Buzz Words (Cynthia Rose Promo 2)

"Contradiction"

(The camera opens on Cynthia Rose, standing in front of her hotel room on a beautiful sunny day in Wrestleworld.  She looks up at the sky as she fidgets with her fingers and sways back and forth nervously.)


"You contradict yourself, Colt.  You do it a lot, actually.  You compare my optimistic and admittedly naive personality to your own sister's, and then say we have nothing in common.  You claim I stole your moment of celebration last week when you invited me to the party.  You say I should grow a thick skin and try to get ahead in this business while whining over me allegedly stealing the spotlight from your own championship coronation.  You say I can't handle people not liking me, and then say you'd gladly ask me out to lunch after you've done whatever it takes to keep that title around your waist between the ropes.  These are contradictions, Colt.  They're the reason someone might charge you for being a bully, despite the fact that I did no such thing.  Quite the contrary, I stated all of the reasons why I respect you and don't blame you for being a little sour after me and your girlfriend or whatever had a further falling out during your moment.  You're right, this match shouldn't be about shoes.  It shouldn't be over some misunderstanding and miscommunication between myself and Kimberly, but that's exactly what you let it become.  This match wasn't even going to happen until YOUR manager invited me to YOUR party and then handed me a shot at YOUR title instead of taking care of business on her own.  If this match is about shoes, then it's YOUR fault.  Do I try to be nice to everyone here? Yeah.  I know it wont stick with everyone, and believe me when I say I understand that mending fences with your manager is a lost cause at this point, but I'm new here Colt.  That's what the new kid does.  They make connections, they try to stand out, they attempt not to fade into the background too far while also trying not to garner the wrong kind of attention.  Sadly, it doesn't seem it's panned out the way I'd hoped.  I came to that party to let bygones be bygones and instead I ended up being a verbal cat fight that played out under your watchful eye, and you seemed pretty entertained by it.  Now whose entertained? Now who feels like they're being exploited? Now who feels the eyes of the world zeroed in on them? The European Champion, that's who.  See, this is your first defense Colt.  It's a big deal.  This match is your first impression, and on a personal level I really hope you don't blow it.  I have been watching you for awhile now.  I've been studying tapes, analyzing your game, and marveling at the things you did for attention before you got to this point at the pinnacle of our sport.  I saw the desperate kid trying to earn a spotlight for himself.  I saw the blue chip prospect he became, and now before my eyes, as if raised from celluloid, stands the final product.  It doesn't have the same whimsy as the old Colt.  It's far from feeling okay about the choices it's made to get to this point, and tries in earnest to drown memories of desperation from it's mind.  I look at the final product, then I look at the gold it's holding, and I hope that there's something more to it when it steps into the ring because I'll be honest with you Colt, when I look at the old you I see who I am now...and when I look at the Colt that stands before me, I see a lot of commonalities between it and the Cynthia I once was.  It wasn't that long ago that I was burned out, blitzed out of my gourd, and stranded on the side of Route 66 on a desert road in the middle of nowhere.  I buckled under the pressure of college, Colt.  My mind buckled academically, my spirit buckled under the weight of being away from home for the first time, and my knee buckled when it turned half an inch in the wrong direction when I went to take someone down with a double leg on a bare gym floor.  Most importantly, my ego buckled Colt.  It buckled and left me eating humble pie and drinking whisky and rye out in the middle of America's no man's land.  Personally? I think you deserve better than that.  You probably even deserve better than me, to be honest.  I didn't earn this shot.  I recognize that.  It's been handed to me on a silver platter, but you're insane if you think I'm going to go hungry just because I think the china's a little too hoity-toity.  I've been living off of crumbs for awhile now, Colt.  Crumbs of relevancy, crumbs of fallen stars, heck crumbs of poverty, and maybe I deserve to be in this situation.  Maybe I should even revel in it since I'm paying my dues like I wanted to instead of cashing in on a famous aunt and uncle, but starving is starving Colt.  I've found myself once again far from home and anyone who ever loved me, but this time I'm not going to drink the guilt away and leave my gut and general disposition toward the world soured."

(Cynthia nervously cuts her eyes toward the camera as she awkwardly leans in and fights back a soft smile of empathy.)

"I hope you don't either, Colt.  No matter how this match turns out, I hope you find peace, love, and happiness in what you're doing.  I don't mean to sound like some 1970's love child, but I honestly do wish the best for your heart and soul.  This isn't one of those Southern 'bless your hearts' you hear about either; I sincerely hope you find something that quells your regret that doesn't come in a can or a bottle.  I honestly don't think you even want this match, not because you think you can't win, but because you're afraid I wont bounce back from it.  You see this bright eyed blonde girl before you ready to take on the world on her terms and you don't want to be the one who destroys her innocence.  Let me be the first to soothe your latest conscience flare up; I'm not some lost babe in the woods.  I know what I've gotten myself into, and I welcome it as either a learning experience or even an early chance at paving a legacy to be proud of.  I'm not going to take my ball and go home if you hit me too hard or disrespect me in that ring, because deep down I know that's just the position I'm in as a young talent.  My inexperience is going to be exploited, and my raw talent is going to be overlooked and taken for granted, and I have no problem exploiting that perception of me just being some lame duck first title defense to get a win on the books for your reign.  I have the right to resent that perception though.  There's a buzzword floating around right now that really gets my goat; 'stepping stone'.  It seems to be the words on everyone's lips going into the next big show, but for the life of me I think it might be the single most insulting thing you can say to an opponent.  It's dismissive.  It's degrading.  It insists an importance over another human being, and an entitlement over their efforts and accomplishments.  It's either the ultimate bullet between the eyes of Old Yeller behind the barn, or the act of hobbling a young and promising new talent in the hopes of turning it into tender veal for easy consumption.  Is that how you see me, Colt? Because I don't look at you and see the former.  I didn't look at Nas and see some elder statesman to be capitalized on for a means to my own greedy ends.  I know I'm the girl who tries to make nice and doesn't swear or throw punches, but I feel like by now I've proven that I'm not some pushover either.  Respect and potential future lunch dates aside, I'm coming for my place at the table Colt and I don't expect to bulldoze over you and take your seat to get it.  Quite the contrary, I plan on making my own spot and standing on my own two feet.  If I manage to somehow eke out the victory and take your title though, I'll do it.  Just like I don't expect you to go easy on me, I don't expect putting you down will be an easy task to fulfill.  Likewise, I'm not going down without a fight either so rest easy knowing that whatever may come of this match is fully consensual on my part.  I'm not going anywhere after the bell rings, and neither is the spirit that you're afraid of crushing under your boot heel with the weight what alcohol has convinced of being the reality of things.  The only buckling I plan on doing in the near future is with that belt of yours.  All that's left to figure out is whose waist I'll be buckling it around; yours or mine?"

(Cynthia meekly smiles into the camera as she purses her hands behind her back innocently.  After a long pause, she looks past the camera.)

Cynthia Rose: How was that?

Percy: Pretty weak if you ask me.  You're still being way too damn nice.

Cynthia Rose: Language...

Percy: It's in the Bible, dammit!

Cynthia Rose: Ohmigosh,language!

(Percy shuffles out from behind the camera,holding his arms out to his side in frustration as Cynthia crosses hers in front of her looks down at the pavement with a resting scowl on her face.)

Cynthia Rose: You think I'm gonna win?

Percy: Maybe.

Cynthia Rose:That reporter kept trying to stoke Colt and claim I somehow interrupted his ceremony.

Percy: That's her job as a fight reporter.  She's an instigator.  

Cynthia Rose:Yeah, but it's not true though.  Colt should know better than anyone that it's not true.  He and Kimberly invited me out there.  I didn't expect to show up to a dressing down, ya know?

Percy: It's all part of the game, kid.  Those types do it to feel superior.

Cynthia Rose: Yeah, Kimberly does seem like the type...

Percy: Colt too.

Cynthia Rose: Oh now I don't know about that.

Percy: You said it yourself; The guy's kind of a bully.  He's trying to push his weight around as a new champion, but instead of picking the biggest guy in the yard to knock out, for some reason he went after you.  Maybe it's a confidence thing.  The boy drinks.

Cynthia Rose: Gee, thanks for the ringing endorsement.  

Percy: What? You know you shouldn't be anywhere near that title yet, or at least you should.

Cynthia Rose: I know, but like...ugh...there's a chance I can win this right?

Percy: Of course! Anyone has a chance at winning.  Flukes happen.  People cheat.

Cynthia Rose: Percy...

Percy: Look, you asked for my personal opinion.  Despite the talent on this roster, Wrestleworld champions don't fall all that easily.  

Cynthia Rose: Yeah, but even I know that they either lose on their first defense or reign for a long time.  That's what happened in Book 1 right?

Percy: True, but it was usually against more established talents whose discipline was solely devoted to one division.  We're not even sure if you're going to stick around the European scene unless you win.  I mean it suits your style, but who knows? Architects are like Greek gods sometimes; they're very finicky and easily bored.

Cynthia Rose: Easy with the Greek god talk there Percy Jackson.

Percy: Who told you to call me that?!

Cynthia Rose: Sam.  She said it was your last name.  Is it true? Are you the lightning thief of legend?

Percy: That no good bi-

Cynthia Rose: Language.

Percy: Biscuit eater.  I was going to say biscuit eater.

Cynthia Rose: Uh huh...

Percy: Don't ever call me that again.  My last name is none of your business.

Cynthia Rose: I just want to know one thing...do you think Colt will lose to me and have the "Titan's Curse" befall him?

Percy: Gimme a break...

(Percy turns and begins stomping toward the front office in a huff.   Cynthia smirks at his agitation and calls after him as he leaves.)

Cynthia Rose: Awww, c'mon!  I really need to know what you think on this one.  If I win the title do you think I'll be able to stave off the "Sea of Monsters" in contention?

Percy: I'M GONNA GET A CRULLER AND WHEN I GET BACK THIS BETTER BE OUT OF YOUR SYSTEM!

Cynthia Rose: Maybe I'll have to leave Wrestleworld if I lose. If forced to leave the island in disgrace, I should go to OWA and join a brand...tell me, what happened "Last Olympus"?

Percy: KEEP TALKIN'! YA RUNNIN' LAPS WHEN I GET BACK!

(Percy storms into the front office of the hotel and tries in vain to slam the glass door behind him.)

Cynthia Rose: Oh no, don't put me through "the Battle of the Labyrinth"!  Ah he's gone...that last one wasn't that good anyway.

(Cynthia shrugs and turns to the hotel room door, only to find a colorful brochure lodged in the door jamb.  She yanks it out and studies over it momentarily.  Her eyes suddenly widen as they visibly double back and scan over a column of words.  She gracefully nods to the camera in dismissal and jogs toward the front office.)

Cynthia Rose: Hey...hey Percy?"

(The door swings open, nearly popping her between the eyes as she approaches.  Percy mean mugs her as she approaches.)

Percy: What?! Gonna run through the Demigod series now?

Cynthia Rose: What? N-no.  I was just wondering um..

Percy: WHAT?!

(Cynthia unfurls the brochure and holds it up to Percy's face.  He scans it in annoyance until his eyes catch a snag and freeze on a paragraph.  His jaw drops as he rereads the words, and then stands frozen in disbelief.)

Cynthia Rose: Percy...what's Eden? and more to the point, can we stay there? and even more to the point; why aren't we already?

(Percy studies over the brochure once more, and then glances up toward Samantha's room at the top of the stairs.  After another long pause, he crumples the brochure and shoves it in his pocket, nodding as a smile threatens to creep over his lips before breaking into a quick jog toward the room.)

Percy: A'ight...pack your things.

Cynthia Rose: W-wha'?

Percy: I said pack your shit little girl, we're leavin'!

Cynthia Rose: LANGUAGE!

Percy: HAHA! PACK YOUR SHIT!  WE OUTTA HERE!

(Cynthia scowls as Percy kicks in their hotel room door and charges inside, only to moments later reemerge with an armful of clothes that he dumps on the hood of the Bel Air.  Cynthia rolls her eyes and throws her hands up at her side.)

Cynthia Rose: Hey! Wait for me!

(Cynthia rushes off after Percy as the camera fades to black.)