Broken Crown

Fuck this paperwork. Fuck this office with its stupid bland white walls.. Fuck this secretary and her stupid lime colored blouse  and her Thelma glasses. Fuck this lame-ass light jazz Muzak  they were playing on the speakers. Fuck this desk, fuck that lamp, fuck that matte painting of a boat on some random lake.

Moon Sin-Jae was not in the best of moods.

She’d been called into the Tension offices - on a Saturday evening, no less - under the ruse that she had to get some legal work out of the way before she could get into the real matches. That alone would’ve ticked her off, since she’d been under the impression that she could start fighting right away. But fuck it - she was happy to do anything that could get on the path to the ring, to real competition, in whatever form it took. Sign a few papers, put her name on the dotted line. Done. Sin put on some sandals, her black gym shorts and a white t-shirt, and she came right over, expecting to be out and on with her day soon enough.

Two hours and reams of paperwork later, and she had a much different opinion about it all. She had never, never  been more bored in her entire life, she was sure, not even during those godawful poetry classes her mother made her sit through. It was a slog, and this shrimpy mouse of a lawyer they had her dealing with only made it so much worse

She’d sign something.

Then make a call.

More signing.

They’d check a file.

Reference something.

Another call.

More signing.

Policies and procedures and protocols. Bullshit and bullshit and bullshit. She’d almost forgot the great thing about doing underground matches - sure the rings smelled and there was broken glass all over the places and the drinks were bad and getting the money you earned was a royal pain in the ass, but at least nobody threw files in your face and asked you to sit at a desk for a solid chunk of your life that you’d never get back.

”Fuck me…” By the time she dragged herself out of the offices and back into the hallway, she had more legalese floating in her head than she’d thought was humanly possible. Sin arched her back and let out a long, loathsome groan, as the desperate need to vent took her over. She needed to release, needed an outlet, needed it now. She had to relax, had to cool, and that was an easy fix, right? She’d read up on the AFW, heard about how fights and spars broke out among the wrestlers all the time. It shouldn’t have been that hard to find a guy or gal she could turn into a glorified stress ball.