Post by Sahara on May 27, 2020 6:26:43 GMT -5
The Fallout Shelter
May 25th, 2020
Sahara’s homecoming had seemingly rejuvenated the very spirit of the Fallout Shelter. In the weeks since her surprising return to the state of the art wrestling academy, the students were suddenly training harder, longer, and endlessly vying for her attention. Not only was she a moderately successful Netflix star, but now an active OPW Outlaw, which left most of the students starstruck by the fiery blonde. She’d never felt quite like this before. It was oddly cultish how they looked up to her, but it felt … really good. At first, she was apprehensive about it, unsure what to do, or how to act around them, but as the days rolled on she began to realize their affection for her wasn’t just intoxicating, but potentially useful.
Grace -- the former leader of the Fallout girls, and current proprietor of the Shelter -- had once used Sahara’s affection in a similar manner, but that was a lifetime ago.
It was a means to an end.
It was also a lesson learned.
What was the harm in using her new little playthings for whatever her little hearts desire? So long as she paid them back as Grace had done for her? The blonde shrugged it off. No point in making any of this a thing. After all, it was a pretty clear win-win situation for everyone involved. As she looked from one student to the next, her mind wandered to all the things they could be used for; running mindless errands, training, or even … pleasure.
Something suddenly bumped her arm, snapping her out of whatever daydream she’d been lost in, “What the he--”, Sahara stopped herself when she noticed who it was. “Luther! What up, old man?”, she asked with a smile.
Luther was the long-time head trainer of the Shelter, and shared a very father/daughter like relationship with the blonde known as Sahara. Since her return, they’d almost immediately fallen back into their old routine. It was common for him to poke fun of her reckless ways, always trying to keep her grounded without coming across heavy handed, which he knew was a surefire way to push her away.
“I see you lookin’ at that boy Dominick over there. You might wanna wipe that drool off your face.”
Sahara immediately wiped the corner of her mouth with a thumb as she realized she wasn’t actually drooling, “I ain’t droolin’, you ass. I was just daydreamin’.”
“Daydreaming? Yeah, right, and I’m Santa Clause. You was eatin’ that boy alive with yer eyes. Careful, girl, I told you there ain’t nothin’ these boys and girls won’t do for ya...”
Her eyes narrowed.
Oh, I’m countin’ on that.
She didn’t have to say that part out loud, Luther already knew damn well what she was thinking.
The blonde shrugged it off, not at all embarrassed about the devious thoughts rattling around in her brain. “I wasn’t fawnin’ over him or nothin’...but ya gotta admit, the dude looks like a goddamn Twinkee at a fat convention.” She let out a little laugh as her eyes floated back to Dominick, one of the more promising students of the Shelter. That thin sheen of sweat glistening off his chiseled adonis like frame--
“He looks like a what?!”
“A snack, Luther. Try to keep up.”
“Don’t go fallin’ back into your old habits so quick...you remember what happened last time”, Luther glanced up at the portrait of the blonde snorting Oxy, a grim reminder etched in history of what excess can do to a person. “Grace hung those up as a reminder of what y'all became back in the day, and what you could become again if you ain’t careful…”
“Oh, relax. The day you see me snortin’ Oxy off Dominick's unmentionables, you can say I told ya so. Until then, this place is my Oyster...and so is the OPW.”
She flashed that infectious smile again.
“I’m just gettin’ started, Luther.”
~~~~~
All it took was one appearance back in front of an arena full of OPW fans and she felt alive again.
The feeling of hitting that poor kid with those brass knuckles. Hearing the roar of the crowd. The snarky off-the-cuff comments she’d made about Blair Buchannan. It was one thing missing from her former Hollywood life. Wrestling wasn’t a series of retakes and cuts and resets and hours in the makeup chair.
Wrestling was an entirely different animal. It was real, and it took place in real time. There were no stuntmen or do-overs or take-backs. If you said something on a live mic, the world heard it. If you fucked up in the ring, it hurt. Anytime stepping through those ropes could be your last time.
“We all got our methods, don’t we ladies? Fresh off my match with the Little Dino Dude, I was informed I’d be facing Apathy and Necra Kane, in what I assume is a Triple Threat match!”
“How exciting.”
“As one of the new girls around these parts, I had to do my usual digging -- which constituted hittin’ up the OPW website, searching through the roster bio’s and seein’ what merch you chicas got available. Not really my cup-of-tea, as they’d say, but it is what it is.”
“At least Apathy has good taste in music, I’ll give her that much. Other than that, let’s just say I’m … apathetic to the rest of that package. Pun intended in case it wasn’t obvious enough. Then we got some Egyptian Goddess Queen whateverthefuck…”, Sahara let out a bit of a snort like laugh. “I don’t even know what to say about that one … yet. Seriously fun stuff. I can already hear Cindy Lauper singin’ some ‘Girls Just Wanna Have Fu-un’ during our upcoming match...”
But her playful smile suddenly vanished, “Jokes aside, the one thing I hate is when people dismiss or underestimate their opponents. Yeah, so what if I just kinda did that and I’m a hypocrite? That’s what this is, right?! This is the part where I’m supposed to stand in front of a camera and mic drop some mad pipe bombs against you girls, as if that’ll stop ya from doin’ what you do out there in that ring?!”
Sahara shook her head.
“Naw. That ain’t what this is. I’ve been doin’ this too damn long and I know better. I could stand here and belittle your accomplishments, which I’m sure each of you have a ton of, or poke fun at the way ya look, since -- let's face it -- neither of ya look “societally correct” like I do. But none of that’s gonna stop you from putting your collective boots up my little blonde ass and sending me packin’, now is it?!”
“In case it wasn’t clear, when I set out to do something, I do it. After all, I’m just a former wrestler that sold out and left the business to become a television star who got bored and decided to come back.”
The blonde rolled her baby blues, “So lemme guess, I don’t belong here anymore, right? Should I tuck my tail between these long beautiful legs and run back to Hollywood where they got stunt people to do the dangerous stuff for me? I already know how you girls are gonna look at me, and quite frankly, I don’t blame ya. From across the room, I’m just an empty headed prom queen that sat at the cool kids table in high school as you gazed across the cafeteria at me with those makeup-caked goth eyes and judged me with disdain, just as much as I was judgin’ you! But hey, at least I was honest about it.”
“The truth is, you girls didn’t belong then, and you sure as hell don’t belong now. I mean, I assume that’s why y’all got those angsty gothic facades...”
“In case it wasn’t clear from my last time out, I’m here to remind the wrestling world of what it’s been missing. I ain’t about to go out there and chain wrestle in a modern day spotfest designed to make the smarks pop and chant OP-Dub, OP-Dub like a bunch of morons. If any of you are smart, you’d take note of what I did to that little Dino Dude on Showcase, because if I made one thing clear, it’s that I don’t care about winnin’ or losin’ -- all I care about is stealin’ the fuckin’ show.”
~~~~~
The Fallout Shelter
Training Session
May 26th, 2020
“It’s a little something I picked up in my foray into Hollywood. It’s called acting, my darlings,” Sahara rolled her sapphire eyes at the students gathered around the training ring as she paced the ring apron. “I just need one of you darker haired emo types to step up and get into character.”
“So wait,” one particular student with raven colored hair chimed in. “You want me to act and wrestle like Necra Kane … or like just wrestle like her or what?”
“Yeah. Act like her. Wrestle like her. Just, uh, I don’t know, try to get all emo and angsty or something and do the things you think she’d do against me. I know you all watch OPW enough. It’s like getting ready to shoot a scene … the more prepared you are, the better you’ll perform. I’ve never faced her and it helps me visualize my opponent. Gets me into the proper fighting mindset. Look at it like method wrestling.”
“Method wrestling?”, the question came from a few of the surrounding students.
“Yeah, it’s kinda like method acting, but for fucking wrestling. While I realize this isn’t quite the same as fighting the real deal because Necra Kane is a killer, it’s far more than most do to prepare. So, you want the part or not?!”
There were surprisingly quite a few murmurs of understanding.
“And you won’t get mad if I really hit you?!”
Sahara shook her head and heaved a sigh as she sat on the middle rope, pushing upward on the top rope. “Get in the damn ring … Necra. And remember what I said this is … method wrestling. I ain’t gonna hold back, so I suggest you do the same...”
The raven haired girl shrugged as she stood up to some slight applause from the other students. Hopping up onto the ring apron, she nodded to Sahara as she stepped through the ropes and began to loosen up. Sahara deftly swung both legs into the ring and stood up, watching “Necra” warm up in the opposite corner. Having seen her in action, she was close enough to Necra’s height and weight, but didn’t quite have the Goddess of the Dead’s mannerisms down, but it was close enough.
The blonde known as the Crimson Queen stared daggers at the girl, her eyes narrowing. Sahara stood there and visualized Necra Octavian Kane in every sense of the word. Focusing. Concentrating. This wasn’t some student at the Shelter … this was the Reaper of Souls herself...
And there she was.
Going from 0 to 60, Sahara charges across the ring and SMASHES into the raven haired girl, sandwiching her much thinner frame up against the turnbuckles. She immediately grabs a fistful of “Necra’s” hair, who lets out a slight yelp. Jumping up, Sahara drives her face first into the mat with a reckless abandon. Again. And again.
“My fair little lady--”, Sahara seemed to murmur to herself as she stalked over the girls fallen body. She gently kicked her side before following up with a rather brutal kick to the midsection.
Method wrestling.
What started out as a joke to most of the students had suddenly taken a rather serious turn. Those at ringside stood in silence and watched the vicious Fallout girl tear into her opponent, both physically and verbally.
Lifting the girl up, Sahara delivered a cross hand chop straight across her throat, sending her back into the buckles. Turning her around, she kneed her in the small of her back, grabbing hold of the ropes on either side of the top turnbuckle. Again. And again. As “Necra” began to slump, Sahara quickly jumped and twisted, entwining her legs in her opponents arms and delivered a bruising sunset powerbomb that drew some gasps from the other students surrounding the ring.
Sitting upright, Sahara shoved her opponent away and wiped her mouth as she gazed out at the surrounding students.
Clearly knocked loopy, the girl crawled aimlessly as Sahara stood back up and reached down with a sneer, twisting her fists in the girl's sweat soaked hair. It was like trying to lift dead weight. “Get up,” the blonde snarled. “C’mon, get up, You’re supposed to be the goddamned Goddess of the Dead!” Her words were tinged with hatred. Unable to get her back to her feet, Sahara’s anger began to boil over, alarming the other students as she crashed a boot against the back of the girls head.
A gruff voice suddenly called out, echoing across the sprawling facility. Storming toward the training ring, the head trainer of the Shelter called out, “Yo … Sahara!” Despite repeating himself, and getting even louder the second time, it was obvious the blonde wasn’t hearing him.
“LAUREN!”, Luther’s echoing voice boomed as he called out her real name. Coming from him, this was like middle-naming an unruly child, and it did the trick.
It got her attention.
Pulling himself up onto the ring apron, Luther stepped through the ropes with such an urgency, he nearly tripped himself up so he could check on his trainee.
“What the hell are you doin’?! She’s done. Can’t you see?! She’s done!”
Sahara wiped the corner of her mouth and nonchalantly stepped back, leaning up against the ropes with a slight bouncing motion. “Then get her the fuck out of my ring. I ain’t here to hold hands with these kids. If yer gonna train these useless twats, then be willing to set them up for the reality check that’s yet to come.”
“She’s not Necra, Sahara.” Luther stood up and got in the blonde's face. “She’s not Apathy or anyone else in the OPW! She’s a goddamn trainee, and she ain’t ready for this!”
But the blonde scoffed, “Then get ‘em ready, Luther. That’s your fucking job. The big time ain’t no joke. Isn’t that the goal? The get to the big time? To one day step foot in an OPW ring?! Well, that was her first taste of it. She wanted to play wrestler, so I let her.”
Sahara turned her attention to the other students gathered on the outside of the ring, “Now who wants to play the part of Apathy? Cuz I gotta tell ya, I ain’t done trainin’ yet.”
Luther shook his head as he peeled his student off the blood soaked canvas. “This is supposed to be sparrin’, Lauren--”
“It’s Sahara.”
“You don’t gotta remind me! I know exactly who you are. I saw what you did to that kid, Pequeno Dinosaurio. You knocked him out cold and dropped a Coup de Grace on him for no reason. You coulda’ hurt him bad. And for what?! You didn’t even take the win! I trained you to be a killer so you could win matches, not give ‘em away, and sure as hell not to hurt people for the sake of hurtin’ ‘em!”
Sahara’s lip curled into a sneer, “Then maybe they’re all in the wrong goddamn business. Hey, I hear McDonald’s is hiring…the drive thru is boomin’ right now! Sahara let out a condescending laugh, “Now, who’s up for the part of Apathy?!”
Much to Luther’s surprise, quite a few of the students still raised their hands.
...and Sahara gave him a knowing smile.