Monday June 28, 2010
ARC Center
Valparaiso, Indiana
11:10 PM
"Wendy, for the love of God, will you slow down?"
Terrence Thompson speed-walked down the hallway, pursuing the redheaded woman as she stormed ahead of him. Adrenaline 37 had just gone off the air, but for the Thompson family, the night was not quite over. In truth, Terrence mused, it hadn't been their best night. They had won their match, sure, but by countout, and the aftermath had ended with that dumb bitch Lilith Morgan grabbing his wife by the hair, and then the King Among Men, the very tag team they were scheduled to face in just seven days, laying waste to his wife.
Obviously, the evening had put Terrence in a less than pleasant mood. But that was NOTHING compared to his wife. Terrence had helped her to the medical area to be looked at after taking Pariah's Broken Dreams, but the moment her grogginess had worn off, Wendy had hopped to her feet and stormed out of the room. Terrence had ran her down, and after arguing with her failed, had bodily lifted his wife in a fireman's carry and carried her back to the medical ward. Of course, his wife had struggled the whole way, but finally she had agreed to finish her post-match examination. But after being cleared, Wendy had stormed off again.
And that had brought them to this hallway. Terrence recognized it as the same hallway he and Wendy had confronted Jacob Wright in earlier, although the Golden Prince was obviously nowhere to be seen this time. It was just as well, the angry young woman storming ahead of him was probably going to be enough trouble.
Breaking into a run, Terrence finally caught up to his wife, although the hallway was too narrow to get by and impede her path. Thinking quickly, and hoping he wouldn't find himself lying on the concrete as a result, he reached out, and grabbed his wife's shoulder. "Will you hold the fuck on?"
Wendy threw his arm off, but she did wheel around, glaring at him. Terrence noted the red-glint in his wife's emerald eyes, and knew he had to choose his words carefully.
"I'm sorry," he finally said, for lack of anything better to say.
This remark clearly surprised Wendy, and she arched an eyebrow. "For what?"
Terrence found himself struggling for a response. "What happened," he finally said lamely.
"That wasn't your fault, Terrence. I know you were trying to get in and help me, but Norcia was blocking your path. There's nothing you could have done."
"So, you're not mad at me?" Terrence asked.
Wendy shook her head. "Why would I be mad at you? You weren't the one who grabbed my hair from behind, nor were you the one who rammed a knee into my face."
"Oh." Terrence said, shrugging.
But his wife was giving him an appraising look. "Is every apology you make strictly because its what you think I want to hear?"
Terrence was caught off guard by the question, but his wife interpreted his silence well enough. Rolling her eyes, Wendy spun on her heel, and resumed her forced march down the hallway. Behind her, Terrence swore under his breath. If she wasn't mad at him before, she was at least irritated with him now.
"Where are you going?" Terrence demanded, jogging to catch up.
"To find Zion," Wendy said hotly.
"Wait... Darin Zion?" Terrence was confused. "What do you want Zion for?"
"To inform him in no uncertain terms that he was better off staying barricaded in his locker room tonight," Wendy called back angrily.
"Wait... what?"
Wendy finally stopped, and turned around, right in front of the money-stealing vending machine. Terrence noticed that she was blinking back angry tears. "What's going on, hon?" he finally asked softly.
"I had him, Terrence," Wendy said, her voice full of emotion. "I had Brian Hollywood right where I wanted him, and Zion had to come out and wreck the match! That selfish, arrogant little jerk! Does he think he's the only one who wants to teach Brian a lesson?"
"We still won," Terrence tried consoling her, even though he himself had found the victory to be rather hollow. "You got a win over both Hollywood and Stern-"
"By countout!" Wendy snapped. "What does that even prove?"
Terrence grimaced, because he knew that in his wife's mind, the answer was 'nothing', and nothing he could ever say would persuade her otherwise. Still, he and Wendy had enough enemies in Pro Wrestling-X as it was. They didn't need to be picking extra fights. "Look, hon, I don't think Darin was trying to steal your thunder. He was just trying to get inside Brian's head-"
"Why?" Wendy demanded. "Because he's not good enough to beat Hollywood on his own? He's trying to REFORM the man, Terry, but all does is just end up acting exactly like him! A thoughtless, self-centered..."
"So, what? Storming into his locker room and screaming at him is going to solve that?" Terrence said mildly. "That's going to make YOU the better person?"
Some of the fight in his wife seemed to leave her, and Terrence knew that his question had found its mark. But Wendy still needed an outlet for her frustration, and she turned, and rammed her fist into the side of the vending machine. A loud "clang" echoed through the hallway from the impact, then Terrence heard the slight rustling as several bags of candy fell from their perch.
"You have GOT to show me how to do that," Terrence said in awe.
Wendy rolled her eyes, then leaned against the wall. "But you're right. Punching Darin in the face wouldn't have solved anything."
Terrence nodded absently, but then shot an incredulous glare at his wife. "You were going to PUNCH him?"
"I was thinking about it," Wendy confessed.
Terrence chuckled, then bent down and pulled a bag of Skittles and a Crunch bar from the vending machine. He tossed the Crunch bar to his wife, who caught it, looking scandalized.
"We didn't pay for those!" Wendy protested, staring disapprovingly at her husband.
"Really?" Terrence shot back. "Because if you ask me, you've paid for enough tonight,"
Wendy held her disapproving glare for a few more seconds, then finally sighed and opened up the Crunch Bar. Grinning at his victory, Terrence leaned against the wall next to her, and opened the pack of Skittles, popping a few into his mouth. "You know," he said between chews, "you have every right in the world to be angry. I'm pissed too with all the bullshit that went down tonight. But you've gotta focus that anger. Hitting Darin, or even screaming at him, would have solved nothing."
Wendy slowly nodded her agreement. "It was just so frustrating. I mean, I've been wanting to get back at Brian for almost a month and..."
"Well, Darin Zion's an idiot. But I think he meant well," Terrence chuckled. "You know, not everyone is as riveted to their convictions as you are."
"They should be," Wendy snorted. "But I suppose the less enemies we have around here, the better."
Terrence shrugged. "The important thing is, we need to focus on who our enemies REALLY are."
"The Kings Among Men," Wendy replied, chewing on the words as if they were dried pieces of day-old meat. In truth, she knew that had Pariah not hit his Broken Dreams on her, she would probably have been much more docile for the remainder of the evening. And Terrence was right- as frustrating as her match with Hollywood had ended, that wasn't the number one objective right now. "They're going to pay for tonight when we take those belts from around their waist."
"Attagirl," Terrence said smiling, squeezing his wife's shoulder and crumpling up the now-empty Skittles bag. "Now, lets get back to our locker room, and get out of here. We've got a trip to Kansas City to plan."
Tuesday June 29, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
6:10 PM Local Time
[Yup, it's the day after Adrenaline, and we're already back home. The Birdz, of course, spent the night in Valpo, then hit the road at about ten this morning, arriving in Indianapolis early this afternoon. So, after unloading the RV, and settling back in, Terrence and Wendy have a few days to rest, regroup, and retrain, before its off to Kansas City, the legendary Kemper Arena, and Do or Die III!]
[As usual when the Birdz are at their home, we open in the Nest's Living room. Terrence, Dan, and Theresa have gone out to purchase fireworks for the upcoming Independence Day weekend, leaving Wendy home alone. So what's a girl to do all by herself? Cut a promo on her upcoming opponents, of course! So Wendy sits on the couch, sitting upright in her usual position. She's dressed in a pale blue sundress, which contrasts brilliantly with her red hair, which is tied back into its customary ponytail. Her emerald eyes are hard, and the expression on her face could be considered stony at best. Needless to say, after the weekend's events, Wendy Briese is definitely not a happy little camper.]
Wendy- "Well, aren't you boys proud of yourselves?"
[Yup, she's pissed]
Wendy- "John Pariah, you seem to like to throw the word 'epic' around. So was that 'epic' for you? Getting your ex-girlfriend to attack me from behind and then knock me unconscious with a Broken Dreams? When the 'Best of John Pariah' DVD is released, will that moment be on it, right after your equally 'epic' title defense against Cash Money and Mikal Grayson Willis?
[Wendy snorts]
Wendy- "John, do you even know what the word 'epic' means? According to the Merriam-Webster's dictionary, it means 'extending beyond the ordinary especially in size or scope'. Let me make this perfectly clear. I see NOTHING about either you or Michael Norcia that would make that adjective applicable. Your title defense at Adrenaline 36 wasn't beyond the ordinary, it was pathetic. I didn't see the best tag team in our company defending their titles with honor and fervor. Instead I saw you use a PROXY to defend your titles. I saw one-half of our so-called champions stumbling to ringside so drunk he could barely stand upright. And then, after the match was over, I saw two men, who were too lazy to even lift a finger to defend their own titles, carrying on after the bell, torturing two obviously helpless, inferior opponents, for no other reason than it looked like fun."
[Wendy shakes her head in disdain]
Wendy- "If you were using that match to send a message to Terrence and I, then you succeeded. But I'll wager that the message I received wasn't the one you intended to send. I'm not struck speechless in awe of your tremendous physical ability. I'm merely disgusted that you two are currently the face of tag team wrestling in the PWX."
[Wendy sighs, her gaze softening just a little.]
Wendy- "Now, I won't deny your talents. And from all accounts, your recent matches in Japan were tremendous, and I congratulate you both for surviving those defenses. But I find it a shame that neither of you can approach matches inside your own fed, on your own television show, with the same amount of effort and dedication. I know that Grayson and Cash Money were hardly a logical choice to face you for the tag team titles. But it doesn't matter. A true champion defends their spot with everything they have, regardless of how talented their opponent is. Did you see Terrence and I use a proxy against Punch and Pie? Did you see us torturing them in a post-match beatdown? No, because we don't need to do that."
[And in that case, a post-match beatdown may have had some merit, considering El Torte tortured EVERYBODY with his shitty little ballerina dance.]
Wendy- "We knew we were facing vastly inferior opponents, and we went out, and we made a quick surgical strike to get the victory, and our shot at the tag team champions. Is Punch & Pie the type of victory to build your career on? Of course not. But it's who we were given in the number one contender's match, and Terrence and I played the cards we were dealt. But it all works out in the end, because we got what we wanted. A shot against you."
[Here, Wendy actually cracks a small smile.]
Wendy- "Now, Michael and John, you have proven yourself capable in gimmick matches. John, you won those belts as a member of Chicago's Finest in an extreme rules match. You both defended them in Razor Wire Warfare, and Michael, you seem to be off to a good start in the King of the Death Match. But now it's time to see if you can actually WRESTLE. There won't be razor-wire, or barbed wire, or chairs, or tables, or anything else. All that will be in the ring will be the four of us, and a referee. No frills, no gimmicks, and you win by pinfall or submission only. Given the PWX mentality, it seems a truly remarkable concept, does it not?"
[Wendy emits a half-laugh at her attempt at a joke, although it really sounds more of a scoff.]
Wendy- "Honestly, I don't think either of you quite grasp what you are in for at Do Or Die. Terrence and I haven't had much opportunity to tag together since we returned to wrestling, and right now, I think that's actually to our advantage. Everyone knows that Terrence is as hard-hitting and technically sound as anyone in this sport. And while I may have a significant size disadvantage, my speed, my knowledge, and my ability more than make up for my relative lack of power. Those are well known facts. But as good as Terrence and I are individually, as a team we are far greater than the sum of our parts. Terrence and I share a bond that no normal tag team partners could possibly understand. We haven't just tied our careers to each other, we've tied our lives."
[For the first time since she started talking, Wendy actually looks happy.]
Wendy- "I find it fitting that Do Or Die takes place the day after Independence Day. Two hundred thirty-four years ago, men from this country decided that they would no longer bow to a king that failed to hold their interests at heart. And at Do Or Die, the PWX will no longer bow to two kings that have dragged the honor of the tag division through the mud with their disgraceful antics. We are six days away from a revolution of our own. One that will restore the tag division to the glory it once held, when wrestling ability decided matches, not the ability to swing a chair and shove another man into pieces of sharp metal. Thankfully, this revolution will last less than an hour, but when it ends, and John Pariah and Michael Norcia have been pushed from their thrones into the dust, the wrestling world as we know it will have changed."
[Pause]
Wendy- "For the better."
[And fade to black.]
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