Post by Alexandra Calaway on Oct 21, 2023 0:28:18 GMT -5
John Straders Bedroom
Strader Estate
Houston, Tx
In the ethereal landscape between sleep and wakefulness, Alexandra Calaway found herself in the unsettling realm of dreams. The air hung heavy with an ominous tension, and the shadows clung to the edges of her consciousness like specters waiting to be unveiled. As she stepped through the surreal dreamscape, the surroundings morphed, transporting her to a desolate stretch of Texas highway.
The moon cast an eerie glow over the cracked asphalt, and the silence was punctuated only by the distant howl of a lone coyote. In the distance, a dim light flickered, and Alexandra instinctively moved towards it. As she approached, the glow revealed an old, rusted van—a relic from another era. The air turned thick with foreboding as Alexandra's senses sharpened. She recognized the atmosphere, the uncanny familiarity of a horror film. It was as if the dream had drawn inspiration from the macabre tales of Leatherface and his nightmarish kin.
With cautious trepidation, she neared the van, its skeletal frame creaking in the haunting silence. Through the dusty windows, she glimpsed the silhouette of her opponent Synn, not as herself, but as Nikki, Alexandra spotted her own reflection, not as herself but as Heather Miller from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3D. A sense of inevitability gripped her as she hesitated before opening the van's door. The scene unfolded in slow-motion horror: Leatherface, the masked and malevolent figure, emerged from the shadows. Alexandra's breath hitched as she watched him raise the chainsaw, the rusty blade catching the moonlight.
The van's door swung open, revealing the chaos within. Synn, mirroring the role of Heather's friend Nikki in the horror narrative, lay injured and vulnerable. Panic clawed at Alexandra's chest as she desperately tried to comprehend the surreal melding of reality and fiction. Leatherface's chainsaw revved, the metallic growl echoing through the desolation. He approached the injured friend, the impending doom hanging in the air like a gruesome tapestry. She watched as Leatherface sliced through the van and through “Nikki”. Alexandra, paralyzed by the horror unfolding, could only watch as the nightmare played out before her.
In a moment of visceral terror, Leatherface turned towards her. The harsh, guttural sounds of the chainsaw seemed to reverberate within her very soul. Then, with a chilling abruptness, he stopped in front of her and lowered his chainsaw. Alexandra reached up and began to peel away the mask obscuring his features. The dreamworld quivered as the mask lifted, revealing not the grotesque visage of a movie monster but Alexandra's own reflection. The terror she had associated with Leatherface stared back at her, and the realization struck like a thunderbolt. She was both the hunted and the hunter, the victim and the perpetrator. The dream had woven a tapestry of horror that bled into the corridors of her subconscious. The dual roles, the intertwining of fear and familiarity, painted a surreal self-portrait.
In the mirror of her own dreams, Alexandra grappled with the haunting duality of her existence. The chainsaw, once wielded by Leatherface, now hung in her hands. The van, a stage for nightmare scenarios, transformed into a canvas where the boundaries between victim and antagonist blurred into obscurity. She glanced at her hands, taped, dipped in rusty chainsaw parts. As the dream clung to its ephemeral existence, Alexandra stood at the nexus of horror and introspection. The moon cast a solemn glow, and the dreamworld unraveled, leaving behind the lingering residue of fear. And then, like a reluctant exhalation, she woke. Bathed in the gentle glow of dawn, Alexandra Calaway emerged from the dreamscape, the echoes of the surreal horror fading like mist. The dream had unraveled the threads of her subconscious, leaving her to grapple with the ethereal residue of a nightmare that bore her own reflection.
This wasn't the first time Alexandra would meet Synn in the middle of a wrestling ring. Not in the slightest. The first time these two forces of darkness met in the ring, they pushed each other to the limits. Since that day Alexandra has watched and waited in the shadows, as other’s trembled in fear and fell at Synn’s feet. That fear that Synn claims to feed on, that same fear that Synn believes resides within Alexandra. That word isn’t in Alexandra’s vocabulary, fear doesn’t reside inside of her, her storied career proves that. This time, there’s no white flags, no handshakes, and no turning back.
Strader Estate
Training Ring
Houston, Tx.
A camera comes up on Alexandra who is leaning against the Strader Facility training ring, where TCM will take place. Next to the ring sits John Straders 1945 Harley Davidson Panhead. The camera pans out to show a shirtless John Strader standing leaned against the turnbuckle. Alexandra climbs up to sit on the ring apron and Strader leans through the ropes slugging her playfully on the chin. She smirks and wipes the sweat off her brow with a towel. It’s clear she’s been training. Physically she looks better than she has in the past weeks, she looks prepared to face off against Synn.
“Synn, we are no strangers to each other. We danced in the ring, tore each other apart until the bell sounded. Time having ran out. That is if my memory serves me right, you know with me being all old and past my prime.”
She rolls her eyes remembering back to the statements made by Synn’s little friend Brooke.
“That night you went on to claim your stake at the OCW World Championship. I watched in the shadows, going on to win the Piledriver Championship, while you and Easton fought over who was the real champion. Then I also claimed the PWS: APEX World Championship, defeating a long list of people for that right. To this day I still hold both of those titles, even though those respective companies closed their doors, I was their reigning champion.”
She remembered those closures as if they had happened only yesterday.
“Then I went on to claim the Outcast Championship Wrestling, Anarchy Championship. I also dethroned “The Raven” Matt Knox, taking his Imperial Wrestling Federation’s Invictus Championship and I also claimed the Sin City Wrestling Bombshell Roulette Championship, in the same week. And I’m still holding those as well. Where’s your title now Synn? Oh that’s right, it’s presently draped over the massive shoulders of Braddock.”
Alexandra lets out a soft chuckle. John slips through the ropes and stands next to her, a smirk on his lips. She gives a moment for all that she has said already to sink in, before she continues.
“Synn, I won't stand here and say it’ll be easy to defeat you, because I know it isn’t going to be as easy as some would believe. I speak from experience. What you need to ask yourself though, is this; Is Alexandra Calaway, a veteran of this industry, a legend in her own right, truly afraid of me?”
She paused, waiting to find the right words to say.
“Synn, the harbinger of shadows, the embodiment of fear. For too long, you've tried to cast your ominous veil over my path. But yet, I stand unyielding, unafraid, ready to face the darkness you represent.”
Her words cut through the air like a razor, each syllable laced with steely determination.
“Fear is a currency you've peddled, an emotion you've tried to exploit. But let me make one thing crystal clear—Alexandra Calaway fears no one, least of all you, Synn. Your tricks, your mind games, they find no purchase here. At Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the shadows you've been hiding in disperse and you are revealed. No more lurking in the corners, no more orchestrating from the shadows. This ring, this battleground, is where we meet, face to face, without the cloak of deception.”
Her posture exuded an unshakeable confidence, a warrior preparing for the inevitable confrontation. She punctuated her words with a defiant stare, eyes reflecting an unquenchable fire.
“Synn, you've tried to dictate the narrative, manipulate the threads of fate. But the story unfolds in the language of combat, written in the sweat and blood shed within these ropes. I welcome your darkness because, in its absence, I shine all the brighter. You're a storm, but I am the unwavering mountain. You'll know that there's a force more formidable than your shadows—a force that stands defiant, ready to face whatever darkness you unleash."
She paced deliberately, the sound of her boots crunching on the straw and sawdust below, that would no doubt, soak up their blood when it was spilled.
“Synn, you've danced around the shadows, reveling in your dark games. But now, you've stepped into my world, a realm where shadows yield to the unforgiving glare of combat. This TaiPei Death Match isn't just a contest; it's a reckoning. Your reckoning. In the quiet moments, between the echoes of strikes and the ripping of flesh, truths are revealed. Synin, you're a master manipulator, a puppeteer of chaos. But this ring, this battleground, doesn't bow to manipulation. It demands raw power, unbridled ferocity.”
She paused, eyes narrowing as if piercing through the veils of deceit.
“You've spun webs of deceit, ensnared others in your machinations. But, at Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the only thing between us is shattered glass and the cold, hard truth of combat. TaiPei Death Match, my dear demoness, is a canvas where I paint the picture of your undoing. Art painted in our blood.”
Alexandra stands poised, the glow of the arena lights casting shadows on her determined features. The murmur of the crowd reverberates through the walls, a distant symphony to the impending clash she's about to address.
“Synn, the purveyor of fear, the weaver of shadows, seems to believe she holds the keys to the labyrinth of my fears. It's an interesting narrative she spins, one where I'm supposedly trembling at the notion of facing her. How quaint.”
The camera captures the steely glint in Alexandra's eyes, a juxtaposition to the eerie calmness that permeates her presence.
“Dearie, let's dissect this notion of fear you seem so fixated on. If I truly feared you, why, oh why, would I grace the ring with my presence when the sands of time dwindled in our last encounter? If fear were my companion, I would have sought refuge, hidden behind excuses, but no, Synn, I stood there, facing the uncertainty you unleashed. You try to play in the darkness, but I have resided there since childhood. Do not speak to me of such items as fear, when I have been using those tactics since before you stepped into the ring the first time.”
A smirk plays on Alexandra's lips, a subtle defiance against the narrative Synn seeks to craft. Alexandra's resolute voice, a prelude to the verbal duel they're about to embark upon.
“You see, Synn, you mistake composure for fear. What you interpret as trembling is nothing more than the anticipation of a clash, the thrill of a battle yet to unfold. Fear is a fickle ally, and I, my dear adversary, don't let it dictate the terms of engagement. Texas Chainsaw Massacre beckons, a stage where you believe you'll unravel the supposed illusions I've built. Your words, like shadows, dance in the realm of speculation. You may be the harbinger of chaos, Synn, but chaos isn't synonymous with fear. It's a realm I navigate with poise, not trepidation.”
A flash of determination flickers in Alexandra's eyes as she visualizes the impending confrontation.
“This isn't a battle of fear, Synn; it's a clash of ideologies. You perceive vulnerability in my stoic facade, but I assure you, the Queen wears her crown unyielding. Texas Chainsaw Massacre will be a canvas, yes, but not for the portrait of vulnerability you anticipate. It'll be the arena where I showcase resilience, where your narrative crumbles under the weight of reality. You said before that I had the fear of missing out. Funny how it seems the one missing out here is you.”
With her eyes fixed solidly on the camera, she keeps her composure, though inside she’s ready to tear Synn apart.
“So, Synn, continue to believe in the narrative you've spun. Continue to think that fear guides my steps. In the end, when the echoes of Texas Chainsaw Massacre fade, it won't be the Queen who's silenced; it'll be the misconceptions, the illusions, and the shadows you've tried to cast.”
Her hands clenched, the tension palpable. Her tone grew colder, a promise of unyielding resolve.
“Every sliver of chainsaw parts will bear witness to the culmination of our feud. I've faced demons, toppled titans, and now, Synn, you become just another chapter in the brutal saga I've etched across the canvas of this industry. The TaiPei Death Match is your descent into the abyss, Synn. No shadows to shield you, no illusions to veil the inevitable. During our match the spotlight is on the truth, and it reveals a relentless force—Alexandra Calaway, unyielding, unwavering, and unafraid of the darkness you peddle.”
As Alexandra's words resonated, as she awaited for the day their brutal ballet to unfold in the unforgiving confines of the TaiPei Death Match. The camera transitions back to Alexandra, a focused expression on her face. The mention of the match style seems to bring an undercurrent of intensity.
“So mysterious. The enigma of the OCW, the one who revels in chaos just as much as I do. Now, I've heard the whispers, the rumors, the stories about this mysterious figure. A mastermind orchestrating chaos from the shadows, a puppeteer manipulating the strings of fate. It's almost poetic, isn't it? Chaos personified in the form of a masked marauder. You've carved your own narrative in the annals of OCW, and I can appreciate someone who knows how to make an impact. But make no mistake; I'm not one to be manipulated or controlled. At Texas Chainsaw Massacre, chaos will be our canvas, and we, the artists, will paint a masterpiece of mayhem.”
There's a pause as she glances down at her Anarchy Championship, a glint of darkness in her eyes. Knowing that she would add the PWA United States Championship to her collection.
“You see, Synn, I thrive in anarchy. I've embraced the chaos, molded it to my will, and emerged as the PWA United States Champion. Your game might be subtlety and shadows, but mine is the raw, unbridled power. I'm curious to see if your machinations can withstand the unpredictable nature of a Taipei Deathmatch. I can already hear your screams of pain and agony.”
She walks around the room, the click of her boots echoing. Her gaze sharpens as she addresses Synn directly.
“The Taipei Deathmatch isn't just a match for the PWA United States Championship; it's a clash of ideologies. The calculated chaos of Synn against the chaotic unpredictability of Alexandra Calaway. It's a dance, a waltz through the madness, and in the end, only one will stand tall. Synn, your reputation precedes you, but this is the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, not a shadowy place full of conspiracies. It's time to step into the spotlight and face the chaos head-on. Let the wheel of fate choose what happens, and may the best agent of anarchy prevail.”
She ends with a smirk, a silent challenge issued to the masked enigma known as Synn.
Doing what must be done
Strader Estate
Houston, Tx.
A Taipei Deathmatch is a type of professional wrestling match known for its hardcore and extreme nature. The defining characteristic of this match is the use of taped fists or wrists. The tape is usually dipped in glue and then covered with broken shards of chainsaw pieces, making the fists of the participants extremely dangerous. Here's a general overview of how a Taipei Deathmatch typically works in the grounds of Texas Chainsaw Massacre:
Taped Fists with Chainsaw Parts: The wrestlers involved in the match have their fists or wrists taped with a layer of adhesive, usually glue. The tape is then dipped in broken shards of chainsaw pieces, turning it into a dangerous weapon.
No Disqualifications: The match is often held under "no disqualification" rules, meaning that there are minimal restrictions on the actions of the wrestlers. Foreign objects, weapons, and extreme tactics are commonly employed.
Bloodshed: Given the nature of the match, bloodshed is not uncommon. The glass-covered fists can cause lacerations and bleeding, adding an element of brutality to the contest.
Extreme Violence: Wrestlers in Taipei Deathmatches often use the glass-covered fists as striking weapons however in this version, it’s chainsaw pieces, leading to intense and violent confrontations. The goal is typically to incapacitate the opponent to the point where they cannot continue the match.
Unpredictable Outcomes: Due to the extreme and dangerous nature of Taipei Deathmatches, outcomes can be unpredictable. The match can end in various ways, including pinfall, submission, or the referee stopping the match due to the severity of injuries.
It's worth noting that matches involving glass and other hazardous materials carry inherent risks, and they are not without controversy. Such matches are not as common in mainstream wrestling and are often associated with the "hardcore" or "deathmatch" wrestling subgenre. These matches are designed for a specific audience that enjoys the extreme and high-risk elements of professional wrestling. Alexandra was going to enjoy every moment of this violent match.
Hey you
Strader Estate
Houston, Tx
The backstage area is buzzing with activity as John Strader, a confident and supportive figure, enters Alexandra's dressing room. Alexandra is lacing up her boots, her focus intense as she prepares for the upcoming match against Synn. John approaches, a reassuring smile on his face.
“Well, look who's ready to steal the show tonight.”
Alexandra smirks, looking at him.
“Always, John. Synn's in for a night she won't forget. And with you and the girls here, I’m excited to do what needs to be done.”
John takes a seat, his eyes never leaving Alexandra. He knows the importance of this match, the history between Alexandra and Synn adding an extra layer of intensity. She crawled onto his lap. Their eyes meet and they both share a knowing smirk.
“Synn's been talking a lot of trash leading up to this. Are you ready to shut her up?”
Alexandra gives him a knowing nod.
“More than ready. She's been a thorn in my side for too long. Tonight, it ends.”
John leans forward, his expression turning more serious.
“You know she's going to throw everything at you, right? Synn's not one to hold back.”
“That's what I want, John. I want her to be at her best. When I beat her tonight, there won't be any excuses. I watched as she and Easton argued for over a month about who the real OCW champion was. I’ve studied every match she’s had. She’s not ready for this.”
John nods, understanding the determination in Alexandra's eyes. He takes her hands and squeezes them.
“You're the best in that ring, Alex. No doubt in my mind. Meeks put you in this match because she knows what you can do.”
“Damn right.”
As Alexandra stands up, the atmosphere in the room shifts. The confidence emanating from her is palpable. She adjusts her wrist tape, her gaze unwavering.
“Anything you want me to watch out for? Any tricks Synn might pull?”
“Synn's got a few tricks, but I've been in this game long enough to know how to counter them. Just watch and enjoy the show. Just be ready with the bandages, because there is no way either of us are walking out, without being hurt.”
John chuckles, knowing he's in the presence of a true ring veteran. Alexandra glances at herself in the mirror, a final moment of self-assurance. John speaks teasingly.
“You sure you don't want me at ringside, just in case?”
“I've got this, John. But after I'm done with Synn, I'll expect a victory celebration.”
They share a quick kiss and a confident nod before Alexandra heads toward the door. John watches her go, a mix of pride and anticipation on his face.
“Show 'em, Ally..”
It’s Showtime
Strader Estate
Houston, Tx
The area is buzzing in anticipation as Alexandra heads towards the ring.
“Synn, tonight, I want to ask you something. What is it that you fight for? Chaos? Burning the world? Synn, that's a lonely road you're on. No friends, no family. No one to watch your back. Is that why you keep coming after me? Hoping to drag me down into your pit of solitude? You see, You fight for chaos and destruction. But what happens when there's nothing left to destroy? You may walk a path, Synn, but it's a lonely one. No one has your back. No one cares if you fall. Me? I've got my family and their love. And that’s worth fighting and bleeding for. What about you, Synn? When the chaos fades, what will be left for you?”
Alexandra smiles at the camera one last time, before she waves, heading towards the ring.
Strader Estate
Houston, Tx
In the ethereal landscape between sleep and wakefulness, Alexandra Calaway found herself in the unsettling realm of dreams. The air hung heavy with an ominous tension, and the shadows clung to the edges of her consciousness like specters waiting to be unveiled. As she stepped through the surreal dreamscape, the surroundings morphed, transporting her to a desolate stretch of Texas highway.
The moon cast an eerie glow over the cracked asphalt, and the silence was punctuated only by the distant howl of a lone coyote. In the distance, a dim light flickered, and Alexandra instinctively moved towards it. As she approached, the glow revealed an old, rusted van—a relic from another era. The air turned thick with foreboding as Alexandra's senses sharpened. She recognized the atmosphere, the uncanny familiarity of a horror film. It was as if the dream had drawn inspiration from the macabre tales of Leatherface and his nightmarish kin.
With cautious trepidation, she neared the van, its skeletal frame creaking in the haunting silence. Through the dusty windows, she glimpsed the silhouette of her opponent Synn, not as herself, but as Nikki, Alexandra spotted her own reflection, not as herself but as Heather Miller from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre 3D. A sense of inevitability gripped her as she hesitated before opening the van's door. The scene unfolded in slow-motion horror: Leatherface, the masked and malevolent figure, emerged from the shadows. Alexandra's breath hitched as she watched him raise the chainsaw, the rusty blade catching the moonlight.
The van's door swung open, revealing the chaos within. Synn, mirroring the role of Heather's friend Nikki in the horror narrative, lay injured and vulnerable. Panic clawed at Alexandra's chest as she desperately tried to comprehend the surreal melding of reality and fiction. Leatherface's chainsaw revved, the metallic growl echoing through the desolation. He approached the injured friend, the impending doom hanging in the air like a gruesome tapestry. She watched as Leatherface sliced through the van and through “Nikki”. Alexandra, paralyzed by the horror unfolding, could only watch as the nightmare played out before her.
In a moment of visceral terror, Leatherface turned towards her. The harsh, guttural sounds of the chainsaw seemed to reverberate within her very soul. Then, with a chilling abruptness, he stopped in front of her and lowered his chainsaw. Alexandra reached up and began to peel away the mask obscuring his features. The dreamworld quivered as the mask lifted, revealing not the grotesque visage of a movie monster but Alexandra's own reflection. The terror she had associated with Leatherface stared back at her, and the realization struck like a thunderbolt. She was both the hunted and the hunter, the victim and the perpetrator. The dream had woven a tapestry of horror that bled into the corridors of her subconscious. The dual roles, the intertwining of fear and familiarity, painted a surreal self-portrait.
In the mirror of her own dreams, Alexandra grappled with the haunting duality of her existence. The chainsaw, once wielded by Leatherface, now hung in her hands. The van, a stage for nightmare scenarios, transformed into a canvas where the boundaries between victim and antagonist blurred into obscurity. She glanced at her hands, taped, dipped in rusty chainsaw parts. As the dream clung to its ephemeral existence, Alexandra stood at the nexus of horror and introspection. The moon cast a solemn glow, and the dreamworld unraveled, leaving behind the lingering residue of fear. And then, like a reluctant exhalation, she woke. Bathed in the gentle glow of dawn, Alexandra Calaway emerged from the dreamscape, the echoes of the surreal horror fading like mist. The dream had unraveled the threads of her subconscious, leaving her to grapple with the ethereal residue of a nightmare that bore her own reflection.
This wasn't the first time Alexandra would meet Synn in the middle of a wrestling ring. Not in the slightest. The first time these two forces of darkness met in the ring, they pushed each other to the limits. Since that day Alexandra has watched and waited in the shadows, as other’s trembled in fear and fell at Synn’s feet. That fear that Synn claims to feed on, that same fear that Synn believes resides within Alexandra. That word isn’t in Alexandra’s vocabulary, fear doesn’t reside inside of her, her storied career proves that. This time, there’s no white flags, no handshakes, and no turning back.
Strader Estate
Training Ring
Houston, Tx.
A camera comes up on Alexandra who is leaning against the Strader Facility training ring, where TCM will take place. Next to the ring sits John Straders 1945 Harley Davidson Panhead. The camera pans out to show a shirtless John Strader standing leaned against the turnbuckle. Alexandra climbs up to sit on the ring apron and Strader leans through the ropes slugging her playfully on the chin. She smirks and wipes the sweat off her brow with a towel. It’s clear she’s been training. Physically she looks better than she has in the past weeks, she looks prepared to face off against Synn.
“Synn, we are no strangers to each other. We danced in the ring, tore each other apart until the bell sounded. Time having ran out. That is if my memory serves me right, you know with me being all old and past my prime.”
She rolls her eyes remembering back to the statements made by Synn’s little friend Brooke.
“That night you went on to claim your stake at the OCW World Championship. I watched in the shadows, going on to win the Piledriver Championship, while you and Easton fought over who was the real champion. Then I also claimed the PWS: APEX World Championship, defeating a long list of people for that right. To this day I still hold both of those titles, even though those respective companies closed their doors, I was their reigning champion.”
She remembered those closures as if they had happened only yesterday.
“Then I went on to claim the Outcast Championship Wrestling, Anarchy Championship. I also dethroned “The Raven” Matt Knox, taking his Imperial Wrestling Federation’s Invictus Championship and I also claimed the Sin City Wrestling Bombshell Roulette Championship, in the same week. And I’m still holding those as well. Where’s your title now Synn? Oh that’s right, it’s presently draped over the massive shoulders of Braddock.”
Alexandra lets out a soft chuckle. John slips through the ropes and stands next to her, a smirk on his lips. She gives a moment for all that she has said already to sink in, before she continues.
“Synn, I won't stand here and say it’ll be easy to defeat you, because I know it isn’t going to be as easy as some would believe. I speak from experience. What you need to ask yourself though, is this; Is Alexandra Calaway, a veteran of this industry, a legend in her own right, truly afraid of me?”
She paused, waiting to find the right words to say.
“Synn, the harbinger of shadows, the embodiment of fear. For too long, you've tried to cast your ominous veil over my path. But yet, I stand unyielding, unafraid, ready to face the darkness you represent.”
Her words cut through the air like a razor, each syllable laced with steely determination.
“Fear is a currency you've peddled, an emotion you've tried to exploit. But let me make one thing crystal clear—Alexandra Calaway fears no one, least of all you, Synn. Your tricks, your mind games, they find no purchase here. At Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the shadows you've been hiding in disperse and you are revealed. No more lurking in the corners, no more orchestrating from the shadows. This ring, this battleground, is where we meet, face to face, without the cloak of deception.”
Her posture exuded an unshakeable confidence, a warrior preparing for the inevitable confrontation. She punctuated her words with a defiant stare, eyes reflecting an unquenchable fire.
“Synn, you've tried to dictate the narrative, manipulate the threads of fate. But the story unfolds in the language of combat, written in the sweat and blood shed within these ropes. I welcome your darkness because, in its absence, I shine all the brighter. You're a storm, but I am the unwavering mountain. You'll know that there's a force more formidable than your shadows—a force that stands defiant, ready to face whatever darkness you unleash."
She paced deliberately, the sound of her boots crunching on the straw and sawdust below, that would no doubt, soak up their blood when it was spilled.
“Synn, you've danced around the shadows, reveling in your dark games. But now, you've stepped into my world, a realm where shadows yield to the unforgiving glare of combat. This TaiPei Death Match isn't just a contest; it's a reckoning. Your reckoning. In the quiet moments, between the echoes of strikes and the ripping of flesh, truths are revealed. Synin, you're a master manipulator, a puppeteer of chaos. But this ring, this battleground, doesn't bow to manipulation. It demands raw power, unbridled ferocity.”
She paused, eyes narrowing as if piercing through the veils of deceit.
“You've spun webs of deceit, ensnared others in your machinations. But, at Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the only thing between us is shattered glass and the cold, hard truth of combat. TaiPei Death Match, my dear demoness, is a canvas where I paint the picture of your undoing. Art painted in our blood.”
Alexandra stands poised, the glow of the arena lights casting shadows on her determined features. The murmur of the crowd reverberates through the walls, a distant symphony to the impending clash she's about to address.
“Synn, the purveyor of fear, the weaver of shadows, seems to believe she holds the keys to the labyrinth of my fears. It's an interesting narrative she spins, one where I'm supposedly trembling at the notion of facing her. How quaint.”
The camera captures the steely glint in Alexandra's eyes, a juxtaposition to the eerie calmness that permeates her presence.
“Dearie, let's dissect this notion of fear you seem so fixated on. If I truly feared you, why, oh why, would I grace the ring with my presence when the sands of time dwindled in our last encounter? If fear were my companion, I would have sought refuge, hidden behind excuses, but no, Synn, I stood there, facing the uncertainty you unleashed. You try to play in the darkness, but I have resided there since childhood. Do not speak to me of such items as fear, when I have been using those tactics since before you stepped into the ring the first time.”
A smirk plays on Alexandra's lips, a subtle defiance against the narrative Synn seeks to craft. Alexandra's resolute voice, a prelude to the verbal duel they're about to embark upon.
“You see, Synn, you mistake composure for fear. What you interpret as trembling is nothing more than the anticipation of a clash, the thrill of a battle yet to unfold. Fear is a fickle ally, and I, my dear adversary, don't let it dictate the terms of engagement. Texas Chainsaw Massacre beckons, a stage where you believe you'll unravel the supposed illusions I've built. Your words, like shadows, dance in the realm of speculation. You may be the harbinger of chaos, Synn, but chaos isn't synonymous with fear. It's a realm I navigate with poise, not trepidation.”
A flash of determination flickers in Alexandra's eyes as she visualizes the impending confrontation.
“This isn't a battle of fear, Synn; it's a clash of ideologies. You perceive vulnerability in my stoic facade, but I assure you, the Queen wears her crown unyielding. Texas Chainsaw Massacre will be a canvas, yes, but not for the portrait of vulnerability you anticipate. It'll be the arena where I showcase resilience, where your narrative crumbles under the weight of reality. You said before that I had the fear of missing out. Funny how it seems the one missing out here is you.”
With her eyes fixed solidly on the camera, she keeps her composure, though inside she’s ready to tear Synn apart.
“So, Synn, continue to believe in the narrative you've spun. Continue to think that fear guides my steps. In the end, when the echoes of Texas Chainsaw Massacre fade, it won't be the Queen who's silenced; it'll be the misconceptions, the illusions, and the shadows you've tried to cast.”
Her hands clenched, the tension palpable. Her tone grew colder, a promise of unyielding resolve.
“Every sliver of chainsaw parts will bear witness to the culmination of our feud. I've faced demons, toppled titans, and now, Synn, you become just another chapter in the brutal saga I've etched across the canvas of this industry. The TaiPei Death Match is your descent into the abyss, Synn. No shadows to shield you, no illusions to veil the inevitable. During our match the spotlight is on the truth, and it reveals a relentless force—Alexandra Calaway, unyielding, unwavering, and unafraid of the darkness you peddle.”
As Alexandra's words resonated, as she awaited for the day their brutal ballet to unfold in the unforgiving confines of the TaiPei Death Match. The camera transitions back to Alexandra, a focused expression on her face. The mention of the match style seems to bring an undercurrent of intensity.
“So mysterious. The enigma of the OCW, the one who revels in chaos just as much as I do. Now, I've heard the whispers, the rumors, the stories about this mysterious figure. A mastermind orchestrating chaos from the shadows, a puppeteer manipulating the strings of fate. It's almost poetic, isn't it? Chaos personified in the form of a masked marauder. You've carved your own narrative in the annals of OCW, and I can appreciate someone who knows how to make an impact. But make no mistake; I'm not one to be manipulated or controlled. At Texas Chainsaw Massacre, chaos will be our canvas, and we, the artists, will paint a masterpiece of mayhem.”
There's a pause as she glances down at her Anarchy Championship, a glint of darkness in her eyes. Knowing that she would add the PWA United States Championship to her collection.
“You see, Synn, I thrive in anarchy. I've embraced the chaos, molded it to my will, and emerged as the PWA United States Champion. Your game might be subtlety and shadows, but mine is the raw, unbridled power. I'm curious to see if your machinations can withstand the unpredictable nature of a Taipei Deathmatch. I can already hear your screams of pain and agony.”
She walks around the room, the click of her boots echoing. Her gaze sharpens as she addresses Synn directly.
“The Taipei Deathmatch isn't just a match for the PWA United States Championship; it's a clash of ideologies. The calculated chaos of Synn against the chaotic unpredictability of Alexandra Calaway. It's a dance, a waltz through the madness, and in the end, only one will stand tall. Synn, your reputation precedes you, but this is the Texas Chainsaw Massacre, not a shadowy place full of conspiracies. It's time to step into the spotlight and face the chaos head-on. Let the wheel of fate choose what happens, and may the best agent of anarchy prevail.”
She ends with a smirk, a silent challenge issued to the masked enigma known as Synn.
Doing what must be done
Strader Estate
Houston, Tx.
A Taipei Deathmatch is a type of professional wrestling match known for its hardcore and extreme nature. The defining characteristic of this match is the use of taped fists or wrists. The tape is usually dipped in glue and then covered with broken shards of chainsaw pieces, making the fists of the participants extremely dangerous. Here's a general overview of how a Taipei Deathmatch typically works in the grounds of Texas Chainsaw Massacre:
Taped Fists with Chainsaw Parts: The wrestlers involved in the match have their fists or wrists taped with a layer of adhesive, usually glue. The tape is then dipped in broken shards of chainsaw pieces, turning it into a dangerous weapon.
No Disqualifications: The match is often held under "no disqualification" rules, meaning that there are minimal restrictions on the actions of the wrestlers. Foreign objects, weapons, and extreme tactics are commonly employed.
Bloodshed: Given the nature of the match, bloodshed is not uncommon. The glass-covered fists can cause lacerations and bleeding, adding an element of brutality to the contest.
Extreme Violence: Wrestlers in Taipei Deathmatches often use the glass-covered fists as striking weapons however in this version, it’s chainsaw pieces, leading to intense and violent confrontations. The goal is typically to incapacitate the opponent to the point where they cannot continue the match.
Unpredictable Outcomes: Due to the extreme and dangerous nature of Taipei Deathmatches, outcomes can be unpredictable. The match can end in various ways, including pinfall, submission, or the referee stopping the match due to the severity of injuries.
It's worth noting that matches involving glass and other hazardous materials carry inherent risks, and they are not without controversy. Such matches are not as common in mainstream wrestling and are often associated with the "hardcore" or "deathmatch" wrestling subgenre. These matches are designed for a specific audience that enjoys the extreme and high-risk elements of professional wrestling. Alexandra was going to enjoy every moment of this violent match.
Hey you
Strader Estate
Houston, Tx
The backstage area is buzzing with activity as John Strader, a confident and supportive figure, enters Alexandra's dressing room. Alexandra is lacing up her boots, her focus intense as she prepares for the upcoming match against Synn. John approaches, a reassuring smile on his face.
“Well, look who's ready to steal the show tonight.”
Alexandra smirks, looking at him.
“Always, John. Synn's in for a night she won't forget. And with you and the girls here, I’m excited to do what needs to be done.”
John takes a seat, his eyes never leaving Alexandra. He knows the importance of this match, the history between Alexandra and Synn adding an extra layer of intensity. She crawled onto his lap. Their eyes meet and they both share a knowing smirk.
“Synn's been talking a lot of trash leading up to this. Are you ready to shut her up?”
Alexandra gives him a knowing nod.
“More than ready. She's been a thorn in my side for too long. Tonight, it ends.”
John leans forward, his expression turning more serious.
“You know she's going to throw everything at you, right? Synn's not one to hold back.”
“That's what I want, John. I want her to be at her best. When I beat her tonight, there won't be any excuses. I watched as she and Easton argued for over a month about who the real OCW champion was. I’ve studied every match she’s had. She’s not ready for this.”
John nods, understanding the determination in Alexandra's eyes. He takes her hands and squeezes them.
“You're the best in that ring, Alex. No doubt in my mind. Meeks put you in this match because she knows what you can do.”
“Damn right.”
As Alexandra stands up, the atmosphere in the room shifts. The confidence emanating from her is palpable. She adjusts her wrist tape, her gaze unwavering.
“Anything you want me to watch out for? Any tricks Synn might pull?”
“Synn's got a few tricks, but I've been in this game long enough to know how to counter them. Just watch and enjoy the show. Just be ready with the bandages, because there is no way either of us are walking out, without being hurt.”
John chuckles, knowing he's in the presence of a true ring veteran. Alexandra glances at herself in the mirror, a final moment of self-assurance. John speaks teasingly.
“You sure you don't want me at ringside, just in case?”
“I've got this, John. But after I'm done with Synn, I'll expect a victory celebration.”
They share a quick kiss and a confident nod before Alexandra heads toward the door. John watches her go, a mix of pride and anticipation on his face.
“Show 'em, Ally..”
It’s Showtime
Strader Estate
Houston, Tx
The area is buzzing in anticipation as Alexandra heads towards the ring.
“Synn, tonight, I want to ask you something. What is it that you fight for? Chaos? Burning the world? Synn, that's a lonely road you're on. No friends, no family. No one to watch your back. Is that why you keep coming after me? Hoping to drag me down into your pit of solitude? You see, You fight for chaos and destruction. But what happens when there's nothing left to destroy? You may walk a path, Synn, but it's a lonely one. No one has your back. No one cares if you fall. Me? I've got my family and their love. And that’s worth fighting and bleeding for. What about you, Synn? When the chaos fades, what will be left for you?”
Alexandra smiles at the camera one last time, before she waves, heading towards the ring.
