Wednesday October 27, 2010
Indiana State Prison- Visitor’s Entrance
Michigan City, Indiana
11:31 AM Local Time
“Remove your shoes, and put your feet so they are touching the yellow line... please.”
The ‘please’ was obviously added as an afterthought, and Wendy Briese grimaced in annoyance at the sharp tone that the uniformed guard had greeted her with. Nonetheless, she obeyed, kicking her shoes to the side, and standing on the yellow line. Prison guard or not, this man had a lot to learn in the ways of manners.
“Arms straight out... please.,”
Again, Wendy promptly obeyed, although she fought the urge to roll her eyes as she did so. Instead, as the guard scanned her arms, legs, and abdomen with his metal-detecting wand, she looked to the side, and saw another guard inspecting her shoes, while a third guard, automatic assault rifle in hand, stared at her dispassionately.
“Eyes forward! Please.”
Wendy flinched slightly as the guard inspecting her barked the order, and she promptly obeyed, although she was severely tempted to respond ‘yes, sir!’ in the most sarcastic voice she could think of. Finally, the guard stepped away, grabbed her shoes from the second guard, and thrust them at Wendy. “Proceed.”
“You forgot to say ‘please’” Wendy muttered under her breath, although apparently loud enough to earn her a positively nasty glare from the guard. Quickly slipping her shoes on, Wendy walked away from the security checkpoint as briskly as she possibly could. She understood the need for tight security, but she was here as a guest, not an inmate, and she most certainly did not need to be barked at like a private in front of a drill sergeant.
It wasn’t far at all to the Visitor’s Registration Desk, and Wendy quickly gave her name and information to a young female clerk who was in a much better disposition than the security guards were. After verifying her information, Wendy was ushered into another room, told to wait, and left alone.
As she waited, Wendy nervously glanced around, trying to get a bearing of her surroundings. The room wasn’t very large, and seemed even smaller given that it was divided in two by a long table, running wall to wall down the middle of it. A massive pane of (likely bulletproof) glass ran down the middle of the table, separating her side from other. The table had been sectioned off into six segments by dividers, each divider having a phone on the wall of it, and a chair. Three of those chairs were filled by other visitors, talking on the phones to dark blue jumpsuit clad offenders sitting on the other side of the glass. Wendy watched one of the visitors, a woman probably younger than her, a small child sitting on her lap, crying into the phone, while the inmate on the other side tried desperately to console her.
Then a door at the opposite end of the room opened, and for the first time in over seven years, Wendy came face to face with the man she hated more than anyone else in the world.
Unlike his daughter, Augustus Briese was a tall man, easily clearing six feet, although he was slender. Wendy was surprised at how older her father looked- he had always looked young for his age, but at fifty-six, it seemed the years (the last eight of which were spent incarcerated), had finally caught up to him. Nevertheless, the short shock of hair on the top of his head was still mostly red, with just a smattering of gray infiltrating the sides, and when he walked towards an open chair, Wendy could still see her father had the poise and balance that he had carried well during his days performing on broadway.
Wendy slowly walked towards the station Gus had selected, her fists clenched at her sides. Gus waited impassively as Wendy quickly sat down, her emerald eyes boring holes into him. Finally, she slowly reached up, grabbed the receiver off the wall, and held the phone to her ear.
“Wendy. It’s been a long time.” Gus said quietly, his Irish accent made even thicker by emotion.
“Not long enough,” Wendy replied coldly.
Gus nodded in concession, almost as if had been expecting the reply. Still, he kept on. “I’m glad to see that you are well. You’re every bit as beautiful as Gayle was at your age.”
Wendy’s emerald eyes flashed, then narrowed dangerously. “You dare speak her name?”
Again, Gus nodded, conceding the verbal blow, although the gesture was much more stiff this time. Trying desperately to get something from his daughter, he tried again. “How is your daughter? I heard Theresa’s-”
The look of purest rage on Wendy’s face at the mention of her daughter’s name was enough to quiet Gus. For a couple seconds, neither father nor daughters spoke.
Finally, Wendy sighed. “I got your letter that you wanted to talk to me, and I’m here. Speak your piece. Terrence and I have a long drive back home.”
She didn’t miss the slight clenching of her father’s jaw when Terrence’s name was mentioned, and Wendy surpressed a sudden urge to smirk.
“I suppose you know I’m being released in two weeks,” Gus finally said.
Wendy scoffed. “Released? Hardly. You’re up for parole in two weeks, which any panel with half a brain would deny you.
Gus responded with a slight smile. “I’m trying to remain an optimist,” he said.
“So am I.” Wendy shot back.
Again, that clenching of the jaw. Augustus Briese was nothing if not an actor, however, and again, he managed to pretend that Wendy’s barbed comments weren’t affecting him.
“So I can assume that you and Terrence will be at the hearing?” Gus asked mildly.
“You can,” Wendy replied. “And I hope that before its over, the panel will allow me to express my opinion on ever allowing a monster like you back on the streets. And I’m sure Nana would like to say her piece too.”
Even Gus couldn’t hide his surprise at Wendy’s mentioning of her grandmother. “Constance... she’s coming?”
“She’s already here,” Wendy responded, and this time she couldn’t help but smirk as her father paled. “She’s out in the RV with Terrence right now. We all felt that it would be best if she didn’t come in. The hearing will likely be stressful enough for the poor woman.”
“That... that’s a shame.” Gus replied. “I would have liked to have seen her. So I could apologize. To the both of you.”
“Apologize for what?” Wendy responded. “For pushing my mother in front of a semi-truck on I-465? For hopping into your mistress’ bed while she lay dying in a hospital? For sending my own half-brother to cripple me and drive me from wrestling? You’re sorry for all that?”
Gus swallowed hard, wilting just a fraction under Wendy’s piercing gaze. Finally, he nodded.
Wendy burst out into contemptuous laughter. “That’s so very touching, father. After eight years, you’ve finally shown some remorse. All the pain I’ve felt from that night has vanished with a simple head bob.”
“I can’t change the past, Wendy,” Gus replied. “But maybe I can salvage the future.”
“No,” Wendy replied harshly. “There is nothing to salvage, at least where you and I are concerned. You didn’t just burn the bridge between us, you doused it gasoline and threw a grenade.”
“But bridges can be rebuilt,” Gus insisted.
“No.” Wendy repeated. “I will make this very clear to you. You are not a part of my family, and you never will be again. The only thing you are to me is a monster who needs to be kept off the street. I hope you rot for all eternity in here, but if for some reason you ever get paroled, I will kill you if you come anywhere near my family.”
Gus recoiled as the venom from his daughter’s words chilled the blood in his veins. He opened his mouth to reply, but his throat had gone dry, and all he could emit was a slight croak.
That croak was interrupted by Wendy. “Is that why you wanted to talk to me? Because now that you’re up for parole, you decided you might want to start showing remorse?”
“I wanted to see if there was any chance I had at rekindling a relationship with my daughter.” Gus had regained his voice.
“Well, you can rest easy at night knowing there isn’t.” Wendy said, rising to her feet. “I believe I’m done wasting my time here. I will be back in two weeks, to make sure that you never see the world outside the walls again. Goodbye, father.”
“Wait!” Gus protested, but Wendy had already pulled the phone away from her ear, and he winced as she slammed the phone down, and turned to walk away. Gus watched his daughter exit the room, and bowed his head, closing his eyes.
He saw Wendy when she was four, dancing around their old Manhattan apartment, trying to get a routine right, just so she could please her father. He saw her at seven on the front steps of her boarding school, waving goodbye sadly as he and Gayle headed to their car, leaving her behind. He saw her at twelve, playing the role of Maria in the Sound of Music, earning a standing ovation. He saw her at seventeen, proudly bringing her new boyfriend home to meet her parents. He saw her at twenty, in her wrestling attire, waving to the fans, a title belt slung over her shoulder. He saw her a year later, at her mother’s funeral, tears running down her face as she stepped forward to place a rose on the casket. He saw her two months after that, horror etched into her face as she watched her father being led away in handcuffs, comprehension setting in as to why.
All those images washed away as he then saw the hate-filled visage of his daughter from merely minutes ago as she condemned him to expulsion from her life. That was an image that would haunt him til his dying day.
But the worst thing of all, as a single tear rolled down his cheek, and fell in his lap, is that Gus knew he deserved every last bit of it.
================================
Thursday October 28, 2010
The Nest- Computer Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
8:19 PM Local Time
[So how would you have liked to have been in the Birdz RV for THAT trip home?]
[Let’s just say that the entire Thompson family is glad to be back at the Nest, and leave it at that.]
[Between the disastrous match against Global Revolution the night before, and her emotional morning, Wendy was pretty damned drained by the time she got home Wednesday afternoon. After unloading the RV, and getting the post-Adrenaline trip laundry cycles going, Wendy pretty much nosedived into her bed, and didn’t get out until the sun rose Thursday morning.]
[Luckily, by that time, she was in a much better mood, and Wendy went through her morning workout session, not to mention the now-daily throttling at the hands of her Grandmother in Dominoes, without any issues. But now its promo time.]
[Surprisingly, Wendy’s not in the living room of the Nest as we fade in to the scene. Rather, she appears to be sitting in some sort of a den or study. In fact, given by the picture quality, it’s assumable that Wendy’s sitting at a computer, looking into a webcam. Even more surprising, Wendy’s not in her usual super-rigid prim and proper position. In fact, she looks fairly relaxed, although there does seem a hit of anxiety about her.]
“So I was watching one of my promos the other day. I normally don’t do that... but I accidentally misclicked a link while trying to do some research, and I ended up watching one of mine...”
[Wendy flushes slightly pink as she grimaces]
“Do I always look like that in my promos? I mean... I don’t mean to sound vulgar... but I thought I looked...”
[Wendy gulps]
“Constipated.”
[Wendy grins nervously, and laughs quietly to herself]
“No wonder everyone thinks I’m so stuck up...”
[Lopsided smile]
“Anyways, Terry suggested that maybe instead of sitting in front of the camera and acting like I’m on 60 Minutes, I should try going for a more intimate setting, where I can relax.”
[Wendy’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just said.]
“Oh God, I don’t mean intimate like... I’m not going to... um...”
[Yeah, this is working REAL well... Luckily, before Wendy embarasses herslef anymore, she takes a deep breath.]
“Anyways, I’m not exactly having the best week. I had to deal with some really unpleasant business yesterday, and it really took a lot out of me emotionally. And then, of course, there was our title defense against Global Revolution being wrecked...
[Wendy shakes her head in disgust]
“I suppose I owe Wright and Lopez an apology. They worked hard to beat Pride and Honor and earn an opportunity to face us, and for Ojeda to just walk in and wreck it... I suppose we should have expected it, given that Ojeda’s spent the last month trying to get under my husband’s skin- but we figured that if Ojeda was going to get involved in one of our matches, it would have been when we faced the Belmonts. We made the mistake of assuming he woudln’t get involved again, and unfortunately, everybody ended up paying for it.”
[Wendy grimaces in frustration. While she loves retaining her titles, she certainly hates retaining it because a match got wrecked by a third party.]
“Fortunately, Global Revolution has a chance to earn a rematch with us, when they face the Belmonts at Never Say Die this week. And of course, my husband will show the world that ruining matches is pretty much the only thing that John Ojeda’s good at. As for me...”
[Small smile]
“I face Ashley Graves. It’s an interesting turn of events, considering at the start of this ‘supercard cycle’, I teamed with her in a match against the Belmonts. Unfortunately, the Belmonts got the better of us, and they managed to get the win.”
[Wendy shrugs]
“Since that night, I’ve seen Ashley become more and more frustrated with her progress in PWX. It’s understandable, she’s put on a strong effort every night, but she’s come up just short against some very strong competition. It all culminated a couple weeks ago, when Ashely came out, and in a rage-filled speech to the fans, she proclaimed ‘no more nice Ashley’.
[Wendy’s face shows slight confusion as she shrugs.]
“I don’t get it.”
[Wendy shakes her head, a bit of confusion and sadness in her eyes]
“Why do people consider ‘being nice’ a weakness? I’m tagged with this label all the time, like its an insult, and it makes no sense to me. I understand that my job is to climb into a wrestling ring and fight, of course, but that’s fifteen to twenty minutes per week where I’m actively trying to hurt another human being, and somewhere between thirty-five and fifty hours per week training to do it. Am I supposed to spend the other one hundred twenty hours of my life in a perpetual state of anger?”
[Wendy laughs helplessly]
“Honestly, I don’t understand how some of my colleagues live their lives with the attitudes they have.”
[Wendy shakes her head in exasperation.]
“And last week, tragically, Ashley threw her lot in with two of the most perpetually angry wrestlers in the industry.”
[Another sigh from Wendy]
“I don’t think there’s another word out there that better describes The Belmonts. Talent wise, Jeremiah and Valerie are two of the greatest wrestlers to have ever set foot in the ring. But their attitude, pardon my language, sucks.”
[Uh oh, break out the bleep button!]
“If Ashley thinks she and Josh are going to improve by allying themselves with such rampant pessimists, they’re going to be in for a rude awakening.”
[Another shake of the head.]
“Professional wrestling’s not about who’s the angriest. It’s not about who’s the most violent, or amoral, or even the strongest. It’s about who’s the best prepared, both physically and mentally. Too many people walk into that ring so blind with rage that they never see their demise coming.”
[Another small chuckle, and Wendy cracks a small smile.]
“I’m not saying its wrong to get angry, of course. Anger’s a natural emotion, and professional wrestling is a very emotional sport. Lord knows I’ve been angry plenty of times in that ring. The difference, though, is controlling your anger, or letting your anger control you. Maybe she’s found a way to reign it in since then, but two weeks ago, when she was in that ring, it certainly wasn’t Ashley who was in control.”
[Pause]
“I can understand Ashley’s frustrations, Lord knows I’ve had them too here. But at least she’s gotten opportunities as a singles wrestler, even if she hasn’t quite been able to caplitalize. I would have loved to have been in the Future Legends Cup, especially now that the finals will also determine the new Hybrid Champion.”
[For just a brief second, a small expression of irritation crosses Wendy’s face, but she brushes it away with another sigh]
“But I’m looking forward to facing Ashley, because even with several other girls in PWX, it’s a rare deal to actually get a singles match with one of them. Talent wise, I think we’re even. Ashley’s two inches shorter than me, but we weigh exactly the same. It’s just nice to face someone I can actually suplex for a change.”
[Wendy breaks out into a grin for just a second]
“But mentally, I think I have the upper hand. Ashley’s frustrated, and confused right now. Nothing seems to be working for her, and she’s dealing about it the entirely wrong way. Instead of worrying about whether she goes by ‘Blade’ or ‘Graves’ in the ring, or what Ricky says about her, or trying to latch on with the Belmonts and form yet another stable around here, she needs to just focus on being herself, come out, and wrestle her match. If she does that, she’s going to have a chance here. But if she continues to play mental games with herself... “
[A small, sad smile from Wendy]
“It’ll be herself she’s hurting.”
[Fade]
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