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A Video Package. Holly Hope-Again lounges on a balcony, overlooking a sunset. The filming is rather amateur, but it's serviceable enough.
>Y'know, I had a lot of respect for Ash Romero. Still do. Not just because of our shared heritage, but because of her in-ring work here, in Japan, on the indies. She's a wrestler I respect, well, respected. She's vacated the intercontinental title... and that's all well and good. But the end result is we have a psychopath LARPing as Gun Girl running around with the belt.
>Now, I've beaten Lucy Lincoln, I suppose people want to know if they want me to follow up on what I did to one Angel by taking out the one that took me out in the first place.
Holly pushes herself off of the railing, looks into the camera, and smirks.
>No.
>You couldn't pay me enough to step back into the clusterfuck that is the Divine Angels, Stellar Stars, whatever the fuck.
>I became a wrestler to fight, not to be involved in gang fights, tea parties, or whatever weird sex parties happen at either of the manors or on mountains or in deepest, darkest Africa.
Holly holds up one finger
>Holly Hope-Again is a one-woman army.
She sighs
>Y'know, it's funny. It seems the way to get up and ahead in this company is through politicking. We've all seen it. The roster becoming bloated with stables and factions. Lightning Nika is out of her hole and is chasing after Sola Fire while dressed in her finest Divine attire. Bishamonta seems to be serving as muscle for Skelly and pals. Hell, even fuckin' Omega and Violet Beauregard have teamed up to do who knows what.
>The number of free agents... Why, it seems to be dwindling by the day. Hell, by the hour.
>If they want to turn the Intercontinental scene in an opportunity to clash against each other.
>Fine. By. Me.
