Damia Astaroth is sitting in her office going over some files. Personnel files at that. Who in particular, you ask? Newest recruits maybe? Going over what matches to stick them in for Riot? Or maybe something a little more entertaining. Maybe the file of…

“Lacey Marsden. Nickname Ragdoll, because that’s exactly what she’s going to look like when I’m thrashing her around in the ring tonight.  Do I think I can beat you? You’re kidding right? Please, tell me you’re kidding. I won’t just kick your ass, I’ll kick every other part of you as well. You want to risk your well being for the audience’s entertainment, that’s fine. But it will mostly be for my entertainment. Yes, making your being NOT well is my entertainment. If you’ve seen what Danica and I did in our match, you probably wouldn’t be so confident. So I’m going to go ahead and guess that you didn’t. Which is perfect. I always like live action replay. Bring it on, babe. I can’t wait…”

She closes it and leans back in her chair with a grin on her lips and a quiet sinister laugh echoing the room. Lacey is in for a rude awakening. One she won’t be conscious enough to appreciate, but one she won’t soon forget.

“Don’t kid yourself. Just because I’m a GM doesn’t mean I can’t wipe the mat with you. I too, would like to send a message here. Don’t FUCK with me. Loud and clear so no one misunderstands it. I’ve decided you’re the perfect candidate.”

She stands from her desk and cracks her knuckles, about to head out the door. But the phone rings. Damia sighs a bit and rolls her eyes.

“Goddamnit!”

She goes back to answer it as the scene fades out.