The backstage hallway is narrow and unfinished, lined with concrete walls that haven’t been dressed up for television. A few production crates sit pushed off to the side, cables coiled loosely near the baseboards. Overhead lights buzz faintly, casting a flat, almost clinical brightness over everything. Raven Roberts moves through the space at a slow, steady pace, boots echoing softly with each step. She’s already in her dark purple ring gear. Her hair is pulled back into two flared pigtails, a few loose strands falling out of place as she walks. And her makeup is bright and electric, ready for the cameras. Despite the vibrancy of her appearance, her expression is one of frustration. There’s a slight crease in her brow, not exaggerated, just enough to show something’s there. She reaches the end of the hallway, stops, and turns back the way she came without hesitation. Same pace. Same rhythm. One hand briefly comes up to adjust the tape around her wrist, tugging it tighter before letting it snap back into place. Her jaw sets for a moment, then relaxes again.
As she passes one of the crates, she slows just slightly, glancing off to the side like she’s about to say something to herself— but doesn’t. Instead, she exhales through her nose, shakes her head once, and keeps moving.
Another turn at the end of the hall. Same path. Same steps.
This time when she stops, she doesn’t turn right away. She plants her feet, rests her hands on her hips for a second, then drops them again, rolling her shoulders back as if resetting something. A beat passes. Then she looks forward, steady again, and finally turning toward the camera.
“It feels every day like there is some new traumatic event going on in this world. Something to feel depressed or angry about is always just around the corner. The United States has decided to start a war against a country it deemed fully disabled from threat only months ago, a war wanted by literally no one aside from the pedophilic asswipes in charge of everything as a way to distract from the horrific crimes for which they ARE STILL NOT BEING PUNISHED FOR THE RECORD!”
“Best I can guess is that we are attempting to destabilize an entire region simply as a way to prop up our own failing economy. An economy that is failing because it was always designed to fail. The ever growing divide between the 1% that own 99% of the wealth and the 99% that own 1% of the wealth has gotten dramatically wider in an accelerated timeline. The late stage capitalism has targeted the elimination of the very idea of a middle class in an attempt to guarantee that those in power will remain in power and anyone with hopes of providing for a family feels those dreams snuffed out more and more each day. Meaning that each day we barrel headlong towards an economic authoritarian society in which the idea of choice is little more than an illusion to hide the lack of control any of us could ever truly have.”
“Much of this also added to by the unregulated growth of AI systems that have been wholly pushed at a disgusting pace as a part of this larger plan to make sure all those white collar jobs that entire generations of people were told would get them to prosperity, leaving them with decades of worthless degrees, licenses, and certifications as their careers dissolve in front of them due to a system that still can't even decipher when a data source is lying or not. Because we’ve decided that high level problem solving by human beings isn’t worth the risk of basic human error against the soulless operation of a robot that doesn’t even understand if it makes a mistake or not. Because that makes fucking sense except wait a second no it doesn’t and it’s just a way to continue cutting costs unnecessarily for money that will be invested nowhere aside from lining a CEOs pocket.”
“Those same CEOs by the way, that again… ARE STILL NOT BEING PUNISHED FOR THEIR LITERALLY DOCUMENTED CRIMES OF USING CHILDREN AND YOUNG GIRLS AMONG MANY OTHER THINGS THAT BELONG ON FUCKING DATELINE!!”
“Am I tired? Yes. Have I spent too much time on the internet this week? Probably so. Does it change anything about what I’m saying? No! The world is a spinning ball of shit rolling down dumpster fire hill, and the Highway to Hell is no longer a classic rock song but rather it is now the fucking calendar we hang on the wall!”
She takes a deep breath, sighing with her exhale.
“Add all of that to my own personal issues with the Matri-cunt and her fucking antics, and yeah, I’m feeling just a bit of stress that makes me occasionally wish I drank a lot more than I honestly do. So amidst all of this that’s going on in the world, and with everything I’ve been dealing with the last two months with KASAI, after the long career I’ve had and all the mountains I’ve climbed, the glass ceilings I’ve broken through, and the history that I’ve made… I’m currently left wondering a question… a simple one really…”
“WHO IN THE EVER-LOVING FUCK IS REI OBORO… AND WHY DOES SHE THINK SHE GETS TO HAVE AN OPINION ON ME?”
“If you didn’t like me being politically charged for a change, I don’t really give a fuck, it wasn’t even the point. My point is this. I got a lot on my plate. I’m dealing with some shit. And I get it. Young and fresh new blood coming in here. You wanna make a statement. I get that. But you ought to want to push me. Tell me you want to take me down. Don’t give me this bullshit. Talking about how you think you see my weaknesses and about how you apparently have me figured out or have the recipe to winning figured out just because you lost to Rex last week. Because, number one, that just sounds fucking stupid. And two, Rex and I are not the goddamn same person. We are married, but in case you missed the entirety of the point of the whole Fire and Ice thing, the whole point is that we operate very differently inside the ring. So take whatever indie promotion memories you have out of that stanky coochie and get real, bitch. I love the indies. I spent years there. But this is big leagues. This is the top of the industry. Don’t talk to me like you’re some kind of predator. You haven’t shown one tooth yet in this water where I’ve been a shark for multiple eras now.”
“And you’re the one saying YOU are not underestimating ME…? Girl you have lost your fucking mind. Look. My history speaks for itself. I prep for every match the same way every time. I don’t leave room to underestimate people because proper preparation forces me to come in right. But I don’t give a shit what you say about my career, what you say about the last few years for me. You are going to come in, with what like two matches in this company to your name? And you’re going to talk down to me, a former world champion, first ever Miss Cash in the Vault, first woman to win the New Breed title in history, first first first first first all the fuck over my resume… AND YOU THINK I'M WORRIED ABOUT YOU UNDERESTIMATING ME? Bitch you don’t even get to occupy a spot in my mind. You’re not even a part of what I’m dealing with right now, not even in the conversation I’ve been having all this time. The fuck are you talking about, like you got any fucking ground to stand on?”
Raven’s eyes narrow, her frustration giving way to something more focused.
“And that’s the part that really gets me about you. It’s not even the confidence, because I’ve seen that before. People walk in here all the time thinking they’ve got something figured out after one or two matches, thinking they’ve cracked some kind of code, thinking they’ve got this place mapped out because they had a moment that felt good to them. That part isn’t new. What’s new is this idea that you think you’re here to understand me, like that’s something you get to do just because you step in the ring with me. You keep saying that like it means something, like if you push me hard enough or drag something out of me that you haven’t seen before then suddenly you walk away with answers, like I’m some kind of subject for you to study or some kind of experience for you to collect. That’s not how this works. You don’t understand me by stepping in the ring with me. You don’t walk out of that match with some neat little conclusion about who I am or what I’m made of. You don’t study me, you don’t experience me, you either survive me or you end up on your back looking at the fucking lights, and judging by what I saw last week you’re already a little shaky on that second part.”
“You went out there with Rex and you said it yourself, you got what you were looking for, you had your fun, you had your moment where everything felt exactly the way you wanted it to feel, and then it was over. Just like that. One, two, three. And the way you talk about it now, like the loss doesn’t matter, like it was all just part of the experience, like you can just take what you wanted from it and move on, that tells me everything I need to know about you. You didn’t learn anything from that. You didn’t take anything real away from it. You just moved on because that’s what you do when something doesn’t stick, when something doesn’t hit the way you thought it would. You call it detachment, you call it perspective, you dress it up however you want, but all I see is someone who doesn’t actually know how to deal with what happens when things don’t go their way.”
“Because that whole ‘I don’t care’ thing only works when you’re in control, when you can walk into a situation, take whatever you want from it, and leave without anything following you. That’s not what you’re doing. You’re not in control, you’re just disconnected. You’re chasing a feeling, that little spike, that little rush you get when things start to hurt, when things start to break down, when you feel like you’re right on the edge of something, and you convince yourself that that’s understanding. It’s not. It’s you trying to make all of this mean something to you because if it doesn’t then what are you actually doing here? You talk about making art, about turning people into experiences, into something you can pick apart and appreciate like it’s all just something put in front of you for your benefit, but this isn’t for you. You aren’t even worth me sitting here and pretending I’m not pissed off or frustrated. This isn’t something you get to sit back and enjoy. This isn’t something you get to walk away from and say it was fun and move on to the next thing like nothing happened. You don’t get to decide what this is. I do. I’m the one who’s earned that place, not just by accolades, but by every drop of blood sweat and tears that I’ve left in that ring over years of going to fucking war out there.”
“And when you step in that ring with me it’s not going to be some beautiful moment you get to savor, it’s not going to be something you get to admire when it’s over, it’s going to be something that stays with you, something that doesn’t just disappear the second the bell rings, something that follows you the next time you step into a ring, the next time you try to do any of this again, because that’s the difference between you and me. You move on from people. People don’t move on from me. And you can call it whatever you want, you can dress it up however you need to so you can step in there without thinking too hard about what’s actually in front of you, but at the end of the day all you’re really doing is stepping in front of something you don’t understand, and I promise you this isn’t going to be the kind of experience you get to forget.”
She leans in, her eyes burning with intent.
“So allow me to explain what this experience will be for you. You’re going to go out there. And I will make a masterpiece out of you. Piece by piece until there’s actually something worth giving a fuck about. Because what I do to you… is exactly what I intend to do to KASAI.”
Raven then moves swiftly and shoves the camera away by the lens. The camera person stumbles back, and the camera stabilizes just in time to see Raven walking away around the corner.
