NEW - NOIR EXTREME WRESTLING

Hana_Jeong: I finished my match, it was the first one in the card. I got an important win at NOIR in a full crowded Hammerstein Ballroom... but with a big cost payed by my body. As I step into the locker corridor, I hear it before I fully see it. A sharp voice. A smaller one trying to answer. Then a crash of lockers rattling. You’re pinned there near the metal doors, hair yanked hard in someone’s fist, your body pulled off balance like you don’t even have space to stand your ground. For a second, I hesitate. Not because I don’t understand what I’m seeing but because I do. When I first came to the U.S., I was you. Alone in places that didn’t care how hard you trained or how much you sacrificed. That second is enough for me to move. I step in fast. My hand clamps into her grip first, prying her fingers off your hair, and in the same motion I take control of her head driving it hard into the locker with a metallic BANG that echoes down the hallway. “Why don’t you mess with someone your own size,” I say coldly, my voice low but steady. She stumbles back, more shocked than hurt, hand going to her head. The confidence she had a second ago collapses into irritation and embarrassment. “You’ll regret that,” she spits, backing off a step. “This isn’t over.” I don’t chase her. I don’t need to. She turns and storms down the corridor, her footsteps fading, leaving only the distant hum of the building and your breathing still shaky, still trying to settle. Then it’s quiet. I turn to you. My expression softens immediately, the edge dropping from my voice like a switch flipped. I step closer, slower now, so I don’t crowd you. “Wait…” I say gently. “I’m not going to hurt you.” I glance at your arm where I touched you earlier, then back to your face. “I’m Hana. I guess we’ve crossed paths in the locker room, but we never really talked.” A pause. “You alright?” I carefully rest my hand near your arm not grabbing, just there, giving you space to choose

:

jobber_doll: someone told me once that opportunities are there to grab them... that those who usually are brave are the ones who gets the prize... sounds too obvious, even for someone as silly and naive as me... so where's the mystery then? well, the answer to that is as obvious as the statement itself... im not... brave... im an easily scared girl that one day found herself booked at a wrestling promotion... Noir... how? would you ask... well... because i have trouble saying... no... "it's going to be fun... naya", "nobody is gonna hurt you" they told me... "wrestling is fake... you know?"... "yeah look at you... do you really think with your size there's something you could do?"... "it's a show, you silly... everything is staged"... "so what's wrong about signing up and try it a bit?"... "maybe you could do some... friends"... and suddenly my head entered a narrow corridor... it's just like when that bad dream you swear you left behid... suddenly is just in front of you... "friends"... that's a word that hurts... "friends... those who mocked me..."... "friends... those who betrayed me"... those who spit on my face and walked away from me when i need them the most... yeah... "friends..." i got no friends... i trust in no one... i don't have the security that the group provides... i thought the bullies were something i left behind at school... i was as wrong as with so many other things in my life... the bullies were just waiting for me here... "that was stupid... you'll brought yourself trouble on you... she would have getting bored of me... eventually... im naya, by the way..."... i take a deep breath trying to hide that im about to cry...

Hana_Jeong: I listen without interrupting. Every word you say lands heavier than the last, like you’ve been carrying all of it for way too long and it’s finally spilling out whether you want it to or not. When you mention “friends,” I see it in your face—the way it twists, the way your voice almost breaks. I don’t argue with you. I don’t rush to fix it. I just step a little closer. “Hey… hey,” I say softly, my voice losing all that sharpness from before. “Please calm down, Naya… I’m here. I’m right here with you.” Gently, I guide you toward the nearby bench, my hand light on your arm, giving you time to move at your own pace. Once you sit, I crouch slightly in front of you so I’m not towering over you. “I get it… more than you think,” I continue quietly. “Wrestling… it pulls people like us in. Girls who don’t really fit anywhere else. It feels like a place where maybe… things could be different.” I shake my head a little. “But it’s not safe. Not always. And yeah… it’s dangerous.” I reach into my bag and pull out my water bottle, placing it in your hands. “Right now though? None of that matters.” My tone softens even more. “You just need to breathe.” I wrap my fingers gently around your hand, steady, grounding—not tight, just enough so you can feel someone’s there. “You’re not alone right now, okay? I’ve got you.” I wait a second, watching you, making sure you’re actually breathing and not just holding everything in. “In through your nose… slow… and out.” A small pause. Then, more quietly: “Are you going to wrestle tonight?” My eyes glance over you: your gear, the way you’re already dressed to go out there and then back to your face, trying to read past the fear

jobber_doll: thank you... i answer with a shaky voice.. you are so right about "fitting in"... i been trying to do since i can't remember when... all the time getting into trouble. i ended up blaming me... but that's another story. when this opportunity popped up and some girls of the gym told me about the try outs... what it looked like a cool idea to have fun, turned out like a setup... i don't have any combat experience or training... i just have some dancing experience but very amateurish and im flexible because i did gymnastics on high-school... but nothing else... "she's got the looks" someone said... don't know who he or she was... the rest is history... they asked me for me colors and i though purple and black... since im so pale it gave it a kind of goth aura or that's what i thought... now when i look at myself in the mirror is see that idea was just inside my head... "yeah... im supposed to have a match... since im rather new im still learning the ropes and have no clue about how the matches are planned... also, im from spain and my english level comes and goes, so when people talk to me too fast... i tend to get lost"... "thank you"... i say while picking up the bottle to drink some water...

Hana_Jeong: I watch you as you drink, the way your hands are still a little unsteady, but at least you’re breathing now. That’s something. A small smile forms on my lips not mocking, not dismissive. Just… real. “Don’t worry, Naya… you can always improve.” I shake my head slightly, like I’m brushing off the idea that she’s somehow behind everyone else. “I had no fighting experience either. Nothing.” I let out a soft breath. “I spent my teenage years working at a market stall in a poor district in the suburbs of Seoul… helping my grandma, day after day.” I shrug lightly. “No training. No background. Just… a dream.” I place my hand gently on your shoulder, firm but warm something steady you can lean on if you need to. “You’re not as out of place as you think.” I give your shoulder a small squeeze before stepping back just a bit, giving you space again. “Good luck for your match. I’ll be here… waiting for you.” Then I take both of your hands in mine, looking at you directly “Be brave, sister.” A faint smirk crosses my face, just enough to lighten the moment before I let go. I turn toward the corner of the locker room, walking over to a small mini fridge. Opening it, I grab an ice pack and press it against my shoulder, wincing slightly at the cold. “Tonight’s going to be rough,” I mutter under my breath… but not in a way meant to scare you, just the truth of this place.

jobber_doll: i hear your history with a lot of attention... you come from such a distant country... i feel terrible in my ignorance finding myself unable to say anything remotely close to any word from your native tongue... god, i would love to thank you in your language... i look at you... observing you while you speak... you seem tired, but even so you are here with me... your body looks like it went to war... it scares me... do i need to go through the same? but it is not the pain what scares me... it's the failure... i guess that's the real reason behind all the this, the true nature of my presence here... i want to stop failing... i self inflicted me pain... to punishing me... to make me wake up... my time was running fast like a sand clock at high speed, almost everyone i know has achieved something... but not me... im stuck... im living the same day over and over... a "dream"... i hear you say... sounds intriguing... i would love to know more, but im not going to ask... but i do instead is ask myself which are mine... if at least i have one... and i stop. it will not help trying to find that answer now... my head will fly away and i need to remain focus... im supposed to have a match and im willing to, at least, not lose right out the bat... "i want to hear more about you... Hana..." i say looking straight at your eyes... there's a little sadness on them... for a fraction you left your guard down... you have been so considerate with me these few minutes... you have measure each step to help me feeling confortable... even safe, i would say... i won't forget this... "thank you sister... let's see how it goes"... i say before standing up to got out of the locker room...

Hana_Jeong: I look at you as you stand, hearing every word you said, letting it settle inside me. A soft smile appears on my face tired, but genuine. “I would love to know your language too,” I say quietly. “Maybe one day… you can teach me.” I take a small step closer, my eyes locking with yours again, more serious now. “Naya… listen to me.” I gently place my hands on your shoulders, grounding you before you walk out of that door. “Winning or losing… it means nothing right now. Not tonight. Not for you.” I shake my head slowly. “What matters… is that you step out there and you face everything that’s inside you. The fear… the doubts… that voice telling you that you’re not enough.” My grip tightens just a little not to hurt, but to make sure you feel it. “We are women, Naya. And real women… have courage. Not because they’re not afraid… but because they move forward anyway, no matter what’s waiting for them.” My voice softens, but there’s something deeper in it now something that comes from experience. “You say you’ve been failing… that you’re stuck…” I tilt my head slightly. “But look at you.” A small pause. “You came to another country. You stepped into a place like this. You put on that gear. You’re about to walk into that ballroom in front of hundreds of people who are going to watch you.” I let that sink in. “Do you know how many people never even get that far?” My thumb brushes lightly against your shoulder. “You already did something most people are too afraid to even try.” A faint, emotional smile crosses my lips. “So don’t go out there thinking you have to win.” I shake my head again. “Go out there… and be there. Feel it. Fight through it. Even if your legs shake… even if your heart feels like it’s going to explode…”

Hana_Jeong: My voice lowers, almost a whisper. “Just don’t run away from yourself this time.” I pull you into a hug firm, warm, protective. Not rushed. “You’re not alone anymore,” I murmur. Then I slowly pull back, keeping my hands on your arms for a second longer. “Now go.” A small nod toward the door. “Show them who you are.”

:

jobber_doll: you have no idea how much i needed a hug... i usually feel awkward when people hug me.. but not this time... "i won't run away, Hana... i promise you..."... i lilf my head to make a pause... my face looking at the ceiling... "okay... here we go... naya..."... i tell myself...

Hana_Jeong: I watch you go. For a moment, I just stand there, eyes fixed on the doorway you disappeared through, your words still echoing in my head. I won’t run away… A quiet breath leaves my lips. “Good…” I murmur to myself. Then the silence comes back. I walk over slowly and sit down on the bench, leaning back as I press the ice pack harder against my shoulder. A sharp sting runs through me and I groan softly, eyes closing for a second. “Ah… damn…” My body sinks into the bench, exhaustion creeping in now that everything is still. The noise from the arena is faint from here distant cheers, muffled impacts, the low hum of a crowd hungry for violence. Time passes. Slowly. I keep shifting the ice on my shoulder, jaw tightening every now and then when the pain spikes. My mind drifts… but it keeps coming back to you. To your voice. To that promise. I glance toward the hallway again. “…You better keep it,” I whisper under my breath. More time passes. Then something changes. The noise outside swells for a moment… then dips. A different kind of reaction. Not the start of a match. The end. I straighten slightly, eyes narrowing as I listen. “…That was quick.” I check the clock on the wall. About six minutes. A quiet exhale leaves me, unreadable somewhere between concern and acceptance. In this place… six minutes can feel like a lifetime. Or not nearly enough. I stay seated, the ice pack still pressed to my shoulder, eyes fixed on the entrance. Waiting for you to come back.

jobber_doll: i had a match... it was my debut match... it wasn't fancy or anything memorable... i was just supposed to be... what i am... a jobber... so, there i was... in my corner... after a brief announcement my opponent entered the isle and walked through the ramp... she looked amazing... so confident... all lights on her... all eyes on her... the match started so fast that it didn't even got me time to walk towards the center of the ring... i was quickly ambushed by her and get trapped against the corner, with no where to go... after a series of attacks that made me crash against the turnbuckle over and over again, unable to do anything but literally squeal without control... then, i was grabbed by the hair forcing me to flip over ending slamming the canvas... landing hard on my small chest at the center of the ring ready for her to apply a boston crab on me... she took some time to make clear she'll make me suffer... "just tap out, you little wimp"... she said... "but i won't let go you until you beg me to stop..."... she add... so that's how i was finished... begging her to stop out loud... tapping out like crazy... crying... the refiere had to intervene and make her stop... i needed help to get out of the ring... "such a pathetic jobber... this squash match is the shortest ive seen in all Noir history... what a beating"... a fan yelled... i covered my face in shame, i wanted to run... but my legs were still shaking so i couldn't... once at the corridor i asked to be alone... i don't want anyone to see me crying like this... so i go back to the looker room just 5 later i left...

Hana_Jeong: The locker room feels colder now. Quieter. I’m still on the bench, the ice pack pressed against my shoulder, when I hear the door open again. I look up. You. Your head is down, your body trembling, trying to hold everything in but it’s spilling out anyway. I see it immediately. I straighten a little, my expression tightening not in judgment, but in understanding. “Naya…” My voice is soft, but it cuts through the silence. I shift slightly on the bench, making space beside me, one hand gesturing gently. “Come here.” I keep the ice pack on my shoulder with my other hand, wincing faintly, but my attention stays fully on you. “No need to stand there alone.” My tone lowers, calmer, steadier. “Sit with me.”

jobber_doll: i entered the locker room and see you there... sitting on the bench...tired... applying ice on your shoulder... i didn't realise how hurt you were moments ago when we talked... you seemed so strong... now look different, frustrated... almost resigned... my face is full of tears... my eyes trying to avoid yours... i slowly walk inside in silence, trying to hide my shame... i told you i would do better... but i didn't. instead... i gabe everyone another reson to make fun of me... it's only the beginning of endless mockings, and who knows what else... i make a pause when i hear your voice... "should i let her get close to me?"... i ask myself for a second or two, still trembling not just for the beating but for the whole thing... "everyone who does it... ends up jaded of me... or hurt "... i doubt for a moment, but i have nowhere to go, and im so exhausted that my body takes the decision for me... so i sit at your side... "are you okay... Hana?"... i ask with a low voice, almost whispering...

Hana_Jeong: I look at you when you sit beside me, finally close enough that I can see everything you’re trying to hide. Your tears. Your shaking hands. The way you avoid my eyes. For a second, I don’t answer your question. I just study you… then I let out a small breath. “I’m okay…” I say quietly. “I just landed my moonsault a bit rough, that’s all.” I shift the ice pack slightly, and for a moment the fabric of my gear moves enough to show it ..my right shoulder already turning a deep purple, the skin swollen, marked with stomped blood beneath. “It looks worse than it is,” I add softly. Then I turn fully toward you. Slowly, gently, I wrap my arms around you. Not careful. Not hesitant. Just real. I pull you in close against me, like I would a little sister, one hand resting behind your head, the other around your back, holding you steady. “You don’t need to hide your tears…” I whisper near your ear. My voice lowers, more fragile now. “Please… cry. Cry with me.” I close my eyes for a second, my forehead lightly brushing against yours. “Sometimes… I want to cry too. And I don’t have anyone to share it with.” A small pause. My grip tightens just a little. “I know what you’re feeling.” My voice softens even more. “But you’re going to find a version of yourself you’ve never met before… trust me.” I lean back just enough to look at you. “We don’t even need to talk.” A faint, tired smile. “Just… let it all out, sister.” I pull you back into the embrace, and this time we just stay there holding onto each other, letting everything we’ve been carrying finally slip out into the silence of that cold locker room. No pretending. No strength. Just… real.

Hana_Jeong: Then BANG. The old locker room door slams open so hard it echoes through the walls. I tense immediately, my head snapping toward the entrance. Footsteps. More than one. I slowly let go of you, but I don’t move away my body staying slightly in front of yours without even thinking about it. And then I see her. The same girl. The one from before. Only now… she’s not alone. Two others with her. Faces I don’t recognize from NOIR. Her eyes lock onto me, and a twisted grin spreads across her face. “There she is…” she mutters. Then louder: “It’s that Chinese bitch.” My expression hardens instantly, jaw tightening but I don’t take the bait. Not yet. They spread out, slowly circling, boots echoing against the floor, cutting off space. I shift slightly, positioning myself just a bit ahead of you, my injured shoulder still throbbing under the ice pack. “Stay behind me, Naya” I whisper under my breath to you.

 

jobber_doll: i jump right out off the bench by the strong noise... "oh no... not she again..."... i gasp... my body has an unwilling shiver that runs through my spine... she clearly hasn't had enough and brought her friends to make things worse. they are just a bunch of bullies... cowards, always lurking the weak and playing mind games with them... keeping them frightened... no, this isn't just about some aggressive shovings and some yellings filled with sharpened insults. this is about something else. she's not looking to mark her territory or whatever... she wants to make an example out of me... a walking warning of what awaits to all that come after... but there you are, like someone sent by providence to stand between me and them... but i can't let you do that. not since you extended me your hand... im not a coward, im not going to stand at your back and let you take the punches for me... no. im going to step forward and make a stand... you called me "sister"... a word that resonates not just inside my mind but my heart, since i always dreamed about having one... so i dry my tears and swallow hard. my fear is there, but im going to hide it and get ready for what's about to come... "Hana... don't... you are hurt, you can't confront them like this... ill deal with them."... i say, caressing your shoulder very carefully and looking straight at your eyes...

Hana_Jeong: I don’t answer you. Not because I don’t care. Because I don’t even hear you anymore. My eyes are locked on her. That same girl. That same smirk. Everything else fades the pain in my shoulder, the noise, even your voice behind me. All that’s left is her. I move my arm slightly in front of you, instinctively shielding you. “Why don’t you go one on one with me, tough girl?” I say, my voice low, sharp. “Why do you need your friends?” She hesitates. Just for a second. Even they know it. They exchange glances but they don’t step back. They didn’t come here for a fair fight. I step forward anyway. And before she can react my hand slapsacross her face. Her head snaps to the side. For a split second, everything freezes. Then it explodes. The two girls rush me immediately one grabbing my arms from behind, locking them tight, the other wrapping around my waist, lifting just enough to keep me off balance, my body twisting as I try to break free. I my leg snapping forward, landing a couple of kicks into her stomach and thigh. She stumbles back a step, more pissed than hurt. “Hold her!” They tighten their grip. My injured shoulder screams as my arms are pulled back, but I grit my teeth, refusing to give them the satisfaction. Then a fist drives straight into my stomach. A heavy, brutal belly punch that knocks the air completely out of me. “Ghh!” My body folds forward, a sharp gasp tearing from my throat, all the fight in me stuttering for a second. That’s all they need.

Hana_Jeong: Punch after punch crashes into me ribs, stomach, side... each one dull, heavy, meant to break me down piece by piece. My legs weaken. I drop to my knees, still held up by their grip, my head hanging for a second as I try to breathe. Everything spins. I barely register anything around me. Except one thought: Please… just let her get away… Then I see movement in front of me. She’s smiling now. Slowly… deliberately… she wraps a chain around her fist. My vision narrows. I try to pull free my body jerks weakly but I can’t. “Let’s see how tough you are now…” And then CRACK. The chain-wrapped fist slams into my forehead. A flash of white. Then red. Warmth immediately spills down my face as my head snaps back, my body going limp in their grip. The world fades in and out. Sound becomes distant. They let go. I collapse onto the cold floor, barely conscious, my cheek pressed against it, blood slowly pooling beneath me. Footsteps. Laughter. Fading voices. “…that’ll teach her…” The door slams again. And just like that they’re gone. The locker room falls silent once more. Leaving only the sound of my shallow breathing… …and the faint hope that you’re still standing.

jobber_doll: my heart was going out of my chest! what do you want!? i scream to them... i saw everything in... slow motion, even though it took place in... seconds... i tried to move alongside you to stop one of these girls from grabbing you by the arms, but i was blasted away against the lockers... one of the doors was opened, and i was quickly smashed by it... the same girl that thrown me against them used the door to smash my face... my vision went blurry... my neck was in extreme pain... she moved away, but before leaving me there trying to recover myself, she threw me a devastating kick to my spine... my forehead impacted the edge of the locker, and i felt on my knees with my face against the cold metal... i could taste it, thinking it was the door's flavor in my mouth... it wasn't. it was the salty metallic taste of my own blood... my mouth was bleeding... i crawled up to them... "please... stop... leave her out of this..."... i begged... but when i was close enough to grab one of your attackers ankle... she brutally gave me a stomp in my head... making me hit the cold floor... i could feel my mouth drooling a mix of saliva and blood... i tried to speak but couldn't talk... i hear them beating you badly while i fade away... when i finally come to my senses, i find you laying down unconscious, bleeding from your forehead close to me... i slowly move towards you and carefully try to wake you up.. "Hana... Hana... im so sorry... somebody help, please... oh my god... Hana..."

Hana_Jeong: Everything feels distant at first. Heavy. Like I’m underwater. Then… your voice. Faint, trembling, breaking through the fog. “…Hana…” My eyelids twitch. Slowly… painfully… I open my eyes. Everything is blurry, shapes melting into each other, but I feel your gentle hands, careful, shaking as they hold my head. A weak breath escapes me. “I’m… okay…” I mumble, my voice barely there. “Don’t worry…” It’s a lie. We both know it. I try to push myself up. The moment I do, a sharp wave of pain crashes through my body my shoulder, my ribs, my head “Ahh!” A broken cry escapes me before I can stop it. My arms tremble, barely holding me, my face tightening as tears start to mix with the blood already staining my skin. For a second, I just stay there… shaking… trying to breathe through it. Then slowly… very slowly… the pain settles just enough. Not gone. Never gone. Just… manageable. I grit my teeth and force myself up, one movement at a time, my body unstable as I get to my feet. “Just… give me a second…” My steps are uneven as I make my way back to the bench, each movement stiff, controlled, like if I rush it I’ll fall apart again. I sit down heavily, grabbing the edge for support. Breathing. Slow. In… out… Then I look at you. Really look at you. The blood. Your posture. The way you’re holding yourself. My expression shifts immediately. “You’re hurt…” I say softly, my voice filled with concern now, cutting through everything else. I lean forward slightly despite the pain, reaching toward you carefully. "You need to get treatment, girl"

 

jobber_doll: "im alright, Hana..." i answered you with a trembled voice... "it is you who im worried about... you have a concussion... don't try harsh movements... okay? i know how it is. you might feel you can, but you need to rest a little more..." i start walking around the locker room looking up for a towel... i break the ice bag that you had and put the ice in the towel to apply it on your forehead... "you'll need a stich or two, Hana..."... "i won't let you play tough right now. please let me help you"... "i must talk to someone, i must report this attack, i cannot let them get away with it... this has gone way too far..." i tell myself... while i wrap my arms over you and caress your hair... "we'll wait a few minutes before you stand up again, okay?"...

Hana_Jeong: I don’t resist when you press the cold towel against my forehead. I just sit there, breathing unevenly, letting you take care of me. Your hands… your voice… it all feels distant, but grounding at the same time. For once, I’m not the one holding everything together. I’m the one being held. My eyes close for a second, my head leaning slightly into your touch as you wrap your arms around me. “I just want to go home, Naya…” I whisper, my voice cracked, tired in a way that goes deeper than the pain. A slow breath leaves me. My fingers weakly grip your arm—not to stop you, just… to feel that you’re still there. Then, after a pause, my voice lowers… quieter, but with something firm underneath it. “This won’t stay like this…” I open my eyes again, even if they’re still heavy, still unfocused. “I promise you.”

(TO BE CONTINUED)