EPISODE 1: Primal Scene

To all of our opponents
Its time to hide or run
Because the Prelude is now over
And the Mayhem has begun

4.7.2010
THE NEST
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
5:51 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME

Even though the household of Mr. & Mrs. Terrence Thompson lay within the city limits of Indianapolis, their neighborhood, wedged in the northwesternmost corner of the city, had a distinctly suburban feel to it. Wide streets wound through standard suburban two-story dwellings, often ending in cul-de-sacs that during hot summer days would each see a dozen children playing pickup baseball or basketball games.

But on this early April morning, the streets lay silent, save for the occasional bleary eyed commuter heading off to work. Even if the vast majority of the neighborhoods children weren't still curled up in their bedrooms, the near-freezing temperatures, unusual for even this early in April, would have kept them indoors.

Still, there was a sense of tranquility about the area, an ideal picture of one element of the American dream. It was, in short, an optimal neighborhood for a young family, which is why the Thompson family had moved in four years ago, shortly after their marriage.

Unfortunately for the Thompsons, when someone was sneaking in your front door at six in the morning, tranquility rarely followed.

Daniel Pollaski silently closed the front door with his feet, as the two enormous McDonald's bags he was carrying had his hands occupied. Finally getting the latch closed, he carried the bags into the kitchen, trying desperately to avoid yielding to the temptation to devour the breakfast immediately.

He had business to take care of first.

Pollaski looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disgust as the lack of creaking floorboards indicated neither Terrence nor Wendy had woken up. Normally Pollaski felt the day was a waste if he didn't sleep in until at least 9, but today was important.

Today, the WhirlyBirdz would begin training for their first PWX match against the Fallen

Ah well, better go wake the kids up.

Pollaski crept out of the kitchen, and up the staircase, a huge smile on his face. It was like those Hell's Kitchen episodes when Gordon had his assistants run into the bedrooms, screaming at the poor chefs to get up.

Pollaski paused outside the master bedroom, took a deep breath and swung open the door... "Good morning, Birdies! Wakey wakey, eggs and... AUGH!"

"WHAT THE FUCK?" a male voice demanded, coupled with a piercing female shriek.

"Sorry, guys..." Pollaski stammered, backing away from the door. He suddenly broke into a leer. "By the way, interesting take on the..."

"GET OUT!" both the male and female voices screamed in unison.

"Fine! Okay!" Pollaski said, throwing up his hands. "See you in thirty seconds, Terrence!"

Suddenly bug-eyed, Pollaski hastily grabbed the door and slammed it shut, just before a large, heavy, and fragile object smashed into the other side.

Dammit, they were going to make him pay for that lamp.

"Some people..." Pollaski muttered, turning and heading back towards the stairs...

... and nearly tripping over Theresa. The three year old had obviously been woken by the commotion, and had slipped out of bed into the hallway.

"Why mommy and daddy scweam'?" the little girl asked.

Pollaski looked at Theresa, not entirely sure how to answer her question. Finally, he decided to chance an attempt. "Because I walked in on them... uh... while they were busy."

"What they doing?"

Pollaski gulped. He had absolutely no idea what to say to that. Finally, after searching his brain, he went for the most logical answer he could think of.

"Mommy and daddy were just wrestling, kid."

Even in the dark hallway, Pollaski could see the little girl pale in fear.

"But mommy said she and daddy bwoke up the last time they wessled each other!"

A deep chuckle escaped Pollaski's throat, although not at the memories. He still felt guilty about the fallout from booking that match, especially considering the schism had ended up costing the Birdz their World Tag Team Championship. Still, there was some humor in Theresa's misconceptions.

"Trust me, Theresa. What's going on in there will NOT be leading to them breaking up." He smiled reassuringly. "Now come on... I got McDonalds... you like HotCakes?"

Theresa nodded her head vigorously, and took off runnng for the stairs. Pollaski followed her down and into the kitchen, where the two began attacking the McDonalds bags, each taking a platter of hotcakes and bacon and digging in.

Within a couple of minutes, a man and woman entered the kitchen, both squinting as their eyes tried to adjust to the comparatively brightly lit kitchen. Given that both were squinting at Pollaski with fairly sour expressions, it was obvious this was the couple he had interrupted merely minutes ago

Terrence Thompson, patriarch of the family, was a well-built man in his early thirties with short, light-brown hair, brown eyes, and a five o'clock shadow that no amount of shaving ever seemed to completely eliminate. Although he had spent most of his professional wrestling career competing as a cruiserweight, the Twister, as he was called (a nickname Terrence had carried since his days as a demolition derby driver) was now a full-blown heavyweight. Although his physique would never win any bodybuilding awards, it was obvious Terrence had some power in his side, especially now that he was returning to his peak physical condition.

Right now, that physique was covered by a white tee-shirt, and a pair of red knee length basketball shorts that had the interlocking I-U often associated with Indiana University athletic teams.

Next to him, looking even more annoyed than her husband, stood Wendy Briese-Thompson. Wendy would never be mistaken for a supermodel, but her heart-shaped face, flaming-red shoulder legnth hair, and vivid green eyes made her attractive in more of a girl-next-door sort of fashion. She was small and slender, especially for a professional wrestler, but, as anyone she had ever faced could attest, was much more powerful than her size seemed to indicate.

As usual, Wendy had dressed herself with modesty in mind (probably even more so than usual, considering the morning's events), and had wrapped a jade-green bathrobe tightly around herself.

Noticing the glares both Birdz were giving him, Pollaski found himself concentrating more and more on getting a syrup packet open, hoping his transgressions for the morning would be ignored.

No such luck with Theresa around.

"Who won de wessling match?" the little girl asked brightly.

Pollaski began choking on a piece of hotcake, though whether from laughter, shock, or both nobody could tell. Both Birdz stared at Daniel in disbelief, a bit of a blush coming to Wendy's cheeks.

Finally, Terrence found his voice. "It was a no-contest, Theresa. Broken up by OUTSIDE INTERFERENCE." With that, he swung his hand open palmed, connecting firmly with the back of Pollaski's hed.

"Ow!" Pollaski protested, although he was secretly glad the slap had dislodged the food, and sweet, sweet oxygen could now reach his lungs again.

Pollaski looked up, and saw Wendy still glowering at him. "Don't look at me! You woke her up and I had to tell her SOMETHING!"

"Why would you even walk in on us like that in the first place?" Wendy demanded. "That is NOT why we gave you a key to the house!"

"Its six o'clock in the morning!" Pollaski retorted. "I didn't know you two were gonna be..." Pollaski stoped as Terrence abruptly cleared his throat, reminding him of Theresa's presence.

"Sorry," Pollaski muttered. "Maybe you should hang up a Do Not Disturb sign."

"Or maybe you could just KNOCK," Wendy snapped, finally taking her seat and catching a sausage McMuffin that Terrence tossed her. "Why were you even barging in on us anyways?"

"Well, considering in just five days time you both will be making your in-ring PWX debuts, i figured we oughta get an early start in the gym today."

"Ah, that's right!" Terrence grinned. "So, who we facing again?"

"The Fallen," Wendy replied, before taking another bite out of her biscuit.

Terrence snorted. "Well, if they've already Fallen, pinning them shouldn't be too hard, then."

Pollaski chuckled at Terrence's joke, but Wendy merely rolled her eyes. Wendy had a code of ethics a mile long, and near the top of the list was her disapproval of mocking opponents.

Which was especially aggrivating considering it was one of Dan's and Terrence's favorite pastimes.

"No, seriously, where did they come up with such a stupid name?" Terrence asked.

There was a awkward pause. Any tag team who called themselves the WhirlyBirdz had a lot of gall making fun of someone else's name.

"I've been reading up on that." Wendy broke the silence. "Apparently, John Pariah used them as pawns, and when they had outlasted their usefulness, he cast them away. The name implies that while they may have fallen in Pariah's eyes, they are not gone."

It was a situation she herself could sympathize with, considering that the events of the previous week had placed her more or less indentured to the sinister Victor Mandrake, and she dreaded the moment Mandrake felt HER usefulness was at an end.

"So they're basing their whole careers on getting revenge on a guy who kicked them out of his little club?" Terrence scoffed. "Let me guess... G.D.E.F.C.s?"

Again, Wendy rolled her eyes, knowing full well that the acronym stood for 'God Damned Emo Fruit Cakes.' "Terrence..." she sighed in exasperation.

"You tell me, dude." Pollaski had whipped out his Droid, and was quickly bringing something up. Finally, he slid the phone across the table.

Terrence looked up, and saw Silkk and Willis' pictures staring back at him. "Ha!" he crowed. "Big time!"

"Yeah, if we're lucky, they'll slit their wrists and save you the trouble of-"

"I would like to REMIND you that there's a three year old in the room," Wendy interrupted in a deadly tone, beckoning to Theresa. In truth, the little girl was more concerned with drawing pictures in the syrup on her styrofoam platter with her plastic knife than the conversation, but Wendy's words were still heeded well enough.

"Sorry... this is gonna take some time getting used to with a kid around," Dan muttered.

"Or maybe it'll just make you start acting your age," Wendy retorted with a humorless smile.

"Well, either way," Terrence proclaimed, drawing Wendy's and Pollaski's attention away from each other. "I'm not entirely sure how beating us can help The Fallen get revenge on Pariah, and looking at these two fruitbaskets, I doubt I'm going to be finding out. As for us..."

Terrence shot a grin at Wendy. "Its nice to know that at least here in the PWX, I can still team with my wife. And if the Fallen think they're breaking out the Welcome Wagon for a couple of rookies, they are going to be in for one heck of a surprise. Sure, its been half a decade, and I know there's going to be a bit of ring rust, but Wendy and I are two and a half time World Tag Team champions for a reason. We've won the Crockett Cup, and we've bested such tandems as Shaken Not Stirred, Manifest Destiny, and The Dark Angels. I know most of the PWX has never heard if these guys, but they really oughta look them up. Won't be too hard, either. All you've got to do is look in the WWA Hall of Fame to find them. Come to think of it, we're in there too." Terrence finished with a smirk.

"Yes, Terrence," the ever-modest Wendy argued. "But that WAS five years ago."

"So?" Terrence shrugged. "How much have you and I changed in five years? Yeah, we're a little older, and supposedly wiser. But its not like we sat on the couch and ate potato chips during our long hiatus. We're in still in great shape. And we've been training hard ever since we decided to come back. Ability wise, I think we're more than a match for any team."

"And besides," Terrence continued, "It sounds like the Fallen here are united by hate. At the risk of sounding corny here, you and I are united by the exact opposite. We have a special connection, a bond, that those two just do not, and probably will never, have. At least, I HOPE they don't, because..."

"TERRENCE!"

Despite his wife now glaring daggers at him, Terrence couldn't help but grin. "I'm just saying, romantic couples share a chemistry that can be almost impossible to overcome."

Wendy suddenly shivered, remembering the previous week when twice she and Terrence had gotten into a fight that left her fearing for their relationship. "But, Terry... you yourself said we have some trust issues we need to work through," she said quietly.

"I did, and we do," Terrence responded in a suddenly serious tone, looking at his wife. "But, hon, during that... I never stopped loving you, and you never stopped loving me. I think it was because of that we both caused each other so much pain."

"Besides," he continued, breaking into another grin. "What better way for us to rebuild our trust in each other than having each other's backs in a wrestling match? Anyways, the Fallen can have their cute little vendetta against Pariah, it doesn't affect me any. Right now, I've got three goals of my own." Terrence held up three fingers. Win the World Heavyweght Championship (he dropped one finger), Win the PWX title (dropped a second) and win some Tag gold with my wife."

Terrence dropped the final finger, then lowered his hand, grabbing his now empty sandwich wrapper and crinkling it into a ball. "This match is an important first step towards that last goal, if not all three of them. And it should be noted, that when I set my sights on something, whether its a title, the demise of a rival, or the hand of a beautiful woman (at this Wendy turned beet red), sooner or later, I get it. Some might say I'm lucky. Some might chalk it up to tenacity. I just credit it to one simple truth in this unverse-"

Terrence paused, and glanced at his manager and wife. "Should I even say it?"

Pollaski shrugged. "Up to you, dude. Its your catch-phrase."

Terrence glanced at Wendy, who shrugged. "I've never been a fan of using them, but..."

"Ah, she's just jealous her 'Perpare to Be Blown Away' bombed so badly." Pollaski snickered, uttering the forgettable slogan the redhead had used during her early days of competing.

"That was YOUR idea!" Wendy indignantly protested to her manager.

"What do you think, Terr?" Terrence looked at his daughter. "Should daddy use his catch-phrase?"

Despite having absolutely no idea what a 'catch-phrase' was, the three-year old vigorously nodded her brown haired head.

"NO ONE CAN STOP THE MECHANICAL MAYHEM!" Terrence boasted, launching his breakfast wrapper at the kitchen garbage can. Unfortunately, the wrapper drifted about two feet to the right, landing unimpressively on the floor.

"Nice," Pollaski guffawed. "Way to demonstrate your superior athletic ability.

"Zip it" Terrence snarled back, although he was still smiling. "I better go get changed for the gym," he announced, quickly heading out of the kitchen for the stairs.

Wendy watched him go, an exasperated smile on her face. "He's still as cocky about this as he's always been."

Pollaski smirked. He knew that despite Terrence's casual dismissal of The Fallen while at the breakfast table, there was no way Terrence was going to take his debut match lightly. "You still love him," he remarked to Wendy.

The young woman chuckled fondly. "That I do," she admitted, standing up. "I better go change too. You got clean-up?"

Pollaski reluctantly nodded, and Wendy walked out of the room to go prepare for the day's workout.