Logan International Airport- Baggage Claim
Boston, Massachusetts
3:34 PM Local Time
“Ugh, he’s late,” Wendy Briese huffed as she looked at the Logan International Airport clock. She supposed she oughtn’t have been surprised, given the nature of her boyfriend, but considering that she had told him SIX times over the phone, not to mention three e-mails to his Prodigy account, that her flight was arriving at 3:15. They were supposed to meet here at the baggage claim. Yet, here it was, twenty minutes beyond, and she was standing alone.
It was hardly an auspicious omen for the way this new chapter in her life was starting out, and the twenty year old was already nervous enough about this move. Lord knows her parent’s had tried to talk her out of it, reminding her that with the Briese name, she could waltz into New York and get signed on some Broadway theater immediately. At least take Terrence’s departure as a sign that the two of them weren’t meant to be together. But she hadn’t wanted that. Not yet, at least. For now, she just wanted to study art at Boston University.
And be with her boyfriend, of course.
Terrence had left for Boston the first day air travel had resumed after the attacks, and Wendy had missed him dearly every day that they had been separated. Six months of him in a mental institution had been hard enough, but at least there she could have visited him as he recovered from the mental breakdown that had forced him out of auto racing. For him to announce within a fortnight of his release that he was leaving for Beantown had been heartbreaking. And for what? To become a professional wrestler?
Professional wrestling. Wendy snorted with derision as she thought about the pseudo-sport Terrence had taken up, because “it’s a great thing for adrenaline junkies like me”. It was a stupid, pointless, exercise in brutality that no one in their right mind would EVER want to do.
Maybe Terrence wasn’t quite healed yet. Maybe he needed another couple months of therapy if THIS was the best thing he could think of to do with his life.
Maybe she needed therapy herself, coming out here and joining him as he embarked on this stupid quest for self-fulfillment. Well, she wouldn’t be starting class until January. Until that time, she needed to find herself a job, and perhaps she could persuade Terry to find a more sensible profession as well.
Ultimately though, all she wanted to do was see Terrence, and hold him in her arms, and know that he was alright. Even if she was going to kill him for keeping her waiting like this.
And then she saw him, sprinting through the crowd, making his way towards the security gates to meet her. Predictable, Wendy sighed, as she pushed away from the column she was leaning against. To her consternation, she realized that Terrence wasn’t wearing the t-shirt and jeans that he normally wore, but a... racing firesuit?
Oh well, deal with that later.
“Terrence!” Wendy called, waving her hands. When he didn’t slow down, she yelled louder “TERRENCE!”
The second yell finally caught his attention, and he turned around, grinning as he saw her. He pushed through the bustling crowd, making his way towards her, and she fought down the impulse to sprint at him as well. But soon he was upon her, and she was leaping into his arms, the two laughing, hugging, and kissing.
“Oh, I’ve missed you,” Terrence said, as he squeezed her into him.
“I missed you too,” she replied, wincing slightly. There was no doubt about it- Terrence was definitely stronger than he was when he left Indianapolis in September.
Finally, they broke apart, and Wendy looked up at her love, wiping some moisture from her eyes. For a second, they were quiet, before Wendy gestured. “Why are you wearing a racesuit?”
Terrence shrugged, and grinned at her in a lopsided fashion. “It’s comfy. And, I don’t know. Wearing it reminds me of what I used to be. And what I want to be again,” he couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Still, Wendy wasn’t exactly convinced. “That... really can’t be healthy, Terrence,” she said,
Her boyfriend shrugged. “I’m fine, hon.” he said, then leaned over and picked up her bags. “Oh, I got a new apartment!”
Wendy looked surprised. “You got a new place? Already?!”
“Yeah,” Terrence replied, grinning. “Uncle Steve wired me some money to help me out. It’s a lot nicer than my first place, and it’s two bedroom.” He paused, and grinned at her. “Unless you WANT the one-bedroom.”
Wendy rolled her eyes, and slapped him on the arm. “Not until we’re married!”
Terrence winced, but remained grinning. “I know, I know. But still... worth a shot, right? But jeez Wendy, you have some power there. Maybe you should try this wrestling thing.”
Wendy narrowed her eyes, and glared at her boyfriend. “Never in a million years. I’m an actress, not a barbarian.”
Terrence chuckled, and squeezed her shoulder with his free hand. “Suit yourself, hon. Now, come on, I bet you’re starving from that flight. Let’s go get something to eat.”
Wendy nodded, and took one more nervous look around the baggage claim area, before following her boyfriend towards the exit to the terminal, to begin her new life.
=======================
Friday November 11, 2011
Logan International Airport- Baggage Claim
Boston, Massachusetts
2:12 PM Local Time
“Right here, Terrence!” Wendy Briese-Thompson exclaimed as she pointed excitedly at a column in the middle of the baggage claim area. “Right here!”
“Hunh?” Terrence stopped walking to turn around and look at his wife, hanging on to his daughter’s legs to help her keep her balance on her shoulders. “No, hon. That’s carousel 3. Our baggage is coming out on carousel six.”
“No, Terry!” Wendy exclaimed in exasperation. “This is where you and I met when I first arrived in Boston, ten years ago today!”
Terrence paused, and scratched his head. “Hunh? You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure” Wendy shook her head, and looked crossly at her husband. “You don’t remember?”
“Yeah, of course I do. We were supposed to meet at baggage claim, but you were at security, so I had trouble finding you.. And we ate at Subway afterwards.” Terrence set the suddenly restless Theresa down, “Ugh, you’re getting heavy, Terr.” He then looked up at his wife. “So... how’d I do?”
“Close.” Wendy said flatly. “Kind of like how you were *close* to beating Omnipotent in that stretcher match.”
Terrence winced at the cruel jab, and looked away, muttering something about being fatigued from triptophane. Theresa bounded over to Wendy, who knelt down to give her daughter a hug.
“You used to live in Boston?” the five-year old asked, looking up at her mother.
“We did,” Wendy said. “For a couple years, actually. Daddy got signed to a really small independent wrestling company out here, and moved out here to begin his wrestling career.”
“And you soon came out to join him?” Theresa asked. “To wrestle, too?” she pressed after Wendy nodded her head.
This time, Wendy shook her head, and smiled. “No. I came out just to be with Terrence, and take classes at Boston U. I honestly never imagined that I would become involved in it. I thought it was a stupid sport, a bunch of thick idiots beating each other with chairs and stuff. But it’s what Terry wanted to do, so I was determined to try and be supportive... at least until I could find a way to talk him out of it.”
“So why did you change your mind?” Theresa asked.
Wendy paused, biting her lip, and leaning back against the column. In all honesty, she had never been sure of the answer to that question herself, even after a decade. Still, she at least owed it to her daughter to try to find an explanation. “Most of the wrestlers in Terrence’s company were either power-brawlers or hardcore style. But there were a few technical wrestlers, and I remember becoming really enthralled watching them perform. It wasn’t like they were fighting... it was almost as if they were dancing with each other, the way they attacked and counter-attacked. And a couple of them were women, and they were actually able to beat guys twice their weight, so I actually started to find myself wondering if I could do that.”
Wendy looked up at Terrence, who grimaced. He knew what was coming next in the story, and it was hardly his favorite part.
“Well, right after Thanksgiving, your dad got beat in a stretcher match by a big, mean man named Omnipotent. Omnipotent had his buddies ambush Terrence during the match, and they really took liberties with him, so he was hospitalized with injuries. I actually was considering using that to talk Terry out of ever wrestling again... but the more and more I thought about it, the angrier I got that this man did these things to Terrence. So when the owner of the company came to me about finding Terrence’s replacement for his next match... I chose myself.”
There was a fairly decent pause, as Theresa let the information sink in. She looked over at her mother. “But.. you didn’t know how to wrestle.”
Wendy smiled, but couldn’t help but sigh. “No, I didn’t. I don’t know what came over me, but I certainly didn’t think things through. It was a six-person tag team match, and my partners would have been the tag team champions. I figured they’d help me through it, and I’d teach Omnipotent and his overweight bullies a lesson. The only problem is, they jumped my partners backstage, and took them out, and I... kind of had to face them alone.”
Theresa gasped, and turned white. “How did you do?”
Wendy smiled, and shook her head. “Well, technically, the match was cancelled. But I lost. Very, very badly. And Terrence didn’t even know about it until I came in to see him the next morning all battered up. He wasn’t happy.”
“Of course I wasn’t happy.” Terrence interjected. “You had no training, no idea what the hell you were doing. You were a sitting duck.”
“Oh, that you remember,” Wendy smiled, looking up at Terrence. “Terrence didn’t want me wrestling. But I told him that I really didn’t want HIM wrestling either. And both of us refused to acquiesce. So, we figured that if we were going to do this, we might as well do it together. So we formed a tag team.”
“The WhirlyBirdz!”
“Yup,” Wendy said, laughing. “And it was rough at first, learning as we went. We lost... a LOT. But we worked really hard at it, and we got better, and better. There’s always room to get better. Even now.”
“And Pollaski helped too, right?” Theresa asked.
Wendy’s smile became more strained, considering she wasn’t exactly on the best of terms with her manager at the moment, due to his sudden strategy of not showering. “Yes. Pollaski did help too. Sometimes. A little.”
Terrence laughed. “Don’t let the attitude and appearance and... smell fool you, Terr-Bear. Daniel Pollaski is a hell of a researcher, and match strategist.”
“And it’s a good seven hours before his plane lands, and our nostrils are offended again,” Wendy remarked, standing up. “So come on, Theresa. Let’s get our bags, and we’ll show you around Boston. This is a beautiful city, and it’s rich in history.”
“But first, let’s go remember what our first meal together in Boston was like, and hit up Subway,” Terrence said, rubbing his stomach. “I’m hungry.”
Wendy rolled her eyes, and shot an exasperated look at her husband. “Is all you can think about food?”
“When I’m hungry, yes.” Terrence responded, turning to walk away. “Come on, Theresa. Let’s go get our bags.” He tousled his daughter’s hair as she ran and caught up with him,
Wendy leaned back against the column, and watched her husband and daughter retreat into the crowd, a smile on her face. It felt odd, that ten years ago she stood in the exact same spot, making a decision that ultimately would change her life for the better. Had she not come to Boston then, what would have happened? She certainly wouldn’t have been in wrestling, would she still be with Terrence? Would her parents still be together, would her mother even be alive? What would have happened?
She didn’t know... but she doubted that it could possibly be any better than what did.
Saturday November 12, 2011
Embassy Suites- Room 421
Boston Massachusetts
1:31 PM Local Time
Fade in with... Khan? From Star Trek II? Yup. Khan, AKA Ricardo Montelbon, isn’t looking so hot here, leaning up against a chair, breathing fairly labored. Finally, he begins to speak.
Khan: I've done far worse than kill you. I've hurt you. And I wish to go on hurting you. I shall leave you as you left me, as you left her; marooned for all eternity in the center of a dead planet... buried alive! Buried alive...!
Cut to a still frame of Arabella, taken from a promo, her mouth open in rage, while her closing line from the last promo is played over the still.
Arabella: CUUUUUUUNTS!
And so we cut to a hotel room, where Wendy Briese is standing in front of a television, having just watched the exact same scene we just did. Her mouth is open, in that now-trademark WTF look we’ve come to love from her. A few feet away (although not nearly as far as Wendy would want, given by her nose-wrinkling), stands Pollaski, who’s grinning at the television like a proud parent. Finally, Wendy looks up, and over at her manager.
Wendy: “...Really?”
Pollaski shrugs, and grins.
Pollaski: “I thought it was funny. And 315 likes on YouTube already!!”
He probably isn’t going to mention the 21 dislikes.
Wendy: “Well... I suppose it IS a prevailing aspect of her vocabulary... such as it is. But it can’t be easy going through life that insane...
Pollaski nods.
Pollaski: “Although the person here I feel really sorry for is Colleen. She’s got a busted shoulder, and she still has to carry this team through our match. I mean, Arabella’s descent, but she’s already proven herself inferior to Desirae... and like you said, she’s batshit insane. Chances are she’ll be disembowling a popcorn vendor five minutes into the match because he yelled too loud. And Jo... well, is Jo.”
Wendy: “As contradictory and senseless as usual? Like how Desirae Kain couldn’t do anything right in Future Shock en route to her victory... coming from someone who didn’t even make it past the first cut?”
Pollaski nods.
Pollaski: “Yeah, no one really knows what Jo is, other than the possibility that she’s a space alien sent to Earth to destroy all semblance of rational thought. So, yeah. Poor Colleen. Poor, poor Colleen.
Wendy smiles, although she’s hardly sympathetic here.
Wendy: “It’s just the latest problem the A-List seems to be having, problems that are only going to compound for them. And that’s why we’re here this afternoon, just before we head to the arena for Breaking Point. Because I have an important message to give to our opponents tonight.”
A big smile, and Wendy’s not quite able to keep the gloating from her voice.
Wendy: “You guys blew it.”
Small chuckle.
Wendy: “You had your chances to teach us a lesson, and to prove your dominance here. You had your chance to destroy Isabella... you failed. You had your chance to destroy me in that battle royal, and not only did you fail, I managed to rise above you and win it. And in that lumberjack, you had SIX people out there against me. And despite your microphones, and Kendo sticks, and advantage in numbers, you still couldn’t get it done. I’m still standing, and I’m still standing against you. And now...”
Wendy quickly claps her hands together.
Wendy: “...that window of opportunity has slammed shut on you. I’ve weathered your storm, and I’ve taken the best you’ve had to throw at me. And now... I start fighting back.”
Small smirk.
Wendy: “Even better, I won’t be by myself this time. I didn’t choose Pink, Inc. as my partners, I’d never talked to either Desirae or Arianna until two weeks ago, but I’m certainly glad that someone upstairs saw fit to put me in a match with them. Because after the last Breaking Point, and our time in Seattle, I’m confident that I’ve got two of the best partners someone could ask for. And you know what the hillarious thing is?”
Hillarious, although Wendy’s hardly laughing.
Wendy: This all came about because of you guys. You came out, and attacked Pink, Inc at a moment of vulnerability. Had that not happened, I never would have come out to join them. I wouldn’t have found a couple of allies. So I suppose I should thank you guys.
Slight pause.
Wendy: “But it’s just another example of you guys not getting it. You strut around, acting like royalty with only numbers to back it up, and you think that’s enough. It’s not, and if you haven’t figured that out by now, the lot of you are in trouble. I don’t need to ask people to help me, the fact is that every attack you make, every person you blindside, makes another woman in FFW realize just how much you need to be stopped.
Wendy’s expression darkens slightly, and she glares at the camera.
Wendy: “I was likened to the leaders of the 1916 Revolution in Ireland. An interesting idea, but a flawed one. You see, I’m not rallying anyone. There’s no banner I’m waving. I don’t have to. Your own hubris and intent to subjugate those not in your little clique are doing that enough. The women of FFW aren’t rolling over and letting you run the place, and it’s almost laughable to even assume they would. I just happened to be one of the first to get sick of it.”
Wendy pauses, and sniffs the air, coming to the realization that she’s standing too close to Pollaski (even though the distance is about six feet) She takes a few steps to her left, increasing the distance.
Wendy: “But I know this isn’t a futile gesture, we can win. Because whatever image people want to paint of me as some naive white knight crusader, I’m far more self-aware than most people think. I know what I believe, and I’m steadfast in it. But I also know that very few people see the world the way I do, for right or wrong. And I discovered long ago that I’d be very lonely if I only befriended people who agreed with me on every single little thing.
Shrug
Wendy: “Such as Arianna. Do I agree with what she’s done in SVW? For the most part, I don’t, and I’m sure she’s aware of that. But you talk to Arianna, and you know that she’s a decent person. And this isn’t about SVW... she’s here in FFW, and she’s here to WRESTLE. She’s here to move beyond the limiting constraints of the T&A division, and going by her first two matches, she’s doing that rather darn well. I don’t care who you are, you have to respect that.”
Pollaski doesn’t quite look convinced by this, although even he’s admitted Arianna’s had a heck of a breakout performance.
Wendy: “I can agree to disagree with someone, and remain civil. Lord knows I do it enough, with my colleagues, with my manager, heck, even with my husband. So I find it pretty ironic that, for all the garbage they spew at me, those on the A-List are FAR more closed-minded than I could ever possibly be.”
Wendy nods, and promotes her newly revealed open-mindedness by taking another step away from her manager (although you can’t blame her here!)
Wendy: “Disagree with me, and you might get a stern look and an argument. Disagree with Colleen, and you get a barrage of four letter words and a microphone to your skull. Disagree with Arabella, and you get a shrieking barrage of four-letter words and an eviscration attempt. Disagree with Jo, and you get a petulant tantrum and... um...”
Wendy apparently can’t think of a second thing, so Pollaski helpfully chimes in.
Pollaski: “More nonsensical bullshit? Like, how women like you are the reason she wants to bury you... whatever that means?”
Wendy can’t help but smile at that.
Wendy: “I suppose it’s good that I’m like... people who are like me. Otherwise, we could have a paradox on our hands.”
Small grin.
Wendy: “But back to the subject at hand. I think I’m a fairly tolerant person. I can tolerate things I disagree with, and I can tolerate it when other’s disagree with me. About the only things I can’t tolerate, when it comes to wrestling, are blindside attacks, and blatant attempts to injure someone. In short...
Wendy shrugs.
Wendy: “About the only thing I can’t tolerate right now... is the A-List.”
Wendy turns away, and the scene fades.
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