Showdown '19: The Glorious Debut (Promo Segment)

~~~Crème De La Crème~~~

~~~Act 6.~~~

The "mystery" as to who had procured the venue would not be one veiled in secretive ambiguity for long. Not when the ring crew had taken the better part of fifteen minutes scurrying about and meticulously arranging furniture and applying flower wreaths where they had been explicitly instructed. The ring ropes now draped in frilly silken tapestry with resplendent royal blue roses blossoming and beautifying the drab corner turnbuckles. Floral petals being sprinkled and strewn all around the ring canvas and the Victorian tea party furniture square in it's center. One marble white chair situated behind a circular table draped in a silken tapestry. The wafting grayish hue from the tea pot and filled tea cup being whisked through the air, accompanying a modest presentation of tea cakes and pastries in what was all the precluding pageantry for the upcoming entrance theme everyone loved to malign.

Spoiler:

The dignified socialite striding out upon the red-carpeted ramp-way with an aura of class and snooty sophistication comparable to none, adorned in a tailor-made dress stitched by only the most name-brand of designers with poised steps taking Gwendolyn towards the ring and up the steel steps as she stepped gracefully between the ring ropes and stretched her supple body. The Tension crowd being an all-together different type of rabble than the Friction faithful in an altogether different city, but Gwendolyn's infamous reputation preceded her enough to garnish the typical disdain from the jeering masses. Whose opinion she obviously cared little for given her snobbish posturing and uplifted nose towards them as she unveiled a microphone she was hiding...which in her pristine hands has been known to be just as dangerous and do just as much damage as any barbed-wire bat or steel chair ever could.

"...GASP...Why it's THE Imperial Rose herself, Gwendolyn Dupont Bettencourt!!! Former AFW Entropy Champion!!! Former AFW Tag-Team champion!!!!! Oh, such incandescent perfection~...To what do we forlorn peasants owe the illuminating presence of such dignified nobility, whose refined prestige and flawless beauty are bars we uncouth rabble could never hope to surpass...nay...match~..." Gwendolyn's poetic, one woman theatrical drama imitating the thoughts of the audience members concluding thusly with the back of her hand touching her forehead and head raised high as if she were overcome with enough emotion to faint. Not exactly endearing herself to those in Kyoto whose boos only amped up as she abandoned her posing and the pretense with a mirthful smile. "...*giggle*...well, never fear, my pitiable admirers. For I bring naught but good news and glad tidings. Twas not long ago whenst I soundly defeated legendary Tension competitor Clyde T. Gastin in this very ring. An occurrence I recalled with great fondness during my prolonged sabbatical from active competition thanks to the senseless ravings of a certain pathetic cosplayer, and as I imparted to fellow colleagues of mine earlier on in the month...it’s a noblewoman's natural inclination to discover new venues to display one's breathtaking elegance, grace, and natural superiority~......SO, it is with that mindset and reasoning..."

Gwendolyn than lowering the microphone from her lips with a lascivious grin, muttering out the side of mouth so no one can hear her whisper "...not to mention the sheer abundance of six-packed eye-candy I can feast mine eyes upon 24/7..." before returning the mic to her lips, everyone wondering what she just uttered her breath.

"...That I hereby formally declare my intentions to take my talents over towards the Tension roster~...whilst also maintaining a presence in Friction as well, of course. A most fortuitous arrangement negotiated between myself, Tension General Manager Erica Fairchild, and the...err...colorful, Friction General Manager, Maximilian Kingsley. I look ever so forward to demonstrating mine own grappling finesse against the fine gentleman of Tension~...as I'm sure they do as well. And with that, I bid you unwashed plebeians a fond adieu and-"

Quite the unforeseen juxtaposition. So often Gwendolyn's vanity-laced promo's of pure pontification tested the patience of audience members worldwide, the overwhelming majority of them praying for her spiel to conclude swiftly so as to end their torture. And yet here tonight, the sole occasion when the foppish aristocrat had every intention of concluding her presentation early, she would find herself compelled to linger in the ring longer upon the unscheduled appearance of...well...Gwendolyn didn't quite know what, exactly. The dignified heiress tapping the side of her face with a quizzical furrowing of her brow, at first attempting to ascertain whether this was some manner of masterfully planned prank perpetrated upon her. CERTAINLY these..."people" were not certified Tension competitors. Perhaps they were some manner of comedy routine, or...daresay...*...oh my...male escort service?~...* A prim gasp taken against her dainty fingers as her mind abounded into thoughts of the lewd and mischievous...but her excitement petered off after acknowledging their were indeed Tension competitor's...and that they were most assuredly not her type.

Gwendolyn not offering either hooligan an acknowledgeable reaction aside from prim and proper indifference to their inane, babbling prattle between one another that was becoming simply torturous to her divine sensibilities. For now she simply retained their individual names and nothing more as she crossed her arms and patiently waited for them to be finished so she could address them properly and shoo them from her sights. Their presented rose being taken with a clinching pinch with her thumb and index finger, snooty disgust written all over her visage as she immediately recognized the paltry cheapness of the rose before flicking it onto the tea table...but Edward's boxed cake would be snatched in aghast horror with a  snarling "GIVEMETHATYOUBUFFOON!!!!" and diluted ferocity in her eyes. Gwendolyn knowing full-well of the curse that haunts her Crème De La Crème promos, where the host is doomed to be splattered with a pastry, confectionery, or as in the last case, ruthlessly pummeled. Gwendolyn not taking any chances of ruining her Oscar Del La Renta designed dress as she carefully placed the box upon the table before waltzing back towards these miscreants in pink speedos.

"ALRIGHT LOOK!!!...*ahem*..." Gwendolyn cleared her throat to regain her composure before continuing. "Whoever you...people, are...allow me to educate you on the folly of your approach. My presence on the same Tension roster as yourselves, does not immediately equate to us being on the same level of social class, or competitiveness. The sentiment of a welcomed greeting is duly received and noted, but your approach lacks any inkling of finesse or proper decorum when addressing a dignified lady of such refined nobility. So...if you would spare me the effort of explaining myself forward~..." A wafting hand towards the ramp being the gesture she uses to get the point across that she wants them to vamoose.

Regardless of how today's proceeding's transpired, Gwendolyn was earnestly considering arranging for some manner of security personnel to stand vigilant at ringside the next time she conducts another of these refined interview segments, or in today's case, sophisticated address' to these pitiable commoners. These elegant soirees of hers were meticulously planned to unfurl exactly as how she deemed fit, and ergo, meant to be invitation only. Otherwise all manner of uncouth riffraff could just come barging in, offering token platitudes in some misbegotten attempt at currying her favor when there is simply no feasible scenario where a distinguished noblewoman of her poise, prestige, and flawlessly statuesque beauty could possibly be swayed by-

"...Hm?"

Gwendolyn held that thought for just a moment when her haughty dismissal of these exasperating delinquents interrupting her festivities, was itself, interrupted. By a trio of...ssscrumptiously sculpted eye-candy for her to feast her leering hazel-eyes upon, with rippling pectorals that bounced ever so slightly with every step, perfectly defined abdomens as if tailor-made as per Gwendolyn's specific preference, and let us not forget their bulging...musculature, shimmering from the body oil dutifully applied before hand. Sinful thoughts abounding from what little these was left to her imagination given their speedo attire, a twinkle of drool being stealthily flicked off her shameless smirk upon the trio entering the ring and handing the haughty highborn a bottle of champagne. Accompanied by a significantly more regal and respectable method of introducing oneself to a lady of her exalted pedigree and privileged social class.

"Ah, Bollinger 1996 Vieilles Vignes Françaises...a fine vintage~..." Gwendolyn elegantly remarked whilst taking the champagne bottle and examining it's labeling, than repaying their civilized greeting with a picturesque curtsy, as is the proper procedure when introductions are conducted amongst the aristocracy. "Such civility and adherence to the appropriate methodology of conducting oneself amongst nobility~...To say that your interjection this night is a breath of fresh air would be an understatement like no other. You've humbly honored me with your mere presence, Dominion Of Tension. Such a delightful reminder that manners and civility are not lost upon the gentleman inhabiting Tensions roster~..." Gwendolyn proclaimed with a heavenly smile and having completely forgotten about anyone else who happened to be in the ring at the time.

Exceptionally rare were the occurrences upon which Gwendolyn could indulge her upper-class intellectualism in a sophisticated discourse such as this. So often the unrefined rabble frequenting these wrestling establishment's would lose her highbrow interest due to their inability to show her the proper respect and courtesy as befitting her exalted social status. Coming upon other like-minded nobility was indeed such an infrequent development that she was content to wile away whatever television time her promo segment had allotted to it by simply chatting it up with these scrumptious studs-...err, refined gentleman introducing themselves.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance, chivalrous noblemen of Dominion. Why, this delightful happenstance of a gathering reminds me of a mirthful anecdote once-PWAGH!!!!" Whatever grandiloquent rhetoric she had in mind would meet the business end of a multi-layered cake being splattered right into her haughty visage that had the snooty heiress lose one's footing to a comedic prat-fall that had her splayed out on the canvas with a gooey mound of sugary frosting mushed atop her golden-curled head. Time seemingly stopping in this one instant as the fact that people knew it was eventually coming hardly diminished their laughing elation...