Monday, November 1, 2010
The Nest- Master Bedroom
Indianapolis, Indiana
12:09 AM Local Tiime
“Well,” Terrence chuckled as he slipped a plain white T-shirt over his head. “You can never say our Halloweens are boring.”
He grinned at his wife, a rather sheepish gesture, made especially more so that Wendy didn’t even acknowledge him. Dressed in a pink satin nightgown, Wendy sat in their bed, the covers up to her lap, leaning back against the headboard. She had her arms crossed over her chest, and was staring at the television with a stony expression on her face. Terrence looked over at the television, his grin widening. “Ah, the Attack of the Giant Gila Monster! This one’s a classic.”
Wendy’s expression still didn’t change, she just continued to stare at the television, where the title character had just ran a car off the road, and was preparing to feast on the poor, screaming human trapped inside. Terrence shook his head and chuckled at the horrible acting in the movie, then climbed into the bed, next to his wife. Sitting upright, and leaning against the headboard himself, he looked over at Wendy.
“I’m glad you decided to stay in wrestling, although I’m sorry that’s what made you realize not to listen to her.”
No response. Terrence grimaced. “It’s not the end of the world, you know. You don’t need to be so pissed.”
For a few seconds, the only movement Wendy made were her eyelids blinking. Finally, but without turning towards her husband, she spoke. “You wouldn’t understand.”
Terrence rolled his eyes, and stifled a yawn. “I really hate it when you play that card. I mean, its not like they were actually...”
“I don’t want to talk about it.” Wendy said, her voice taking on a sharper edge. “I don’t even want to think about it.”
“Fine, okay.” Terrence said, holding up his hands to remind Wendy that he was unarmed. “Didn’t you just give a huge lecture to Ashley Graves about not being angry?”
For the first time since she had gotten into bed, something other than Wendy’s lips or eyelids moved, as she turned her head just enough to deliver her now-famous death glare to her husband. “I think I have every right to be angry right now, Terrence. And I never said that anger is wrong. I just said it was unwise to lose control over it.”
“Oh, so you don’t call what happened down there losing control?”
“Good night, Terrence.” Wendy snapped, and she slid away from the headboard, giving her enough room to lie down. Pointedly lying down facing away from him, Wendy reached up, and turned off her bedside lamp, the room going dark, save for the black and white flickering of the television.
=====================================
Sunday October 31, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
7:13 PM Local Time
[So just in case you haven’t been looking at the time stamps, this actually takes place BEFORE the prior section. Just to aviod a bit of confusion here, mmkay?]
[Anyways, its pretty obvious right from the fade in that Terrence Thompson thinks that his match with John Ojeda is a big deal. After all, normally Terrence appears in his promos decked out in a t-shirt and jeans, occasionally sporting a nice button down collared shirt when he really wants to look nice (or Wendy makes him, take your pick).]
[But never before in his life has Terrence worn... this]
[Either its Halloween, or Terrence just got made Grand Duke of Poofyland, He’s wearing a brown pair of slacks, and a old-style white military jacket, with gold epaulets (those are the frilly thingies on the shoulders), Over the coat is a belt, and over the belt is a wide gold and silver sash, running from his right shoulder to his left hip. Completeing the ensemble. is a large red white and blue medal, fastened to his jacket over his left breast. For just $100, its a pretty damned debonair looking costume.]
[Nontheless, Terrence is slightly red around the neck as he gestures to his attire.]
“Sorry about the clothes. As you can guess, it’s Halloween, and we’re just about to leave for a party. I’m going as Prince Charming. We’re kinda doing a theme this year.”
[Terrence looks over his costume, and shrugs]
“I actually kinda look good in this...”
[With another shrug, Terrence turns his attention back to the camera]
“Well, unfortunately, our match with Gloabal Revolution didn't exactly go the way we planned it. It was just getting good too, and then John Ojeda, for third time in the past five weeks, thought it necessary to come out and whack me over the head with a metallic object.”
[Terrence chuckles, although there’s really not that much humor in it.]
“Nevertheless, Wendy and I are still the tag team champions. We survived two tough consecutive weeks against two very talented teams, and we eagerly await to see which team emerges from the next match victorious.”
[Terrence cracks his knuckles, and cricks his neck, then leans forward just a bit, his eyebrows arching slightly]
“And on to this week we go. John Ojeda”
[Smirk]
“I’m sorry I didn’t go running around screaming about how you were going to pay for those sneak attacks, but truth be told, I’ve been a bit busy. You see, I’m also one-half of the the tag team champions, and I owe it to my partner and wife to give as much attention to defending those belts as I do the Grand Prix Championship. I’m sure you don’t understand- even sticking that jackbooted skank you run around with into the ring with you hasn’t made you any competent in a tag match. But trust me when I say that I fully intend to hang on to both my championships for a very, very, long time.”
[Another short chuckle, and the smirk widens.]
“But, unfortunately for you, John, you now have my full, undivided attention.”
[Which, considering Terrence, is saying something]
“I think it’s pretty safe to say that I’m more than a bit annoyed with you and your bullshit over the past few weeks. After all, this whole running down and attacking from behind thing- it’s almost like the Cartel’s still around. I thought you were trying to put that whole fiasco behind you.”
[Small shrug]
“But this week, that’s all going to end. This week, you and I are getting into that cage together, and you’re going to learn that just because you can thwack me over the head a couple of times, that doesn’t mean you’re capable of becoming champion of this company.”
[Terrence pauses, and thinks for just a second]
“Of course, thwacking people over the head with a chair is how you got this match in the first place, I guess. After all, John, you ARE the King of the Death Match, and all bow to you in your amazement. Well, those who actually watched, because last I checked, ratings for that tournament were so low that they didn’t even bother airing the final round.”
[Terrence smirks, and shrugs]
“I’m sure you have an excuse for that, the way you manage to come up with an excuse for all your failures. And there are a LOT of failures where you’re concerned, John. A lot.”
[Short pause]
“In fact, what have you even attempted in PWX that hasn’t ended in a colossal failure? Obviously, the fact that you tried bullying Szatkowski around, only for it to blow up in your face, has been well documented. But going beyond that, Ojeda, what exactly have you accomplished around here, other than winning a tournament that everyone lost interest in halfway through?”
[Smirk]
“The best part is, my wife is the main reason your ventures have collapsed. After all, she was the one who broke your hold over JPO. With a simple phone call, your blackmail over him was swept aside like a twig that had fallen into a raging river. From there the dominoes began to fall, and it ended with you lying in a bed of barbed wire, pissing your pants as electricity coursed through your body.”
[Well, of course Terrence is guessing here. But in fairness, that much juice would probably make someone lose control over their bladder functions]
“But don’t think for a second that I’m underestimating you, John. I know you can beat me, and I’m sure as hell not about to let that happen. After all, as the PWX champion, it’s my duty to uphold the honor and integrity of the company and it’s top belt. You being champion would pretty much put our reputation into the toilet.”
[Pretty big words, coming from a guy who’s cutting a promo dressed like Prince Charming.]
“So this week, Ojeda, we’re going to settle it. A ‘vanilla’ cage match, as you call it. And I know, I could have done anything I wanted with this match. But the thing is, John, I don’t NEED to be in a Seventh Circle Death match to put on a good show. I could have made this a standard match, if I had wanted to, and don’t think that the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. But when my manager pointed out that a standard cage match had never been done in the year-plus of PWX history, I figured why the hell not? After all, the Grand Prix Championship has yet to be successfully defended by the champion, so why not make the second of November a night of firsts?”
[It’s also election day in America. Just sayin’]
“And no, I’m not entirely concerned about you smuggling a weapon into the cage. I’m not exactly a dummy, John, if you want to get something into that cage, you’re going to get it in there. I mentioned ‘no weapons’ because I know how PWX management works, and I kinda figured that if I didn’t mention it, they’d probably have started looking for weapons to chain to the walls the moment Adrenaline went off the air. Considering that it’s because of my wife that I got to pick the match in the first place, it only seemed fair that I picked a type of match that she didn’t completely detest.”
[And believe us, Wendy wasn’t all that happy about the cage match, either]
“And if you think about it, John, that match being in a cage actually helps you. Considering that you lost our first encounter in part because you were an idiot, and went after my pepper spray wielding manager and my fully-trained wrestler wife for the heinous crime of cheering me on from ringside, at least this time you won’t get distracted by anyone else. Unless, of course, the bars are really shiny, and you start attacking your own reflection..”
[Terrence smiles, then suddenly looks away from the camera, his jaw dropping in astonishment]
“Yowza...”
[From off-camera, we can hear Wendy’s voice.]
Wendy: “You about done?”
[Terrence nods]
Terrence: “Yeah, give me a sec.”
[Terrence turns back to the camera]
Terrence: “Don’t think for a second I’m done with you, Ojeda, but for now I have to get going. After all, I’m not dressed up in this outfit for my own health. All of you have a happy and safe Halloween, and I’ll see you all soon.”
[Terrence nods, and suddenly, the feed cuts out]
=================================
Sunday October 31, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis Indiana
7:21 PM Local Time
“How did you do?” Wendy Briese-Thompson asked as she watched the digital camera power off.
“I’m happy with it.” Terrence said. “But not as happy as I am with you right now...”
Wendy Briese blushed. Like Terrence, Wendy was dressed in her costume for the evening- that of a mermaid. The one-piece costume had a shiny pink sleveless top, which abruptly changed to a dark green scale-like fabric at her hips, extending in a tight skirt down to her ankles. From her knees down, however, were a series of ruffles, an attempt to simulate fins. Wendy had placed a lily in her flame-colored hair, which she wore loosely, and had even slightly curled it.
She squealed as Terrence swept forward and picked her up in his arms. “Oh, I got me a big one!” he proclaimed.
“Put me down!” Wendy protested, lightly slapping her husband on the arm. “And watch who you’re calling big!”
“Sorry,” Terrence said, grinning as he let his wife back to her feet. “You are after all, The Little Mermaid. And I’m your Prince Charming.”
“Eric,” Wendy corrected, although she giggled and kissed him as she did. “You should know that- you’ve seen the movie enough.”
Terrence shot Wendy a mock-sour look, then both husband and wife turned their attention to the stairs as Theresa bounded them. Theresa was in a small, but elegant, golden dress, and her brown hair had been tied up in a formal fashion, with a plait running down the side of her head.
“Well, there’s our little Beauty!” Terrence exclaimed as Theresa hopped into the living room. “Nice job on the hair,” he remarked to his wife.
“Thanks,” Wendy said, puffing. “It would have been easier if she had been able to hold still for more than thirty seconds. She’s so fidgety like that.”
“You look great, Daddy!” Theresa chirped as she saw her father in his full costume.
“Thanks Theresa,” Terrence responded, just as the doorbell rang.
“That must be Cassie and Pollaski,” Wendy muttered. “Come in!” she called, hoping that she hadn’t just invited in an early group of trick or treaters.
Her fears were alleviated when Cassie walked into the room. Cassie was wearing a simple pink medieval style dress, and a small crown, which had been tucked into her loose flowing blonde hair.
Terrence nodded in welcome. “Cinderella?”
Cassie smiled and shook her head. “Aurora from Sleeping Beauty,” she said, holding up her hand, where her index finger had a bandage with a small spot of fake blood on it.
“Clever,” Terrence grinned.
“Where’s Pollaski?” Wendy asked.
Cassie stifled a giggle. “He’s coming,” she said. “You should see his...”
At that moment, the door burst open, and the four turned to look at the newcomer, everyone but Cassie’s jaw dropping instantly. Pollaski was wearing a wig of the purest white, but that was hardly the worst of it. His portly frame had been wedged into a black strapless dress, which ended at the waist in several octopus like tentacles that bent downward like a skirt, with a pair of black sweatpants covering his legs. Undaunted by the stares, he strode into the living room.
“Ursula!” Theresa guessed quickly for all three of them, although with considerably more enthusiasm than either Terrence or Wendy felt.
“Oh, us poor unfortunate souls,” Terrence muttered under his breath. Next to him, Wendy, the only one in the room who had heard him, nodded in awestruck agreement.
Pollaski surveyed the other occupants of the room, stopping on Wendy’s mermaid costume. “No seashells?” he asked, disappointed.
Wendy’s eyes narrowed. “It’s a little cold for seashells,” she replied stiffly.
Pollaski nodded in concession, then turned to Terrence. “Prince Charming?”
“Eric,” Theresa, Wendy, and Cassie all corrected simultaneously.
“Dude... what the...?” Terrence asked, his mouth still hung open in slack jawed amazement.
Pollaski looked down at his attire, and shrugged. “Well, I was gonna go as John Ojeda, but the Sons of Anarchy section was sold out. So I remembered Wendy telling me that Theresa had wanted to do a Disney theme, so I figured why not?”
Terrence nodded, although he wasn’t entirely convinced.
“What is all this racket?” an elderly female voice in a thick Irish brogue demanded, and the five people all turned to acknowledge a sixth that hobbled into the room. Constance looked at the costumed people in front of her, stopping at Pollaski, with an open stare of disgust.
“Lemme guess,” Pollaski replied, stepping forward. “The evil witch from Snow White?”
Constance scowled even more, but Terrence rubbed his mouth, trying to cover a smirk. Wendy for her part, deftly delivered a hard smack to the back of her manager’s head. She then turned to her grandmother. “We’re leaving, Nana.”
“Don’t be too late, Gwendolyn. Tomorrow’s All Saints Day service starts at 7.” Constance reminded her.
“I won’t be,” Wendy promised. “You sure you don’t want to come?”
Pollaski huffed. “She probably finds this stuff Satanic.”
The comment earned him a second smack from Wendy, and Constance’s eyes narrowed. Jabbing her cane at the portly drag-dressed manager, she snapped. “There’s nothing wrong with All Hallow’s Eve- it actually stems from Celtic roots you know. Although nowadays people tend to celebrate it in inappropriate measures,” she added, pointedly glaring at Daniel.
Before Pollaski could respond, the doorbell rang again. “I got it,” Terrence announced, and quickly left the room.
As Constance and Pollaski continued to glare daggers at each other, the other occupants of the room turned their head curiously to see who was at the door. Instead of the expected ‘Trick or Treat’, however, they heard a much different voice.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU WEARING, BOY?”
Wendy looked stunned. “What’s Uncle Steve doing here?”
Apparently, Terrence had asked the exact same question, because Uncle Steve responded. “I came over to watch the Sunday Night Game with you, and I come in to see you all dressed up like Prince Charming!”
“Eric!” everyone (except Constance) corrected.
“Yeah, because the name matters.” Steve muttered, as Terrence stepped aside to let him in.
“Sorry Steve. We were just on our way out to a party. You can come with us if you want.”
“Nah. Mind if I stay here and watch, though? Kickoffs in ten, and I’m hoping Rothelesberger gets murdered.” Steve strode in after Terrence into the living room, pausing to stare at Pollaski in utter disgust. “Fruit,” he muttered, as he went to hug his great-niece, and complement her costume.
“You know, I think this is clever,” Pollaski protested.
“Yeah, help yourself,” Terrence responded to his uncle, pointedly ignoring his manager. “Just help pass out candy if some trick or treaters come by, okay?”
“Fine by me.” Steve said, setting Theresa down and smiling at Constance. As she had in the mechanics shop the previous week, Constance nodded stiffly in reply.
“We’re going to be late,” Wendy announced, as she began ushering those in costumes towards the door. “Come on Theresa!”
Theresa turned away from her uncle, and bounded after the four adults towards the door. “We should be home by eleven!” Wendy announced. “Bye Nana, bye Steve!”
With that, she hurried after the rest of her group, out the door. The door close, and house immediately quieted, as the only two occupants remaining in the room were Wendy’s grandmother and Terrence’s uncle.
“So, you like football?” Steve asked mildly as he sat down in Terrence’s easy chair, grabbing the remote from a nearby end table.
Constance sniffed disdainfully. “Keep the Sabbath holy with prayer, not with heathen idols running around a grass pitch!” she responded.
Steve could only roll his eyes. “Right,” he muttered, turning on the television.
Saturday, October 30, 2010
EPISODE 56: Sins of the Father
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]
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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