We find ourselves on the beautiful waterfront in Baltimore, Maryland. Isabella felt a certain sense of peace and tranquility here, following her exasperation with her husband from earlier. But Isabella was not just here to get away from her husband and his sodding bus. She was due to meet a woman that she was scheduled to appear with at Byte This in tag team action. Now where was she? Isabella started looking around for red and white, two colours that were always very prominent when it came to Wendy Briese. And sure enough, she saw what was either Wendy Briese, or a vanilla ice cream topped with strawberry sauce. As it was wearing clothes, and ice creams didn’t tend to, her money was on Wendy. She walked across, waving to Wendy as she noticed her.
Wendy had been leaning against the railing, watching the boat traffic, but turned as she saw Isabella approaching, giving a slight smile that to Isabella didn’t seem all that enthusiastic. But, at least she was here, Isabella reasoned. Given that the first words Wendy had ever said to her was what a horrible person she was for slashing Rori Snyder, it was definitely a step in the right direction. Isabella returned the smile, and Wendy leaned back against the railing.
Wendy: You were supposed to be here ten minutes ago. I was starting to think you weren’t coming.
Isabella shrugged.
Isabella: Sorry, I was having a little tiff with my husband. He bought a bus, well... he says he did, and... you know what, I’d rather not get into it. The whole situation is a bit messy.
She joined Wendy at the railing.
Isabella: Wow, it’s nice here.
Wendy: Baltimore’s one of my favorite places to go. It’s an old city... at least by American standards. One of the biggest cities of colonial times. I like that they still keep some of that element
She pointed to a small tavern by the waterfront, which certainly looked as it was in the three hundred year old range. Wendy turned back to Isabella with a grin.
Wendy: Besides, there’s nowhere else you can get a better crab dinner than Chesapeake Bay.
Isabella: Crab? Not a fan.
She grinned.
Isabella: You come here a lot then? I’ll be honest, aside from New York & Los Angeles, I know very little about the cities we visit. Travelling seems like such a blur.
Wendy snorted.
Wendy: We’ve tried not to make it that way. I’ve discovered that if you treat your travels like an adventure, and try to enjoy the fare wherever you go, it stops being such a blur. It’s why we had the RV... so we could take our time when we could. Enjoy the country side. Of course... now that Theresa’s in school, it’s impractical, but it was fun when we could.
Isabella nodded.
Isabella: I guess that’s where we differ. I travel everywhere in the back of my Maybach, which pretty much isolates me from the outside world. Sure, it’s luxurious, but maybe I am missing something.
She looked thoughtful for a second.
Isabella: I guess that’s just another way in which we are different, isn’t it?
Wendy nodded, and looked out at the water, where a tugboat was leading a rather large freighter through the harbor.
Wendy: I learned long ago that if everyone was the same, this would be one boring sport we were in.
Isabella: That’s a nice way of looking at it.
She basked in the sunlight for a moment.
Isabella: So... you don’t trust me, huh?
There was a wry smile on her face as she said this.
Wendy, for her part, burst out laughing, shaking her head as she did.
Wendy: Ah, my, but those camera’s get everywhere, don’t they.
She sobered quickly, and looked directly at Isabella.
Wendy: No, I don’t. At least not yet. I’m not stupid Isabella, despite the seemingly endless assertions of my rivals. I’ve been around this business long enough to know that many people in this sport are chameleons. They’ll take whatever attitude they feel is the best way to get ahead, and the moment the opportunity presents itself, they’ll sell their best friend or partner for a chance at gold, or a handful of dollars. And I think that past results are an indication of future performance. And, I’m sorry Isabella, but your past...
She trailed off, although the unspoken words rang in Isabella’s head just as loudly as if Wendy had screamed them into a megaphone. Isabella was silent for a few moments.
Isabella: That’s fair I guess...
She gazed off into the distance.
Isabella: You see Wendy, I feel like there’s a monster within me. I try to keep it dormant, but it appears from time to time. Camilla says I’ve killed it, but I’m not so sure. I don’t blame you for not trusting me. I don’t trust myself, if I’m honest. I have, as you didn’t say but clearly felt, done some horrendous things in my time in FFW. But...
There was a long pause.
Isabella: I don’t want this monster anymore. I’m scared of it.
Wendy sat quietly, for a long time, biting her lower lip, her eyes measuring up Isabella in apparaisal. Finally she spoke.
Wendy: There’s no monster in you. It’s a temper, and believe me, everyone has one of those. Nasty, onery things they are too, trust me, I know. You just have to find a way to control it.
Isabella: Which isn’t easy when I’m suffering five on one beatdowns. That pisses me off.
Wendy nodded slowly, biting her lip again, an indication, Isabella realized, that she was debating on whether or not to say something, or at least how to phrase it. Finally, she spoke.
Wendy: That wasn’t right, what happened. You didn’t deserve that... no one did. Had it been Kara, or Scarlett, or even Rori, someone with a legitimate gripe against you... at least I could have seen why. But that... those were just Samantha’s latest in a long line of hired goons. That’s how she operates, as you yourself can well attest.
Isabella: I... I just don’t get it, Wendy. She was my friend. We’ve held tag team championships together. She was the maid of honour at my wedding. Why? Why would she turn her back on me like that? Why would she get a group of bitches, two of whom I also considered close friends, to beat the ever loving hell out of me? I... I don’t understand...
There was a definite sadness in Isabella’s voice as she spoke.
Wendy breathed in deep, and exhaled slowly, looking back at Isabella- not without sympathy.
Wendy: You knew her better than I did, so I can only guess. But Samantha doesn’t strike me as the type of person who has, or wants, genuine friends. She cares about her money, and her power, and anything that doesn’t help her get what she wants isn’t useful to her. You simply outlived your usefulness.
Wendy sighed sadly herself, and looked back into the water.
Wendy: Look at Jo. It’s the same thing. Samantha’s wining her, and dining her. They’re going shopping on Rodeo Drive, going to nightclubs. Samantha bought her. Plain and simple. And who’s going to say no when the boss of the company is lavishing that much attention on you?
Isabella: True...
She looked thoughtful again.
Isabella; But why do they think they’ll be treated any differently than I was? I don’t get it Wendy. I think you’re right. They’re just goons. She doesn’t want real friends. It’s just...
Isabella sniffled a little bit, clearly really upset.
Isabella: She told me my best friend was using me. And I believed her. And I killed dead a friendship I’d had for seven years. Seven years...
She rubbed her eyes.
Isabella: I’m such an idiot...
Wendy: You’re not the first, you know. I’ve seen it happen more than I care to admit. Weren’t Starla and Scarlett friends at one time? And it’s not just this business either. Everywhere you go, there are people who think this is all just a game, and we’re simply pieces to move around a board to help them win. But Samantha... she’s one of the most ruthless I’ve seen.
Isabella: I believed her bullshit Wendy, I really did. She has a way with words, she can make you believe anything. And even as her friend, she still maintains that fear factor. She’s...
It seemed Isabella was struggling to say what she wanted to say.
Isabella: She’s a horrible human being. And I... I can’t let her hurt more people, Wendy. I can’t. Someone has to stop her...
Wendy: The only way you could truly hurt Samantha Star is by taking away her base of power. And that’s this company. And I bet every single one of us could go join SVW, and Samantha wouldn’t bat an eye. She’d just hire more girls. Of course, they wouldn’t be as good as us, but...
Wendy flashed a small grin
Wendy: Samantha thinks FFW’s success is because of her, and her alone. You’ve heard the way she talks to the fans, or to us. There’s no gratitude there. We could all walk out tomorrow, and Samantha would just keep going with other people. And, I hate to say it, but the fans wouldn’t know, or care, about the difference.
Isabella sighed.
Isabella: You’re probably right. But I can tell you first hand this company’s success has nothing to do with her, more or less. Cody does all the damn work. Samantha just lives the jet set lifestyle, and throws her weight around when someone annoys her.
She shook her head.
Isabella: I’ve been on the wrong side of Samantha, many years ago. She screwed me out of a championship. She’s always been devious as hell. But you know what? I’m not going to stand for it this time Wendy. I’m not just going to lay down and let her kick me in the dirt.
She looked back into Wendy’s eyes.
Isabella: I want to fight.
Wendy smiled ruefully.
Wendy: Against six, and who knows how many more Samantha could recruit to her side with just a smile and the signing of a check? That’s suicide.
Isabella: On paper, it seems it. But do you think this group is just going to sit back and relax? There will be other people on their hit list. The more people they anger, the more people may join my cause. Plus... I mean, people can see what’s happening. It’s not right Wendy. Besides, I know from experience. When I brought in the Power Trip in 2010, people moved and teamed to counteract them. If we can’t get to Samantha, that’s fine, but SOMEONE has to stop this group running riot over everyone...
Wendy looked over, a frown on her face.
Wendy: And you want me to help you, is that it?
Isabella’s expression was hard to read.
Isabella: You’re pretty much the only person in this company with a working moral compass. You know what Samantha’s trying to pull isn’t right. I mean, take your ladder match for the Evolution Championship. Do you think she’s going to sit back and risk Colleen losing the belt?
Isabella shook her head.
Isabella: It’s up to you what you do. Maybe I’m stupid, and maybe it is career suicide. But she’s caused me a lot of pain, both physical and emotional, in the last few weeks. Besides... I’ve done some terrible things. I owe this to the roster.
Wendy scoffed.
Wendy: And how am I to know this isn’t a power play of your own? Create your own faction, stick it to the boss lady. Maybe even come up with some scheme to wrestle power from her. I’ve seen that one a couple too many times as well.
Isabella smirked.
Isabella; I’m a wrestler, not an owner. I wouldn’t be able to run FFW, I am nowhere near wealthy enough. The idea of a faction sounds fun though. A group of freedom fighters!
She chuckled.
Isabella: But in a way, your point is why I need you. I need a level head to make sure I don’t get... carried away. I have a habit of doing that.
Wendy chewed her lip again.
Wendy: I’m not a rebel, Isabella. I’m not the kind of person who stirs up stuff, sticks it to the man. I just want to go out there, compete, do the best I can, and maybe win a few titles. If I wanted to start a revolution, I’d move over to Ireland.
A small chuckle.
Wendy: And I have a daughter to think of. You saw what Rose did to Michelle. Colleen can dislocate- or break- anything if she can get the right leverage. And Jo’s young, ambitious, and seemingly incapable of thinking for herself. That’s a dangerous combination. I do what you ask me to do, and the next thing I know, I could be in the hospital, permanently crippled, or worse. I don’t want Theresa to have to deal with that.
Isabella nodded, with an air of defeat.
Isabella: You’re right... I shouldn’t have asked. Still, no harm done, right?
She smiled at Wendy, but it seemed a touch forced.
Wendy nodded, and looked away, at the tugboat that was now almost out of the harbor. Isabella turned to go.
Wendy: Dammit...
Isabella, mouth agape, turned back to Wendy. She had never heard Wendy swear before. In fact, she had always joked that Wendy didn’t know HOW to swear...
Wendy: If you’re serious about this, if you genuinely are trying to make FFW a better place, and this isn’t some cute little power play you’re putting on, then count me in.
Isabella: ...Really?
Her smile gradually became a little more genuine.
Isabella: You have my word. I have nothing to gain by this. I just want to redeem myself, and prove to my little girl... and myself, that I’m not a horrible person after all. Thank you Wendy.
Wendy smiled, shrugging her shoulders.
Wendy: What kind of delusional self-righteous know-it-all white-knight fair play obsessed prude would I be if I didn’t put my money where my mouth was when it actually mattered?
Isabella laughed.
Isabella: Now that’s what I like to hear|!
Seemingly caught up in the moment, she gave Wendy a friendly squeeze. Wendy hesitated for a second, then embraced Isabella back. The two suddenly broke apart when a loud shrieking buzzing came from Wendy’s pocket. Wendy winced, and pulled out her phone, shutting the annoying noise off. She looked apologetically at Isabella.
Wendy: I’m sorry, I have to go or I’ll miss my flight. Just, give me a call soon, okay? I think you and I have a match we need to get ready for... partner.
Isabella grinned.
Isabella: Absolutely! I’ll see you soon.
As Wendy made her way off, Isabella smiled to herself. Somehow, the dark clouds that had enveloped her life had a little shine of silver around the edges suddenly...
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
EPISODE 123: Peek-a-Boo
Saturday August 27, 2011
FedEx Forum- Backstage Hallway
Memphis, Tennessee
10:39 PM Local Time
I was breathing heavily as I pushed my way through the curtain, into the backstage area. Breaking Point had just gone to a commercial, but the activity of the stagehands was fervent, as they were in full preparation for the next segment of the show. I glanced at a small schedule that had been taped to the wall just to the side of the entrance- the paper already was scribbled over and re-written in several areas as the usual chaos that was an FFW show inevitably cancelled some plans, and reformed others. For just a second, I bore a massive amount of respect for the poor show director, who had to vainly keep the tempers and schemes of fifty wrestlers in check- at least to the point where we could actually get a coherent television show instead of three hours of complete chaos.
Already “MATCH: Kassandra vs. Carter” had a massive check mark placed next to it, signifying that the segment was over, and on to the next one... I grimaced as I read the line beneath.
“INTERVIEW: Heavensent & Hellbound”
Great... that meant that Rori Snyder and Madison Knight would be here any minute, preparing to go on stage and no doubt incite the fans into a riot with their idiotic egotistical diatribes. Under normal circumstances, I could barely stomach the duo (who could, really?), but at the moment, as full of ire and adrenaline as I was at the moment, the mere sight of Rori Snyder’s perpetually smug face would drive me to ram my fist into it.
I briskly walked off, narrowly avoiding one of the camera men, apparently rushing back to his post after stealing away to the restroom during the break. I turned down the first hall I came to, heading deeper and deeper into the backstage area.
As soon as I was out of everyone’s way, I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I had warned Lucas Peek several times that if he made the decision to become a part of Breaking Point tonight, especially where his ex-girlfriend Lilah Carter was concerned, he would answer to me. Lucas had made good on his threat, and I had made good on my promise.
The experience had left me both upset and full of adrenaline- never a good combination in anyone. Part of me was tempted to not even wait until the next Aggression. Run out onto the concourse, and find that creep, and teach him a lesson right then and there. But that calm, rational side of me was preventing me from doing it. I was a wrestler, not a streetfighter, and we were going to settle this MY way.
“There you are,” I glanced over my shoulder at the voice, smiling shakily as he approached me. “Having a fun night?”
I grimaced, and shot a glare at my husband, receiving only that insufferable grin of his in return. Finally, I sighed. “I warned him. I said if he got involved...”
“No need to explain to me,” Terry replied with a laugh. “That was awesome. Did you see the expression on Lucas’ face? It was like he didn’t think you were going to do anything and suddenly, you were out there screaming at him. The fans loved it too. And I don’t know if you told me this, but you look super sexy when you’re pissed.”
It wasn’t the first time Terrence had ever said that, and, like always, the remark was punctuated with a kiss. Normally, I gave him a death-glare in retaliation, but this time, I was just to tired to react. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I felt drained, and wanted nothing more than to get out of the arena and back to our RV.
“She didn’t have a chance, Terry. She was worn out from that match... it’s the second time that creep preyed on her when she was vulnerable. I couldn’t let him hurt her. Not like that. But, God. It’s going to be that much more enjoyable to put Peek into his place at Aggression.”
Terrence released me from his embrace, and looked down at me skeptically. “You’re really going to go through with that?” he asked.
“Of course I am,” I replied, not without a hint of irritation. “I accepted Mr. Gambini’s invitation, and I plan on being there. In fact, I’m heading to Baltimore tomorrow to appear on Aggression, and make sure that Lucas knows full well what he’s about to go up against.”
“It’s weird,” Terrence mused, scratching his chin. “Gambini doesn’t strike me as someone who really cares that deeply about a domestic disturbance amongst a couple of his talent, especially if money’s to be made off of it. And if he did, why wouldn’t he have one of his own girls whip Peek’s ass? That Megan Parker kid, or Tabatha?”
“I don’t know, Terry He made the offer, I accepted. Besides, cross-promotional matches are always big news. It’ll incite people to watch his show. And it’s not like I’m a ratings curse... my appearances in FFW thus far have been very well-received.”
“Yeah, you’re turning into one of FFW’s top draws,” Terrence said, shrugging. “In fact, you’re in one of the top billed matches for the pay-per-view that takes place twelve days after that Aggression. And you’re walking alone, into a company that has a notoriously unscrupulous owner... a company that’s been embarrassed on several occasions by Samantha Star. And there’s no warning light flashing in your head?”
I couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. “What, Gambini’s luring me into this company as a trap, to embarrass Samantha Star?”
Terrence didn’t share my amusement. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
It was just too ridiculous a notion. “If that’s the case, he’s picking the wrong girl to start the war with. I doubt Samanatha Star would rally the troops for me. I’m hardly one of her ‘chosen’. Besides, this match isn’t about FFW versus SVW. I’m not going there to make SVW look bad. I have no problem with them... heck, my manager and good friend wrestles there!”
“No problem, eh? So what about the fifty or so times you complained to me about what a disgrace the T&A Championship is?”
Even as I turned to fixate a death-glare on him, Terrence was grinning. “Okay, fine,” I admitted. “The T&A title is a complete mockery of the sport. But at least it’s honest that it’s a farce, unlike some of the other so-called women’s divisions out there. And besides, you can at least rise above it there, like Tiffany, Stacey, and Valerie had managed to do. I’m not saying SVW is perfect, or even the company for me. If it was, I’d be there instead of here”
“Well, you might see it that way,” Terrence pressed. “But I’m sure of it- Gambini’s not about to let some girl from his biggest rival walk into his company, and beat the hell out of one of his wrestlers- no matter how low everyone’s opinion of him is.” He paused for a long moment. “I think you should reconsider this.”
“Absolutely not,” I said fiercely, looking at my husband incredulously. “I don’t back out of matches. I’m not a coward, Terrence. I accepted, and I’ll be there on the twelfth.”
“But...”
“Enough Terry!” I snapped, my patience finally running out. “Remember what we agreed? Your world, my world. No interference.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t give you advice,” Terrence persisted. “Lord knows you’ve given me enough over the past few months.”
I shot him a severe look, but I couldn’t help but smile at that. “I suppose,” I said. “I guess this just means you care about me just as much as I care about you.”
“Undoubtedly” Terrence replied, leaning in again to kiss me.
I eagerly returned the kiss, then pulled away as I stifled a yawn. “Ugh, I can’t believe how tired I am,” I lamented. “Let’s go back to the RV.”
Terrence shrugged. “Okay, but Pollaski’s out commentating on the Stryfe-MacKenzie match right now. Should we wait for him?”
“We’ll text him, tell him he can take a cab home,” I replied, stifling another yawn. I really was drained. Besides, Isabella was supposed to take to the ring afterwards, and the last thing I really wanted to do was hear my new tag partner talk. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was just something about my tag partner for Byte This that was rubbing me the wrong way. There’d be no harrm in leaving early, and avoiding any more undue stress.
My husband glanced skeptically at me, but he wasn’t really in any position to object to me making an early night of it. “Alright, let’s go,” he said to me, putting his arm around me and steering me towards the exit.
Wednesday August 31, 2011
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
11:25 AM Local Time
“So, Lucas... are you paying attention now?”
The scene opens in the living room of the next, upon the couch that Wendy always seems to be sitting on in her ‘at-home’ promos. She’s dressed relatively casual today- a dark green t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but most telling is the rigid posture and expression on Wendy’s face. Needless to say, Wendy’s looking a bit annoyed at the moment.
“How did it feel when you jumped that barricade and attacked Lilah Carter yet again when she was at her most vulnerable? Did it make you feel special? Are you proud of yourself now?”
A snort of derision.
“Or are you now realizing how you’ve proven what a coward you are, when you tucked your tail and ran at the first sign of resistance?”
Wendy bites her lower lip, and shakes her head disdainfully
“I wish you had taken a swing at me, Lucas. Showed some actual guts for once in your life, and gone after me. I would have loved to emasculated you right there in front of the FFW faithful, and shown the world just how pathetic you truly are.”
Another shake of the head.
“But no, you didn’t. You ran away, just like I knew you were going to. You seem to be good at running, Lucas. It’s almost a shame you chose to be a professional wrestler instead of a track star. The way you run, I’m sure you’d give Usain bolt a run for his money.”
Wendy sits up a little straighter, her emerald eyes blazing.
“Well, next Monday, you’re not going to be running anymore Lucas. There’s nowhere else for you to go, and nothing else for you to do but stand there in the ring and face me. And believe me, Lucas, I’ve watched you in that ring, and I’ve paid attention to the tricks, and you can rest assured that whatever madcap strategy you try to pull out of your proverbial sleeve, I will ensure it fails, just like I ensured that your attack on Lilah Carter would fail back at Breaking Point.”
A small scoff, that almost sounds like a laugh, and again Wendy shakes her head.
“And this isn’t even about revenge for Lilah. This isn’t about me being a white knight here. If Lilah had been unable or unwilling to rise to the task, then yes, I would have gladly taken up that banner. But she’s got you two weeks after I do, and there is nobody in the world more suitable for avenging Lilah Carter than Lilah herself. It will be most entertaining to watch her drive that final nail into the coffin you’ve placed your credibility in. Your days are numbered, Lucas, and come the twenty-sixth, I’ll be more than happy when that number hits zero.”
A deep breath.
“As for me, Lucas? Well, I might not be an avenging Valkyrie of retribution, but I’m still looking forward to going into SVW, taking advantage of Mr. Gambini’s invitation, and leaving you sprawled out on the ground in the middle of the ring. Because your constant self-aggrandizing clueless nature has gone beyond annoying. Never in my life have I seen anyone thinking so highly of themselves with so little to back it up. And your chauvinistic nature, quite honesty, it offends me.”
Wendy seems utterly oblivious to the fact that eighty percent of her vocabulary in this promo is going to go clear over Lucas’ head.
“I think by now we’ve all figured out that I don’t take well to being offended.”
A small smirk.
“So, Lucas, I hope you’re training hard, and getting yourself prepared. Because in less than two weeks, I’m going to cut you down to size, and leave no doubt in the world just what type of a man, and a wrestller you really are. And I’ll be one of the first to stand there and applaud two weeks later, when Lilah Carter finally wipes your putrid stain of a career from the wrestling landscape for good. And once it’s all said and done, I hope one thing rings in your mind.”
Wendy starts to stand up.
“You should have stayed in your seat, and hid behind that barricade, just like you’ve hiden behind everything else in your life.”
Wendy briskly walks out of the picture, and the scene fades.
FedEx Forum- Backstage Hallway
Memphis, Tennessee
10:39 PM Local Time
I was breathing heavily as I pushed my way through the curtain, into the backstage area. Breaking Point had just gone to a commercial, but the activity of the stagehands was fervent, as they were in full preparation for the next segment of the show. I glanced at a small schedule that had been taped to the wall just to the side of the entrance- the paper already was scribbled over and re-written in several areas as the usual chaos that was an FFW show inevitably cancelled some plans, and reformed others. For just a second, I bore a massive amount of respect for the poor show director, who had to vainly keep the tempers and schemes of fifty wrestlers in check- at least to the point where we could actually get a coherent television show instead of three hours of complete chaos.
Already “MATCH: Kassandra vs. Carter” had a massive check mark placed next to it, signifying that the segment was over, and on to the next one... I grimaced as I read the line beneath.
“INTERVIEW: Heavensent & Hellbound”
Great... that meant that Rori Snyder and Madison Knight would be here any minute, preparing to go on stage and no doubt incite the fans into a riot with their idiotic egotistical diatribes. Under normal circumstances, I could barely stomach the duo (who could, really?), but at the moment, as full of ire and adrenaline as I was at the moment, the mere sight of Rori Snyder’s perpetually smug face would drive me to ram my fist into it.
I briskly walked off, narrowly avoiding one of the camera men, apparently rushing back to his post after stealing away to the restroom during the break. I turned down the first hall I came to, heading deeper and deeper into the backstage area.
As soon as I was out of everyone’s way, I leaned back against the wall, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I had warned Lucas Peek several times that if he made the decision to become a part of Breaking Point tonight, especially where his ex-girlfriend Lilah Carter was concerned, he would answer to me. Lucas had made good on his threat, and I had made good on my promise.
The experience had left me both upset and full of adrenaline- never a good combination in anyone. Part of me was tempted to not even wait until the next Aggression. Run out onto the concourse, and find that creep, and teach him a lesson right then and there. But that calm, rational side of me was preventing me from doing it. I was a wrestler, not a streetfighter, and we were going to settle this MY way.
“There you are,” I glanced over my shoulder at the voice, smiling shakily as he approached me. “Having a fun night?”
I grimaced, and shot a glare at my husband, receiving only that insufferable grin of his in return. Finally, I sighed. “I warned him. I said if he got involved...”
“No need to explain to me,” Terry replied with a laugh. “That was awesome. Did you see the expression on Lucas’ face? It was like he didn’t think you were going to do anything and suddenly, you were out there screaming at him. The fans loved it too. And I don’t know if you told me this, but you look super sexy when you’re pissed.”
It wasn’t the first time Terrence had ever said that, and, like always, the remark was punctuated with a kiss. Normally, I gave him a death-glare in retaliation, but this time, I was just to tired to react. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, I felt drained, and wanted nothing more than to get out of the arena and back to our RV.
“She didn’t have a chance, Terry. She was worn out from that match... it’s the second time that creep preyed on her when she was vulnerable. I couldn’t let him hurt her. Not like that. But, God. It’s going to be that much more enjoyable to put Peek into his place at Aggression.”
Terrence released me from his embrace, and looked down at me skeptically. “You’re really going to go through with that?” he asked.
“Of course I am,” I replied, not without a hint of irritation. “I accepted Mr. Gambini’s invitation, and I plan on being there. In fact, I’m heading to Baltimore tomorrow to appear on Aggression, and make sure that Lucas knows full well what he’s about to go up against.”
“It’s weird,” Terrence mused, scratching his chin. “Gambini doesn’t strike me as someone who really cares that deeply about a domestic disturbance amongst a couple of his talent, especially if money’s to be made off of it. And if he did, why wouldn’t he have one of his own girls whip Peek’s ass? That Megan Parker kid, or Tabatha?”
“I don’t know, Terry He made the offer, I accepted. Besides, cross-promotional matches are always big news. It’ll incite people to watch his show. And it’s not like I’m a ratings curse... my appearances in FFW thus far have been very well-received.”
“Yeah, you’re turning into one of FFW’s top draws,” Terrence said, shrugging. “In fact, you’re in one of the top billed matches for the pay-per-view that takes place twelve days after that Aggression. And you’re walking alone, into a company that has a notoriously unscrupulous owner... a company that’s been embarrassed on several occasions by Samantha Star. And there’s no warning light flashing in your head?”
I couldn’t help but laugh incredulously. “What, Gambini’s luring me into this company as a trap, to embarrass Samantha Star?”
Terrence didn’t share my amusement. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
It was just too ridiculous a notion. “If that’s the case, he’s picking the wrong girl to start the war with. I doubt Samanatha Star would rally the troops for me. I’m hardly one of her ‘chosen’. Besides, this match isn’t about FFW versus SVW. I’m not going there to make SVW look bad. I have no problem with them... heck, my manager and good friend wrestles there!”
“No problem, eh? So what about the fifty or so times you complained to me about what a disgrace the T&A Championship is?”
Even as I turned to fixate a death-glare on him, Terrence was grinning. “Okay, fine,” I admitted. “The T&A title is a complete mockery of the sport. But at least it’s honest that it’s a farce, unlike some of the other so-called women’s divisions out there. And besides, you can at least rise above it there, like Tiffany, Stacey, and Valerie had managed to do. I’m not saying SVW is perfect, or even the company for me. If it was, I’d be there instead of here”
“Well, you might see it that way,” Terrence pressed. “But I’m sure of it- Gambini’s not about to let some girl from his biggest rival walk into his company, and beat the hell out of one of his wrestlers- no matter how low everyone’s opinion of him is.” He paused for a long moment. “I think you should reconsider this.”
“Absolutely not,” I said fiercely, looking at my husband incredulously. “I don’t back out of matches. I’m not a coward, Terrence. I accepted, and I’ll be there on the twelfth.”
“But...”
“Enough Terry!” I snapped, my patience finally running out. “Remember what we agreed? Your world, my world. No interference.”
“Doesn’t mean I can’t give you advice,” Terrence persisted. “Lord knows you’ve given me enough over the past few months.”
I shot him a severe look, but I couldn’t help but smile at that. “I suppose,” I said. “I guess this just means you care about me just as much as I care about you.”
“Undoubtedly” Terrence replied, leaning in again to kiss me.
I eagerly returned the kiss, then pulled away as I stifled a yawn. “Ugh, I can’t believe how tired I am,” I lamented. “Let’s go back to the RV.”
Terrence shrugged. “Okay, but Pollaski’s out commentating on the Stryfe-MacKenzie match right now. Should we wait for him?”
“We’ll text him, tell him he can take a cab home,” I replied, stifling another yawn. I really was drained. Besides, Isabella was supposed to take to the ring afterwards, and the last thing I really wanted to do was hear my new tag partner talk. I wasn’t sure what it was, but there was just something about my tag partner for Byte This that was rubbing me the wrong way. There’d be no harrm in leaving early, and avoiding any more undue stress.
My husband glanced skeptically at me, but he wasn’t really in any position to object to me making an early night of it. “Alright, let’s go,” he said to me, putting his arm around me and steering me towards the exit.
Wednesday August 31, 2011
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
11:25 AM Local Time
“So, Lucas... are you paying attention now?”
The scene opens in the living room of the next, upon the couch that Wendy always seems to be sitting on in her ‘at-home’ promos. She’s dressed relatively casual today- a dark green t-shirt and a pair of jeans, but most telling is the rigid posture and expression on Wendy’s face. Needless to say, Wendy’s looking a bit annoyed at the moment.
“How did it feel when you jumped that barricade and attacked Lilah Carter yet again when she was at her most vulnerable? Did it make you feel special? Are you proud of yourself now?”
A snort of derision.
“Or are you now realizing how you’ve proven what a coward you are, when you tucked your tail and ran at the first sign of resistance?”
Wendy bites her lower lip, and shakes her head disdainfully
“I wish you had taken a swing at me, Lucas. Showed some actual guts for once in your life, and gone after me. I would have loved to emasculated you right there in front of the FFW faithful, and shown the world just how pathetic you truly are.”
Another shake of the head.
“But no, you didn’t. You ran away, just like I knew you were going to. You seem to be good at running, Lucas. It’s almost a shame you chose to be a professional wrestler instead of a track star. The way you run, I’m sure you’d give Usain bolt a run for his money.”
Wendy sits up a little straighter, her emerald eyes blazing.
“Well, next Monday, you’re not going to be running anymore Lucas. There’s nowhere else for you to go, and nothing else for you to do but stand there in the ring and face me. And believe me, Lucas, I’ve watched you in that ring, and I’ve paid attention to the tricks, and you can rest assured that whatever madcap strategy you try to pull out of your proverbial sleeve, I will ensure it fails, just like I ensured that your attack on Lilah Carter would fail back at Breaking Point.”
A small scoff, that almost sounds like a laugh, and again Wendy shakes her head.
“And this isn’t even about revenge for Lilah. This isn’t about me being a white knight here. If Lilah had been unable or unwilling to rise to the task, then yes, I would have gladly taken up that banner. But she’s got you two weeks after I do, and there is nobody in the world more suitable for avenging Lilah Carter than Lilah herself. It will be most entertaining to watch her drive that final nail into the coffin you’ve placed your credibility in. Your days are numbered, Lucas, and come the twenty-sixth, I’ll be more than happy when that number hits zero.”
A deep breath.
“As for me, Lucas? Well, I might not be an avenging Valkyrie of retribution, but I’m still looking forward to going into SVW, taking advantage of Mr. Gambini’s invitation, and leaving you sprawled out on the ground in the middle of the ring. Because your constant self-aggrandizing clueless nature has gone beyond annoying. Never in my life have I seen anyone thinking so highly of themselves with so little to back it up. And your chauvinistic nature, quite honesty, it offends me.”
Wendy seems utterly oblivious to the fact that eighty percent of her vocabulary in this promo is going to go clear over Lucas’ head.
“I think by now we’ve all figured out that I don’t take well to being offended.”
A small smirk.
“So, Lucas, I hope you’re training hard, and getting yourself prepared. Because in less than two weeks, I’m going to cut you down to size, and leave no doubt in the world just what type of a man, and a wrestller you really are. And I’ll be one of the first to stand there and applaud two weeks later, when Lilah Carter finally wipes your putrid stain of a career from the wrestling landscape for good. And once it’s all said and done, I hope one thing rings in your mind.”
Wendy starts to stand up.
“You should have stayed in your seat, and hid behind that barricade, just like you’ve hiden behind everything else in your life.”
Wendy briskly walks out of the picture, and the scene fades.
EPISODE 122: Finnish Him!
THe following blog was posted on whirlybirdz.com. The comments within are solely the opinion of Daniel Pollaski and do not reflect the opinions of either Terrence Thompson and Wendy Briese.
Hey kids!
So it is with great sadness and other similar negative emotions that I’m sorry to announce the end of Michelle Taylor’s illustrious major-league wrestling is over! No, it turned out that it wasn’t me who got to end her career forever- that honor went to Rose Jenkins. But I don’t think there’s any denying that I did a pretty damn good number on the stupid blonde bitch. And yes, I could have probably completely destroyed Michelle right then and there, but let’s be honest. Three F3’s (F9?) was kind of enough. It takes a while for me to climb that turnbuckle, jump, and get up again, and I thought a couple more, as self-gratifying as it might be, would have just dragged things out.
And besides, that match with Rose ended up being Michelle’s most entertaining match ever- if more or less for the dealings between Rose and Camilla.
So it is done. No more Michelle Taylor to poison the television screens of the FFW or SVW faithful. No longer Star’s problem. Never Gambini’s problem. Just the problem of whatever homeless shelter is unfortunate to get her carcass.
And, like I told all of you, there’s now absolutely ZERO debate on who the T&A Champion is. Nikkii Spainhower won that race and she deserves the belt. Unfortunately, instead of the focus being on her, and her victory, it was, But by the time the girls passed me, Nikkii was so far out in front, and such a shoe in for th evictory, that Arianna, in her frustration, decided to take it out on me.
It’s bad enough that Arianna intentionally jumped her pogo stick onto my foot, in an attempt to both injure me, and create controversy surrounding her loss. But then her wrothless piece of trash husband attacks me, knowing full well that my foot was injured, thanks to his wife. Too injured to be in a fight, that’s for sure. Ass
Well, anyways, the foot’s been healed up over the past couple of weeks, and I’m ready to get going again! And for the third show in a row, yours truly is getting involved in a debut match. First mine, then Michelles (although is it really a debut if it’s your ONLY match?), and now Don Tirri.
AKA Big Daddy. Six-five. Two eighty six poundage. And one hundred percent Finnish. I’ve actually got a bit of the Finland in me too, thanks to my great-great grandmother. I’m not exactly proud of that.
Because let’s face it, Finland (and the rest of Scandanavia) are prime examples of how all that socialism crap doesn’t do anything more than turn your country into one giant heap of government dependant bitches.
This is the home of the fucking Vikings were talking about here! The thousand year scourge of Europe! The people who brought us horned helmets and dragon headed boats and battle axes and Thor and Loki and Valhalla and pilliaging. I mean, for God’s sakes... THESE ARE THE PEOPLE WHO MADE WEARING BRAIDED PIGTAILS MANLY!
Not anymore. Nowadays, your average Scandinavian is about seven and a half times less badass than your average Minnesota Vikings fan.
See?
No more Hagar the Horrible or Freyja or Norse badassness. Now it’s all hydroelectricity, free universal health care, and Nobel Prizes. Just like the great Romans have become Brooklyn pizzeria owners and the Mongols have become sheep herders in a tortured landscape, the once-mighty have fallen.
“But wait!” You’re no doubt saying. “Don Tirri is different! You saw what he did to Millar!”
And that’s true. What Don Tirri did to Stupid Ugly Millar was nothing short of the highest order of awesomeness. And Tirri is big like a Viking. He’s strong like a Viking. He’s got the hair for a Viking. And most importantly, he smells like a Viking.
Dear GOD, he smells like a Viking. About the one part of that culture I DON’T miss.
But, no. It’s all an act, just like the rest of that regions supposed neo-Utopian bliss crap. Just look at the performers of his entrance music- Lordi, which on the surface, looks like Finland’s version of Slipknot.
Oh yeah, super scary evil-faces, right? Yeah, except for the fact that Lordi won the motherfucking Eurovision Song Contest. Now, I know most of you are Americans, and don’t have a fucking clue what the Eurovision Song Contest is, and, just be very glad you don’t. Here’s two other winners you might have heard of, though:
That would be ABBA, of “Dancing Queen” fame, and Celine “My Heart Will Go” Dion. And they didn’t quite win, but everyone’s favorite pseudo-lesbian Russian girl group has been there too:
Am I calling Lordi a bunch of posers? No, I’m just saying they’re the Celine Dion of Scandinavian Death Metal. And Don Tirri’s the TaTu of SVW: might look good at first, until you realize that its all just an act, and it’s really not that good of one to begin with.
But me, though? I’m the real motherfuckin deal. The Pollaskinator. The Northwestern Nightmare. The Hater-Player. The Troll Who Feeds Himself. The soon to be FFW Manager of the year, and the reason you flock to the television every other Thursday, Saturday, and Monday- and the Internet in the meantime. And I might not be the best wrestler in the world, but I’m a damn sight better than this buffoon. And on Monday night, when I kick his ass from one end of Baltimore to the other, I’ll prove it.
And all Don Tirri will be left with is the underlying gratitude that his country has universal health care. He’s gonna fuckin’ need it.
Polla. Out.
Hey kids!
So it is with great sadness and other similar negative emotions that I’m sorry to announce the end of Michelle Taylor’s illustrious major-league wrestling is over! No, it turned out that it wasn’t me who got to end her career forever- that honor went to Rose Jenkins. But I don’t think there’s any denying that I did a pretty damn good number on the stupid blonde bitch. And yes, I could have probably completely destroyed Michelle right then and there, but let’s be honest. Three F3’s (F9?) was kind of enough. It takes a while for me to climb that turnbuckle, jump, and get up again, and I thought a couple more, as self-gratifying as it might be, would have just dragged things out.
And besides, that match with Rose ended up being Michelle’s most entertaining match ever- if more or less for the dealings between Rose and Camilla.
So it is done. No more Michelle Taylor to poison the television screens of the FFW or SVW faithful. No longer Star’s problem. Never Gambini’s problem. Just the problem of whatever homeless shelter is unfortunate to get her carcass.
And, like I told all of you, there’s now absolutely ZERO debate on who the T&A Champion is. Nikkii Spainhower won that race and she deserves the belt. Unfortunately, instead of the focus being on her, and her victory, it was, But by the time the girls passed me, Nikkii was so far out in front, and such a shoe in for th evictory, that Arianna, in her frustration, decided to take it out on me.
It’s bad enough that Arianna intentionally jumped her pogo stick onto my foot, in an attempt to both injure me, and create controversy surrounding her loss. But then her wrothless piece of trash husband attacks me, knowing full well that my foot was injured, thanks to his wife. Too injured to be in a fight, that’s for sure. Ass
Well, anyways, the foot’s been healed up over the past couple of weeks, and I’m ready to get going again! And for the third show in a row, yours truly is getting involved in a debut match. First mine, then Michelles (although is it really a debut if it’s your ONLY match?), and now Don Tirri.
AKA Big Daddy. Six-five. Two eighty six poundage. And one hundred percent Finnish. I’ve actually got a bit of the Finland in me too, thanks to my great-great grandmother. I’m not exactly proud of that.
Because let’s face it, Finland (and the rest of Scandanavia) are prime examples of how all that socialism crap doesn’t do anything more than turn your country into one giant heap of government dependant bitches.
This is the home of the fucking Vikings were talking about here! The thousand year scourge of Europe! The people who brought us horned helmets and dragon headed boats and battle axes and Thor and Loki and Valhalla and pilliaging. I mean, for God’s sakes... THESE ARE THE PEOPLE WHO MADE WEARING BRAIDED PIGTAILS MANLY!
Not anymore. Nowadays, your average Scandinavian is about seven and a half times less badass than your average Minnesota Vikings fan.
See?
No more Hagar the Horrible or Freyja or Norse badassness. Now it’s all hydroelectricity, free universal health care, and Nobel Prizes. Just like the great Romans have become Brooklyn pizzeria owners and the Mongols have become sheep herders in a tortured landscape, the once-mighty have fallen.
“But wait!” You’re no doubt saying. “Don Tirri is different! You saw what he did to Millar!”
And that’s true. What Don Tirri did to Stupid Ugly Millar was nothing short of the highest order of awesomeness. And Tirri is big like a Viking. He’s strong like a Viking. He’s got the hair for a Viking. And most importantly, he smells like a Viking.
Dear GOD, he smells like a Viking. About the one part of that culture I DON’T miss.
But, no. It’s all an act, just like the rest of that regions supposed neo-Utopian bliss crap. Just look at the performers of his entrance music- Lordi, which on the surface, looks like Finland’s version of Slipknot.
Oh yeah, super scary evil-faces, right? Yeah, except for the fact that Lordi won the motherfucking Eurovision Song Contest. Now, I know most of you are Americans, and don’t have a fucking clue what the Eurovision Song Contest is, and, just be very glad you don’t. Here’s two other winners you might have heard of, though:
That would be ABBA, of “Dancing Queen” fame, and Celine “My Heart Will Go” Dion. And they didn’t quite win, but everyone’s favorite pseudo-lesbian Russian girl group has been there too:
Am I calling Lordi a bunch of posers? No, I’m just saying they’re the Celine Dion of Scandinavian Death Metal. And Don Tirri’s the TaTu of SVW: might look good at first, until you realize that its all just an act, and it’s really not that good of one to begin with.
But me, though? I’m the real motherfuckin deal. The Pollaskinator. The Northwestern Nightmare. The Hater-Player. The Troll Who Feeds Himself. The soon to be FFW Manager of the year, and the reason you flock to the television every other Thursday, Saturday, and Monday- and the Internet in the meantime. And I might not be the best wrestler in the world, but I’m a damn sight better than this buffoon. And on Monday night, when I kick his ass from one end of Baltimore to the other, I’ll prove it.
And all Don Tirri will be left with is the underlying gratitude that his country has universal health care. He’s gonna fuckin’ need it.
Polla. Out.
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