cham·pi·on
n.
1. One that wins first place or first prize in a competition.
2. One that is clearly superior or has the attributes of a winner: a champion in the ring.
3. An ardent defender or supporter of a cause or another person
4. One who fights; a warrior.
adj.
1. Holding first place or prize: a champion athlete.
2. Superior to all others


Heartless people aren't born they are created. Selfishness isn't genetic it is taught. I didn't wake up one morning and think to myself 'right from here on in I care about nobody but myself.' I was raised to believe that there was only one person that you could trust and that was yourself. Never let your guard down or you will regret it because the minute you do there will be somebody there to take advantage. I love to be hated. I'm not going to blame it on my child hood, daddy never hugged me, mommy was a drunk etc etc the fact was my childhood was perfect. I had everything, I had money and I had extravagance and I didn't care at what price they came. Yes, I know that makes me selfish but I don't really care.

The daughter of a multi-millionaire 'business man'. How many self-made multi-millionaires out there are legit? I'll tell you how many there are, NONE. My family did what they had to do to make a comfortable living in upper class America. If you don't have money in America than you are nobody. 'Blood money' I used to hear people mutter about us at extravagant parties at the country club. Could I care that we made our money with blood staining our hands? No I didn't care. These people owned tobacco industries and had a part in the oil business. Tobacco had killed more people than my family, and surely the wars over oil had resulted in the blood of thousands and yet my family where the ones that made their millions on the blood of others? The hypocrisy of rich America never ceased to amaze me. I learned from a young age, you do what you need to do to succeed in life. You do what needs to be done to come out on top and that is the motto I live my life by.





SCENE 1

The room was dark and damp. The overhead pipes dripping onto the stone floor below. A gleam of light entering the room through the tiny window up high on the wall lined with metal bars. Puddles of water lay on various spots of the cold stone floor. A bulb hanging from a wire overhead produced the only light in the dark room leaving an orange glow on everything it touched. On the far side of the room knelt a man on the cold damp floor. A black blindfold tied tightly around his eyes did not hide the fact that he was crying. His hands bound tightly behind his back with rope. Dressed in an expensive suit that was now caked with dirt from the stone floor, he sobbed uncontrollably. Pleading and begging not knowing what was to happen next. Blood trickled down the side of his bruised and battered face, which was swollen on one side making him look ever more helpless and pathetic. Beside him stood a tall man in a designer suit, he shoulders broad and a stern look on his hard face he stood staring ahead, occasionally hitting the kneeling man and telling him to shut his mouth. The room remained silent except for the sobs of the man kneeling on the floor. The click of heels against the stone floor broke the silence. The click click of high heels on stone approaching swiftly. Kendell Smith walked across the dark room, dressed formally in a navy pin striped skirt suit, which was obviously expensive. Two tall broad men walked either side of her as she approached the sobbing men on the floor.

Kendell Smith: "Is this Michael?"

The large man standing beside the man on the floor nodded. The man kneeling, obviously named Michael began to plea. He started shaking, his nerves taking over his system as she stepped forward to him pulling his blindfold down so he could see her. He looked at her in terror, recognizing who she was and knowing there was only one way he would be leaving this dark stone room.

Kendell Smith: "Michael, Michael Michael... you're a silly man. You shouldn't play with the big boys, you where out of your league. My father is not a happy man. He wants his money Michael. He wants the money you promised him but there doesn't seem to be an sign of this money coming about does there?"

Michael: "Please... Please..."

Kendell Smith: "Please what Michael? Please turn around and leave you be? Now we both know that's not going to happen. You may be stupid but you're not that stupid. You hardly think I flew half way across the World to find you so I could leave without the money do you?"

He continued to sob, the tears of fear rolling down her hollowed cheeks.

Kendell Smith: "So now here is the question Michael, where is the money you stole from my Father?"

Michael: "I didn't...."

She slapped him hard across the face and grabbed him by his dark, ruffled hair forcing his head up to look into her blue eyes she leaned down closer to him grinding her teeth as she spoke.

Kendell Smith: "Don't treat me like an idiot Michael. I know you took the money, how else could afford to fly to Fiji to get away from my father. My family where good to you, we looked after you and your family and then you do and disrespect us by steeling away money that was rightfully ours? That my family had worked hard for? Then you disrespect my family again by lying to me about it. You truly are scum."

She threw him to the floor as he continued to cry she turned her back to him continuing to speak while the man to Michael's side lifted him back up to his knees.

Kendell Smith: "Tell me you have the money Michael."

Michael: "It's... It's gone..."

Kendell turned to face him again shaking her head while she looked at him. A look of pure hate and resentment in her eyes she hit him across the face with the back of her hand.

Kendell Smith: "What the hell do you mean it's gone?"

Michael: "I... I.... I spent it, it's gone."

Kendell Smith: "You spent three million dollars in four months? You goddamn liar. Where is the money?"

One of the tall broad men stepped forward and kicked Michael in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to fall to the floor, clutching his abdomen and gasping for air.

Kendell Smith: "I'm not a patient woman. Where is the money Michael?"

Michael: "It's gone..."

Kendell Smith: "Search him."

The men all stepped forward and began going through the mans jacket pockets, occasionally holding him down to hit him in the face. They took out a wallet and slid it along the floor towards Kendell. She leaned forward and picked it up from the stone floor, wiping it. The men stepped away from Michael as he continued to sob. She opened the wallet and a gold key fell out into her hand.

Kendell Smith: "Well well well a bank safety deposit box key. I wonder what you would be keeping in there. Tut tut Michael, you should never carry keys of this value around with you, you never know who might take your wallet. Oh wait what is this?"

Kendell took out the small bag of white powder and waved it in the air. She smiled broadly as she tore a small hole in the bag, dipping her baby finger into the white powder and bringing it to her mouth.

Kendell Smith: "Cocaine... well you've been living the high life in Fiji haven't you? Living the high life on my father's money."

She threw the bag of cocaine at him angrily and turned around on her heel, waving the men in Michael's direction. She began to walk across the stone floor, slipping the key into her pocket. The men moved forward towards Michael as he began to plead and cry loudly.

Michael: "Please, my wife, my children."

She turned one last time just as she reached the door of the dark cold room. She placed her hand on the doorknob and looked into Michael's eyes. He stared back, terror and regret in his teary eyes.

Kendell Smith: "Begging makes you look more pathetic than you already are. Kill him."

Michael began to scream as Kendell turned the door and left the room, the agonising screams of terror echoing in the background as she left the building with a satisfied smirk on her face.



SCENE 2


The silver moonlight crept in through the heavy red velvet curtains. Kendell swung her legs over the edge of the bed, placing her feet flat on the floor. The moonlight danced along the curves of her body, only clad in a sheer lace bra and matching g-string she leaned forward to take a look at the digital clock. It was nearly 4am. She frowned slightly, she hadn’t realised how late it had gotten, time had gotten away from her. The sheets in the bed beside her stirred slightly. She looked at the man and smirked, it had been average, nothing to write home about. She opened her purse taking out a small metal vile. She opened it and dipped the end of her hotel room key into it, the key re-emerged with a small mountain of white powder on the end. She lifted the key to her nose and snorted off the white substance. Flinching slightly and shaking her head. She put the vile of cocaine back in her purse. Khristian had been right he didn’t sell shit.

Man: “Baby what are you doing up? Come back to bed.”

Kendell turned looking at the man draped naked on the bed with just a corner of the bed sheets hiding his shame. His chiselled body glistened in the moon light, he bright white smile coy and mischievous as he tapped the bed beside him. He was a good-looking man, no doubt, and strong which was something Kendell needed in a man but she didn’t need a man and right now she had more important things to be doing than screwing some random guy.

Kendell Smith: “I have to go I have things to do.”

Man: “Go? It’s four in the morning! Come back to bed you have all the time in the World and I’ll make it worth your while.”

Kendell Smith: “I highly doubt that. Sex for twenty minutes including foreplay is not what I call ‘worth my while’. I have a very important match coming up this week and I can’t be wasting my time on average fucking.”

The man looked offended as he sat up in the bed, pulling the sheets towards him.

Man: “Well maybe you’d have a better chance if you stopped pushing that shit up your nose.”

Kendell Smith: “I didn’t hear you complain last night. Some people need a cup of coffee to start their day, they can’t function without the caffeine, that my friend is an addiction. Me on the other hand, I can function without cocaine I just don’t want to. Cocaine makes people like you seem more interesting other than that you’d be just another pretty male clone.”

She stood up from the bed, bending over and picking her dress up off the floor while the man in the bed admired the view. She stepped into the small black dressed and pulled it up over her curves. It clung to her as if part of her skin. She sat back down on the edge of the bed searching for her shoes.

Man: “So who are you facing in this match that is so important to you?”

Kendell Smith: “Why do you care?”

Man: “I’m a sports man and who knows I might even watch.”

He smiled at her as if that was supposed to be a compliment, as if he’d be doing her a favour by watching but she didn’t care what he did. She didn’t care who watched her match or who cheered her on cause she was all about winning and nothing else mattered to her in the slightest.

Kendell Smith: “Gary "The Hitman" Reece, Andy Titsuhiro, Tony "The Bull" Viction, New Jac and Jesterio.”

Man: “Wow all men. Doesn’t it faze you being the only female?”

Kendell Smith: “I’ve spent all my life playing amongst the big boys this will be no different. When there is something I want on the line then I will go to any length to get it, if that means kicking the living crap out of five men who are about twice my size and weight then so be it. Testosterone is the male handicap. No matter how strong the man, no matter how good the man and no matter how focused the man the minute a woman of my stature puts her hands on them their mind immediately turns to the act of sexual intimacy. I’ve known this from a young age and I use it to my advantage in the ring and in life. Anyway I wouldn’t exactly refer to my five opponents as men. I have more balls than most of them.”

Man: “What do you mean?”

Kendell Smith: “I mean they are all losers. Second place in the game of life. Second bit wresters who will only be remembered in the industry when their names are associated with superstars like myself. You have Jesterio, a big stupid looking idiot of a man who’s training consists of lifting a big mac to his mouth. Hall of Fame my pert ass. He’s one of these people who’s as dumb as he looks. If you gave him a penny for his thoughts you’d get change. The man is a failure and a sloppy wrestler. I suppose sloppy is what you can expect from a five hundred pound man. He’s not exactly what you’d call fast. He lacks in speed the way he lacks in intellect. Then you have his partner Andy Titsuhiro, I know what you’re thinking, with that second name he’s bound to be a lower class race. It’s obviously not full American.”

Man: “Actually I wasn’t thinking that at all.”

Kendell turned on the bed to face the man who was still lying half naked under the crisp white sheets. She knew he didn’t really care about her match and this was a ploy to get her back in to the bed but he had asked her a questions and she was going to answer it. Once Kendell got started on wrestling there was no stopping her. She could talk for hours about her opponents, their weaknesses and their shortcomings. Confidence was a virtue she had possessed from a young age. She had the ability to look at a successful candidate and only see their weaknesses. It’s what gave her edge when it came to stepping in to the ring week in week out.

Kendell Smith: “Well Andy is another mediocre wrestler and another Hall of Fame inductee apparently. Him and Jesterio are like Laurel and Hardy. One fat and one skinny and their in ring abilities are comical. I mean Tony Viction beat Andy what the hell does that tell you? I’ll tell you exactly what that tells me, it tells me that Andy is over-rated and if I have to come face to face with him in the ring at the PPV then I wont be nervous I’ll just pin him to the mat like the loser he is.”

Men: “Girl you have a lot of pent up rage, come back to bed and you can take it out on me.”

The man smirked at her tapping the bed beside him. She looked at him in disgust. She wondered if this attempt at a mating ritual actually worked with other females. He probably thought he was some sort of Don Juan after getting her into bed and that she would melt with every word he said. He had the wrong girl. She simply used him to fulfill her sexual needs, which he did not.

Kendell Smith: “Don’t speak when I speak. When I speak you listen do you understand that? I just spent the majority of my night pretending that I was attracted to you so that I could get fucked which turned out to be mediocre at best. The least you can do is sit there and listen to me rant about my up and coming match and the other loser men that will be a part of my life this week like Tony Viction. The man was nearly crying burying a belt! A belt! It’s not even a title anymore it had lost it’s merit it was just simply a belt. Like the one I used to tie your arms to the bed post. A plain old run of the mill belt. He’s another one of these superstars that goes on about how many wins he had in the past. ‘I won this’ and ‘I beat him’ and ‘I did this’ that’s all well and good but what has he done lately? Nothing! The man has seventeen loses! Seventeen! He should just lie down on the mat come PPV time and let someone pin him, saves us all the effort of having to get him there. It will save me the thirty seconds it would take to get him to the mat. The man is a born loser, he doesn’t deserve to hold the IC title, he doesn’t deserve to hold any title! He talks so much about wanting to be in the Hall of Fame he’s more likely to be a contender for the Hall of Shame with his appalling match record. If the man was a horse he’d be shot. Someone needs to permanently put him out of his misery. Speaking a piss poor records you should see the other guy in the match New Jac, now he truly is pathetic. He is a gangster wannabe and his record is as lower class as himself.”

Man: “You truly hold a lot of disdain towards your opponents.”

Kendell Smith: “Well if you had to spend week in week out backstage in the UWF with these fucktards you’d have a lot of contempt in you as well. If idiots could fly the place would be an airport. There are very few people backstage I have respect for and even less that I would associate myself with. Unfortunately in this business though you have to push it all to one side so that you can win. For instance I’ve to work side by side with a hermaphrodite in the next coming weeks.”

Man: “UWF have a hermaphrodite wrestler? Wow…”

Kendell Smith: “Yes, it’s names Jessie. I may have to work side by side with her to go for the tag titles. Don’t get me wrong, she can be good in the ring, she’s strong which is to be expected from a woman who is actually half man. I go up against her other half this week.”

Man: “A hermaphrodite with a boyfriend?”

Kendell bent forward, sliding her feet into her expensive Dior sandals as she continued to talk. When it came to wrestling the words just slipped off the tongue.

Kendell Smith: “I know it’s sick isn’t it?”

Man: “I think I’m going to throw up at the thought.”

Kendell Smith: “I don’t blame you mini dick it makes me sick too.”

Man: “Did you just refer to me as mini dick?…”

Kendell ignored him and continued on her rant.

Kendell Smith: “Gary ‘The Hitman’ Reece and his band of circus show freaks and losers X-rated. I think Jason Lee said it best when he called him a has been. That’s exactly what he is. Another hall of fame inductee it makes you wonder if there is a jinx on the hall of fame? Like some kind of voodoo curse. Once you get inducted your wrestling skills go to shit. Or maybe they where just all bluffers and got into the hall of fame by the skin of their teeth. Hitman is no exception. Talking about how all of X-rated have title matches at All or Nothing. Tommy Shilly defending his Canadian title. He’s the god damn Canadian champion! I’d rather hold no belt than be champion of the poor man’s America. And to think, these are the people that Hitman uses as his crutch to make his way through the UWF on a match-by-match basis. Is there anything he does without his precious X-rated? I bet he gets Jason to hold his dick while he’s having a piss. The first time around he had to hand down his title but now that he’s getting his shot again he’s going to be humiliated by losing it to a female. I’m the only female in the match and the strongest and prettiest woman in the business.”

The man sighed, starting to get impatient with her talking and wanting her to get out of her dress again. He couldn’t really care less how she felt about her opponents and Kendell knew this. He pulled the sheet to one side revealing him self to her and flashing his white smile in her direction.

Man: “Come on baby I’m ready for you again.”

Kendell rolled her eyes before dipping her hand into her purse and pulling out a tooth pick which she threw in his direction.

Kendell Smith: “Here cover yourself up with that.”

She stood up and threw her bag over her shoulder wiggling her small feet in her shoes before walking across the room to the door. She glanced at the clock again, it was late and she needed to go and get a few hours sleep before she had to train in the morning.

Kendell Smith: “Well I’m out of here, I have bigger, more important men I need to concentrate on. Thanks for nothing, oh and here I almost forgot….”

She leaned over putting her hands up her skirt as the man watched on in shock and anticipation. She slid her red g-string off from under her black dress and stepped out of it one foot after the other. She held them dangling from her index finger while smiling then threw them across the room onto the bed where the man lay.

Kendell Smith: “You can have them. You can sell them on ebay after I become the IC champion.”