"Centre of Attention . . . " || 01
Sept 11, 2016 4:01:13 GMT
Valentina Lemay, Ernie Parker, and 3 more like this
Post by Felix Hartley on Sept 11, 2016 4:01:13 GMT
C E N T R E O F A T T E N T I O N //
♡ ♡ ♡
It's an odd and confusing time to be Felix Hartley, believe it or not – like a teenager going through puberty, Felix wakes up every day and questions her existential purpose. That's what your early twenties are for, right? Figuring out what your passions are, figuring out what it is that you love and what you want to dedicate hours of the rest of your life to. Let me tell you, she sure as hell has not figured that out because the answer to that is not professional wrestling. Felix made her professional debut at the ripe age of eighteen. You could say it was her ticket out of full service sex work, something that although she didn't completely hate, she also didn't completely love. There is something to be said about what kind of woman you have to be to endure that type of work, and if Felix took anything away from it, it'd be a strengthened soul and an ability to separate your identity in the workplace from the identity that climbs into bed at night. The freedom that wrestling gave her, was that she could mend those two identities into one flawless, vivacious and egotistically dominant Queen and never have to pretend she was anything otherwise. She was pleased at how pleasantly the tables turned for her, once being the timid and malleable teen that was a mere object for those paying for her to be temporary company – to fill a deep, dark and insatiable void – without any choice in the matter, to proudly parading around through backstage hallways and down flashy ramp-ways radiating so much sexuality that it pained her to see just how much control she had now. The bittersweet paradox? Most will shame her for her unhinged inhibitions, labelling her a "slut", a "whore", a "skank"; but quite the opposite is true! Felix Hartley, for the first time in her young adult life, was in full control of her being, her self, her sex and her morality. What she chooses to do with it is her choice, and what an empowering choice it is for her. Oh, and . . .
It's none of your business.
Spiritually, though, the professional wrestling industry has done nothing for Felix except for escalating the development of her ego. Surely that had something to do with her employment with Global Wrestling Coalition; she was, without a doubt, one of their most notoriously decorated Empress Champions in the company's history. There wasn't a man nor a woman alive that didn't have a score to settle with her, and she made sure that she left no box unchecked when it came to settling her grudges. The same pattern is proving to be true in EOW; upon meeting the redheaded goddess, the first impressions are all the same. The entitled, elitist female with a penchant for sleeping with the entire roster before she accomplishes anything notable in professional wrestling. The woman with a countdown pinned to her back to see when she'll give up and take flight. The woman that is most often always overlooked because of the reputation she shamelessly upholds all over social media. To be quite honest? She welcomes it. There is nothing that personifies Felix Hartley more than being a magnet for drama and heat. In a way, it's her own little game inside of a game – let's see how long I can string them until the time comes when their mouth is so full of their own words that they lie, agape, in the centre of the ring, mentally processing their loss and questioning their worth in the sport that they worked so hard for years to establish a reputable name in. All of that?
Taken away from you in mere seconds.
Trust me. She knows what she's doing. She knows, from the minute that she signs her name on the dotted line, to the minute that she runs the company into the ground, that she is solely responsible for the fire that burns under everybody else's asses that makes them want to work even half as hard as she is. She knows that she is solely responsible for creating a tiny tornado of talent that will inevitably chase after her, torch in tow, vying for her defeat while a brooding jealousy stirs in the pits of their stomach that somebody so ungrateful, disrespectful and an absolute abomination of the professional wrestling industry leads the roster with her dripping success, fame and . . . Gold. Mentally, the game is hers. Physically? God, the game is most definitely hers. The satisfaction she gets and the fulfillment she receives from being a professional wrestler is simply that she is more successful than you. She hasn't been training dusk till dawn since she was four; she hasn't slaved over a boiling pot of pork 'n' beans just to save money to find a decent gym; she hasn't backpacked through Europe eating scraps and getting paid $20.00 a pop to perform in front of ten-or-so faithful fans. None of that. She waltzed into whatever company she saw fit, demanded that she be given an opportunity, took the limelight away from everybody else on the roster . . . And then?
Skyrocketed to the fucking top.
She thrived off of the envy. She thrived off of the fact that she continually did the bare minimum to succeed in this business, and was still leaps and bounds away from everybody else. The highlight of her career, though, came when she won that Championship for a second time in GWC – she knew that nobody could touch her. Nobody had the gall to climb up to the throne that she sat on at the very top of that ladder. Her social media presence, plus fact that everybody chose her as the scapegoat for their inadequacy, plus the fact that – whether or not you chose to acknowledge it – the girl had legitimate athleticism when it came down to hanging with seasoned competition? Complete recipe for the total package; Brains, beauty and brawn. If there was ever truly a master in the art of deception, she'd have long, red hair, a perfectly bronzed complexion, and she'd do her squats every. Damn. Day.
Trust me, baby, this game is all hers.
♡ ♡ ♡
Saturday September 10, 2016 – Dillon, Colorado | 7:10 PM
"Aaron's late," Felix bellows, looking down at her rose-gold Armani wristwatch.
"She's not late," Finn rolled his eyes with an exasperated tone. "She's waddling up the steps. She takes a bit, sometimes."
"Ugh," Felix's face contorts into an expression of distaste and disbelief, "Pregnancy is so gross."
Aaron makes her way into the guest bedroom that she and Finn had – albeit begrudgingly – gave up to Felix for her short stay in Colorado. She sighs, sitting down next to Finn and cuddles comfortably into his side. Immediately to their right sat Lexi Sheckler, Felix's old trainer and international multi-champion of professional wrestling, and long-time friend of Aaron's.
"Would just like to point out that I cooked for three of you assholes and nobody helped me with the dishes."
"I fucking offered," Lexi threw her hands up in frustration, "But you gave me some bullshit response about how, 'nobody folds the dish towels how I like them and–'"
"HELLO?"
Felix's voice echoed through the guest bedroom, eliciting a complete silence from the small audience of people that she had instructed to meet her at exactly 7:00 sharp. Finn threw his head back; it had been eight days, three hours and fifty-five minutes since Felix arrived at his marital home – yep, he was counting. She had said that all she needed to "feel like herself" again was one week, but Finn was under the impression he solved that problem the day she got here. Felix cleared her throat, setting up her Macbook directly to the left of herself and slips on a pair of thick-rimmed reading glasses.
". . . Are those prescription?" Finn asked, stifling laughter.
"Oh, you wear glasses now? You fucking hipster twat." Lexi says as she quickly glances up, attention mildly fixated on her cell phone for the most part.
"Please hold all questions until the end of the presentation, twat." Felix quips with her signature sass, her back to them, pulling up a PowerPoint.
"Hey, when did you learn how to use PowerPoint?"
Aaron and Finn cover their mouths with their hands, trying not to laugh for the sake of Felix's presentation – they knew that whatever this was, or whatever she had intentions for it to be, the faster they just sat through it without any comments, the faster it would be over with and everybody could return to their regularly scheduled programming.
"Oh, I don't know . . . Probably around the time you went to jail for dealing drugs instead of making a decent living for yourself," Felix retorts. Lexi merely rolled her eyes, completely unfazed by Felix's heckling. Aaron and Finn waited until Felix's back was to them, and simultaneously mouthed "OH SNAP!" . . . Lexi flipped 'em the bird.
"Ahem . . . " Felix clears her throat while looking over at Finn. Their eyes meet, their gaze locks . . . and Felix cocks an eyebrow, expectantly.
"Not sure if I'm suppose to do something? . . . "
"Well, for starters, you could get the lights?" Felix rolls her eyes, "Since they're, y'know, right behind ya."
"Most people just say please," Finn reaches behind his head, lazily feeling around for the light switch.
"Honey, look at me – am I 'most people'?"
"Aaaaaand that's just about it for me!" Lexi states, standing up in record speed and bolting for the door before she hears Aaron's voice.
"You sit that ass down right now. If I have to suffer through this, everyone has to suffer through this."
Lexi curses under her breath, and the three of them shift to share space using the edge of the bed as a footrest while Felix sets up for her slideshow. The three of them share a look that says they're all wondering the same thing: Why the fuck are we here for this?
"Alrighty! I bet you're all wondering why the fuck you're here for this," Felix tilts her head, unamused by Lexi's blatant display of disregard, holding up her middle fingers whenever Felix opened her mouth. Ignoring it, she presses on,"Well, being that you've all taken . . . some part in my development as a wrestler—"
"—A wrestler, she says. Hysterical." Lexi heckles, giving her knee a light slap.
" . . . I'm essentially giving all of you a celebratory slideshow considering that you guys are going to be able to brag about training a trophy-wrestler. I mean, not that I ever really needed any of your help, having been a twice decorated Champion already," Felix drapes a hand over her chest, celebrating her own accomplishments.
Felix was fishing for admiration and applause but looked down at her audience at, upon hearing complete silence, found Aaron resting her head on Finn's shoulder battling sleep, Lexi playing what appeared to be Words With Friends on her iPhone and Finn just barely paying attention – probably because he knew at some point, this would involve him.
"Ugh, anyways . . . This presentation is called: Why Felix Hartley is going to be Victory's FIRST ever Ultimate Champion. By me. Felix." With a cheesy, disingenuous smile that quickly faded back to her usual scour, Felix pressed on to the next slide.
"Hey so, quick little tip? You actually don't have to announce the title of the slideshow or who it's by. It's written on the screen," Lexi doesn't take the time to look up and make eye contact with her redheaded nemesis.
"Shut your fucking gap. Okay, so – eight participants, right? Myself and Finn, Matthew Page, Mysti Savage, Bryan Williams, Connor Jacobs, Jason Kaine and Jack Owyns. As we go through the slideshow, you'll notice that I make quite the compelling argument as to why none of the seven other participants are actually qualified to hold EOW gold."
"Mm," Finn raises his hand respectfully, although his facial expression says that he's a little skeptical. "I might have to disagree with you, there."
"Ohhhh my God, Sir?" Felix impatiently holds up her hand, immediately silencing Finn – something she's made it a habit of doing throughout the week. "Please hold all questions until the end of the pres–oh, actually, you know what? Hang on, you might be first. How do you . . . how do you–how can I pull up the next. . . "
"Hit the arrow key," Aaron lazily points to the keyboard. "N–No, the other one. The one on the lef–yes, that. There y'go."
The screen flashes to a picture of Finn, along with big, bolded letters that read "FINN WHELAN", accompanied by a short description and his statistics. Finn and Aaron's facial expression showed that they were impressed, not with the PowerPoint itself, but more with the fact that Felix actually put effort into something that was relevant to her career.
"Finn, honey, listen – I like you as a person?" Her face scrunches up, hearing the words that are coming out of her own mouth, "Buuuut it's just not going to be your night. I dig that you're super passionate and you've just got all this heart and it's just fucking sickening . . . " She pauses to take a breath while Finn rolls his eyes dismissively, "I get it. You want to win so badly. I'm betting that it'll come down to at least the two of us out of four, so there's hope for you there. But that's where it ends."
"For you, yeah."
"N–No, Finn, for you. Eventually, if it comes down to the two of us, you're kind of . . . Well, you're kind of fucked. Ask Aaron – she'll tell you that I get what I want, when I want it, without question. She saw me first hand in GWC. She knows what I'm capable of. It's a well known fact that because of a woman's smaller frame and limited ability to put on as much muscle mass, speed is a factor that I'm just naturally better than you at."
"That came straight from Wikipedia, I don't give a fuck what anybody says."
"I mean your only real advantage against me is that we've trained together," Felix tried to make it sound like Finn had a chance, but he knew that in her mind there was nothing that would actually convince her of it. "You know how I move, but then again, I know how you move too. We know the ins and outs of each other's specific skills. Realistically I just put you in the slideshow so that you wouldn't feel left out, but we both know we'll be in the top four battling it out anyway."
"I mean–"
"Sir, I'm not going to ask you again. Please hold all questions until the end of the presentation."
"It's not really a question—"
"—ALL. QUESTIONS. Hold them. All of them."
Felix pulls up the next slide on the PowerPoint, ignoring the unison sighs that fill the room from her rather small audience of three. The next slide simply read "MYSTI SAVAGE" with a picture underneath it of a giant trash can. Finn and Aaron giggled, Finn slightly more so, enjoying the fact that these are also his opponents.
"Mysti Savage, my number one fan!" Felix bats her eyelashes, draping a well-manicured hand over her chest and gazing off into the distance. "Probably sitting in her mobile home at the moment talking about government conspiracy theories with some dude that is technically her boyfriend, but neither of them will tell you that because they believe in 'free love' and 'connecting spiritually' rather than 'putting labels' on anything because society wants to hold the man down!" Felix, impassioned, raises a fist to the ceiling much to Finn and Aaron's delight. "Honestly no clue what this bitch is doing here, she came at me with all these emotions that she was obviously suppressing and talking about me running a fashion show. Apparently being an obvious choice for a female role model—"
"—I'd like to circle back to that—"
"—Means you have to smoke weed instead of being able to stay on top of fashion trends while busting your fine ass at the gym while winning Championship gold annnnd on top of all of that, keeping up with an unparalleled social media presence. Obviously, the bitch is just bitter that working as a webcam model doesn't get you those shiny Louboutins. Thus, we're sentenced to the lonely world of alternative modelling. It's a sad world out there, guys. My heart goes out to you, Mysti. Just kidding, go fuck yourself."
The next slide was a picture of Felix and a tattooed man photoshopped inside of a heart, the title of the slide reading "JACK OWYNS".
"Why, in his statistics section, did you put: 'Penis Size'?"
"Um, because after I find out what that statistic is, Aaron, I can come back and edit the PowerPoint. Obviously," Felix barely cracked a smile.
"Why does she get to ask questions and I—"
"HOLD YOUR QUESTIONS UNTIL THE END OF THE PRESENTATION."
Finn slumped over forwards with his head in his hands. Aaron grinned, supportively rubbing Finn's back. He knew that to everyone else, it just looked like marital support, but Aaron was communicating through her touches that it would only be a few . . . torturous . . . moments more.
"Super angsty for no reason, super dysfunctional father, doesn't have much success in just about any other company. I'd like to quickly address the fact that all of these people are the first to like, deflect their anger on me or whatever when realistically, I'm actually proving to be the most qualified here. If it weren't for Krys, I would have gone completely untouched in GWC. Imagine being in one company for a whole year and only one competitor has ever defeated you?"
"I think you're just mad that he won't go out with you," Finn mumbled through his hands that still covered his buried face.
"He's playing hard to get. I know his game."
"I literally would not mean this if I said it to you under any other circumstances, but . . . You could do better," Finn said, shaking his head with utter disbelief that out of all the men Felix could attract, she was attracted to Jack fucking Owyns.
"Okay, not sure why you think you're so qualified all of a sudden to give relationship advice, BUUUUT . . . " Felix turns on her heels, turning her attention to the PowerPoint and turning to the next slide. "Moving on, I guess . . . "
"BRYAN WILLIAMS" was the next slide, piercing blue eyes that somewhat mesmerized Felix momentarily; she nodded in approval, before looking directly at Finn.
"Kinda hot, and by the way, definitely making it into the top four with us, Finn."
"I know."
"Oh, and he totally fucked Aidan Carlisle."
"I know that, too."
"Probably happened while they were both in that other company that literally nobody fucking cares about, but they keep mentioning it like it matters? Like as if it's going to skyrocket their careers here in absolutely any way, shape or form? That one? Mhmm. Anyway, it's nice to know that I myself will not be the only competitor in that ring that has held gold before. Obviously you peasants can't relate to people like us, but, let me tell you it's a great feeling. Bryan's the only other guy, Matty Page aside–"
"Stop."
"–That poses any threat to us whatsoever. I can definitely toss him a bit of respect for having as much experience as he does."
"I think she thinks . . . " Finn turns to Aaron with a quizzical look on his face, "That 'respect' is only given to people she'd fuck."
"Yuuuuup."
"Also, not deaf, so. There's that. Also, no offence, but wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole. I know the feeling is mutual and let me just say I am hashtag-blessed for that."
Felix, whom is now a professional at using PowerPoint, brings up the next slide that has a giant "?" where the picture should be, and the name at the top reads "JASON KAINE". Finn's eyebrows crease, looking back from Felix, to the laptop, to Felix, back to the laptop.
"Ummm, what happened there?" Finn points to the question mark.
"Yeah, T-B-H you guys, I have no clue who this is," Felix shrugs with an unfazed exhale.
"You know, the guy with the longer hair? Kind of big and bulky, bit of a moustache . . . "
. . .
"Always looks like he's confused about something?"
. . .
"Totally lost his shit in his promo the other day and mentioned a chick who isn't even on the card?"
. . .
"Just skip to the next slide, for fuck sakes."
"Okay, wow, you can 1-800-dial-it-the-fuck-back," Felix sucks at her teeth whilst giving Finn her signature eye roll.
Finn was excited, knowing from first-hand knowledge that there were two opponents she had yet to cover, which meant that this experience was close to being over. The next slide read "CONNOR JACOBS", which was a name new to both Felix and Finn. Despite the minimal Twitter interaction with him that Felix had, she knew nothing much.
"This fucking weiner," Finn snorts, genuinely excited for Felix's personal brand of verbal slaughter this time.
"Total noob, loves tits. That's just about what his Wikipedia bio will ever say about him if he makes it big," Felix pauses to lean up against the bed post, twirling a piece of her fire-red hair between her stiletto-tipped nails. "Guy totally tried sleeping with me over Twitter and like, low-key I might do it? But like, maybe when he has more money or something. I kind of feel like right now I'd be the breadwinner? Like, I can't carry your career on my back too, you know? He has to make his own name for himself."
"Will literally never happen."
"Well, obviously, Finn . . . The guy's quick and powerful, but who cares when you're young and hot with double-D's? Clearly this guy has the brain of a fourteen year old boy. All of his finishers are some sort of sexual innuendo and not even good ones. It's like, we already have somebody on the Victory roster with a slutty gimmick. We don't need another one. And the one we have is already established and successful. It's me, by the way; I'm talking about me."
"We got it, we got it." Aaron urges.
"Just making sure, because it really seems like you guys aren't even paying attention," Felix taps her fingernails rhythmically along the aluminum edge of her Macbook. "Okay, save the best for last . . . "
"Oh, God."
"My Matty," Felix reveals the final slide which has a picture of a shirtless, sweaty, probably post-workout Matthew Page. The slide is covered in animated hearts, reminiscent of a binder with your high-school crush's name plastered in Sharpie all over it.
"Again with the 'Penis Size'?!"
"Come on, Aaron, you know there's no way I'm not going to find that out," Felix looks at Aaron as if she had two heads. "Easily the last person that'll be in the top four with us, without a doubt. When it comes down to the final two, though? Me and him, for sure. Maaaaybe you, Finn. Maybe. My god, the sad thing is . . . " Felix takes a step back, admiring the picture of Matthew Page, "Who honestly wouldn't lay down for him for three whole seconds? Legit."
"Me," Finn raises his hand with no hesitation.
"You do know that if you're in the final rounds with him, you will have to actually . . . take shots at each other?" Aaron awkwardly rubbed at the back of her neck.
Felix couldn't help but smirk, biting down on her lip, her cheeks flushing a bright shade of pink. She stifles a childish giggle.
"For fuck sakes. We're done. That's it. Thanks for coming out," Lexi slams the top of the Macbook shut, storming out of the room.
