Ellie Quinn
5'4"
122 lbs.
"God's Gonna Cut You Down" - Johnny Cash
Sedona, Arizona
Chaotic Neutral
Antithesis
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Ellie Quinn
is Offline
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10 posts
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ALUMNI
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Post by Ellie Quinn on Feb 19, 2022 6:21:23 GMT
January 18th, 2022
12:00 AM
Ball Arena, Denver, Colorado
"ELLIE QUINN IS VICTORY CHAMPION, AND IT'S ALL THANKS TO ANGEL SCREWING LACHLAN KANE!"
"You fucking did it, Ellie!"
"You're damn fucking right I did!"
"Hell yeah! That's our girl!"
"WOOO!"
"Fuck yeah!"
Ellie Quinn ducked her head down as she was drenched in bottles of cheap champagne by her Culture Shock teammates, chuckling to herself as she made her way through the backstage area with Andi Wylde and Jodi Turner behind her. Shaking the champagne out of her hair like a dog that had just gotten out of a bath. The PWE Victory Championship was clutched tight to her chest, protecting it from the bubbly shower as she walked past various co-workers.
What a whirlwind the past nine months had been. Joining Killjoy Club. Becoming KINGDOM Atlantic Champion. Multiple successful defences. Losing the KINGDOM Atlantic Championship in a Cage of Death Match she didn't even want to put her championship on the line in. Vintage Trevor O'-fucking-Malley, fucking ruining everything. KINGDOM closing its doors. Killjoy Club was all but dead. Arriving in Project: Honor. Teaming with Lazarus Arjen one final time. Taking time off. Finally becoming a leader rather than a follower as the founder of Culture Shock. Returning as part of Project Underground. Leaving Project: Honor and arriving in Pro Wrestling Excellence. And now, she stood with her two new allies in tow as PWE Victory Champion.
Culture Shock doing their part in watching Ellie's six, fending off anyone who wanted to possibly take a shot at the new champion. At last, Ellie dropped to a knee, brushing her sweat and champagne-drenched hair out of her eyes as she finally draped her new championship over her shoulder. Standing back upright, she'd turn around towards a locker room staring a hole through herself and her stablemates. And she didn't give a damn whether they liked her, hated her, respected her or wished she dropped dead where she stood. She had something they didn't, and she was going to let them know about it.
"And new...and forever..."
Ellie began to boast towards her peers, slapping her hand on her prize.
"You see this, motherfuckers? This championship doesn't belong to PWE anymore...it belongs to Culture Shock now! So if you think you've got the stones to take this belt from us...then nut up or shut up! Because if you come at the brand new King...you sure as fuck best not miss!"
Ellie began to back up until she backed right up against a familiar foe: Charlie Jones. The current PWE General Manager, and the woman she left in a hospital bed almost a year ago backstage at a KINGDOM Pro Wrestling event. A cocky, shit-eating grin formed on her face as she looked Charlie eye-to-eye, getting a stoic look in return.
"Man...Charlie, Charlie, Charlie...does this bring back memories or what, huh? It's almost as if history repeats itself. Let's see: There's me, beating someone for a championship...after everyone had written me off as an easy win...while you're standing on the sidelines and all you can do is watch. Really takes you back down memory lane, huh. You know...you, me, Killjoy Club...ahh, whatever. Water under the bridge, right? Well, as much as I'd love to talk about fond memories, I've got a celebration to get to. So hey, tell your boss I said thanks for the fuckin' lay-up, Chuckie!"
Patting Charlie on the shoulder before brushing past her, Ellie lifted her championship up towards the ceiling, herself and Andi Wylde arm-in-arm while obnoxiously breaking out in song as Jodi stomped behind them. Andi's hitting the melody perfectly while Ellie's was slightly off-key:
"We are the champions...
We are the champions!
No time for losers...
'Cause we are the champions!"
February 4th, 2022
3:45 PM
FKA The Dahlhouse, Downtown Chicago, Illinois
For the first time since burning down the warehouse-turned-studio in October, Ellie Quinn sat across the alley from the front of the burnt-out rubble of the building she had called The Dahlhouse. The cold Chicago winter biting at her face as her breaths were visible. Yanking her beanie off her head to nervously comb through her hair before sliding it back onto her head. Considering lighting up a cigarette before getting a look at her lighter. The same lighter she used to light the cigarette that she used to torch the place she was sat in front of. Shutting her eyes as she thought back to that fateful day.
October 25th, 2021
3:54 PM
The Dahlhouse, Chicago, Illinois
"I watched a very good friend of mine bleed out in my own goddamn living room and I couldn't do a goddamn thing to stop it. I felt helpless, I felt powerless...and I'm fucking sick of feeling helpless, sick of feeling powerless. Nobody else controls my fate. Nobody controls Ellie Quinn's destiny. I write my own history. And if you don't think I mean it when I say I'm willing to do whatever it takes..."
Ellie's eyes suddenly shut as she takes a deep breath before grabbing the gas can, dousing the former abandoned toy factory as she walks around the building. Finally emptying it with a trail leading it to her, Ellie pops a cigarette in her mouth. A murderous glare into the camera as she lights it with a plastic BIC lighter. Taking a drag before she flicks the lighter behind her, the building lighting up like a Christmas tree as it went ablaze. Burning down the last physical connection to Carosene Dahl's control over her. Sighing as she felt like a huge weight had just been lifted off her shoulders.
February 4th, 2022
3:55 PM
FKA The Dahlhouse, Downtown Chicago, Illinois
Ellie leaned the back of her head against the brick wall supporting her back, looking up into the Chicago sky. Thinking about the fact that she had spent almost a year in this giant city. How it was almost starting to feel like home. But as someone who moved away from home as soon as she got the chance, she hated the idea of 'home'. Sure, she had a half-decent apartment that she had all of her stuff in, but it sure as fuck wasn't homey. But Ellie was able to survive with the bare minimum anyway.
She'd spent more time than she was willing to admit living out of her car before age 20. She spent six months sleeping on sweat and blood-stained mats in Japan to afford a room that wasn't even as big as her bathroom in her current apartment. Had the love of her life walk out on her at her lowest point. Been divorced, been brainwashed, nearly drunk herself to death, watched a friend with benefits bleed out in her living room. But she was proud of where she came from. What she put herself through. I mean, she survived, right?
Even though she had nearly three million in the bank thanks to dearest Prickscott, Remington Ivory Prescott, Ellie didn't need the nice house or the expensive car or the designer clothes. That wasn't her. It was never her. It'll never be her. Ellie Quinn was snapbacks, leather jackets, plaid flannels, ripped jeans and combat boots. Ellie Quinn was whiskey, snarky comebacks and pure old fashioned hate. Street tough. Loyal to a fault. Tomboy since the teenage years. Would rather soon greet you with a middle finger than a handshake.
And that's exactly how she fucking liked it.
February 16th, 2022
9:48 PM
Ellie Quinn's Apartment, Chicago, Illinois
The familiar lightning effect with Culture Shock's logo blasts onto the screen. However, this time, Ellie Quinn isn't accompanied by Andi Wylde or Jodi Turner. Instead, she's sitting on the couch in her apartment. The PWE Victory Championship draped over her left shoulder, her right hand holding a bottle of beer.
"Well, call me Nostra-fucking-damus, huh? Wouldn't you know who won the fucking pony? I told the entire world that I'd prove you all I was legit, and I did just that when I spiked Lachlan Kane on his head and took this championship from him. And now, I'm the one who sits high upon the mountaintop. I'm seated on my throne of skulls and kicking my boots up on the fucking table like I own the place, and you wanna' know why? 'Cause now, I do own the fucking place."
"You see, as long as I have this championship in my possession, I call the shots. I'm the star of the show. I'm the one that people pay to see, because they all want to see if anyone's good enough to beat me for this! But, as much as I hate to play spoiler, there's no chance in hell that anyone in that locker room is going to beat me for this. It doesn't matter if it's Lachlan Kane, it doesn't matter if it's that fucking cat, and it sure as fuck doesn't matter if it's Holly Rhodes."
"That's right, Holly, I know exactly who you are, you big ol' bitch. Big ol' bitch with a cup of coffee's amount of time in that ring. You've got a lot of fight in you, and maybe against anyone else, that'll get you somewhere. But Ellie Quinn ain't just anyone else. Let's be honest with ourselves here, greenhorn: You aren't on my fucking level, not by a long shot. You've been at this, what? Four years? With like...ten matches to your name? I stepped through these doors three months ago and won this championship in my second match in a PWE ring. I'm the lightning bolt that has struck through every company I've stepped foot in over the past twelve months, and you're still a young pup who's snarling at the end of her leash."
"You might have this fantasy, this delusion of grandeur that you stand a snowball's chance in hell of keeping up with me, but that fever dream is just that: a dream, and I'm about to wake you up real quick. You might have the size, the power, but you have a line that you yourself say that you can't cross...I don't have such luxuries, babe. All the deadlifts and all the counting macros in the world won't prepare you for me. You're as cut and dry, white meat, good ol' girl as they come, you can't handle me, babygirl."
"As big as you are, as strong as you are, you're still just a brave little minnow who's diving into a pool filled with great white sharks. And unfortunately for you, this ain't Finding Nemo, because this great white shark is smelling blood...and I'm going to eat you alive. You might've fluked yourself into a couple of wins and a title shot, but the clock is about to strike midnight on your Cinderella story. You're not stepping into glass slippers, you're stepping on a live grenade in Dallas."
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