Female Guantlet For The Gold

[Jay]

Deadlines:

Pacific: Sunday - 10 P.M.
Mountain: Sunday - 11 P.M.
Central: Sunday/Monday - Midnight
Eastern: Monday 1 A.M.
U.K.: Monday 6 A.M.

RolePlay Limit: 4 RPs

RPs Must be 4 Hrs Apart on DL Day

Any Diva not booked at Summer Slam - Winner gets a Women's or Diva's Title Shot(deppending on their brand)

[.:|Gwen Rose|:.]

“When The Lights Go Out” Chapter One

I awoke, the cold had awoken me, my porcelain white skin covered in goose bumps. It was summer in Moscow, but Moscow is still Russia. It was a mistake to allow myself to be caught in such little clothing. Wearing just a short skirt, and a thin blouse, I had allowed the police to take me in and toss me into a jail cell, only to forget about me, remembering to acknowledge me long enough to toss me a hunk of bread, and every now and then, a carton of milk that had surpassed its sell by date.

My body ached for the release of sleep, but I had awoken every night at the same time, the cold not allowing me to sleep any longer. And if it wasn’t the cold waking me, it was my stomach, calling out for food I did not, and could not, get. I had given in to the fact that I wasn’t going to sleep anymore, who could on a cold concrete floor? I reached into a small crack in the wall, wide enough for my “treasure” and four of my fingers.

A white plastic spoon. They had given it to me my first night, the only night I had actually had a real meal, they laughed about it, saying I should enjoy it, it’d be my last real meal for a while. I had decided to keep the white plastic spoon. And every night at what I assumed was the same time, I would awake due to the cold, and pull this spoon out of the crack in the wall, and I would spend the night, rubbing it against the concrete, creating a sharp point at the tip, but I had to make it perfectly sharp, I had once chance at using it, and if a dull weapon was to be the case, then I would die.

I should introduce myself. My name is Lena Katina. I’m a red head, and I am pretty short. I’ve always wanted to be taller, but I never could grow much past five feet. I’m in prison in Moscow, Russia for murder. And I am a murderer. I killed another human. Not just another human.

I killed my father.

I remember clearly the night it happened. I was visiting Russia, I had come to see my Mother for the first time since I was fourteen years old. I had found out through a letter that not only had my Mother and father split up, but my Mother had fallen in love with an American Exchange student, ten years younger than her. A female, American exchange student. My Mother had apologized to me, for allowing my Father to kick me out of my own home, and tell me he’d kill me if I didn’t leave Russia. She apologized and begged me to come and visit her, to talk, and apologize. She had even purchased the plane tickets.

I wasn’t upset my mother was a lesbian, because I am one myself. That’s why I was kicked out of my home, because my father came into my room, and found me making love to my first true love, Yulia Volkova. He screamed at us, yelled at us, and told me, if I didn’t leave his home, and leave the country, I’d be dead by morning.

We grabbed two outfits each, and two winter coats, and we fled. We were stowaways on a large ship, bound for America. I had stolen some of my fathers money, a large chunk of money. Well, what seemed large to me, I was only fourteen at the time. We had the equivalent of $500 dollars. And I thought that’d be enough to live for a while.

It wasn’t. But, I am getting away from the reason I am in prison now.

My Mother told me she was sorry. And that my father had remarried. But, besides being remarried, he also had gone down the hospital I was born in, asked for my birth certificate, and then promptly paid the hospital to have his named removed. So only, as he said it, his “dyke ex-wife” was my parent. When I found this out, I left my Mothers home.

Do you know how easy it is to buy a gun in Russia? I got one very quickly. And my Father lived in the same house as he did when I was growing up. There was the hole in the basement window, the window in the living room that doesn’t lock, or the back door they always kept unlocked, because of my fathers fear of fire. I had many ways in.

Father wasn’t always a horrible man, that I remember. I was his oldest daughter, and for the longest time, I was “Daddy’s little girl.” I was, up until the day I was “outed.” Even then he had been coming up to my room to give me a gift he and my mother had bought for me. I never found out what the gift was, but I am sure my sister ended up with it.

I waited outside of the home until three in the morning. It was then I crept in the back door. Why crawl through a window, when I can be direct. I didn’t care about getting caught at that time. I guess I had forgotten what Russian Prisons were like, or else I would have thought more about it.

I also wish I could tell you there was some heroic gun fight, but there wasn’t. I walked into my Fathers bed room, I knew he was asleep by how loudly his snores were. Often times my Mother would sleep on our, I mean, their large couch in the living room to escape the snoring.

I walked in, and put the barrel of a small revolver to my fathers head, and I pulled the trigger. His brains spattered everywhere. Across my step-mother, across the headboard, the wall, me. Blood, and chunks of gray matter everywhere. The sight of my fathers head, half of it now missing actually made me throw up. I ended up spilling the contents of my stomach on the floor of their living room. The gun shot awoke my step-mother. She looked at me, still vomiting at that time, the revolver clutched in my hands, blood on my clothes, and she pointed at me, and in perfect English said:

“You bitch, you took my meal ticket.”

As the sound awoke my younger sister and brother, I fled. The only way I knew they were awake, was the fact that they walked out into the hallway. I desperately wanted to stop and hug my siblings, tell them how much I missed them, but I couldn’t have stopped. Knowing now that I would have been caught just hours later, I would have stopped, but right then I had to run.

The first place I went to was my Mothers house. I awoke her and Stephanie, that’s her girlfriend, but they let me, they let me change my shirt. I hugged them both tightly, told my mother I loved her. She told me she loved me.

“Lenny Kitten,” She said, using the nickname from my childhood, “You did the wrong thing for the right reason. You’ll be punished. But you did good.”

With that I just nodded and ran. My mother lived in a little wooden cabin in the forest, which is what I ran through. Twigs snapping beneath my feet. I ran until my legs burned, my lungs burned, and my eyes watered from the wind rushing against them. I stopped for just a moment to catch my breath. And then I heard a click. I stood up then.

“Put your hands in the air,” a strong female voice said in Russian. I obeyed. “Lie down!” She told me. I obeyed. She carefully walked over to me, leveled the gun at my head, while another officer caught up with her.

“Is it her?” he asked in Russian.

“Yes,” She said, looking at a picture, obviously provided by my step-mother, but I was unaware of how she got it. My father, to my knowledge, had burned any picture of me in his house.

They handcuffed me, took me to the prison, took my finger prints, my picture, then fed me and threw me in a cell.



And I’ve been here ever since.

Every night at the same time, a guard came by and threw in a piece of bread at me. He didn’t toss it in to feed me, he threw it at me. He also wore the ring of keys that had the key to my cell. I know he is the only guard that is in the prison at night, although there are others on the outside in guard towers. I stopped sharpening the spoon, and looked at the tip. I poked it with my finger, it drew blood. It was ready. I was ready.

I heard his keys jingling, he was two cells down.

“Hey!” I heard one woman say, she had just gotten her bread.

He was at the cell next to me. I stood up. And got near the cell door. I was hidden in the shadows at the corner of the cell. The light coming in from the guard’s desk cast a shadow in my cell. He stood at the cell and didn’t see me, he kept walking, hoping to catch a glimpse of me. He was so close, I was see the sweat on his brow, nervous I, the most wanted to killer in Russia, had escaped on his shift. I slowly walked over towards him. He still didn’t see me. I stuck my hand out of the bars, and drove the makeshift blade into his neck. Very suddenly he began to sputter as I pulled the blade out. While he put his hand to his neck, I was able to get the key ring off of his belt. I pushed him through the bars and he fell over.

I ran to the lock and tried every key until I heard a click. I pushed the door open, and tossed the key ring into the next cell. I ran, I went through the different doors, and I was out, into the cool summer air.

A siren went off, and search lights began to scour the grounds. I ran, and ran. Eventually I made it to the port. They had a schedule up. I found a ship (ironically called the Freedom) and I was able to sneak aboard. It was a simple cargo ship. I snuck around the main deck, find a door that lead to the cargo hold. I slowly opened it and walked in, down a light of steps into a large holding area. I found two large rows of boxes. And I took my place in between. It was warm down here. Then I fell asleep.

xXxXxXxXxXx

Lena Katina looked into the camera, and gave a half-smile. She brushed her hair back, and then took a deep breath and sighed.

“I have arrived in the EWE. And now, I am here to win what I want most in the cruel, cruel world. I want the EWE Diva’s Championship. This is a title that has been dominated by a woman who dresses like a Gypsy Whore and a Shemale giant. Well, now it is time for me to take the title from those who have so undeservedly held it.

“But, I am facing women from Xplosion and Chaos. And there are so many women to beat...

“Shantelle Taylor, a woman who, from appearance looks like she will be a nonfactor in this match, and she probably won’t even enter.

“Michelle McCool, same as Shantelle.

“Lita, a harlot, who changes men like she changes underwear.. Although if that was true, it wouldn’t be very often.

“Lily Steel, well, she wrestles like she has one leg. And you know what they say about the one-legged woman in the ass kicking contest.

“Melina Perez? Well, she IS flexible.. But her face.. Just.. No.

“Bianca Van Dread.. Her butt is too big to wrestle. But, if she falls, at least it won’t hurt very much... fat ass.

“Julia Diaze... well, she has a huge ass too.

“Drama.. Her name fits her. She’s had so many Chaos’ in her, her first name is Monday Night.

“Brooke Hogan... EWE’s Jessica Simpson

“The truth is, no diva could ever possibly come near me. I am Lena Katina, and I am here to win titles.”

["Stratusfying" Trish Stratus]

Good News, you get a match afterall....instead of a win by default