Third Time’s A Charm

“Rox-ieeee” The two syllables chime in a childish pitch and are substantially drawn out. Ceridwen wears a look of sheer victory on her face. Her smirk makes it obvious that she is quite pleased.

“It is so lovely to see you again, my friend. I must say: life was rather dull without your presence. Yet, patience has graced me with a wonderful reward. I was most worried, but look at what you have done already since making your triumphant return!” She claps her hands and leans forward, her sparkling eyes glaring down the camera.

“May I ask you something?” She pauses as if actually seeking permission. “Tell me: prior to Popular Demand, would Roxie Gearheart have defeated Mercadier de Leon so handedly? Hmm? Would one former half of the Rebel Diamonds have had the confidence to stick out her tongue and hit a flawless Clockwork Angel to easily pin the only two time Prodigy Champion in history? Be honest with me.” A grin forms; it is one of pleasure.

“What was it I told you on December 17th? I am certain you recall! I told you that death was a chance at rebirth; I told you that a new woman would emerge from the underworld, and you admitted as much two weeks ago! You are absolutely correct: you did not walk out of our Underworld Deathmatch the same. Neither of us did.” Her grin shrinks into a look of contemplation.

“I must admit— I am sad to see you misinterpret my intentions. When you told Nick Baxter that I attacked you to build my name, I was genuinely hurt by your accusation. The idea of standing on your back in order to pad my resume is repugnant and abhorrent. Though, I cannot quite blame you for your logic. I did not properly articulate myself, and for that, I apologize. You deserve better.” Sadness overcomes her. She lowers her head and averts her gaze to the floor.

“See, when I watched you match with Mercadier… I saw it. I saw YOU. After spending over a month in the grave, Roxie Gearheart emerged, and she emerged an entirely different person.

I saw it in the way you contorted in the tilt-a-whirl hurricanrana.
I saw it in the way you launched yourself with the suicide dive.
I saw it in the way you threw the elbow for the Silhouette Blade.  
But most of all,
I saw it in the way you smiled.” Ceridwen raises her gaze. Her eyes hold a sense of wonder, and her mouth hangs open as if looking upon something magnificent.

“To be frank, I found myself overcome with emotion with each passing moment. As the match dragged on, those feelings built and built far beyond my wildest dreams. Before the match even finished, I knew what I wanted. So, please, forgive me for my tactics, but at the time, there was only one single thought running through my mind:

I must face her again.” These final five words leave through clenched teeth. Her fists tighten, and her eyes widen.

“And truly— can you blame me? I have not forgotten the bittersweet agony you put me through in Chicago. Your showing at Popular Demand was absolutely riveting. Let us not forget: it was Roxie who introduced weapons into the match. It was Roxie who busted me open by punching me with a steel chain. It was Roxie who hit a Clockwork DDT onto the ladder. And it was also Roxie Gearheart who withstood almost everything I had, including a chain assisted front-flip lariat and European uppercut. In that Underground Deathmatch, I literally almost had to kill Roxie Gearheart to keep her down for the count of ten.” Ceridwen shakes her head in disbelief.

“While it may have been Maximus who dethroned me, Roxie was clearly the most resilient, tenacious, and difficult opponent I ever defended against. So when faced with the opportunity to face an even stronger, even more daring, and even more confident version? I had to take my opportunity. Failure was never an option.” Her nose twitches, and a sneer forms on her face.

“I have been here in Prestige but a short while, and Miss Gearheart is the only opponent I have faced more than once. In fact, beating her was my point of ascension…” as she trails off, her face becomes blank. The emotion drains like water from the sink.

“Just as I did in my first reign, I will begin by stepping into the ring with Roxie Gearheart. Except this time there are no ladders, no panes of glass, no chains, and no chairs. This is simple two women standing in opposite corners:

In one corner, you have the renewed and revitalized Roxie Gearheart— an efficient striker and brilliant daredevil with a newfound edge and beautiful confidence. In the other? You have a former Prodigy Champion who has decimated every opponent, even in defeat, and will do anything to get back what is hers. Anything.” The final word comes out in a haunting tone.

“This is exactly the type of challenge I must overcome. I understand completely that this will not come easy, and I know I’m in for a brilliant battle. But, we must remember why Roxie Gearheart has this new aura. I did that. Now? I intend to teach Roxie a very important lesson.” She nods.

“You can die and be reborn again.
You can take a month and a half to recuperate.
You can return better than ever!
It isn’t enough.” She shakes her head again.

“My hands created this monster.
These hands will end up around her throat.

Maximus Steele stole something from me, and Roxie Gearheart is the key to getting it back. She has always been the key. So, Sunday, I will prove to myself and every single person watching that I belong in the title picture.

At Heart of Winter, I face Roxie Gearheart for the third time.
And for the third time, I will put her down.”