Raven sat upon the couch in his locker room, cold eyes staring at the
monitor before him. The brutal match that night against Tash Rankin was
playing on that screen and once it would finish, a finger would move to the
VCR so he could rewind it and start from the beginning. Normally, after
beating an opponent, such attention was never given... but she was
different.
"Strong as a bull in both mind and will... but as beautiful as Aphrodite herself. Intelligent... Brave enough to fight me," he thought as he watched the part involving the trash can, and it just had to make him smirk. No, he didn't feel bad for what he had done. He knew she had enjoyed it as much as he had. The pain she was experiencing would fade in time, but the memory of an explosive debut match would live on. If anything, he had helped her.
The door to the locker room was pushed open with a slight creak, and speak of the devil, in would come Tash. She didn't say a single word... not yet at least. She looked awful. Her forehead had been stitched up carefully and various bruises lined her body and face. She never complained about it like the other divas would. She took it in stride and reminded herself that tomorrow was another day.
She moved to the couch her rival was seated on and she just eased herself down next to him. It was at this point that the two "weirdos" would make eye contact. There was a connection between them. Perhaps they were kindred spirits. Both had taken their fair share of pain in life and still had continued on. She wasn't here to talk about that, though. It was all business. But before she could open her mouth, Raven would speak first.
"You want a rematch, don't you, Tash?"
A slight nod of her head was given in response. He had only known her for a short amount of time and already he knew her better than her own brother, it seemed. Strong arms came to fold over her chest as she peered at him.
" I'm not going to lie. You intrigue me. That's why I will grant you the match you desire so much... yet, you have to give me something if you lose. If I defeat you in the ring, 1-2-3, then you'll be obligated to be my manager for the next three months. Do you understand?" he spoke calmly and was very composed. This wasn't just a sudden idea that had popped in his head. He had been turning it over in his mind ever since their match.
" Consider it a deal, Cyka," she smirked a bit as she looked down at those aging combat boots of her's. She had been thinking about buying a new pair, but they were broken in. New boots were hard to wrestle in.
" ... Can you please tell me what that means? Or is it just some word you made up in a moment of immaturity?" he hadn't found that phrase in any dictionary. The fact that he didn't know what a word meant was simply driving him insane. He was beginning to wonder if she was just messing with him.
" Oh, It's a word. Russian phrase. I'm not telling what it means, though. Have a nice night," and with that, she got up to her height of five feet ten inches and walked right out of the locker room, leaving Raven to ponder.
"Strong as a bull in both mind and will... but as beautiful as Aphrodite herself. Intelligent... Brave enough to fight me," he thought as he watched the part involving the trash can, and it just had to make him smirk. No, he didn't feel bad for what he had done. He knew she had enjoyed it as much as he had. The pain she was experiencing would fade in time, but the memory of an explosive debut match would live on. If anything, he had helped her.
The door to the locker room was pushed open with a slight creak, and speak of the devil, in would come Tash. She didn't say a single word... not yet at least. She looked awful. Her forehead had been stitched up carefully and various bruises lined her body and face. She never complained about it like the other divas would. She took it in stride and reminded herself that tomorrow was another day.
She moved to the couch her rival was seated on and she just eased herself down next to him. It was at this point that the two "weirdos" would make eye contact. There was a connection between them. Perhaps they were kindred spirits. Both had taken their fair share of pain in life and still had continued on. She wasn't here to talk about that, though. It was all business. But before she could open her mouth, Raven would speak first.
"You want a rematch, don't you, Tash?"
A slight nod of her head was given in response. He had only known her for a short amount of time and already he knew her better than her own brother, it seemed. Strong arms came to fold over her chest as she peered at him.
" I'm not going to lie. You intrigue me. That's why I will grant you the match you desire so much... yet, you have to give me something if you lose. If I defeat you in the ring, 1-2-3, then you'll be obligated to be my manager for the next three months. Do you understand?" he spoke calmly and was very composed. This wasn't just a sudden idea that had popped in his head. He had been turning it over in his mind ever since their match.
" Consider it a deal, Cyka," she smirked a bit as she looked down at those aging combat boots of her's. She had been thinking about buying a new pair, but they were broken in. New boots were hard to wrestle in.
" ... Can you please tell me what that means? Or is it just some word you made up in a moment of immaturity?" he hadn't found that phrase in any dictionary. The fact that he didn't know what a word meant was simply driving him insane. He was beginning to wonder if she was just messing with him.
" Oh, It's a word. Russian phrase. I'm not telling what it means, though. Have a nice night," and with that, she got up to her height of five feet ten inches and walked right out of the locker room, leaving Raven to ponder.