THE EDUCATION OF WENDY BRIESE, PART 2: Dissertation

MAY 12TH, 2010
CASTLE MANDRAKE
5:03 AM LOCAL TIME

Victor Mandrake awoke and sat up in his oversized, black-silk-adorned bed while it was still night outside. Looking out the window through the sheer black canopy, he could see subtropical landscape below shining in the silver glow of the moon. He guessed that it was sometime around five in the morning. Stretching his massive arms, he cracked his neck before kissing his still slumbering wife and rising out of bed. He grabbed his black silk robe and wrapped it around his 7'4" frame, walking to the open air window and looking over the Gulf, which in the moonlight, almost looked like rolling black waves of oil. Considering the recent news, it very well could've been, but he had been fortunate enough that the oil spill from earlier in the month hadn't reached his shores yet, preserving the pristine environment to his liking.

His thoughts turned to the red-haired woman peacefully slumbering in the room down the hall from him. He darkly thought about how easy it would be to just chain her up again and really make her pay for Rick's death. Or maybe he'd just chain her up and go take care of Terrence and Dan, scooping little Theresa up and adopting her into his own family. Or mayb-

No.

He gave his word, and his word was the one thing he lived by. No harm would come to Wendy while she was here. No harm would come to her family either.

No [i]physical[/i] harm, anyway.

Victor Mandrake was renowned and reviled as a master manipulator, often either getting others to unknowingly do his will, or siding with him completely. There was a saying that he read once as a teenager that resonated deep in his heart:

"To find shelter in righteousness is folly, for the Devil seeks to topple those who have the furthest to fall."

It described him perfectly. And that's how he viewed Wendy. She was the most righteous person he knew, and to break her of that, to even get her to view the world with a little more skepticism, with a little more anger would be a small victory for him. To corrupt her completely, though nigh impossible, would be his ultimate achievement. If he had to give his own life for it, to get her to pull the trigger on him, he was ready to accept it. She would be his magnum opus. And so that's what he strove for. He planted the seed six years ago in his dungeon below them, and now he just had to slowly, painstakingly cultivate that seed.

Feed it anger.

Feed it resentment.

Feed it violence.

Feed it hate.

Keep feeding it until it grew strong, until she finally became him. Then he'd have his triumph. Then she would be his.

Then, Rick could finally rest in peace.

=================

MAY 12TH, 2010
CASTLE MANDRAKE
6:49 AM LOCAL TIME

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK!*

A heavy hand hit the door to Wendy Briese-Thompson's room.

"Rise and shine, WhirlyBird," Victor Mandrake called from the corridor.

Wendy rubbed her eyes, and blew errant strands of red hair from her face, as she slowly sat up in the massive king sized bed she had slept in. She had no idea the time, but the sun had already risen, bathing the outside view of the Gulf with a marvelous pink light.

"I'm awake!" Wendy announced through the doors, although she stifled a yawn as she did. "Let me get dressed!"

"Tick-tock, Thompson..."

Wendy quickly ran to her suitcase, and pulled out a gray "Chicago Cubs" T-shirt, and a pair of black sweatpants. Shedding her nightgown, and redressing in record time, she grabbed her green scrunchie, and set her flame-colored hair into its proper ponytail. Then, glancing in the mirror to make sure she looked presentable, she opened the door.

"Morning, Mandrake!" she said with all the false sweetness she could muster.

Victor was leaned up against the wall opposite the door, wearing a black t-shirt and black and red track pants, arms folded and eyebrow raised as he looked at his watch. "Nine minutes to spare," he said. "Impressive, considering you just woke up."

"Three year old daughter," Wendy stated. "You learn to move quickly in the morning."

"Oh believe me, I'm well aware," he replied. "Do you need or want anything to eat or drink before we begin?"

"Orange juice, if you have it. I brought my own granola," she declared, pulling out two bars from her sweats pockets.

"Right this way," Victor said.

The two headed down the corridor, back into the giant foyer, down the east stairs, and proceeded through the left-hand side door underneath the stairs into another corridor, identical to those upstairs. An opening in the hallway revealed a fork that led to two rooms. On the right was the den/living room area, which Wendy could briefly see was furnished with leather furniture, expensive rugs and even more expensive electronics. On the left, which was the way they had proceeded, was the kitchen. Solid wood floors matched solid wood cabinets and black granite counter tops. Stainless steel appliances surrounded an island/bar area, above which dangled numerous pots, pans, and silverware that sparkled under the recessed lighting above. Most impressive of all was the bay window that occupied the entire east wall of the room, overlooking the beach and forest area. A medium-sized dinner table and chairs were placed in front of the window, and it was there that Victor placed a newly-poured glass of freshly squeezed orange juice.

"Thanks," Wendy said, looking around the room in amazement. The rest of the castle seemed so ancient, almost dreary. But this room was as modern as could be. She would love to prepare a meal in here... although she doubted Victor would agree, considering how prone she was to culinary disasters.

"Well-rested this morning?" Victor asked.

Wendy nodded. "It took me a while to sleep last night... but once I did... that's a good bed."

"Good," Victor said. "Truthfully, I didn't know what kind of condition you would be in this morning because I thought you'd get a case of insomnia."

"Oh, why's that?" Wendy asked, confused.

Victor looked at her incredulously. "You're in the home of your mortal enemy and you question why I would question your ability to sleep?"

"You gave me your word, Victor, and I haven't had any reason to doubt you yet. Besides, I'm here willingly, and if there's treachery on your part, I doubt I'll be able to stop it. So no sense fretting over it every minute. But believe me, I am being cautious."

"Fair enough," he said, nodding. "And my word will be upheld, I just didn't think you'd be one to recognize me as a man of my word, considering your overall opinion of me."

"Just because a man is evil doesn't necessarily mean he's dishonest," Wendy said evenly.

Victor grinned. "Touché. Shall we proceed with the day's events, then?"

Wendy set down her empty glass. "I'm ready."

"Follow me."

The two proceeded out the kitchen, and made their way to the foyer. The morning sunlight was beginning to shine in through the skylight, the purple and pink hues dully reflecting off of the white-marbled room. Victor led Wendy to the recessed door in the center of the back wall, climbing down the first set of doors and grabbing the door handle.

"Although it will be brief, we are required to take a quick trip down memory lane," Victor said before opening the door.

Immediately, the pungent odor of rust, mildew, and mold invaded Wendy's nostrils. She instantly recognized it as the horrid stench of Mandrake's dungeon. Her first impulse was to scream and retreat back to the relative safety of her bedroom. Even as she forced herself to stay calm, she felt her knees buckle as the memories from six years ago overwhelmed her.

"The gym and the dungeon use the same entrance," Victor explained. "I built the dungeon first, then added on the gym after the fact. We only have to go twenty feet."

He held out his hand.

"Think of it as your first lesson: Confronting your fears."

Wendy didn't take the hand. She heard the casualness of the tone in Victor's voice, causing an anger... a righteous fury to bubble in the pit of her stomach. There was no remorse, no regret there. In fact, she could very well guess that he was ENJOYING this, laughing inside as she relived the memories of what had happened behind that door.

"Go to hell," she whispered angrily.

Victor snorted. "Very well then," he said, retracting his hand and folding his arms. He leaned against the open door and gestured inside. "After you."

Wendy didn't move, just glared at Victor, her eyes shining with tears. "You think this is funny, don't you? This is all some sort of sick game to you?"

He sighed, his patience wearing thin. "Don't forget why you're here, my dear," Victor said. "If the purpose of all this was to rip open emotional scars, I would just grab you and toss you into a cell now without a second thought. You had my word that no harm will come to you while your here this week, and you still have it. I also said that if at any point you wanted to leave, you may do so."

Victor reached into his pockets and pulled out the keys to his CTS, tossing them at Wendy's feet.

"If you feel so compelled, leave. I will force you to go no further than you will."

Glaring at Victor, Wendy picked up the keys, and threw them back to Victor. "Keep them," she snarled, and stormed past him into the dungeon, focusing on her anger in order to drive away the fear.

Victor smiled as she passed him. "I'd suggest going to the left," he called to her.

Wendy said nothing, but made a quick turn to the left and plowed through the door in front of her. She watched as the dank stone floor gave way to blood red athletic mats, and the noxious fumes of the filth behind her were replaced by scents of rubber, plastic, and subtle body odor. Though most people wouldn't relish in the smell of a gym, to Wendy, it was like the crisp Spring air after a warm rain. She stood hunched over for a few minutes, closing her eyes and breathing deeply to slow her heart rate when she heard Victor close the door behind her.

"Very good, my dear," he said, clapping. "You've successfully passed your first lesson with flying colors: Utilizing anger and rage as a tool to accomplish your goals and overcome fear. Well done."

"I always was a quick learner," Wendy replied dryly.

"Apparently so," he agreed. "Let's enter the ring, and we can continue."

Considerably calmer, Wendy took a look around the gym. The mats spread across a good three thousand square feet of gym. On top of the mats rested state of the art exercise equipment - lat machines, cable crossovers, treadmills, ellipticals, press benches and machines, rowers, black rubber free weights, all clean and shiny surrounded by eight foot high mirrors across attached to all four black walls which extended a good twenty more feet to the ceiling. In the center was a regulation size professional wrestling ring with black mats, red ropes, black turnbuckles pads and a red skirt. It was basically the Gothic rendition of Gold's Gym.

"Red and black, that's you all over," Wendy muttered as she rolled into the ring, and tested the ropes.

"Yes, well, I would've painted it pink and green in anticipation for your arrival, but they were fresh out," Victor shot back.

Having gauged the ropes elasticity, Wendy turned around, and faced Mandrake, getting into her fighting stance. "So, how shall we do this?"

"Simple," Victor said flatly, then charged at her, going for a clothesline. Wendy's eyes went wide at the sudden attack, but she rolled to the side, lashing out with a kick as she did. The kick buckled Victor's knee, and he stumbled as Wendy rolled away.

"Way too predictable," the redhead admonished with a smile.

Victor chuckled as he regained his footing. "Good, glad to see you're still fleet of foot." He slowly stalked Wendy around the ring, taking a swing every now and again that she would dodge, quick fire a couple of shots, and roll away. The only problem was, she wasn't doing enough damage, and while Victor barely slowed, Wendy began to get fatigued. She realized that this contest was turning out the same way their first one-on-one encounter had; biting him like a mosquito and waiting to get swatted. Dodging another swing, Wendy aimed again at Victor's knees with two fierce kicks, causing them to buckle. She grabbed Victor's massive arms and wrenched them behind him, putting her boot on his back for leverage in the surfboard. Mandrake grimaced in pain as he torqued both wrists and grabbed Wendy by the forearms. He slowly brought her forward using brute strength until either her arms ripped out or her leg buckled. Fortunately for Wendy, it was the latter. Victor grabbed behind him as Wendy slammed into his back, lifted her to his side, and bent her spine down across his thigh for the backbreaker. Wendy screamed in pain as she was bent so severely both her head and boots touched the mat, and she quickly tapped Victor's arm three times. Victor immediately released the hold and pushed her off his knee, and Wendy collapsed to the mat, holding her back in pain. Victor stood up, looking down at her with disdain as she slowly worked her way to a sitting position, grimacing both from the pain and her failure.

"That," she confessed, still panting for breath, "was a disaster."

"Indeed it was," Victor said, disappointed. "And why do you think that is? At what point did you go wrong?"

"Probably trying to surfboard a guy three times my weight who wasn't anywhere near done," Wendy mumbled as she painfully got to her feet.

"That was incidental," he said. "The core problem is that you're inflicting too little damage over too long of a time frame. You're becoming exhausted while I've barely broken a sweat."

"Gee, I'm sorry, I'll try a powerbomb next time," Wendy shot back, although truthfully she was more annoyed with herself than anything.

Victor sighed. "You're too fixated on discrepancies in size. It doesn't matter how much bigger I am. I am human, just as you are, and as such, have the same anatomical weaknesses as you do. I'm going to show you how easy it is to stop me by using just your finger. When I walk towards you, side step me, place your finger under my nose as if trying to get me not to sneeze, and then push back hard."

Wendy nodded skeptically, but obliged anyway. Victor walked towards her, she sidestepped, put her finger up and wrenched back. Immediately, Victor's head and torso arched back as he grunted in pain.

"Now you have me in a spot of control," he said. "How many different moves can you execute when I'm prone in this position?"

"Swinging Neckbreaker... Reverse DDT... Dragon Sleeper..." Wendy listed as she considered the options.

"Exactly my point," Victor said, rising back to his feet. "All of which would be far more effective then the little kicks and jabs you were throwing around. Basic human anatomical knowledge, including the location of key pressure points, is critical in being able to dissect your opponent and pinpoint his or her weaknesses. When we're done here, I want you to go to the library and look through my books on anatomy, and also as well as methods of torture during times of war."

"Torture?" Wendy asked, appalled.

"If there was anyone who knew nerve endings and sensitive areas of the body more than anyone else, they were people like the SS of Nazi Germany and U.S. Black Ops," he said. "You won't be pulling out anyone's fingernails any time soon, but you can learn a lot about the human body and what it's limits are by looking through those pages."

She stared at him inquisitively for a moment. "You know, you're pretty much the only person I've never really been able to compete with," Wendy said skeptically. "So, essentially, all you're really showing me is how to beat you."

"Not to sound arrogant, but if you can beat me, you can beat anyone," he responded. "You have the speed to keep up with and overcome any cruiserweight, and the technical prowess to go to the mat with any submission specialist. Your Achilles heel has always been powerhouses and brawlers, people like myself and Terrence. You see Wendy, the reason you lost to Terrence isn't because he's better than you. He's really not. You just lack the knowledge of how to deal with people who are much bigger than you. You know the typical weak spot for bigger men - the knees. I have 375 pounds on my knees constantly, and you'd be a fool to think that that doesn't take it's toll. But I also know how to compensate for the weaknesses I can prevent. I'm unable, however, to compensate for biological weaknesses, whether those be pressure points, soft spots, or more importantly, my head. A well placed toe kick to the temple will make anyone collapse like a ton of bricks."

Wendy nodded, taking in the advice. "So, again?" She asked.

Victor nodded and began to circle Wendy, looking for an opportunity to strike. He lashed out at her a couple times which she easily dodged. Wendy darted in and landed a couple of leg kicks on Victor, smiling at the rewarding grunt of pain he gave. Victor made to grab her, but Wendy grabbed his wrist and squeezed just where the artery lay. Victor bellowed, but froze for just a second. Wendy again kicked his knee out, dropping him to one knee. She let go and Victor started to rise, but her foot was already coming down in an axe kick, smashing into the back of his head. He collapsed face first onto the mat, and Wendy ran to the nearest turnbuckle. She quickly climbed to the middle and leaped, landing both feet squarely on Victor's upper back with both feet.

"That better?" she asked, still standing on Victor's back.

"Much," he managed to grunt out with his face still embedded in the mat. With surprising speed he pushed himself up off of the mat, easily lifting his own weight and Wendy's, which caused her to lose her balance and fall to the mat. Victor latched on to her leg and pulled her towards him. Wendy attempted to retaliate by planting her other foot firmly in his cheek, but that only served to make him mad and cause him to grab her other leg. Victor stood up with Wendy's legs firmly grasped, spun her around and tossed her like a rag doll to the opposite corner of the ring. She landed with a solid thud, nearly getting the wind knocked out of her. Slow to get up, she suddenly found herself being assisted by Victor, only to be put in a headscissors and hoisted up for a powerbomb. Victor brought her down, but didn't slam her into ring. Instead, he suddenly stopped, allowing her to gently land on her back. Wendy opened her eyes, her face unflinching from what she thought was going to be an unpleasant meeting with the mat. Instead, she saw Victor's face grinning from between her ankles.

"Someone needs to work on their recovery time," he said.

"Or they shouldn't pause to snap off a one-liner," Wendy retorted as she rolled to her feet. She looked around the gym for a brief moment. "Can I ask a question?"

Victor nodded.

Wendy gestured around at the ring and the rest of the training room. "I'm going to hazard a guess that you don't get many visitors. What do you normally do with all this?"

"Well, when I'm not here, Morrigan and Zack usually use it," he answered. "When I am here, I'm usually busy training myself or with Morrigan and Zack. Delilah, of course, is too young yet. Why do you ask? Thinking of starting a membership here?" he asked, grinning.

"Its a bit of a drive," Wendy retorted, smiling humorlessly. "I'm just wondering. It seems a little...extravagant."

"I just provide the best for myself and for my family," Victor responded. "Besides, the rest of my home isn't exactly humble, either."

"True," Wendy said. "Do you have any water down here?"

Victor nodded and stepped out of the ring, lifted the ring skirt and got into a mini-fridge stocked with bottled water. He grabbed a bottle and tossed it at Wendy. "Right here."

"Thanks," Wendy said. She opened it and thirstily drained half the bottle in one go. "You know, I'm honestly beginning to think we can win this tournament."

Victor raised an eyebrow. "Why the sudden change of heart?"

"Well, between your strength and my speed, we can change the tempo of our matches at will. It's the same effect Terry and I have. You're constantly having to be prepared for two such disparate styles; it's hard to keep up."

"Very true," Victor said. "Shall we proceed?"

Wendy nodded, and Victor pulled a foam object out from under the ring, shaped like a steel chair. He entered the ring with a grin on his face.

"Now, we're going to learn how to utilize weapons," Mandrake said smugly.

"Learn what?" Wendy said with a sneer. "You pick something up, you swing it, you disgrace the sport. Three easy steps."

"Unfortunately, my dear, not everyone shares the same views as you when it comes to foreign objects," Victor pointed out. "You declaring that a chair crashing into your skull is a disgrace isn't going to get you anything except for a loss and a possible concussion."

"Or a win by disqualification," Wendy countered.

"You're being stubborn," Victor rebuked her. "You know that there's going to be a point in time where the referee is out, if there even is a referee and he's not biased, and you're suddenly looking at an unfavorable situation with an opponent wielding a chair or worse ready to cave in your skull. I'm not saying that you need to learn how to swing a weapon, I'm saying you need to learn how to defend yourself and disarm your opponent. Consider our opponents. Do you honestly think they'll play nice if an opportunity presents itself? Think about what they did to you in Texas. What would've happened if I hadn't been there to save you? They would've degraded and defiled you in full view of the public and not have thought twice about it. You think they would've stopped if you said 'You're disgracing our sport!'?"

"That was different," Wendy protested, although she was turning red from the humiliation of that night. "It was a four on one situation. And I've kicked plenty of weapons back in people's faces."

"I've been in four on one situations," Victor said. "Next week in AW, I'm going into a two on one situation. I was in a six on one situation, and we both know how that ended up. You either emerge victorious, or fall into defeat. If you think you can use my weapon against me, then go ahead and try."

"Come on, then," Wendy said, beckoning Victor.

Mandrake obliged, charging towards Wendy with the foam chair. He faked a swing at her, and Wendy took the bait. She rolled to the side, popped to her feet and launched her foot up towards Victor's face. Mandrake grabbed on to her foot and slammed the foam chair into her face in tandem.

"Ow!" she complained.

"Be grateful you can still talk," Victor said. "Had that been a real chair, you'd be lucky if the only thing you received was a broken nose."

Wendy wriggled her foot loose, and hopped back. "Shutting me up for good, wouldn't that make your day?"

Victor chuckled, then raised the chair again, starting towards Wendy. She watched him warily this time, and as Victor swung at her, she hopped back, the blow missing by inches. As Victor retracted his swing, Wendy leapt, firing a front dropkick that caught the bottom of the chair, flipping it up into Victor's face. Victor bellowed as the chair bounced off his jaw and dropped to the mat.

"There, now we both can't talk," Wendy replied as she picked up the foam chair.

Mandrake half-smirked. "Good. Very good." He slid out of the ring, reached under the ring, and grabbed a wooden baseball bat. "Let's up the ante, shall we?"

Wendy gulped as Victor slid back in. "Uh oh..."

Victor twirled the bat in his hand, a sinister smirk scrawled across his face as he sized up the petite redhead. Circling like a shark, he took a swing at Wendy's head like he was Babe Ruth. She narrowly dodged the attack and quickly planted two feet into Victor's midsection. He grunted and doubled over, and Wendy took the opportunity to apply a choke hold. Just as she was about to drop him for a DDT, Mandrake reversed the hold. Before she knew what was happening, she found herself elevated off of the mat, unable to breathe with the bat across her throat and her back to Victor. She sputtered and struggled while he laughed low in her ear.

"No wonder they were able to corner you in the ring. No wonder you were so easy to ensla-"

Victor's words died in his mouth as Wendy's flailing legs caught his groin. He dropped the bat, and Wendy fell to the mat, clutching her throat and gasping for breath, but still scrambling away to put a safe ground between herself and Victor.

"Sorry, that was an accident," she apologized earnestly.

"Nice shot," he groaned, taking his time to get up. "Are you going to rely on luck every time you get caught?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "You should get ice on that," Wendy said, rolling out of the ring, and looking underneath in the mini-fridge. "And I'd appreciate it if you didn't keep talking to me like I'm some starry-eyed rookie."

"I'd appreciate it if you'd stop acting like one," Victor shot back.

"So you think everything I've ever done is by luck, then?" Wendy retorted, sliding a coldpak under the bottom rope at Victor, although the heat in her gaze could have melted it on the spot.

"No, but nicely done on manipulating my words," Victor said, grabbing the icepack and placing it between his legs. "My point was that you need to be more resourceful than an off-hand heel to the groin to save you when you find yourself in dire straits."

"So what do you recommend?" Wendy asked.

"The one thing that you lack above anything else is a killer instinct," he explained. "You've been so concerned with being nice and fair and proper your entire life that you've buried the bloodlust that lurks in the darkest corners of every soul. You want to know how Terrence beat me and won the World Title? It's because he wanted to kill me. It's because in that final moment, when the match was almost mine, something inside of him rose to surface and gave him that extra push to put me out. It had nothing to do with wrestling prowess and everything to do with that above all else, he wanted to destroy every last piece of who I was. That's what you need. You need to tap into that same rage I see in your emerald eyes every time I even breathe your daughter's name."

"What's the good of winning a wrestling match, or even a title, if you lose your soul doing it?" Wendy asked.

"Who said anything about losing your soul?" Victor asked. "At no point should you lose control of yourself to where you do something that you regret. The trick is to use your demons to your advantage, not let your demons become you."

"That's just it!" Wendy exclaimed. "Everytime I did that, I lost control!"

"That's because it's still such a foreign concept to you," he said. "You're so programmed to be 'good' that you have no idea how to handle yourself when you're not. Every single man and woman has dark thoughts; it's what they do with those thoughts and urges that define who they are. Most people deny that evil lives inside of them so much so that when something provokes them, it rises uncontrollably to the surface and they end up destroying their lives and the lives of their loved ones within a matter of seconds. Through acceptance of your not-so-better half, you embrace all aspects of who you are as a human being, and can finally take control of your life. Tell me honestly, Wendy, how many times have you thought about how wonderful it would feel to put a bullet between my eyes?"

Wendy stared at Victor coldly, then looked away, suddenly ashamed. "Too many."

"See? Right there. You turned away in guilt. Just as you felt that hate and anger rise to the surface you immediately pushed it away. You should never be ashamed of how you feel, you should own up to that emotion so that you can begin to control it. The only thing you're doing is depriving yourself of who you truly are. How can you ever be happy if you're constantly admonishing yourself in secret for wishing death upon the man who's done so many horrible things to you? It's perfectly natural to seek vengeance. No one would blame you."

Wendy blinked in confusion. "You're advocating me to kill you?"

"I'm advocating freedom, Wendy," Victor specified. "Freedom from your oppressors, whether that be me, or the conflicting morals instilled upon you by a hypocritical society. I'm advocating for you to be free so you can finally, truly be and love yourself for everything that you are, good and bad, and to take control of yourself and your life."

Wendy slid into the ring, her eyes never leaving Victor. "But without my morals... my values... what am I?"

"You're you," he answered simply. "Don't let a set of rules define who you are. It paints you into a corner, limits your potential and restricts who you can become and what you can achieve. Let you be the one to define what the rules are."

"This freedom..." Wendy asked. "That's what you want for me? To be free from my chains and bonds?"

"More than anything," he said.

Quick as lightning, Wendy's right foot smashed into Victor's head, just behind the temple. Victor's eyes rolled in his head, and he pitched face forward onto the mat. Wendy stood over him, her eyes blazing with fury.

"Then don't chain me to a dungeon wall, you hypocritical son of a bitch," she said angrily. With that, she quickly slid out of the ring, and walked towards the training room's door.

Victor groggily came to a few moments later. As he slowly pushed himself off of the mat, a low laughter filled the empty gym.

His plan was working.