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The Prophecy; Battlelines II vs Calder
Topic Started: May 13 2016, 11:21 AM (35 Views)
Sahara
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EWA Combat Champion

“There are allegiances coming, Sahara.”

What did he mean by that? What had she missed? It wasn’t like Indrid Calder to spew conjecture. Did he know something? He must...while he loved speaking in cryptic riddles, he would never say something just to hear himself.

Not Calder.

There was a deadly earnestness to the things he said. For some odd reason -- a reason she couldn’t quite put her finger on -- he was trying to tell her something.

But what?

And why?

Calder wasn’t known to lend a helping hand to just anyone...even if nothing more than a verbal warning of things to come. What was it she did? Did he respect her perverted love of pain?

What are you trying to tell me?

Was some sort of seismic shift coming to the EWA? As the Hierarchy slowly crumbled to it’s foundation, The Youth still appeared to be running strong...but what of their reign under the rule of new Kings and Queens? Chris Kage did seem to be becoming unraveled as of late. Were unseen cracks forming in it’s foundation? Or was this bigger?

His words struck her. He said there were allegiances coming...

For some unknown reason, she knew he was right. There was this feeling in the pit of her stomach...something was happening in the EWA. Something...dark. His words were more than a mere warning...they were prophecy.

“...it would be wise for you to find yourself on the right side...”

She never stopped to think about her place in the EWA to this point...she jumped into the deep end and never had the chance to scan the terrain. Too blinded by her fight for survival to stop and notice the forest for the trees...

Was it that simple? Was he merely warning her she was alone in the EWA? No...she could see it, even though nothing was there. She could feel it without the need to touch. It was the deep sensation that there was more to his words.

Sahara was without allegiances, allies or friends. She needed not look any further than her own husband. Throughout his career, outside of rare exception, Mirage was never alone...whether it was his alliance with Instant Heat, The Hierarchy or Breaking Kayfabe...he always attached himself to a band of brothers. It was only then, in those rare moments of doubt -- when he found himself alone -- that he’d turn into something...else.

How do you know which side to choose in a war that was sure to be fought on multiple fronts? And what could she, a newcomer, bring to the table that anyone would want to align with her?

“It’s important you recognize your own worth...”

She could hear him again, as if answering a question she never asked. Mirage would probably dismiss this as mind games, but she knew it was something more...strange.

Did you need something?

She had to stop doubting herself...she’d been around long enough. Confidence is a funny thing...it’s easy to lose, and almost impossible to find again.

Lady, are you okay?

She felt a touch on her arm, causing the hair to stand up on the back of her neck.

Everything snapped back into focus…

A bartender leaned over a polished wooden bar with his hand on her arm, piercing the daydream.

”Uhm, yeah...yeah, I’m fine. I’m sorry...I was, elsewhere.”

The man nodded.

“I could tell. You feeling alright?”

“Yeah, fine...I’m fine. I was just...thinking.”


He made a slight motion to the side of her face as he commenced wiping down a glass. Realization dawned on her. Still harboring the black and purple hue courtesy of Osbourne Kilminster, that must be what he's wondering about. She reached up and touched her face, running her fingers across the bruise.

“Oh, that...yeah, it’s um, a side effect of my … career.”

“It’s not usual to see a woman such as yourself with a bruise covering half her face...you sure no one’s...you know?”


She smirked.

“Beating me? Well...I guess it could be called that, but not in the way you’re thinking...”

The man snapped his fingers and pointed at her.

“I knew it...I knew I recognized you from somewhere. My son has a picture of you on his phone, that wallpaper thing, your um...one of those wrestlers, from the GWA or something, right?”

Sahara nodded half laughing at his calling it the GWA.

“EWA, and right...one of those wrestlers.”

“It’s the eyes...I recognize the eyes. It’s actually pretty crazy…I told him there was no way your eyes were real. But I’ll be damned if they aren’t. I will be damned.”


She smiled at the compliment. It was good to hear something nice for a change. Living in a world where usually, those that talk to you want to tell you exactly how they’re going to rip the skin from your face...a light compliment from a stranger never hurt.

“Anyway, sorry to bother you. Just saw you kind of staring off into space and figured I’d check on ya. Well, better eat before it gets cold. If you need anything, just let me know. My sons gonna flip when he hears I met you...”

As he walked off, her gaze fell to the plate in front of her. A half eaten rack of lamb...blood pooled at the bottom of the plate beneath the rare flesh she had mindlessly chewed on while thinking of Indrid Calders warning. She dipped her finger in the lambs blood and brought it to her lips. Hints of rosemary...a wonderful compliment.

Next stop, that lonely hotel room, waiting ever so impatiently for Battlelines.

Alone with nothing but her thoughts.

Endless thoughts.


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Laying on the bed, unable to sleep, she picked up her phone seeing quite a few messages from her husband that remained unanswered. She started typing a reply only to place the phone down, slightly shaking her head as it rest against a pillow. She had too much on her mind. She stared off into nothingness with those cold sapphire eyes...

She was thinking of Indrid Calder.

Again.

He was still speaking to her, in words he never used.

The Stranger.

This was supposed to be nothing more than a simple lesson. Another opportunity to continue honing her skills where it mattered most. A one off fight that once again tested her mettle. But Mr. Calder had already begun teaching her...more than she imagined possible, without so much as the slightest hint of pain.

She deviously smiled at the thought, imagining what could teach her with the weapon of pain.

Rolling onto her back, she reached for the nightstand, picking up a doubled edged razor blade. Feather brand. Hi-Stainless platinum coated. The sharpest of the sharp. She flipped it over a few times and sighed.

“And you think you’re the strange one, my dear Calder…”

She clenched her teeth and closed her palm around the blade. Wincing, she closed her eyes as blood pooled beneath her fingers, running down the base of her palm slowly trickling down her forearm.

She let out an uneasy breath of relief as a slight smile crept across her face.

“Sick like me.”

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