping against the ground. I feel the rhythm, swing on the downbeat, pull back on the upbeat. My facial muscles twitch and spasm, contorted in a look of rage much more genuine than the staged frenzy from before. From behind the camera I see the pasty jabroni smile and Zabel gives me an approving nod before turning her attention back to her cell phone. That's her way of saying "great work."
I feel my heartbeat in my chest and my lungs pounding against my ribs as I take one final swing in time for the flash and smile wide for the camera.
This is a role like any other. I will excel.
My name is Delilah Black. I was not born, I will not die.
I would like to take this time to thank Vincent Pryde and the whole of New Blood Wrestling on behalf of my client, Miss Delilah Black. Looking at the roster, I suppose it was inevitable that Delilah would tangle with Miss Mya Denton sooner rather than later, but to giftwrap her like this and leave her right on our doorstep was a nice touch. It does seem Mr. Pryde knows how to accommodate his talent. Get in touch Vincent, I'll send you a fruit basket.
Oh, Miss Denton. Where do we start with you? A bog-standard cuh-raaaaazy female wrestler. Buuuuuut, maybe she isn't. Then again, maybe she is. She's so unstable and that's what makes her a threat. Or, something. Does this sound familiar? Might as well cake her in Newark guido slut makeup and tattoo a rose on her ass to pass her off a gypsy.
Were I Miss Denton… well to be completely honest there'd be a noose around my neck if we switched places but that's beside the point. Where was I? Right, the problem with Miss Denton's particular brand of crazy, if she is indeed as nuts as she lets on this isn't an entirely on the nose facade, is that very same instability leaves her wide open. My client is not unstable. Though her beliefs and actions may seem scattershot, there is very much a method to her madness. I do not think the same could be said for Miss Denton. So while she throws everything she can at the wall to see what sticks, my client will be systematically picking her apart. Limb from bloody limb.
So, once again, thank you Mr. Pryde. Thank you New Blood Wrestling. And thank you, Miss Denton. I promise your sacrifice will not be in vain.