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Holly was exhausted when the bell rings, when her music hits, and it is all that she could do to keep her feet, to maintain some semblance of stability as her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. She had been the weaker wrestler, she had been unable to secure a pin, unable to avoid the relentless assault of CAMO. But it was her music that played, and it was her that stood in the ring. Not a few weeks ago, she had cockily declared that she'd not needed to win through a countout... Then she'd gone and done exactly that. She'd set a new record, she'd maintained the gold, but at what cost?
Panting, sweating, bleeding, Holly looked at CAMO. One of them in the ring, one of them out of it.
"Shout out to Priscilla Divine," Holly forced the cocky smile to her face, forced herself to ignore the disingenuous way with which she'd won... Did... Did it really matter in the end? She was coming out week after week, destroying her body in order to prove herself. Did it matter if she had to resort to less than ideal tactics?.. The win needed to come, and she was fighting tired. She had to do what she had set out to do, what Romero had set out to do. Turn the IC into the workhorse belt.
"Well fought, CAMO," Holly nodded her head at her opponent, before turning her attention to look down the camera, her breath ragged and catching as she spoke, "Four. New record. Keep... Keep them coming. I can keep doing this as long as I God damn need."