EPISODE 63: Discard

Tuesday November 23, 2010
Cox Pavillion- WhirlyBirdz Locker Room
Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
11:18 PM Local Time

“Ruined,” I lamented quietly to myself as I stared at the sapphire-blue tunic I had worn to the ring. Dark splotches now dotted the front of the garment- Terrence’s blood must have smeared on me as I had tried to restrain him. I sighed in irritation- I had gotten one whole match out of the apparel, and now it was wrecked.

I tossed the tunic into the trash can in the corner of our locker room, and went about inspecting the other articles of my ring gear for damage. The black fingerless gloves I wore found their way into the trash can as well- more bloodstains, although to my relief, my tights, kneepads, and boots all seemed okay. I stuffed the remaining clothes into my bag and zipped it up.

To be fair, having to dispose of my bloody shirt was hardly the only thing that had me in a bad mood this evening. I had been elated after hitting Jacob Wright with my Vortexinator, and getting the pin. It was our sixth successful title defense- tying a team record for a single reign. Even more important, I had come out of the match feeling confident- something I had needed to do after taking a couple of tough losses to Tweeder and Ashley Graves.

But all that positivity had vanished the moment I had looked up the ramp, and saw Antonio Lopez and my husband continuing to brawl like a couple of common street thugs. It wasn’t really the fighting that bothered me- after all, punching someone in their face is one of the underlying requirements of our job description. What really bothered me was the loss of control I had seen in my husband.

The last time I had seen that much rage eminating from my husband, it had been right after he had discovered that Victor Mandrake had been stalking me over the months leading up to our return. And while he had calmed down a lot quicker than he had that horrible night (thank God...), the expression on his face as he had screamed at Lopez had been familliar enough to send shivers down my spine.

I had just finished tying my hair back into its ponytail as the door opened, and in walked the very man I had just been thinking about. Terrence was no longer sporting a crimson mask, but anyone could tell with a glance that the man had been in a fight. The modified racing firesuit he was still wearing was splattered with enough blood to make my own shirt seem clean by comparison, and he was sporting a swollen lip, and a black eye.

“Catch,” he suddenly said to me, and I somehow managed to be able to hang onto the title belt he had lobbed at me. “Stagehand gave them to me as I was leaving the medical area. Guess we kinda left em out there during all the... excitement.”

“Thanks,” I managed to say as I watched Terrence set his own copy of the tag titles down on the small table in our room. “How did you check out?”

“Cleared to compete immediately,” Terrence responded, as if it was ludicrous to think the answer was going to be anything different. “Good thing, too,” he finished with a grin. “Pollaski’s getting our assignments for next week right now.”

I smiled back at him, but said nothing. Terrence immediately set about changing out of his ring gear, and it wasn’t long before his blood-spattered racing suit found its way into the garbage can along with my shirt and gloves. I grimaced slightly- the clothier we patronized for our ring attire was going to have a field day with our wallets this week!

Terrence immediately grabbed a pair of jeans, and began getting dressed, while I looked down at the title belt I held in my hands. I couldn’t help but smile- every time I handed this belt to the referee, I knew there was always a chance that I wasn’t going to be the one the ref gave it back to. For just a few seconds, I stared quietly at the belt, lost in my thoughts, my finger idly tracing the designs on the faceplate.

“What the hell happened out there?” I was surprised myself by the words that had suddenly blurted out of my mouth, and even more so by the accusatory tone they carried. Nonetheless, I sat down in a nearby chair, folding the title belt neatly on my lap, awaiting my husband’s reply.

Terrence grimaced, as if he had been expecting- but hardly looking forward to- the question. For just a second, he stood, considering the question, his T-shirt still in his hand. Then he threw his T-shirt on over his head, shrugged, and set to packing up his things.

“Antonio Lopez is a clueless, talentless, idiot, who tried fighting dirty, and got his ass whipped as a result. That’s what happened.” he finally said, not even bothering to turn and look at me.

There was a definite element of finality in his tone, but it was hardly a satisfying response. I sat quietly for several seconds, watching my husbamd as he stuffed his boots and pads into his own bag. Maybe I was overreacting to the whole thing- after all, Terrence was hardly the first wrestler to keep fighting after the ending bell. But still, I was bothered. Everyone, including myself, had thought that the knee to Terrence’s groin had been nothing more than an unfortunate accident, as had been Terrence’s thumb to Antonio’s eye. Terrence, evidently, didn’t feel the same way.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

The moment the words left my mouth, I realized I had made a mistake. Nothing could have sounded more patronizing and condescending as that. Terrence had turned toward me, and I was fully expecting a snide or sarcastic comment to come flying my way. But Terrence paused, and finally smiled, although it was far from genuine.

“Nothing to talk about,” he said slowly, that fake smile still spreading his lips. “Yeah, Lopez tried to take liberties on me, but you know what? We beat him and Wright, fair and square, middle of the ring. We’re better than them, and I’m sure as hell better than Lopez, and now everyone knows it. So fuck him.”

I wasn’t entirely sure how to respond to that, but the expression on my face probably spoke more words than my vocabulary could have possibly come up with at the moment. Terrence, walked over, bent down, and kissed me on the forehead. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Wendy, but you’re reading WAY too much into this. It was a fight. Not the first one I’ve gotten into around here, and probably not the last. Call it a hazard of the business,” he finished with a wink, and another kiss to my forehead.

I smiled in spite of how i was feeling. “So this wasn’t all some contrived plot to make me see the value of letting my anger out during matches?”

At that, Terrence threw back his head and laughed, and even I couldn’t help but grin. “No. But, whatever the hell you did out there tonight, keep doing it,” he said. “You were amazing out there.”

“Thanks,” I said, wrapping my arms around his neck as he bent down, and hoisted me up out of my seat. “It felt good to be winning again.”

Terrence nodded, then leaned in close to me, his expression, suddenly serious. “Ah, but you pinned Jacob Wright out there tonight. A former PWX Grand Prix Champion, and someone I’ve never been able to beat. I suddenly find myself extremely jealous. I can’t be letting that stand.”

I smiled back, slightly puzzled. “Oh, really? That sounds like a challenge.”

Terrence merely smiled at me, and again, we leaned into each other, our lips beginning to meet anew-

*WHAM!*

Both of us broke apart as the door flew open violently, and, alarmed, we wheeled to face the potential intruders.

Terrence caught the invaders identity first, and broke into a snarl. “Is there anybody on this team that knows how to KNOCK?”

Still, considering one of the intruders was our four year old daughter, he could do aught but smile, kneel down, and scoop her into his arms as she bounded into the room. Of course, the other two ‘invaders’ were none other than my friend Cassie, charged with watching Theresa during the show, and our manager, Daniel Pollaski. Cassie at least had the decency to look embarrassed. Pollaski, on the other hand, was incapable of such a gesture.

“So how’s my little Rock ‘Em Sock ‘Em Robots doing?” he asked, smiling at Terrence and I.

I winced at the overt reference to the post-match brawl, but smiled nonetheless. “A bit tired,” I replied, mostly for the both of us, because Terrence was more focused on bouncing a squealing Theresa in his arms.

“Yeah, well, I hope you guys aren’t tired of this tag team thing,” Pollaski remarked, pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket, and glancing at it. “You guys got another one next week, against Jeremiah and Josh Graves. Nontitle,” he added quickly.

I shrugged, it made no difference to me one way or another; just so long as I got to compete. I took a quick glance at my husband and realized he was smirking at the idea of facing Josh and Jeremiah. “Don’t get cocky, Terrence,” I warned.

“Ah, but I like being cocky,” my husband responded, grinning at me. “When you act cocky, people think you’re not taking them seriously enough. And then they think you’re going to make the fatal mistake of overlooking them, and then THEY get overconfident. And before you know it, they’re left lying on the mat, wondering to themselves..” he paused, and looked right at Theresa. “Who dat think they better than the WhirlyBirdz?”

“WHO DAT!

I winced as my daughters triumphant shriek echoed throughout the room, leaving behind a ringing in my ears. Given by the cringing expressions on Pollaski’s and Cassie’s faces, I wasn’t the only one. “Thanks, Terry,” I said sourly, shooting a nasty glare at him.

But Terrence only grinned in response. “Beh, we better get going. Grab my bag, Daniel.” Pollaski grumbled a bit over suddenly being made our bellhop, but considering that Terrence was still carrying Theresa in his arms, he wasn’t in much of a position to refuse.

With Terrence triumphantly carrying Theresa and leading the way, the rest of us filed out of the locker room door, shutting it and turning the lights out as we left.


==========================================
Friday November 26, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
7:15 PM Local Time

[The scene opens today in the most familiar of familiar places for regular viewers of the Birdz- the living room of The Nest. As could well be expected, Wendy Briese is sitting on the sofa, bedecked in a pretty nice looking emerald green sweater. She’s smiling softly as the camera fades in. She pauses just a second, to look at her side, and her smile falters just a bit, before she turns her attention back to the camera]

Wendy: “Once again, Terrence and I have managed to successfully defend our titles against Global Revolution. This time, the match was allowed to proceed to its rightful conclusion, and Terrence and I were the ones who walked out the victors, and still the champions.”

[Wendy breaks into a sudden grin. Its obvious that her victory this past week has instilled a sense of giddiness in her, and she is definitely in somewhat of a bubbly mood.]

Wendy: “Before our match with Global Revolution, we had made a promise to another team. We told the Belmonts that should we defeat Wright and Lopez, and retain our titles, that they would receive the next shot at our titles- in a match of their choosing.”

[Another small smile]

Wendy: “So, Jeremiah, Valerie, get to thinking, and decide which type of match you want to challenge us in. I know things are going to be crazy over the next few weeks, with End Game coming up, and the Holidays after that, but hopefully we’ll get a chance to have Birdz and Belmonts, round 2, before too long.”

[Despite Wendy’s bouncy attitude this evening, there are definitely conflicting emotions in her as she talks about the Belmonts. Obviously, there is little love lost between the two teams. But at the same time, Wendy knows that there’s not a team in the PWX that’s going to give the Birdz a better match than Jeremiah and Valerie.]

Wendy: “Then again, Jer won’t even have to wait that long to get his hands on us again. This week, he teams with Josh Graves to face Terrence and I in a nontitle affair. It’s almost an interesting bit of role reversal this time around. A couple of months ago, I had to face the Belmonts with a partner that I was not too accustomed to partnering with, and it ultimately cost me dearly. This time, Jeremiah joins with a man he’s only tagged with on one previous occasion- and now he tries to accomplish with Josh Graves what he and Valerie have yet to be able to do- defeat Terrence and I together.”

[Its safe to say that Wendy looks just a teensy smug as she recounts this fact. She’s trying not to, but even Wendy has a bit of an ego from time to time.]

Wendy: “But I’ve been doing some thinking. The last time we faced the Belmonts, Jeremiah had mentioned that Terrence and I rarely ever gave our interviews together. It got me to thinking... why did we normally talk about our matches separately, instead of together?”

[Wendy pauses for just a second.]

Wendy: “Well... as someone once said- there’s no time like the present. Right, Terry?”

[No response.]

Wendy: “Terry?”

[Again, nothing happens, and Wendy shoots another glance to the side, her face immediately transforming into a scowl. The camera zooms back just a bit, and tilts slightly to the left, and now we can see Terrence Thompson, sitting on the other end of the couch.]

[Pounding away at the 360 controller in his hands. Needless to say, the thought of her husband playing video games in the middle of their promo isn’t sitting well with her at all.]

Wendy:”TERRY!”

[Finally, Wendy manages to get her husbands attention, and Terrence turns to look at her.]

Terrence: “What?”

Wendy: “Could you put that away, please? We’re in the middle of our interview.”

[Terrence stares at Wendy as if she had muttered something criminally insane. As Wendy waits expectantly, he turns to the television, frowning, and then back to the Wendy.]

Terrence: “But I’m on the last level of Black Ops! Can I just finish?’

Wendy: “No.”

[Terrence again glances back at the television. Apparently, his common sense decides that there’s no way he’s going to win this one. Reluctantly, he sets his controller aside, and glances over at Wendy, shrugging as if to say ‘you win’. Wendy shoots Terrence her sweetest false smile, then turns back to the camera, as Terrence scooches over, so that he’s sitting next to her.]

Terrence: “So we’re taking advice from Jeremiah Belmont, now? Should we go off on long tangents about how we’re demonic, and beyond human, and the epitome of violence itself, then whine like a little girl when things don’t go our way?”

[Wendy shoots her husband somewhat of a dark look]

Wendy: “That’s not quite what I had in mind...”

[Terrence reaches out, and puts his arm around Wendy, grinning at her, but saying nothing further. Wendy, looking like she might be regretting going down this path, turns back to the camera.]

Wendy: “Anyways, Jeremiah the problem is, you just don’t seem to get it. You put so much value on the appearance of things- whether or not Terrence and I cut our promos together, or what name I decide to go by in the ring, and you leap to these assumptions that Terrence and I are not a cohesive unit.”

[Next to her, Terrence shakes his head, snickering. Wendy ignores him, but even she looks somewhat amused herself]

Wendy: “Well, one month ago, at Adrenaline Fifty, you and Valerie discovered first hand what kind of team Terrence and I actually are.”

[Small shrug]

Wendy; “But we couldn’t have possibly been the better team that night, right? Once again, in typical Belmont fashion, you guys could do nothing after the fact but whine and complain about how you got the shaft. Let me make this very clear, Jeremiah- there are exactly two people in the world that believe you guys got screwed, and you and Valerie see them every time you look into a mirror.”

Terrence: “Actually, they don’t.”

[Wendy pauses, and looks over at her husband]

Wendy: “What?”

Terrence: “Vampires can’t see their reflection in a mirror. So they couldn’t-”

[Wendy smacks her forehead, and sighs.]

Wendy: “Terry, for just ONE WEEK, could we go without making any stupid vampire-”

Terrence: “Oh, come on, Wendy, I bought a book!”

[As Wendy watches her husband, Terrence reaches over, and grabs something off the end table. Its a small paperback book, and he grins as he holds it up for Wendy, and the camera to see.]

Wendy: “One thousand and one vampire jokes. With a foreword by Ann Rice. Please tell me you didn’t actually spend money on this.”

Terrence: “Twelve ninety-nine at Amazon dot com! Pretty good stuff too.”

[To Wendy’s ever-increasing consternation, Terrence opens up the book to a seemingly random page, and scans the typeface for just a second, before grinning.]

Terrence: “Oh, here’s one! What did the lesbian vampire say to the other-”

Wendy: “TERRENCE!”

[Wendy’s now flushed red with indignation, and she’s staring death-daggers at her husband. Terrence takes one look at his wife, then shrugs, and closes the book, tossing it aside.]

Terrence: “Yeah, you’re right. We should probably wait until we face Valerie to do that one.”

Wendy: [growling] “Terrence...”

[Again, Terrence breaks into a grin, and quickly squeezes his wife.]

Terrence: “You know, hon, I’m just keeping the Belmonts in perspective. Because its obvious by now that they’re not against using their supposed vampirism for their own advantage. Hell, just the other week, when Jeremiah faced Tweeder.”

[Terrence badly fakes an English accent in an attempt to mimick Jeremiah.]

Terrence: “I’ve killed people! I BLED THEM DRY WITHOUT ANY REGARD FOR THEIR FAMILIES! JUST SO I COULD SURVIVE ANOTHER NIGHT!” [voice goes back to normal] You know, the Belmonts bitch about double-standards? There’s one right there. They can’t stop talking about how them drinking blood and shriveling up in the daylight makes them somehow superior to the rest of us- despite the fact that Jeremiah couldn’t win a big match over someone not named ‘Jacob Wright’ if his life depended on it. But oh no, you so much as mention the word Twilight in their presence, and here comes the pissing contest! Am I right?”

[Wendy looks at her husband for several seconds, her face running the gamut of expressions. Finally, she sighs, and shrugs]

Wendy: “I guess you are.”

[Terrence’s jaw drops in absolute astonishment]

Terrence: “Wait, what? What did you just say?”

[Wendy doesn’t say anything, but she does glare at her husband, knowing full well that Terrence had heard her. Annoyed, she crosses her arms in front of her chest, and stares at him. She’s not repeating herself. Terrence, on the other hand, decides he’s going to milk this for all its worth.]

Terrence: “That camera’s actually running, right? Because I want this video to be sent to the national archives. The Smithsonian. Hell, CNN! Because now we have undeniable proof that Terrence Thompson is RIGHT, coming from the horse’s mouth itself!”

[Short pause]

Wendy: “Did you just call me a-”

Terrence: [quickly] “Figure of speech!”

[Wendy cooly gestures back at the camera]

Wendy: “I think we’re getting off track here.”

[Terrence grins at Wendy one more time, then gestures to her, clearly telling her to go ahead.]

Wendy: “Jeremiah, there really isn’t anything else to be said about you, is there? There’s no denying that you have talent, heck, I wish you the best of luck when you face Ojeda at End Game.”

Terrence: “Only because I’m letting him...”

[Wendy turns again to shoot a nasty look at her husband, who merely shrugs.]

Terrence: “Just sayin...”

Wendy: “ANYWAYS... but Jeremiah, you’ve always failed to see the big picture. You spend so much time looking at just a couple of trees, you miss the entire forest around it. And until you take off your blinders, and start seeing things for what they really are, not for what you think they should be, you’re only going to be hurting yourself.”

Terrence: “Not that we’re complaining!”

[Wendy almost looks at Terrence again, but she pauses. Once again, she has to admit, her husband’s right, and she smiles softly.]

Wendy: “No. Not that we are.”

Terrence: “HA! That’s twice in a row! I’m on a roll!”

[Wendy can only shake her head in bemusement, as the camera fades to black]