Morgan Payne versus Kendrick Kross

California Wrestling. Morgan Payne didn’t ever think she’d find herself signed to them again; especially not after the company folded back in May for reasons that she never knew whether to smile or frown at. Ethan Roerich, the owner, pulled the plug on the company after Morgan’s girlfriend, Sativa Nevaeh sent her lawyers after him for contract disputes. Not like he didn’t deserve it; piece of shit that he was. Morgan knew he killed the promotion himself to save his own ass but now, five months later, here they were again. A company had risen from the ashes that they only had themselves to blame for being reduced to. The most interesting part was how hard Roerich had worked to get both Sativa and Morgan to re-sign with California Wrestling. Two contracts with so many cushy little offerings in them. It was like the man was practically begging them to come back. Begging the one woman who more or less caused him to shut his company down, and her uncontrollable partner in crime - the latter being Morgan - to come back and work for him. Promises of signing bonuses and title shots were the eyebrow raisers. Morgan had given days and days of thinking her contract offer over but she stuck to her vow. Her vow that she would never return to California Wrestling unless Sativa was down to sign with her. Morgan let Sativa, or Mary as she was known among the Collective and Kingdom, handle the legal matters with her own lawyers but now here they were, again. Members of the California Wrestling roster...and Morgan was ready to raise hell against the company and that son of a bitch owner, already!

Morgan had made sure to pay close attention to the Hollywood Heritage Ball tournament, after signing her contract that assured her a title shot against the winner of the tournament for the Hollywood Heritage Championship. She’d gone out of her way to let the winner of the tournament, Ch’ang Dong-Guen, know that she was there and what her intentions were. Now, here she was, training. Training for a match that was the source of her wanting to raise all hell against Ethan Roerich in the first place.

Morgan had spent the past two hours in the practice ring on the Castle grounds with Jasmine Matthews, running through more of her mixed martial arts training from the Queen of the Kingdom who had seen a successful stretch in the sport itself before becoming a wrestler. Morgan had already been undergoing training with another one of her Collective girlfriends. Another of her girls. But she had asked Jasmine specifically to turn it up a notch this time because she was going to need it for her first match back in California Wrestling. Her opponent was another competitor who was returning from a previous run with the company. Someone who had more time under CW’s banner than she did. A man whom she knew Sativa was familiar with so, on top of training more in MMA, Morgan had picked the woman’s brain on details to know about him.

After training was over for the day, Morgan sat on the apron to the practice ring with her towel around her neck, dressed in spandex shorts and a sports bra, all in black. She was barefoot with MMA gloves covering her hands that she started to take off as Sativa Nevaeh manned her phone for her, turning the video record on. Sweat glistened Morgan’s exposed skin as she slowly and casually started pulling her gloves off. “We good?”

“Go ahead, babe.” From behind the camera, came Sativa’s voice.

“Okay….” Morgan sighed, setting her gloves down. She didn’t bother with the handwraps yet. Instead, she reached for her pack of cigarettes she had brought with her in a small carry bag that also held her mouth piece and some extra tape for her hands, if needed. Morgan stuck a Newport menthol between her lips and lit the end of it. She took a heavy drag and let it out before she continued. “Kendrick Kross.” Morgan looked directly at the camera. “We ain’t ever really talked, you an’ me. Maybe spatted a lil bit over social media n’at. But we ain’t ever come ta dis point of havin’ ta fight. Dat’s why I’m aht heah wif my girls, makin’ sure I’m ready to step to you. Lotta jagoffs be talkin’ shit ‘bout you but I know better.” Morgan smirked, reaching up with her hand without the cigarette to tap her temple. “I ain’t book smart, my dude, but I know how to read muthafuckas like a novel. You like ta throw down! You nasty!” Morgan threw a few light punches to the air, mimicking a brawl. “Dat’s cool! No hate! It’s cool!” She said, quickly bringing her empty hand up. Meanwhile, her other hand dragged on the cigarette for a second. “Dat’s a’ight, Ken, cuz yanno I’m all abaht dat shit. You from da city. I’m from da city. Different ends of da nation but dat shit don’t matter. It’s all da same when it comes down ta brass tacks n’at.”

Morgan takes another puff from her cigarette. “I’mma be real wif you. Yanno I din’t want dis match. I think it’s fuckin’ bullshit dat I gotta fight you wif a shot at da Hollywood Heritage title on da line. I already got a shot at Ching in my contract. Puttin’ me in dis match is a waste of my fuckin’ time.” Morgan stops when she hears Sativa giggling behind the camera. “What?”

“Nothing, baby.” Sativa could be heard, controlling her laughter.

Morgan looks directly at the camera and shrugs. “If they wanted to do dis shit right they shoulda stuck you and Mason Maverick’s Aryan master race lookin’ ass in da ring. Winner gets a shot at me after I beat da bricks off of Chong’s punk ass and….” Morgan stopped again and looked up at Sativa again. “Boo, what da fuck’s so funny?”

Sativa could be heard laughing again. “It’s Ch’ang, babe.”

“What?” Morgan frowned in confusion before she realized what Sativa was saying. “Oh! Pfft!” Morgan waved a hand dismissively, not caring whether she got the champion’s name right or not. “Fuck dat. Dis ain’t abaht him anyway. Stop distractin’ me!” Morgan said but then grinned and winked at her girlfriend before looking at the camera again. “A’ight, so anyway...Kross, I wanted to say fuck California Wrestling when I saw dis match on da card because I knew exactly what Roerich wanted it ta be. He wanted you ta beat me, beat Chung, and become da new Hollywood Heritage Champion. Then technically...” She made quotation marks with her fingers, “...I wouldn’t have ta be given my match wif him for da title cuz my contract states I only get a title shot against da winner of da Hollywood Hater’s Ball. But then I had a moment of clarity - yeah, I get them sometimes. Go figure n’at. Right? But I had a moment where it hit me. I beat you in dis match - and yes, Kross, I’m gonna beat you. I beat you at Takeover on da seventeenth, I get what’s technically another title shot at Cheng. It ain’t da shot dat’s in my contract. Nah, see dat becomes somethin’ like an insurance policy, right nah. I beat him and take dat Hollywood Heritage title dat I never got a crack at before dis company took a fuckin’ shit five months ago, but I still got my contracted shot in my pocket, and let’s not forget abaht dat champion’s rematch clause. So, ya see, I got me a sweet ass setup. Cuz muhthafuckahs like Roerich and management been shittin’ on me all my life but I been jus’ trynna brush it off and turn da other cheek. Not anymore….” Morgan shook her head, staring coldly into the camera. “Dis ain’t da sweethaht from Pittsburgh dat you goin’ up against, Kross. Dis ain’t da happy, smilin’ bitch anymore, who opens up a video and says ‘hey whatchins been up to? I just don’t give a fuck anymore. If it ain’t me, my girls, or my man, then fuck all of yinz!’ I ain’t got a problem wif you but I will make an example aht of you for Roerich and everyone else ta see. Get ready for da new Morgan Payne cuz she’s a nasty bitch and she’s sick an’ tired of everyone’s fuckin’ shit. She’s sick of bein’ walked all over an’ pushed around.”

Morgan finished her cigarette as she hopped off of the ring apron and grabbed her gloves. She walked right up to the camera, glaring hard into it. “There comes a time when we all gotta get da fuck up and say it’s time for a change. My time for dat is now!” Morgan took a final drag of her Newport before looking up at Sativa again and nodded before the scene suddenly cut to black.