Insinuation is the Insincerest Form of Apathy (Cynthia Rose Promo 2 for Arcadia)

(The camera opens in the rarely used Wrestleworld promo booth where Cynthia Rose awkwardly stands in her gear with her shoulders hunched and her head hung in thought and an indecisive look on her face.)

Cynthia Rose: When I was little I grew up going to school and learning about Honest Abe and George Washington admitting to cutting down cherry trees.  In the grand scheme of things I realize that both were more than likely political facsimiles fabricated to make our founding fathers look like decent men.  Abraham Lincoln was a moral paragon, and George showed responsibility for his actions.  It's nice lore, but despite the intent of propaganda to get them inside of the white house, these parables do teach a lesson of accountability and honesty.  I've been honest with you Colt.  I've told you that I don't know anything about your personal life, and in response you've passive-aggressively taken jabs at my trainer and my accomplishments.  One minute you're running me down for not being an established name, giving insinuation that I know what it means to stroke Jaywalker's 'ego', saying I can't beat a man who left the company because I beat him, and casting dispersion at a man you know nothing about who trained me and gave me a place to stay when I didn't have a penny to my name.  The next minute you're saying you like me, which is clearly not true.  You keep saying you're going to address me, and then you skirt the topic to pop a crowd with a name you've dropped.  This match isn't about how Wrestleworld runs business.  This match isn't about your ex girlfriend or manager or whatever.  This match isn't even about the standards at which you compete to retain the European Championship, your legacy, or my future.  If I fail, I fail.  If I succeed then...yeah, that's a big deal for me, but that gold around your waist quit being the reason we were attached to one another a long, long, time ago.  The only reason you have that title around your waist is Kimberly Chase.  She's the reason I didn't pin your shoulders to the mat the first time we met, and you know something? Fine, she's in the rear view for both of us, but the fact that you continue to gallivant around and pretend like your beating me was an inevitability when I had you dead to rites with my own finisher really sticks in my craw.

(Cynthia wipes her hair out of her face and attempts to stand up straight and put on a confident face while still looking off camera.)

Cynthia Rose: You talk down to me.  You've been doing it for awhile now, and I was willing to be the humble and submissive student when I thought you had something to offer besides snide backhanded remarks and tongue-in-cheek barbs at the ready to spit into my face at the very second I point out your...well, I can't even call it hypocrisy because I don't even know what you even stand for.  Do you? I'm beginning to wonder as I listen to you list out the world's problems with fingers pointed in all directions without a single one landing on yourself if you are remotely self-aware of the situation we're currently in and why we're even in it.  You seem content to be stuck in the past, and maybe it's because that's where you left any ounce of honor or respect for the person standing across from you.  Is that why you have a Rolodex of former Wrestleworld talents at the ready to name off as your peers instead of the people you actually share a roster with? Has everyone you ever respected left this island with more salt in their system than the ocean surrounding it? Is that why you're acting this way? are you going through the transfusion process as you head through the door? It's lucky that this is an island out at sea instead of some submerged landlocked peninsula in the shallows of a bay because you wouldn't have a way out after all of the bridges you've burned.  Meanwhile, I'm standing here with my hands in my pocket waiting for you to get to the point and actually talk to me, and when you do all you seem to muster is a weak 'I like you'? No you don't.  You don't know me.  You never took the time, effort, or interest to invest in my life other than to laugh at me being bear maced by your former manager until the joke got too old to laugh at anymore.  Who are you, Colt? Are you going to be missed when you leave? As more and more people fade from your life around you, I begin to understand why you've clung to the alumni page so steadfast that you're slowly becoming a part of it.

(Cynthia turns her face fully to the camera, but her eyes still can't manage to meet it's lens.)


Cynthia Rose: Honestly? None of it's any of my business.  You're not even any of my business.  These people who couldn't cut it here that are successful elsewhere? None of my business.  You know what? Kudos to them for finding peace and happiness in a new job.  My business is this match.  My business is this business of wrestling. Like you said before you dumped your purse full of grievances out on the Breakfast Club study hall table, this business needs to be less about the drama and more about the action.  I'm done taking the bait, Colt.  I'm done getting wrapped up in a life that isn't my own and worrying about people I don't even know liking me for who I am.  I'm here to wrestle. I'm here to feel good about what I do in that ring.  Most times that means sticking to my guns and being happy with learning from the experience no matter what the outcome.  That's not the case this time though, Colt.  Don't get me wrong, I'm not changing who I am to suit your needs.  I wont quell your conscience by hitting back harder when you inevitably punch me in the face or boot me in the mouth, nor do I care if that's how you choose to wrestle.  I think my way's better than yours though, and I plan on showing you that once and for all that this business can be the place you say you want it to be.  No drama, no malicious intent, no hard feelings.  I'm going to take every single tenet you preach out of one side of your mouth and shove it down the other side that's chewed up and broken every single one.  You may have been in this business longer than me, suffered bigger losses, and been on bigger stages, but I think I still figured it all out before you even tried to make an attempt at being the in-ring professional that you say you wish to see in others.  Maybe that's why below the surface of every 'compliment' you pay me, I taste the hint of a vile bile full of venom.  You resent me Colt Montoya.  You resent me like Ozy resented me for beating him in a match that he considered won before even stepping in the ring with half the roster.  You resent me like Kimberly Chase resents me for being an effortlessly decent human being.  You resent me because you don't know me.  You don't know my scars, my anguish, my lowest moments on this earth that I overcame being defined by.  All you see is a young thoroughbred pup with a wagging tail and a dripping tongue that's happy with the world lain out at her feet.  That's not me, Colt.  It's who I try to be because it beats being drunk, dehydrated, and stranded out on that long desert road waiting for death to absolve me of my mistakes, hoping that it does so before my parents pull in to the gas station and find what's left of their washout daughter with the bum knee that was supposed to make them proud laying in the floor of a one-seater outside gas station toilet.  No one has handed me a single solitary thing in this business.  No last name has granted me reprieve, and no well liked trainer with influential ties got me anything more than a spot on the roster and a comped hotel room.

(Cynthia wipes her nose with her forearm as she tries to fight back a sniffle.  She finally looks up, her dry eyes staring into the camera with an intensity and passion for life burning inside them.)

Cynthia Rose: But what do you care, right? The world's done Colt Montoya wrong in such a way that he can't even enjoy his title run without feeling guilty for...something.  What is that, do you think? Insecurity? Has that been what's chased you down to the bottom of a bottle? Even when you're supposed to be celebrating you're drinking to forget...something.  I wont pretend to know what that something is.  I wont even insinuate that it might be how you've handled our situation because I don't think I'm remotely even that big a part of your life to leave such an impact.  Maybe it isn't one thing though.  Maybe it's a lot of little things, and maybe I am the latest poster child for those regrets, but none of that matters.  None of that accounts for what happens between those ropes.  None of that is going to be an excuse for why you've lost when I finally pin your shoulders to the mat fair and square.  Everyone has problems, Colt.  I sincerely hope your departure helps you find the solution to some of your own.  I even hope the day comes where we can share a locker room, and I can look over to you and see a man lacking resentment in his eyes when he looks back at me.  I hope you can pull the plug on your pity party and meet me in that ring with the cold, somber, sober, stoicism of a veteran looking to leave the territory, but not before giving me the fight of my short career on his way out.  I don't want you to lay down.  I don't want you to concede in some grand political statement.  I don't even want you to look outside and see Percy and think he'll be a problem for you, because he wont.

(With that last pointed sentence, Cynthia glances past the camera with a stern expression on her face.)

Cynthia Rose: I want the chance to beat you clean, fair, and without a hand on my ankle or pepper spray in my eyes.  I swear, I should start an OnlyFans that's just ankle pics considering how obsessed this roster seems to be with grabbing mine.

Percy: (off camera) NO!

Cynthia Rose: Joking! joking...God forbid I bring a little levity to this wet blanket promo.

Percy: (off camera) Language!

Cynthia Rose: What?!...Ugh! Are you saying God's a sw-

Percy: (off camera)  IT IS THAT WAY!

Cynthia Rose: Sorry...My apologies to anyone at home for my flippant disregard for apparently taking the Lord's name in vain.

Percy: (off camera) I'm pretty sure 'craw' is a swear too.

Cynthia Rose: WHAT?!

Percy: (off camera, clearly trying to hold back laughter) Aphhhhph!...Apologize!

Cynthia Rose: No! You're trying to screw with me.

Percy: (off camera) LANGUAGE!

Cynthia Rose: Oh c'mon! 'screw?'

Percy: (off camera) Potty mouth!

Cynthia Rose: ...me?

Percy (off camera) Vulgar!

Cynthia Rose: No!

Percy (off camera) Dirty birdy!

Cynthia Rose: Shut up!

Percy: (off camera)  LANGUAAAAAAGE!

(Cynthia lets out a huff of air and storms off camera left.  The sickening thud of fist hitting meat is picked up by the booth camera as Percy lets out a yelp.)

Percy: OW!

(Cynthia stomps back into frame, shaking off her left hand from the off-screen south paw strike.)

Percy: (off camera, mock crying) What happened to my sweet little girl?

(Cynthia narrows her eyes and stares down the scope.)

Cynthia Rose: Hey, if Colt Montoya's going to break character mid-promo for a lame shout outs then why the [BEEP] shouldn't I?

Percy: (off camera) OOOOHHHHHHHHH! BURN!

Cynthia Rose: He...he hit the censor button.  I said heck! I said heck!

(Percy pops into frame with one hand over his mouth and another holding a remote censor button. Cynthia blushes, her shoulders rising as her body fumes with embarrassment.)

Cynthia Rose: Percy! Tell them I said [BEEP]! PERCY!

Percy: Oh, naughty naughty!  

Cynthia Rose: PER[BEEP]! CUT IT[BEEP]!

Percy: You've changed, Cynthia.  Big bad girl's throwin' out swears and threatening ol' poor defenseless Percy with physical violence and OnlyFans accounts.  What will they say about this out in the boonies of Hickory, North Carolina.

Cynthia Rose: Percy, this isn't funny.

Percy: I know.  It's never funny when a sweet girl beats up her manager and curses him out.

Cynthia Rose: Ohmigosh, I hit you in the[BEEP] elbow with my[BEEP] hand.  I probably hurt myself more than I did you.

Percy: I might need to go to therapy after this promo.

Cynthia Rose: Oh[BEEP]gosh Percy! Stop it with the button and[BEEP]off the camera!

Percy: You want me to what off the camera?! Save that for your pay to perv site little girl.

Cynthia Rose: PERCY!

Percy: Fine, fine.  I was just joshing.  This girl wouldn't know a curse word if a wizard taught her out to spell.

Cynthia Rose: Hmmm, maybe Colt was right.  Maybe you are here to ride off my coattails and steal air time.

Percy: Bitch, you owe me like six-hundred dollars for a hotel stay that wouldn't have even been necessary if you had read ya damn Wrestleworld contract.

Cynthia Rose:...langu[BEEP]. OHMIGOSH PERCY!

(Cynthia dives at her trainer, trying to wrestle the remote from his hand but the taller Percy simply lifts his arm over her head tauntingly.)

Percy: You better wrestle better than that if you plan on taking down Colt Gottdamn Montoya!

Cynthia Rose:[BEEP]uage!

Percy: Sorry, I don't listen to swears.  

(Percy calmly wanders off camera with his arm raised high with the censor button in hand, like the statue of liberty as Cynthia's tiny frame hangs off of his elbow, trying to weigh it down and gain control of the censorship button.  As they disappear off screen, the camera goes out of focus on the Wrestleworld logo and then cuts to black.)