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Newly crowned WWA World Champion Duna Sands was frustrated.
Tonight was supposed to be a night of celebration. She had taken a few days to rest and recover after her win at Bishoujo II, the biggest win of her career, and now she was hanging out at one of her favorite Spaghetti Town bars, downing the fruitiest, girliest, beachiest drinks she could get her hands on.
But bitches were being bitches.
She had laid down the law of her reign and what was going to happen. It would be her and Holly Hopeless, and preferably sooner rather than later. Unfortunately, though, a couple of women in the WWA had other ideas, and Duna's phone was non-stop going off as she tried to enjoy her evening, people tagging her and pinging her wanting to hear her response.
She had had enough. Time to shut these bitches up.
"Here, start filming," she demanded of another woman in the bar, setting her phone to stream to her socials before thrusting the phone at the woman's chest. The bystander grabbed the phone and gave a nervous nod, pointing the phone toward the Amazonian champion as she finished off one of her drinks and began to ramble and rant.
"Alright. Alright. You girls couldn't let your goddamn Queen of the Bitch enjoy her night, so I'm going to set a few things straight here."
"Let's start from the top. Amanda Mills. Amanda goddamn Mills. Just who the FUCK do you think you are, girl? You had your chance at Bishoujo at the Beach II, and you fuckin' blew it. You get to go to the back of the line, girl. I don't know who the hell you think you are, challenging Hopeless to a number one contender's match, but let's get something straight here: I'm the goddamn champion. I'm the Queen of the Beach. *You* don't get to weasel your way into another shot after losing at Bishoujo II. If you want a shot, you're gonna have to earn it, you understand me?"
