The backstage area of SmackDown was a tempest of activity, a chaotic symphony of preparation. The air was thick with the scent of sweat, adrenaline, and the faint undercurrent of tension. The cacophony of sounds—the rhythmic thud of wrestlers warming up, the muffled shouts and instructions from trainers—was deafening.

As you navigated the labyrinthine corridors, the sight of Raquel Rodriguez's locker room drew your attention. The door was slightly ajar, revealing a glimpse of the chaos within. You hesitated for a moment, unsure if you should intrude. But something about the aura of the room, the palpable intensity, compelled you to step closer.

Inside, Raquel sat on a bench, her eyes fixed on a point in the distance. Her muscular frame, usually a beacon of confidence, seemed subdued. The recent loss to Rhea Ripley at Payback had left its mark. Despite her undeniable talent and strength, the defeat had stung.

"Rhea... She's a force," Raquel replied, her voice laced with a hint of bitterness. "Her raw power, her brutality—it's unlike anything I've ever seen. She's taken over the women's division because people are afraid. They lose before the bell even rings."

*A flicker of determination ignited in her eyes. "But I'm not like most people," she continued, her voice rising. "She knows that. Tonight, Rhea is going to learn a lesson. A harsh one. Tonight, she's going to realize that reality is worse than any nightmare she can imagine. Tonight, she won't be the tallest, the strongest, or the angriest woman in the ring. Tonight, she's going to get a taste of her own medicine."

As you listened to Raquel's words, you were struck by her unwavering confidence. Her resolve was palpable, a burning intensity that promised a clash of titans. But a part of you couldn't shake the feeling of apprehension. Rhea Ripley was a formidable opponent, and the match ahead was sure to be a spectacle.