Time Warner Cable Arena- Section 113 Access tunnel
Charlotte, North Carolina
11:56 PM Local Time
“YES!” I screamed as Scarlett’s knee crashed into Kaitlynn’s chin, the older woman flopping onto the mat. Kaitlynn had been throwing another one of her temper tantrums, crying and whining to the referee- after the referee had made the correct decision, and it had finally caught up with her- Scarlett had just nailed Kitty with her own finisher, and there wasn’t a throat in the arena that wasn’t cheering the move. Those throats only grew in volume as everyone chanted in unison as Scarlett dove atop Kitty’s prone form, referee Jennifer Stringer making the count.
I yelled along with everyone else! “ONE! TWO! THR-” The arena exploded in a disappointed groan as Kaitlynn’s shoulder rolled off at the last possible moment. I found myself clutching my hair... I had honestly thought that Scarlett had just retained her belt there. But no, the main event of Unstoppable 2, draining and brutal in its own right, doubly so for Scarlett, who had been forced to start the chamber, was to continue.
To her credit, the only one in the arena not reeling from disappointment was the champion herself, who immediately went back onto the attack, dragging up Kitty and nailing a gutwrench powerbomb, the final challenger to her belt this night- Scar had already outlasted four of them- falling to the mat, lying still. For a second, I thought Scar was going for the cover, but no- she was stumbling towards the corner.
My breath caught in my throat. On one hand- landing the Kincaid Cascade *had* to be enough to get the win. On the other hand, I remembered all too well what had happened in my match against Stryfe- I had gone for my Emerald Cyclone, and she had reversed it into a powerbomb, which led to my defeat. And there wasn’t a person in the world who had forgotten what Kitty had done to Valerie at Conviction...
But even if those thoughts crossed Scarlett’s mind as well, they weren’t stopping her. She had climbed to the top turnbuckle, and was looking to leap... but no... that wasn’t enough... she turned, and started to climb atop one of the Elimination Chamber pods.
“Don’t do it, Scar...” I silently pleaded, even as the crowd around me rooted her on as she kept climbing. Scarlett had been obsessed with silencing all doubters for this match- prove to the world that she was the rightful champion. She didn’t need to- anyone with any sense of logic and no agenda knew that Scar had earned every single second of her reign. But as she perched on the top of the cell, I prayed that this wouldn’t cost her the exact title she was trying to prove she deserved.
Scar hesitated- and looked out at the crowd, almost as if she seemed to be saying goodbye. I swallowed hard. She had taken too much time already... if Kitty rolled away just as Scarlett leapt...
...or even worse, kipped up to her feet, which she did just as Scarlett’s feet left the platform.
Scar had nowhere to go but down, and Kitty timed her kick perfectly, smashing into Scarlett’s jaw, so that the redheaded champion flopped lifelessly to the mat. The arena erupted at the counter- all rooting interest in Scarlett forgotten by the brutality of the move.
“Oh, Scarlett,” I whispered, closing my eyes in disappointment, and heartbreak. I didn’t need to see Kitty rolling her up. I didn’t need to see Stringer diving to count. I only heard the bell ringing, and the cheering of the crowd as they hailed the new champion, and I turned away, retreating back up the tunnel, not willing to watch anymore.
So that was it. The era of Scarlett was over, at least for now, and the age of Kitty would begin. No longer a champion who was hard working and dedicated, honest and forthright, kind and compassionate. Now it was a pretentious wretch of a woman who preferred duplicity, flew into a tantrum at the slightest hint of criticism, and considered honor and respect a sign of weakness.
All in all, it had been a bad night for honor and respect. Scarlett had been dethroned, sure, but it was hardly the only discouraging moment. Isabella, for once in her life, had tried to play the straight path as well, and she had been blasted by a chair from her own best friend (well, probably former best friend by now) for her change of heart. And while I had spent the Snyder/Sanders match showering and changing back into my street clothes, I had heard that Rori had only achieved victory after bringing in Maddison to help her.
Even my own match had left me a sour taste in my mouth. Losing was disappointing, but I had known going into that match that I couldn’t control Robbyn’s tolerance for pain, and if Colleen ever got her into a hold, the end of the match would come soon after. But the after-match still had me wondering. Colleen was abrasive, sure, but I always felt she was an honorable sort. Suddenly, she’s cracking me over the head with the microphone, and beating the tar out of Robbyn. And what did it accomplish? That she was better? She had already proved that- at least for that night- in our match!
I sighed, as I worked my way through the hallways, back towards my locker room. Maybe people like Colleen and Kitty were right. Maybe I was delusional. Maybe I was turning into a relic. Maybe pro-wrestling wasn’t about hard work and technical prowess anymore- it was about who was the most brutal, and sadistic, or who could take the quickest and easiest shortcut to the top.
Maybe honor was truly and utterly dead in this sport.
I stopped dead in my tracks, just in front of my locker room door. The door was ajar, and I had left it shut when I had gone to watch the main event. I approached slowly, silently. Not sure of what to expect. I didn’t expect an attack- anyone that I would be worried about attacking me and actually doing damage would have been smart enough to shut the door to alleviate any suspicions. But if someone was stealing from me...
But it wasn’t a thief in my room when I opened the door. Just my nanny, who smiled grimly as she saw me. Even though we travelled together and slept in the same RV, I really hadn’t had any discussions with Cassie since that day in the kitchen. It hadn’t exactly been a complete, or even hostile silence between us, but I had definitely gotten the impression that she was avoiding me, and, in truth, I was probably avoiding her as well.
“Hey,” Cassie said quietly, looking almost uncomfortable.
“Hey,” I responded. “What are you doing down here?”
A small shrug. “Terrence sent me to get you. Guess we’re leaving.”
“Figured. The show’s over,” I replied, grabbing the duffel bag containing my ring gear, and lifting it up. I looked over at Cassie quizically. Given that my perch in the entrance tunnel was a lot closer to my locker room than the mid-deck seats Terrence had gotten, she would have had to leave well before the final match had ended to beat me here. But I decided not to pursue the matter. “Okay, I’m ready.’
But Cassie didn’t move, but rather stared at the floor in front of her. “I’m sorry you lost.”
I grimaced, and did my best attempt at a nonchalant shrug. “It happens. I’ll get her next time.” If there was a next time...
Cassie wasn’t moved. “Still, you obviously don’t look happy about it.”
I snorted. “Well, of course I’m not. No one likes losing. But it’s not just that, I...” I paused, and took a deep breath. “Everyone I wanted to win tonight ended up losing. Scarlett, Shane, myself. Even Crystal lost to that psychotic Tara. I know Jo won pick your poison, so that’s something.. but still. Just... not a good night for me.”
“I’m sorry,” Cassie apologized again, her voice remaining quiet.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I simply said with a shrug. “Only one of those matches I had any control over the outcome. Still, I just feel bad that so many people I like came up short. And then you throw in what Colleen did and...” I cut myself off. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t stand here whining like that. Where’s everyone else?”
“Terrence said to meet them at the car.” Cassie replied.
I nodded, then looked around to make sure I had everything. Satisfied that I was leaving nothing behind, I slung my duffel over my shouldder and turned towards the door, Cassie following me. We killed the lights, and shut the door behind us, Cass pointing the way towards the garage.
We walked in silence for a couple minutes, until I had to stifle a yawn. “‘Scuse me,” I said, rubbing my eyes. “I guess I’m pretty tired.”
“I think we all are.” Cassie responded, yawning herself (stupid contagiousness). “Still, no rest yet. Back to Indy, then off to Denver for fatso’s SVW debut. I can’t believe he’s going to actually be wrestling... the idiot.”
“He’s tried it before,” I muttered, half-smiling as I pushed through a door. “And didn’t Terrence tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“You’re not coming to Denver with us. We didn’t get you a ticket.”
Cassie gasped, and she immediately stopped walking. It took me a couple more steps to realize this, and I turned around, puzzled. The look of hurt on Cassie’s face was obvious- hurt and betrayal, with a little anger and outrage thrown in.
“So it’s true...” she whispered, a tear leaking out of her eye. “You *are* firing me!”
“What? NO!” I exclaimed, suddenly caught off guard by the accusation. Cursing myself for my flippant phrasing I shook my head. “God, no! Cassie, you’re fine. Your job is safe. Terrence and I just thought that you might want a couple days to yourself. No Theresa, no me, no Pollaski. Just you know, some time to have fun.”
“Oh,” Cassie wiped her eyes. “I just thought.. with the whole Christian Kincaid thing... and … the fight we had...”
“Yeah, about that,” I began, grimacing. I waited until I knew Cassie was more focused on listening to me than she was wiping her eyes. “Look, Cassie. I... I was wrong to react like that. You’ve been a great babysitter for Theresa over the past couple years, and there is no one outside of Terrence that I trust my daughter with more. And it was completely disrespectful to you to assume that you would ever let your personal life interfere with your professional judgement, especially when you’ve shown me time and time again the exact opposite. It was a knee-jerk reaction, and I’m sorry.”
Cassie blinked through watery eyes, obviously, surprised. “So you’re okay with me and Christian? Really?”
I laughed shortly. “Well, I don’t like it, but it’s hardly my place to tell you who you can and can’t date. I don’t think Christian’s the guy you’re looking for, but who can really say? Maybe he is the prince charming everyone believes he is. Just please, be careful. And if you ever need to talk about anything, I’m here for you, any time, okay?”
The response was hardly what I had intended- Cassie flung herself at me, and wrapped her arms around me. I could feel my shoulder getting wet as she buried her face in it. Wincing, and gingerly, I patted her back.
“Thanks, Wendy,” the blonde woman said. “And thanks for, y’know, not firing me.”
“Um... Cassie?” I asked, my voice slightly strained. “I hate to say this, but this really hurts...”
“What? Oh!” Cassie immediately let go, and backed away, grinning sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I forgot you were kind of sore.”
“It’s nothing,” I responded, smiling. “And trust me, it’s nothing compared to how Robbyn Helmsley’s feeling.” I turned to continue walking, and Cassie followed. “Just do me a favor, and keep it G-Rated around Theresa.”
“Of course,” Cassie responded as we pushed through the door into the parking lot. “I don’t want Theresa asking those ‘awkward questions’ any more than you do.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle, and the two of us began walking through the indoor parking garage, towards where the car was parked. We hadn’t gone more than a dozen steps, however, when a scream of tortured misery cut through the air, giving both of us goosebumps.
“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUGH! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”
The two of us exchanged glances. “What was that?” Cassie whispered.
“I don’t know. But if someone’s hurt, we better go help them. Stay behind me!” I responded as I broke into a run, hoping it wasn’t an attack. Street fighting was hardly my forte, but I at least capable of defending myself. But Cassie, to the best of my knowledge, had never been in a fight in her life.
“NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!”
There it was again. I picked up the pace, hearing Cassie’s footsteps maybe ten feet behind me. It sounded like it was on this level of the garage, and close by. I looked around wildly, and bolted towards a cement column. I rounded the column... and nearly tripped over my husband.
Terrence was kneeling on the ground, staring at the bumper of his cherry-red 1971 Dodge Charger, which had been knocked clean off the car, and lay on the ground. The horrified expression on his face, as well as the fearful expression on Theresa- who was standing with a stone-faced Pollaski nearby, told me that the screams had been his.
“What’s going on?” My nanny asked arriving behind me. She took one look at the car, and stepped back. “Uh oh...”
In addition to the removed bumper, the hood of the car was dented, the depression receding nearly two inches in some places. Dried blood also smattered the hood, the bumper, and the ground around us.
“Who did this?” Terrence whispered, his voice rough and hoarse. “Who did this to her?”
“Rori Snyder and Maddison Knight.” Pollaski said quietly, off to the side. “They used it as a weapon in the Falls Count Anywhere match.”
It would make sense- Terrence would have come like a bat out of hell if he felt his car was in danger, and he down in my locker room, checking to make sure I was okay after my match, while the FCA match went on.
It was hardly any consolation. Terrence grabbed the bumper, cradling it in his arms like a dead Shakespearean lover. He looked over at the hood, and shook his head- a mixture of sorrow and anger. Then he looked to me.
“I want restitution. Those two are going to pay for this, whether willingly or not. Nobody touches my car. No... BODY... USES MY CAR AS A WEAPON!”
The ferocity in his voice made me step back, and Terrence looked down at the bumper, then the hood again. “Oh, baby. I’m so sorry...”
Then solemnly, he slowly carried the bumper towards the back of the car. As he dug into his keys, the slow, haunting melody of Taps began to emanate from Pollaski’s cellphone. Terrence opened the trunk, and gently laid the bumper to rest inside it, angling it so it was just barely able to fit, and gently shutting the lid as the song ended. For a couple long seconds, there was silence.
“Alright, everyone in,” Terrence finally said, his voice still hoarse.
For a moment, I thought about reminding Terrence that my duffel needed to go in the trunk as well, but I thought better of it. It could ride on my lap- it wasn’t that far back to the RV.
Nevertheless, I couldn’t help but hear my nanny as we climbed into the Charger’s backseat. “You ever get that feeling he loves the car more than you?”
“I don’t know,” I responded with a shrug. “I really don’t know how he’d react if any part of mine got knocked off or severely dented. And, I’m not really in any hurry to find out.”
“Fair enough,” Cassie said, as she slid in, and made room for me and Theresa to join her.
From the private journal of Wendy Briese
31 July AD 2011
Once again, I’m left feeling like a total idiot.
No, it’s not because I failed at my bid to become the Evolution Champion. Nor is it because I believed Colleen’s words of praise, and willingly stepped forward and shook her hand, only to be proven gullible. And it’s not because I howled in outrage along with twenty thousand fans as Isabella was betrayed by Samantha Star, nor is it because I turned away, disgusted, as Kaitlynn Stryfe hit that horrible kick to become the new FFW Champion.
No, I feel like a total idiot because I let the events of last night discourage me. I’ll confess, I was feeling pretty down after the show ended. I even began to wonder- what’s the point of honor in this sport if the people who don’t have any keep managing to get away with it? What’s the purpose of hours upon hours of endless training if a simple swing of the chair, or a stupid call by a referee, or a roll up with tights can accomplish the exact same thing?
This morning, I’m left realizing that’s just exactly what they want me to think.
By ‘they’, I mean wrestlers like Kaitlynn Stryfe and Rori Snyder. People who think I’m delusional because I still view this as a sport, and view the rules of the ring as what keeps this sport honorable, instead of obstacles to work around en route to their own self-styled feelings of supremacy. People who have no hope, or faith in their abilities, and have to resort to other methods, such as duplicity, or foreign objects, to accomplish their goals.
Hope and faith are my foundations. The way things are in pro-wrestling these days, I couldn’t walk the path I do without some faith that my own talent and hard work will get me through. I couldn’t do this if I didn’t have hope that I would succeed. Without hope and faith, I am nothing.
Last night, Colleen, and others, tried to rip that hope out of me. They tried to make me think that there was no longer a place for people like me in professional wrestling. They tried to make me feel inadequate, and weak, and obsolete.
Well, to hell with them! Colleen showed me nothing, during or after that match, that would suggest that I stood no chance the next time we met. Kaitlynn showed me nothing that would suggest that Scarlett, or I for that matter, stood no chance in a rematch. And Rori Snyder showed nothing that suggested she was little more than a weakling who hid behind the dirty work of others.
I don’t know where I’m going from here, and I don’t know how long it will take me to get back to where I was last night, but I will be back. I will be here, and I will triumph. But most of all, I’m going to do it MY way. The RIGHT way. The way it was intended when this sport was envisioned, and the rule-book was written, so many years ago. I don’t give two whits what Colleen, or Kaitlynn, or Tara, or Crystal, or anyone else has up their sleeves. I’ve overcome obstacles before, and I will again.
I hope that when the Velocity show is booked, I’m on it, because I want to get back in that ring, and I want to prove to anyone that there is NOTHING that can keep me down! Because whatever discouragement I felt last night is gone, replaced by a burning desire to once again show the wrestling world just why I’m considered one of the most dangerous women in this sport.
Whoever is my first opponent after Unstoppable better watch out. Because I think I have a lot to prove around here, and they are about to be made into one very quick, very painful, very cleanly executed example.
Because Wendy Briese is out to prove that ‘fair play’ and ‘easy pickin’s’ are by no means anywhere close to being synonyms
-WCBT
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