I Prevail - Come And Get It
At the apron, she paused, lifting her hand toward the nearest attendant. “Mic? Ándale, rápido.” She asked, expressing haste. They obliged quickly, passing it up, and Isabella took it with a small nod of thanks before rolling under the bottom rope.
Instead of marching to the center, she climbed onto the nearest turnbuckle, settling down cross-legged, Indian style. It was unorthodox, casual, and somehow commanding all at once. She raised the mic, her voice carrying clearly through the arena.
“Me llaman Isabella Cruz… soy la recién llegada. I’m not from here. You all can see that. But where I grew up, things were hard, money was tight, and you didn't get anything without blood or sweat as a down payment. And from the moment I walked through those locker room doors, I’ve been met with nothing but respect, smiles, and a welcome I honestly didn’t expect. For that, I’m grateful.” She let the words breathe, scanning the audience, lips quirking into a warmer smile.
“But gratitude only goes so far. This business, my life? It’s about proving yourself. So tonight, we skip the pleasantries.” Her tone sharpened, posture straightening just slightly atop the buckle. “Here’s the deal: an open challenge. Anyone, anywhere, any way. You step up, you get to pick the match. No excuses. No backing down. You call the rules, I’ll play by them.”
She leaned forward eyeing the darkened stage, letting the crowd buzz rise beneath her. “So who’s got the guts to make my first night here one to remember?”
With that, she lowered the mic and leaning back, waiting, a steady fire in her eyes as the arena rumbled in anticipation of who might answer or if LAW would pull the plug on her for coming out here unannounced to do her own thing.






