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Showdown promo I 

Our video unfastens to Sheridan Muller. An inexhaustible quantity of short clips and pictures show Sheridan in a host of London landmarks, we see a picture of Sheridan at Tower Bridge, then one of her in the sight of Buckingham Palace, and then one of the blonde at the London Zoo. As a side note, the German native is wearing different outfits within each picture, connoting that straight after her victory, a dominant one, in Moscow, she filed straight to England ahead of schedule for her next appearance. Within one delineation she is sporting a black, Adidas hoodie, whilst in an additional picture she is clothed within her '{#}TeamMinns{/#}' shirt, and a black female biker jacket. She seemed to think that black clothes accentuated her already tall structure and compliment her silver-blonde hair. Either that or she simply liked wearing the same clothes in most of her promos for the company. A clip airs of the surroundings of the O2 arena. The weather on this particular day was cold, frosty almost. London, in her eyes, had always been a damp place, and in comparison to Germany's most popular cities, such as Berlin as well as Munich, she seemed a little prouder she was of German heritage. The video briefly fades into blackness before re-panning.

The scene of this precise broadcast was from a hotel room. Sheridan liked to travel separately from the rest of the Vixens and roster. She was anti-social, despite having been with EAW for closing in on a month now, the only friend she had made was Thomas Minns, and even calling him an ally was a push. She only donned his shirt as it was comfortable on her frame. The light flickers on, making the recorded enroll far lighter. Swiftly, she pulled up a chair. Her hair was tied back, which elevated her brown brows and her aesthetically pleasing facial. She cocked a brow, looking over the camera some. Sheridan then played around with it some, taking about a minute shifting the camera upon the oak table it was seated upon before she found the 'perfect shot'. After clearing her throat, the distasteful, Munich Bärchen began to speak. 


'' Look, I'm not much feeling at my best today. So I am going to make this very quick and very understandable. Schon gut. First off I would like to complain about the horrid country we are in. The culture is das worst in Europe. The food, abscheulich. The people? Ugh, ugh. '' Sheridan proceeds to wipe her tongue with the palm of her hand, whilst it is initially concluded she does this as a joke, she reaches for the camera to twist it, so that it focuses on an empty cup. '' Wie, was teufel ist das? Incompetence, is what it is. '' The camera returns to its original position. She sits. It would be a struggle to put into words what the female's expression gave off about the drink facing her on the table. She claws back her hair with her nails, which were seemingly manicured. She liked to look after herself. '' Überhaupt überhaupt... I am in a fatal four way, or a one on one on one on one. What a joke, who the hell do the people running this place think they are wasting my talent like this? You've got me in a match with Laura Amber Williams, who the fuck is that? Ich bin äußerst verschärft. I've been here closing in on a month now, I have not heard of her outside of the ring, I have not seen her, I haven't smelled her, I haven't breathed her. Does she even exist? She gets to saunter around, pulling matches and money left right and centre whilst the rest of us have to do this promo shit? Unentschuldbar, der schwachkopf. Idiots. Don't even get me started on Silence. After Saturday I refuse to be in a match with someone who calls themselves silence. It would have been cool, if we were still in our first years of education. Grow up. '' Sheridan paused, her expression has turned from disgust to anger, whilst it was somewhat amusing she got worked up in little things such as peoples names, you can't deny she shows some level of passion for wrestling. She shrugged her shoulders. Even if her sister started calling herself silence she'd be receiving an instantaneous sherplex. She sighed. '' To give credit to Azumi, I have seen her around backstage. I've heard her talk... talk.... talk.......... talk........ and talk. Oh, she talks a lot. Did I mention that she talks a lot? Vögeln; she could chat for Europe and still have enough energy to wrestle. Heilig... Enough of irrelevant talk. I will win, on Saturday, like I always do. Seem so the rest of the world can't let go of the World Wars I expect some booing and some crying from the English. '' She cocked a brow, continuing. '' I will win, I will conquer, I will stand tall when my opponents do not. der Abschiedsgruß '' Sheridan rubs her temples, following with an eye-rub. She was beginning to feel like being here was a waste of time. With a subtle, annoyed pout, she reached for the camera, pressing stop whilst the video faded to blackness.

Post-Showdown promo

They say a picture speaks one thousand words, according to Google. Sheridan had google'd American phrases and saying a while back, just after she had signed her contract with EAW. If that saying were to reflect on the current vignette, a video spoke none, a video created silence. Sheridan's apartment was simple, from what could be seen from the video the German-native didn't have any fancy American technology or furniture. A simplistic, uncomplicated home. It was assumed it was her home, it gave off that safe environment, and the German seemed safe sitting in front of the camera. It was little known to those who watched EAW from home, but on the pre-show of Showdown, Sheridan was handed her first loss as a competitor in the promotion. Technically, television wise, she was still an undefeated brute whom was portrayed to be a threat to the vixens of the company. She had lost, clean, to Cloud Matsuda. Between then and now Sheridan had the time to reflect, she had washed, slept, ate, the whole lot. She wore a '{#}TeamMinns{/#}' shirt; it seemed more like casual wear to the female now, she felt comfortable wearing it around her home, due to the fact she didn't have her own merchandise, yet, she might as well give one of her few allies in EAW a little exposure. She had basic make up on her facial; foundation, shaded brows, eye-shadow and lip gloss. The German didn't much enjoy slaving in front of a mirror to make herself look that little bit more prettier, but she had the free time to before opening up her camera. Blonde hair was tied back. This time twenty-four hours ago, her expression would be emanating confidence, her lips would be curvated into a smirk, eyes hawked, she would be cocky, she would be speaking in her native tongue. She wasn't. She was inaudible. She was soundless. 

Sheridan, between being rolled up by Cloud and to the current second, had reflected on what possibly went wrong. She went into the match psyched up, she had Cloud nearly down and out so many times. The camera stayed on her, she had been rolling for two minutes or so now, and nothing had really occurred. Maybe it was the fact she wasn't on television. She had dominated Alexis, who to this current point Sheridan assumed was still in hospital or wherever with Eclipse meeting her every need. She had absolutely thrashed her in fact, the little incident with the steel beneath the turn-buckle had maybe helped her to a victory, but it wasn't Sheridan's fault the referee was incompetent and didn't spot the misfortunes of the people hired to set up the ring. Maybe if she had the backing of a few Germans watching her match it would have gone differently. Hell, Sheridan was sure the referee had deliberately counted slower after her blazing of his colleges earlier on in the week. 

It was possible she lost due to Cloud surprising her. Sheridan hadn't expected Saint Matsuda the third to resort to rolling up her opponent to get a win. In Germany the term 'rolling up' didn't exist, it was considered feeble, weak as well as incapacitated. With as much experience as Cloud had in this promotion ahead of Sheridan, she hadn't contemplated Cloud winning in the cheapest, most dishonourable way. Sheridan had her on the ropes the majority of the match, and would have, and should have really wrapped up the match far quicker. Or maybe she had lost because she wasn't good enough, she didn't try hard enough, possibly because the match wasn't on television. She had no clue why the match was relegated to the pre-show anyhow, she had read up on Cloud and she seemed to be one of the better workers in this promotion. The video had been recording for five minutes now, almost coming up to six. She hadn't spoke, her expression had just re-constructed from angry, to disappointed. A hand reached for the back of the camera, and the screen fades to black. 

If a picture tells one thousand words, then Sheridan Müller had just composed a fucking masterpiece.

The classic coffee-house, where you can order an espresso and hang out for an afternoon, is a sadly dying breed. Our scene is set within one. The camera pans at a leisurely pace around the house. We see a glass door, quite new, framing not scratched. The atmosphere is warm, the camera picks up the chatter of the patrons within the establishment; lens moving onto the mahogany country which people are stood affront of. Coffees are delegated on the counter, every few seconds a customer comes to collect their order. Machines whirl, employees at the house not breaking sweat, yet working at a fast pace to comply with the customers demand. Air is fresh, pure, the smell of vanilla wafts through the air. The camera turns.

Mueller is in similar attire since the left time we saw her. Hair to all appearances untouched, though this couldn't be true. Blonde streaks fell into a French plait, which came over a shoulder. Make-up was similar, not too heavy on the eye-shadow or the pink lip gloss. Features still accentuated by her articulate cosmetic skills. She dons a red scarf, nothing fancy, just a rectangle of crimson, cheap yarn, probably made with thousands and sold for nothing more than a few American dollars. Without said scarf Sheridan would probably fade into the background of the coffee house scene, that and the fact she was in possession of the camera, a quick pan over her shoulder shows that it is snowing at wherever she is currently based, judging from the language of her peers it would be somewhere in Germany. Her signature leather jacket and '{#}TeamMinns{/#}' tee had returned for this particular scene. Although she wasn't much a fan of Minns, even she had to admit the fabric was smooth, and the design almost flawless, it boded well with her jacket. She pouted, then licked her lips. Camera shaking slightly before Sheridan reveals a hot dog to the camera. It becomes apparent she didn't purchase this hot dog from the coffee-house, for this store only sold your basic pastries and cakes. Sheridan wasn't a supporter of basic things. It was a bratwurst, with condiments of 'ketchup' and sizzled onions, the bun was plump, and sauerkraut had been added upon the beast of a dog. Sheridan was almost showing it off, whilst others would usually show cars or clothes in their promos, Sheridan seemed to go with food. She takes a bite of the dog, her lips curve into a smug beam. The dog is settled down, onto a table out of the cameras reach. She swallows her chunk of sausage and her speech begins. 

'' Guten Tag EAW! I told you I'd be back. Welcome to Germany! '' The camera pans around the coffee house, although she steers it at a speed which makes the vision of the lens blurry. Sheridan sounds far too excited, considering she could potentially taste defeat in her first match. '' Entzwei tage zeit ich gesicht Alexis... irgend etwas. Far too complicated last name, I do not bother. Anyway, I, as a German, am not fond of masqueraders'. I have been in EAW for what, two weeks now? And I never hear of this Alexis girl. Nicht gut.. '' Mueller pauses, she looks over her shoulder, the camera pans off to the side for a brief moment. It is assumed Sheridan takes another sizeable chomp into her bratwurst. '' Not good at all. Ohnehin, anyway, rest assured that I will win fur Deutschland, and that when Alexis taps out- '' Pause. The blonde ponders something, we can pick this up due to her eyes tilting upwards a tad, and lips pushing into a purse. '' Or loses, whatever occurs. That she will fall to Die Panzer lock; and that Germany will have claimed its first of MANY victims. '' She smiles. Though it is far more sinister than her previous expressions within the video. Pink fingernails lock around the bun of her bratwurst, she looks graceful even when munching away at such a masculine treat. She speaks, mouth open, food still within her gums. ''Abschiedsgrub! '' 

The video is brought to a halt.

Gulls swarmed around the boat, they swoop through the air, slashing at it with their menacing wings, crying out. They glide against the sea almost effortlessly, their mix of grey and white feathered wings seeming to go miles without moving. They then drive up, and fly away into the coast, leaving the old, rocking fishing boat and its mariners to un-harness their nets. The mystic blue sea meets glistening, soft sand, it's gleam only exemplified from the sun, who's rays caught the scene just beautifully. Crushed seashells could be seen on the beach, and the faint call of seagulls could be heard again; the beach was quiet, excluding a white and black cat aimlessly prowling around the top of the sandline. Iinstantaniously, the scene is abruptly cut, the camera lens panning off the shore, leaving the image forever blurry. 

Captivating blue eyes, almost the same shade as that of the blue sea, meet the lens. Lashes briefly bat to a fluttering close, before striking back up again. The lens zooms out to reveal the antagonist whom ruined such a romantic scene. Ashy, enchanting hair blows in the light breeze. One hand released the camera, to adjust said hair and to set Ray-Ban steel tinted aviators upon the bridge of her nose. Plump pink lips press and purse into a quick pout. Her nostrils twitched perfunctory. She is attired in a black, leather bomber jacket, this was hooded, and the golden zip was not done up, this aspiration itself showed the camera her white t-shirt. It was plain, and accentuated her curvaceous form. '{#}TeamMinns{/#}' was printed upon this. Her jacket ruffles, and her lips pursed into an o shape; she laid the camera down on a circular table. This panned out the scene more and revealed a coffee flask, with the German national flag printed upon it alongside some German footballer, as well as the scenic view behind the woman. Which consisted of a few houses, before the distance rolled into a big knotted green hill. She licked her lips, before the plump pair parted, her chest pushed outwards against her ensemble of clothing before she spoke. 

'' Gib Acht alle der ruckgang auf mein fub. Sie soll liegen dezimiert auslöschen! '' She contemplated for a few seconds, a brown brow cocked. Her free hand slid around her flask and she brought it upon her lips. Taking a half-hearted attempt to look elegant whilst sipping upon her beverage. She set it aside, no pressure seeming to grow upon her form. The pause was significent, her mouth agated again. '' I am Sheridan Müller. We shall be familiarized soon, EAW. '' She signals a salute at the camera, a slight smirk inaugurating upon her maw. ''Abschiedsgrub. ''