Like, What the Fuck? [Victory 001]

TOTAL CHAOS TRAINING - NEW YORK, NEW YORK

TOTAL CHAOS was a prestigious facility. Two wrestling rings were standing in the centre of the room with crisp ring aprons and canvases. They only had the top of the line equipment and it was kept meticulously clean. There were posters and titles hanging on the walls highlighting the careers of Chris and Keilli Chaos, the wrestling power couple that started the company.

A gorgeous blonde walked with a bounce in her step, out from the locker room area. She was dressed in a pair of white and grey leopard print leggings and a mint green sports bra. Her blonde locks looked to be freshly styled in loose curls and a pale pink gym bag was thrown over her shoulder. Sabina Sainte walked with purpose as she marched towards one of the offices lined against the exterior walls. As she poked her head inside, she saw another gorgeous blonde, this one slightly older, sitting at the desk. Keilli Chaos had her hair pulled back into a tight ponytail and she was dressed in a matching hot pink workout set. She glances up and smiles as she watches Sabina step into the office.

“Heading out?”

The Greek Goddess nodded her head. “Yeah I’ve got my flight in the morning.”

Sabina half smiled, pursing her lips.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” The trainer asked coyly. Most people came to TOTAL CHAOS to train with Chris. He was the career that people fawned over. Keilli was a titan in her own right. She had titles galore and was a name that everyone knew. But women’s wrestling was a different game when she was on top. And truth be told, she was never known for her wrestling skill. Chris was the person who was lauded as the God. She was simply his Queen.

But Sabina was different. While she didn’t know much about wrestling when she started training, she had admired Keilli. Her career had enthralled Sabina and Keilli quickly took her under her wing. She saw herself in Sabina. She saw a tenacity and violence that Keilli recognized.

The Patron Sainte let out a laugh and shook her head. She would never admit out loud that she was nervous. Especially not to the Queen herself. Keilli was everything Sabina wanted to be. And in Sabina’s eyes, Keilli Chaos did not get nervous. “For some busted ass battle royale? With my besties? I don’t think so. It’s honestly a waste of my time.”

“Well it will be the perfect time for you girls to showcase yourself. Put the rest of that roster on fucking notice. And let them know you are more than just a pretty face. Embrace your inner PMS.”

Sabina smiled widely. PMS was a group that Keilli had spearheaded back in her days. Teaming with Katt Carter and Amy Dumas, she dominated, destroyed and attacked everyone in her path. Being compared to PMS was a dream to Sabby. And the fact that her, Peach and Mia’s initials were literally PMS was something that had originally made Keilli chuckle when she first saw the girls together.

A sign. That they were meant to be. And meant to cement themselves like the original PMS had.

And every time Keilli compared the Socialite Sorority to PMS, Sabby’s heart fluttered.

“You know it. We are going to dominate that fucking battle royale. And make sure that EVERYONE sees us. Don’t worry Kei, I’m gonna make you proud.”

“You already have.” Keilli quipped back quickly. Both women locked eyes and shared a look of admiration and respect. Sabina was the daughter Keilli always wanted (her real one is a little more complicated). And Keilli was exactly where Sabina wanted to be in the future.

Sabina glanced towards the door and then back to her mentor. “Thanks Keilli. I’ll see you in a few days.”

Keilli nodded. “Knock ‘em dead.”

As Sabina walked out of the office, she was glowing with pride. A smirk crossed her glossy lips. That conversation was exactly what she needed headed into this stupid ass match. Unaware of her surroundings, an arm was suddenly draped over her shoulder. Sabina jumped slightly, but she didn’t even have to turn to look. Her fiance’s familiar scent filled the air and she smiled, leaning her head towards him. Luca Cilic had his long hair wet and tied back into a bun and was dressed in a pair of black sweatpants and a vintage Chris Chaos tee. He squeezed her tightly around the shoulders.

“Ready?”

“Yeah,” she replied as she turned to look into his grey eyes. “Just said goodbye to Keilli. She said she’s proud of me.”

Sabina rested her head on his shoulder, looking content, as they started to walk towards the entrance doors.

“Who wouldn’t be proud of you?”

At that moment, Sabina felt a buzzing in her pant pocket. Her phone was vibrating. Letting out a sigh, she reached into her pocket and pulled it out. The screen read ‘Mom’ and Sabina scrunched up her nose.

*********************

PRESENT DAY - ORLANDO, FLORIDA

The sun was hanging high in the sky, beaming down on Sabina Sainte. The blonde was lounging out by the private area of the pool at her resort. I mean, it wasn’t private normally. But Sabina paid to ensure that no normies came anywhere near her and her besties while they laid their gorgeous bodies out in the sun. She was dressed in nothing more than a crisp white, string bikini. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun and a pair of black Chanel sunglasses shielded her gorgeous eyes from the harsh rays above her. She had her feet dipped ever so slightly into the pool. The camera slowly panned up her body and then backed away, taking in the entire gorgeous view.

A moment later a man walked over and handed her a drink with a pineapple nestled on the rim of the glass. Sabina took it from him without even a glance. He walked away as she took a sip of the drink before looking into the camera.

“Let me start by saying that you’re welcome. For this exquisite view. For allowing you to watch me lay by the pool and then walk into the ring later this week and beat the living shit out of your faves. Honestly, you bitches should be paying me for the fucking priviledge of getting to stand near me.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Hi bottom feeders. My name is Sabina Sainte and I am the motherfucking Greek Goddess. You know, I was excited to see what PWE would have in store for a star like me. Bright lights are where I belong. Standing alongside my sisters, I knew that we would skyrocket to superstardom. Like, honestly, look at us! Who else on this roster looks this flawless while humiliating your faves? Literally no one! I was intrigued by all the new faces I could smash up. And then I saw the card…”

Sabina twisted her face in disgust. She lowered her Chanel glasses down so that she could narrow her eyes into the camera. “Like what the fuck?”

Shaking her head, she pushed her glasses back up and let out an annoyed groan.

“Let me make ONE fucking thing clear. Sabina Sainte, Mia Castillo and Peach Dillinger are BESTIES. We are inseparable. We are the girls you wish you could be. We are the girls your men think of when they’re inside you. We are the fucking EPITOME of perfection. And together? We are the Socialite Sorority. We ARE the upper echelon of society. We are rich. We are powerful. And we everything you’re fucking not.

So I’m not exactly sure which idiot running this company thought it would be cute to put us in a fucking battle royale AGAINST one another. But no. We will not be fighting each other. You literally can’t make us.

At first, I was annoyed. But then I realized something like absolutely brilliant. Normally, myself and Peach fucking hate battle royals. I personally find them boring. Like there’s very little violence. I barely get to showcase my impeccable skills because wrestling ability is not important. And I don’t like the idea of like six people trying to grope all over me at once. Like ew. Have you seen the people in this fucking company? Disgusting. At least half of them don’t shower. However, this little battle royale won’t be every man for themselves. No. The Socialite Sorority have the numbers advantage. It’s four losers who have no relation against three women who are ride or fucking die. Whatever little alliances you lowlifes make will crumble in moments. But our sisterhood is to the grave. We will be in that ring for ourselves and for eachother. We will protect one another. And if the fucking worst thing happens and one of us gets tossed over that top rope? Our boy Cedric will be ready to catch our skinny asses and place us right back in that ring where we fucking belong.

I’m sure Ophelia or Charlie put us in this match together out of nothing but pure jealousy. I mean look at them. I’d be jealous of me too. They’re jealous of our looks. Our money. And most of all, our unbreakable bond. They’re both giving friendless losers who eat ramen in front of Netflix alone every night. You think you can tear us apart with some pointless match? Literally go fuck yourself.”

With a roll of her eyes, she took another sip from her drink before placing it down next to her.

“The other losers in this match are fucking inconsequential. Me and my sisters are going to make quick work of you and display why we are the ONLY ones that matter in this match. Like if I have to watch another edgelord loser stand in a fucking dark room and tell me that they’re going to change this industry I’m going to puke. Oh wait, am I talking about Enigma or Victoria? You’ll never know. They’re all dark and brooding and fucking boring. I don’t care that you’re fucking your brother into submission or that Enigma thinks he’s going to bring some fucking reckoning. Literally could you be any more cliche? Please threaten to kill me this week in a match with the least amount of violence ever. Embarrassing.

But not as embarrassing as being the literal inaugural Victory Champion and being shoved into an opening show battle royale? Yikes! I mean I guess it’s what you deserve after losing your belt to a waste of skin in Ellie Quinn. Bring in your blockhead brother. Bring in the whole fam. It won’t make you or your receding hairline relevant again. So sorry. But your time is over. And Noah? Oh darling, your time never even fucking began. I literally have nothing to say about you. The two of you are like unseasoned chicken. Whitebread boring men who like love this business? A dime a dozen. Get a fucking personality. Do something interesting.

Like kissing my fucking feet. I know you both think this will be your moment to shine. To stand above the rest. But it will simply be your moment to get lost in the shuffle of the same mediocre losers once again. A match like this isn’t about wrestling skill. It's about opportunity. So shove your skill up your ass and get ready to be shown up by the three bimbos I know you’re all going to underestimate this week.”

A smirk crosses Sabina’s face as she pushes her glasses up on top of her head. She leans forward slightly.

“Let me tell you how this match is going to end. With me, Mia and Peach standing tall at the end while the rest of you lick your wounds beneath our feet. And then we’re gonna hop out of the ring and touch the ground at the same time. Ohmygod. Three way sorority sister tie? Nothing will ever be this iconic!

We’re the future. We’re the now. We are the Socialite Sorority. And you are all nothing more than our fucking pledges.”

And with that Sabby slips into the pool entirely. She dunks under the water and as she comes up she sees that the camera is still there.

“Be gone.”

She waves her hand at the camera and we fade to black.