MAY 15TH, 2010
CASTLE MANDRAKE
12:42 AM LOCAL TIME
Wendy Briese wrinkled her nose as the foul stench of mold and rot assaulted her nostrils, but, to her pleasant surprise, her knees didn't buckle, nor did she have to fight down the sudden urge to run.
Good. It would make what she was about to do a LOT easier.
In truth, the stench, and the memories, had stopped overpowering her over the past couple of days, although Wendy figured it was because she had become quite familiar with the route that took her to the training room.
After their first disastrous training session on Wednesday morning, Wendy had fled to her room, and packed her things, fully prepared to flee the castle before Victor regained consciousness, and had her drawn and quartered for the attack.
But Victor had cornered her on the stairs, and she had been surprised to find him sympathetic. She was going through a lot of conflicting emotions, he had told her, and he had no grudge over the kick. In fact, he had applauded the outburst as her first real step in letting go. She agreed to stay.
So for the past three days, she and Victor had trained almost nonstop in the gym, breaking only for the lunch meal, before resuming their seemingly endless battle. She wished she could have said she gave as good as she got, but the fact was, most sessions had her flat on the mat, clutching a part of her body in pain and gasping for breath, which generally earned her another lecture from Victor. But she was getting more and more offense in, so she was improving.
But tonight, she had a different way of testing herself.
Determinedly, Wendy took a right at the fork of the corridor instead of the left that led to the training room, continuing onward into the darkest part of the castle. The path gave way to a deep cylindrical pit, a seeming abyss when looking down. Like the foyer, the set of stairs leading down conformed to the shape of the room, spiraling to a single door about fifty feet down. The path was dimly lit by a sparse amount of torches mounted on the wall, and coupled with the intentionally dilapidated condition of the stairs, made the way treacherous. When she had arrived at the castle, she had promised herself she would come to terms with what had happened to her six years ago, and today was her last chance. She grabbed a torch from the wall and started down the stairs, carefully balancing her lithe feet among the sloped and angled steps, avoiding cracks and holes in the structure itself until she finally reached the bottom. She took a deep breath and opened door, walking into what she imagined Hell would be like.
Further and further into the dungeon she crept, her heart racing, her mind and body threatening to betray her with every step she took. She almost got lost in the labyrinthine darkness, struggling to see more than ten feet in front of her, half-paranoid that Victor was going to pop up behind her, shove her into a cell, and throw away the key. Finally she stopped. This was it.
Her cell.
The door was open, so Wendy walked inside, and stared at the wall she had been chained to for two weeks. The manacles were still there, still crusted with the blood they had drawn as they dug into her wrists. As she stared, she saw shards of glass littering the area, the remnants of a pitcher of water Victor had seemingly given her as an act of mercy. It had been false hope - she had gotten three gulps in before Victor turned a firehose on her, smashing the pitcher against the wall as Wendy had unsuccessfully tried to defend herself from the torrent.
Everything had been left just like it was.
Tears came to Wendy's eyes as she surveyed the cell. How many nightmares had she had about this place? How many times had shey dreamed of the slaps, kicks, taunts, and threats Victor had filled her days with? They had been almost nightly at first, her waking with a scream, and Terrence comforting her as she sat trembling. Over the years, the nightmares became further apart, but they were still there.
Anger began to grip Wendy as she stood, staring at the wall. Victor had shown no remorse for what had happened. In fact, the way he sometimes looked at her, she wondered if Victor didn't desire to throw her in here again. He didn't care, the worst two weeks of her life had been little more than a game to him.
And now, here she was, as Victor Mandrake's partner and student? What was wrong with her? If she had any sense, she'd go back upstairs, and put an end to this. Burn this castle down, until not one block was left on top of another. If she moved quickly enough, this morning, she could end the Mandrake family line before the sun rose.
No, that was not her way. She wouldn't murder...
But what had her way accomplished? It had gotten her here, chained to a wall. It had gotten her allied with the man who had done it. Her way didn't work.
But it did... it had. Was she not a member of the hall of fame? Did she not have countless title reigns... all accomplished despite her stringent adherence to her values?
But what good had all that done her here? Her cruiserweight championship hadn't saved her from those manacles. Her hall of fame status hadn't kept her from being used as a rag doll this week.
There had to be a happy medium. Victor was right - leg kicks and springboards weren't enough anymore. Even Rick had told her she needed to find that killer instinct inside herself, and tap it. But she mustn't lose herself doing it.
It could be done. It had been done. Mike Bell. Christian Light. Ryan Corey. All three men had climbed to the top of this industry, all the while never sacrificing their virtue. All three men had found that balance.
All three men had watched their lives be destroyed by Victor Mandrake.
Wendy closed her eyes, and sighed in frustration. There had to be something.
A way to defeat Victor Mandrake without becoming him.
She just had to find it.
====================
MAY 15TH, 2010
CASTLE MANDRAKE
12:42 PM LOCAL TIME
The morning training session had gone as the rest of the week had. A few bumps, a few bruises, and a lot of lecture. After failing to identify a pressure point that would've resulted in the prevention of a brainbuster suplex, Victor outed her for not going to the library yet and immediately ended the training, sending her to the library over an hour ago. Her initial grumbling and frustration was cast aside when she opened the door to the room. The bookworm inside of her nearly died of excitement and awe as she laid her eyes upon the seemingly hundreds of oak bookshelves holding thousands of books, ancient and brand new, spread across an about five thousand square foot room and crawling up fifty feet of walls to the ceiling. The only places that didn't have a stacked shelf were the aisles of hardwood floors, the large open aired window in the back left corner, the spiral staircase leading up to a balcony on the right, and the sole desk all the way in the back, ornately designed out of walnut which preceded a throne of a chair and fireplace.
After it had all settled in, she went to the shelf that Victor had said the materials would be and found the exact books he referenced. She grabbed the anatomy books, intentionally skipping over the books on torture, shaking a disgusted head just thinking about what was in those pages. She set the books on the desk and began to flip through them, taking mental notes as she went along. Some time had passed before she was startled by the sudden slamming of books on the desk in front of her, the same books she had intentionally skipped before. She looked up and saw Victor with his hand on top of the books, looking unimpressed.
"You forgot a few," he said.
"I'm not reading those," Wendy replied calmly.
"Fortunately for you, a lot of them are mostly pictures, so you're not missing too much by circumventing the written portions."
"You know what I mean," Wendy snapped.
"A compromise, then," Victor suggested, pulling out one book in particular. "This book goes over many of the instruments used in the medieval period. It highlights the parts affected, not exactly what's done to the parts in question. No grisly images either. That way, you learn about the more tender places of the body without it provoking your gag reflex."
Wendy looked at the book like it was a dead fish that had been in the sun. Finally she nodded. "If it will get you to shut up about it, fine."
Victor simply nodded and placed the book in front of her, removing the rest of the books and putting them back to their rightful places. He walked back to the desk and stood in front of her.
"So, tell me what you've learned so far."
"I've learned about the pressure points in the neck, the arms, and the legs, particularily near the joints, and how best to apply them to disable your opponent without causing permanent injury."
"Unless of course, permanent injury is your goal," Victor said.
"Which it will never be," Wendy shot back.
"Never say never. I can think of several situations off of the top of my head where permanent paralysis is necessary."
"If I, or a loved one was going to be raped or murdered, then yes," Wendy confessed.
"I rest my case," Victor said smugly.
Wendy looked at Victor in disgust. "You really relish doing this, dont you?"
"Forcing you to evaluate and be prepared for the worst case scenario so that you can properly protect yourself and your loved ones from harm? Yes, yes I do."
"No, making me contradict myself. Finding chinks in my armor. Trying to expose me as a hypocrite."
"If you find yourself a hypocrite through all this, then that's no fault of mine," Victor said. "I'm giving you the tools to identify your own hypocrisy, if any, and the ability to correct it."
"You know, I never claimed to be all that virtuous." Wendy responded, with a note of resignation in her voice. "Everyone else has gathered this idea that I'm a saint. I just... try to be the best person I can be. Is that so wrong?"
"Not at all," Victor said. "You just need to learn to switch it off when necessary, because most people don't try to be the best person they can."
"Do you?"
"Depends on who you ask," Victor answered. "But then again, I never cared too much about what others thought."
"What about what you think?" Wendy pressed.
"I'm neither ashamed, nor do I feel regret for anything I've done in my life," he answered. "I believe that my 'crimes', as you would call them, have always had a purpose and a means to a greater end."
"What was the 'greater end' of what you did to Ryan Corey? What was the 'greater end' of imprisoning me? What was the 'greater end' of framing Christian Light?" Wendy paused for one second... "What was the 'greater end' of going after Dane?"
"Ryan was an overzealous radical who stood in the way of my career," Victor said. "You were the fulcrum needed to save Rick, though we all know how well that turned out. Christian Light was much like you in that he believed that people, above all else, were naturally good. He was entirely too trusting, and was in desperate need for a wake up call. So, I ruffled the Last Nighthawk's feathers, so to speak, before someone else could do much worse. Now, he'll think twice about trusting the wrong person. As for Dane, besides the fact that I seriously call your intelligence into question for even asking that in the first place, what would you do to the person who shot your spouse and put them into a months-long coma?"
"I meant before that," Wendy said, rolling her eyes. "Obviously something between you had to have happened to make Eric pick up a gun."
Victor clenched his jaw, putting his fists on the desk and leaning in close to Wendy.
"You're right Wendy, something did happen," Victor answered agitated, his voice slowly rising. "I stole the World Title, so Eric thought it prudent to grab a gun, grab Ryan Corey, break into my house, and shoot the love of my life. So forgive me if I don't feel particularly compelled to justify my reason for wanting to destroy every aspect of the man who almost killed my wife over a FUCKING PIECE OF GOLD AND LEATHER!"
Wendy swallowed hard, but to her surprise, did not shrink away. Victor and her locked eyes for a long while, until Victor slowly stood upright again. "That's why I agreed to do this," Wendy finally said.
"To get a rise out of me?" Victor asked.
"No," Wendy said, waving her hands. "I agreed because... between you and Dane, you're the lesser of the two evils."
Victor sighed deeply, then chuckled. "That's not something I hear every day."
"Well, I wouldn't exactly take it as a compliment." Wendy said softly. "But, the one saving grace I've had from what you did to me, is that it could have been worse. You could have raped me, you didn't. You could have mutilated my body, but you didn't. There was a line, and you did not cross it.
She paused a long while. "I don't think Eric Dane has a line."
"No, he doesn't," Mandrake agreed. "He fancies himself as a gentleman's villain, making deals and arrangements and playing CEO, when in reality, he's nothing more than a drug-addicted paranoid maggot."
Wendy nodded. "But a powerful paranoid maggot. Defiance is... it almost seems a cult when you look at the fanaticism of his wrestlers and fans."
"Defiance is nothing," Victor practically growled. "I will see it burn to the ground even if I have to do it myself. I've put too much into my alliance to see it turned into a puppet state."
"I won't be sorry," she said. "There are some honorable men there, like Dusty Griffith and Joe Drago. But I remember too well what happened when I was there."
"And you would do well to remember," Victor said. "Remember what they did to you, and use that anger against them instead of letting it be turned against you."
"I know," Wendy said, and Victor smirked to himself as he saw the flash in her eyes. "Ever since that night, I've promised myself that if I'm ever in the ring with any member of HYDRA, there would be a VERY strong message delivered about taking advantage of me."
"Soon enough, my dear."
====================
MAY 15TH, 2010
CASTLE MANDRAKE
9:28 PM LOCAL TIME
Victor Mandrake stood in the middle of his ring, awaiting the arrival of Wendy Briese for their last training session before Tag Wars.
He was proud of how much Wendy had changed in such a short time. He had wondered if she had even noticed herself. Sure, she was still clinging to her misguided morals and preconceived notions of "good" and "evil", but as Victor guided her, he believed that she was starting to see things from his perspective. Where she once saw his destruction as random and cruel, she now understood as having purpose. She may not have agreed with the methods employed to achieve said purpose or even the purpose itself, especially with a particular incident from six years ago, but she could at least begin to analyze events in her own life and consider, if not act upon, more violent fare. In time, when Wendy looked back upon her time with her, and Victor's presence in her life in general, she will come to thank and be grateful to him.
The door to the gym opened, breaking his thoughts, and in walked Wendy Briese dressed in the same workout gear she had been wearing throughout the week. The first thing that Wendy noticed was that Victor was wearing his ring gear; shirtless with black designed tights and black combat boots. Victor grinned at her, tossing her a wrestling outfit identical to her normal gear.
"Welcome to your final exam," Victor said.
Wendy stared blankly at the clothing. "My what?"
"Your final exam," Victor repeated. "The time to put together everything I've taught you into full practice. You and I are going to be wrestling as if we were in an actual match. Pinfalls, submissions, and all."
Wendy felt a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Ever since that May night six years ago when she had faced Mandrake, lost to him, and been subsequently kidnapped, she had always wanted another chance. But she had always feared that, no matter what she did against anyone else, such a rematch would have ended the same way. Down here, in pit of Mandrake's dungeon, could she stop history from repeating itself?
And what would happen to her if she failed?
Wendy looked down at the ring costume. "Where can I change?"
"Wherever you'd like," Mandrake answered.
Wendy looked around, and, finding no suitable place in the gymnasium to conceal her modesty, quickly ran out of the room, into the hallway outside. Listening carefully to make sure Morrigan or one of the children weren't coming down, she took off her warmup clothes, and put on the articles Victor had given her. The sleveless tunic style top and full length tights were exactly the right fit (how on Earth did Victor know her size?), and the exact same style of clothing she normally wore to the ring - designed for ventilation and flexibility without sacrificing modesty. Victor had even included a pair of fingerless gloves. The only difference was the outfit was white instead of black, the green striping along the seems a much lighter tone as well. She supposed the color was a subtle jab at her about her angelic reputation, but Wendy grimaced. She hated white; rings were seldomly clean, and dirt gathered throughout the match was much more noticeable, and, if for some reason one got injured and began to bleed, the location of the wound was extremely obvious, providing an open target for an opportunistic opponent. Wendy quickly folded up her training clothes, tightened her gloves, and returned to the gym.
"Looks like it fits well," Victor stated. "How's it feel?"
"Fine," Wendy said, rolling into the ring, "How did you know my size?"
"Call it a lucky guess," he said with an all-knowing smirk.
"Yeah, that's not creepy," Wendy muttered under her breath. "So, rules? How are we counting pinfalls?"
"Babe?" Victor called out.
The door to the training room opened, and in walked Morrigan, dressed in a low cut referee's shirt and black slacks with black sneakers.
"Oh, good," Wendy muttered under her breath.
"Not every match will be under favorable circumstances," Victor said. "It's by overcoming the odds and emerging victorious that you'll be remembered, respected, and in some cases, feared."
"Okay, then," Wendy said, taking a deep breath to calm her nerves. "Ready when you are."
Victor nodded and opened the ropes for Morrigan to walk in. Giving his wife a quick kiss, he began to circle Wendy. He fake lunged in a couple of times, relishing in the quick jumps he got out of her. Wendy darted in, and fired with a leg kick connecting just above the knee, causing Victor to grimace from the impact. She darted in again, and connected with another kick. On the third time, she faked a kick, then ducked as Mandrake made a grab for her. She fired an elbow, catching him in the solar plexus, forcing a bellow, then grabbed his arm, wrenching it once, and firing another kick at his midsection. She tried to supress a grin... so far so good, but she couldn't be cocky. Victor lunged again and Wendy sent a foot into his chest...almost. Mandrake caught her leg, grabbed her by the hair, yanked her in and drilled his knee into her stomach. She doubled over in pain, allowing Victor to grab her by the waist and slam her down with a gutwrench powerbomb.
"Get up Wendy!" he yelled.
Wendy painfully rolled to her feet, clutching her abdomen. She couldn't take too much more of that. She charged at Victor, but as he reached out to grab her, she dove under his legs, rolling, and coming up behind him. She hit the ropes, springboarding off with a dropkick, her feet smashing into Victor's face. Victor stumbled back into the corner, and Wendy charged, kicking out with both of her feet, smashing them into Victor's kneecaps. Victor stumbled forward, and Wendy ran from behind, driving him down with a bulldog. Victor got to his feet and shook off the cobwebs.
"You're getting good," he said. "I actually felt that one."
Victor walked towards Wendy, who easily sidestepped him and smashed his jaw in with a superkick out of nowhere. Victor reeled, and Wendy took the opportunity to climb to the top turnbuckle, leaping off for a frog splash. Unfortunately for Wendy, Mandrake caught her, tossed her up above his shoulders, and dropped her for a gorilla press slam.
"Was that all you had Briese? You're pathetic!"
He covered her for the count, and Morrigan hit the mat.
1...
2...
Wendy kicked out, and Victor pulled her up by the hair. As soon as she got to a knee, she lunged forward, headbutting him in the stomach. Victor let go, stumbling back, and Wendy got to her feet, massaging her head. Victor was back on the offensive, swinging at her, but Wendy nimbly dodged out of the way each time. Wendy found the opening she was looking for, and jammed her finger under Victor's nose, applying a pressure point, and bending Mandrake back over. She then grabbed his neck, bringing him down in a swinging neckbreaker.
"Shouldn't have taught me that," she said as she covered.
1...
2...
Mandrake got his arms up under Wendy and literally launched him off of her. He rolled and looked up just in time to see Wendy's feet coming straight for his face. Narrowly dodging the baseball slide, he latched on to her and drove his elbow into her ribs. He rose to his feet, bringing Wendy up with him, and whipping her into the ropes. A clothesline was ducked by Briese as she bounced back off the ropes, leaping at Mandrake for a hurricanrana, but was promptly slammed back into the mat as he reversed it into a tilt-a-whirl slam. Victor stomped on her prone figure mercilessly before bringing her back up, hooking her for a Northern Lights suplex, and bridging for the pin.
1...
2...
Wendy rolled the shoulder up, and staggered back to her feet. Victor wasn't letting her catch her breath, however, and he grabbed her, and threw her into the turnbuckle. He came after her, but she dodged, and hit a drop toe hold, sending him face first into the bottom turnbuckle. She then stood over him, both feet on the bottom rope, and leapt, her feet landing solidly on the back of Victor's head. She tried for an STF, but Victor kicked her away, getting to his feet. Wendy ran at him, catching him under the chin with her arm, and simultaneously kicking his knee out with her foot, driving him down with a modified STO. Wendy dove for the cover.
1...
...
...
Wendy looked up and glared at Morrigan, who simply smiled at her. She looked back down to Victor and was blindsided by a forearm across her cheek. Wendy rolled, but was quick to recover. Victor was already on top of her, and didn't have enough time to react before his fist slammed into her side. Soon, she found herself on the receiving end of a hail of blows, each one more painful than the first, ending in a blinding underhook face driver. Victor rolled to the outside and grabbed a chair out from under the ring and slid back in. Wendy was still prone on the ground, very slow to move.
"How do you expect to beat Defiance if you can't even beat me?!" he bellowed.
*THWACK!*
Victor drove the chair into Wendy's back, savoring the painful screams that came from her.
"How do you expect to defend yourself from being publicly raped by a group of vile beasts if you don't have the constitution to take another life?!?"
*THWACK!*
"What's it going to take, Wendy? A little more pain?!?"
*THWACK!*
"A little more HATE?!?"
*THWACK!*
Wendy tried to crawl away to the corner. Victor discarded the chair and grabbed Wendy's hair, lifting and slamming her into the corner. He grabbed her by the face and looked into her eyes, her face mere centimeters from his.
"I should've never given you back to Terrence," he growled low.
Wendy spit in his face.
Victor, roaring with rage, threw a punch, intending fully to smash her face, but Wendy ducked, and Victor's fist landed in the turnbuckle. Victor retracted his hand, shaking away the sting, but felt another, and his right leg buckled. Then he felt two boots colliding with the back of his head and he pitched face forward into the turnbuckle. He rose to one knee again, and turned around. Wendy charged him from across the ring jumping and connecting a shining wizard, and Victor plunged face first to the mat. Wendy leapt to the corner, and leapt in a moonsault, both feet landing solidly on Victor's upper back, and she received a grunt of pain for her efforts.
Wendy smiled. That felt GOOD.
Wendy leapt again, landing feet first on Victor's back again. And again. The third one, she landed on his head. The fourth, his left knee, the fifth his right. Each time, Victor groaned as all one hundred thirty pounds of her came down on one specific area.
"I'm sick and tired of everyone thinking I'm weak!" Wendy snarled, as she landed feet first on Victor's lower back. She then began aiming kicks to Victor's ribs, midsection, head, whatever she pleased. "I'm sick and tired of being taken advantage of. I'm sick and tired being chained to walls. I'm sick and tired of Hydra thinking they got away with humiliating me. And I am sick and tired of having to constantly fear for the safety of my family and friends. And most of all..."
Wendy, having launched countless kicks to every part of Mandrake she could reach, dragged him up, using all the stregnth she could muster. She looked a dazed Mandrake dead in the eye. "I am sick and tired for being blamed for Rick Logan's death. It... was... a... SUICIDE!"
The final word came out more of a feral shriek, and Wendy grabbed Victor's head, leaping, and bouncing off the ropes in perfect rotation for the Vortexinator. Too late, she realized she was heading for the steel chair, but she found herself oddly unbothered. Victor's head smashed into the chair, and he flopped lifelessly to the mat. Wendy turned him over, and looked at Morrigan with flames in her emerald eyes.
"You better count. I haven't forgotten what you've done to me either."
Morrigan obliged, strangely displaying a smirk despite her husband lying unconscious.
Her hand fell once.
Twice.
Thrice.
Wendy rolled off, and staggered to the nearest corner. She felt drained, but euphoric at the same time. Until this day, she had never dreamed she could beat Victor Mandrake... but she had. She turned around, and saw Morrigan leaning over her husband. "How is he?" She croaked flatly, not entirely sure if she cared or not. As if on cue, Victor rolled over and groaned in pain.
"The more...important question...my dear..." he managed to slur out, "is how are you?"
"I feel like beating the heck out of my tag partner may not have been the best idea," Wendy replied.
Victor managed to get to all fours, clutching his head. "Don't worry about me," he said chuckling. "You should be elated, your performance was beyond admirable."
He rolled out of the ring and stood hunched over on his feet. He walked to Wendy and extended his hand.
"Very well done, partner."
Wendy stared at the hand, and closed her eyes. Part of her felt that by taking Mandrake's hand, she was betraying herself, Megan, Terrence, everyone he had hurt to get to her.
But it wasn't a betrayal of her friends and values. It wasn't forgiveness. It wasn't a commendation of what he had done. It was her agreeing to work with this man...
For the greater good.
She took his hand, and smiled.
"Partners."
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