Sunday July 22, 2012
The Nest- Back Deck
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:21 PM Local Time
And so it’s a nice bright and sunny day in Indianapolis as our scene opens, with Wendy standing alone on her back deck. As usual, the flame-haired champion is smiling, dressed in a dark green blouse with a pair of loose fitting jeans. She steps around one of her patio chairs, standing next to the patio’s table.
“Good afternoon everyone! I’d like to give a bit of a demonstation, to start out. “
Wendy turns to the table next to her, where a small pile of baseballs is sitting. She picks one up, idly tossing it straight up a foot or so, and then catching it.
“I have fourteen baseballs here. One for each day that I was the Evolution Champion last September. As you can see... it’s not a lot. Something that has been brought up to me repeatedly ever since I lost that belt to Crystal Hilton at Sin & Sacrifice.”
Wendy smiles slightly, as she reaches down, plucking a construction worker’s hard hat from seat of the patio chair behind her. She quickly puts it on, brushing her hair back behind her.
“Now *this*... would be Tara’s reign”
As if on cue, a torrent of baseballs comes cascading off the roof. Wendy stands calmly, wincing a couple times as the hard little spheres bounce off her helmet, and a few more connect with her shoulder. The sound of well over a couple-hundred baseballs hitting the deck and furniture is rather deafening, and the balls scatter everywhere, some bouncing or rolling off the deck, while others simply bounce in place, or roll around coming to a stop. Wendy stands through it all, surprisingly calm, given the circumstances.
“Two hundred forty-five days, or at least it will be come Unstoppable. Thirty-Five Weeks. Seventeen and a half times longer than my own reign was. Two months longer than the second-longest Evolution Championship reign. One month longer than any other singles-title reign in this company’s history.”
“And I’m the one who’s been given the task of putting an end to it.”
Wendy takes off her hard hat, and sets it down on the table. She takes a quick second to smooth out her hair, then turns back to the camera.
“It’s a bit ironic, isn’t it Tara? Ten months ago, when I won that belt, everyone was in an uproar over it. All I heard, over and over, is that the only reason I was champion is because Colleen walked out. And when Crystal Hilton took that belt from me two weeks later, the cries of that belt simply being gift-wrapped for me by a woman who was simply looking to move on to bigger and better things were almost nonstop.”
“And through it all, I tried pointing out that you were also in the match. That even with Colleen gone, the path up that ladder was hardly a free one. No one cared. You were nothing more than an afterthought, someone to be forgotten because you didn’t fit into people’s paradigms of what a failure I was. Who cares if Wendy beat Tara Thunder? Colleen Harmon walked out, so your argument is invalid.”
“It’s a little more valid now, isn’t it? Wendy Briese beat Tara Thunder to win the Evolution Championship. The greatest Evolution Champion in the history of the company, and I BEAT you to get to the belt first. Yeah, I’ll say it, because when you’ve only been beaten twice in singles competition the year-plus you’ve been here, I can take pride in being one of those two people.”
Wendy smiles slightly, and uses her feet to sweep some more baseballs off the deck, lest she slip on any.
“You haven’t forgotten about that, though have you? One of two people to beat you, and you already got your revenge over the other one. But you had to wait to get another chance at me, because our paths in this company diverged until this week. But all the while, Tara, I’ve been listening. Has there even been one match in which my name hasn’t come up in your ranting and raving?”
“I mean, you did go on for weeks about how my mere presence in that very same ladder match was the result of some enormous conspiracy against you, claims that you immediately dropped the moment you had a clear shot at the title against Hilton. There was the time you shrieked to Jennifer Willaims about how lousy an Evolution Champion I was- six months after the fact, mind you. And of course, a couple weeks ago when you mocked Desirae Kain for several minutes over the unforgivable crime of losing to me.”
Wendy scoffs, and pulls a piece of paper out of her pocket, slowly unfolding it.
“But this one... oh this one’s my personal favorite, Tara. It came in late October, just before you faced Hanna Elliot for the first time. When you got in front of the camera and bellowed like some drunken lout: ‘I mean sure you held those great speeches about hard work and determination gets you wherever you want to go, well where did all that high and mighty BS go to when you took on Crystal hmm? Where did it go Wendy, TELL ME WHERE YOUR HARD WORK AND DETERMINATION WENT WHEN YOU CHOKED AGAINST HER AND BARELY GOT ANY OFFENSE IN AFTER THAT ONE FLUKE OF A PIN YOU GOT! I told you before Wendy that your precious “win” would be empty and hollow and you would have to live with it. Well how does that “great” win feel now hmm? Are you happy that you went trough all that “hard work” and “determination” to made a transition Champion?’”
Wendy tried to read that in her best impression of Tara’s voice, although he voice gave out halfway through the screaming part. She takes a couple of seconds to clear her throat, then turns to the side, crinkling up the paper she had been reading off of, and tossing it inside. In exchange, she pulls out her No Surrender Championship. And while a grill is certainly an odd place to stash a title belt, it was probably the safest place on the deck from the baseball hailstorm.
“That hard work and determination never left me, Tara. And it’s gotten me this, and it’s gotten me the opportunity to walk out of Unstoppable the first Double Champion in company history. The opportunity to win back the Evolution Championship, and perhaps erase the biggest stigma of my FFW career.”
“See, when I lost to Hilton at Sin & Sacrifice, I had every intention of cashing in my rematch clause. I wasn’t going to let Crystal walk away with the smug satisfaction that she had gotten one over me, not after everything she’d done to disrespect me over the months. But then Jo named me her Poison Pick, and I was forced to deal with her. And after that, well, the opportunity I got was just too big to pass up.”
Wendy taps the title on her shoulder.
“I didn’t just become the first No Surrender Champion, Tara. I helped build this division. I helped pioneer something that has NEVER been done before in this sport. And if that meant I had to swallow my pride, and risk becoming a mere footnote in the Evolution Championships history, then so be it. But now that the opportunity is here, to win it back, well, I’m not going to say no.”
“And that’s why I laughed so hard at your childish antics, Tara. How you clutched your Evolution Championship to your bosom and screamed “MINE!” over and over, like my daughter used to do when she was three.”
Wendy looks over at her belt, and adjusts it on her shoulder.
“You don’t think I feel the same way? Winning this title put me in Samantha Star’s crosshairs, and she spent two months trying to make my career a living hell just so she could put the belt on one of her ‘chosen ones’. She succeeded, and I went through hell and high water winning this thing back from Starla. You think I’m so eager to part with it again? This belt, which represents the division that I helped build, leaving my grasp one more time?”
Wendy scoffs, and shakes her head.
“But these belts, they’re made to be put on the line. The truest of Champion isn’t measured by if they win the title, but how they keep it. You think the eight months you spent as champion would mean anything if you only defended it a couple of times? You think I’m not bothered by the fact that I’ve yet to successfully defend a championship? And that’s why this is so worth the risk, Tara. I can not only become the one to end your reign, but I can finally... FINALLY prove legitimacy to mine.”
“Or, it could all disappear for me again, just like it did back in September. The ultimate risk/reward scenario, and I’ve always said no division exemplifies that better than the No Surrender division. You’re either vaulted to glory by victory, or humbled in defeat- by your own acquiescence.”
“You best understand that, Tara. You talk of pinning or submitting me? No. There is no pinfall here, because while it might be title-for-title, this is still the No Surrender Divison, and as such, its a No Surrender match. You want this belt? You want to keep YOUR title, that you hold so precious? Then you beat me in MY match. You have to do something that NO ONE has done for a decade, and that’s make me submit... whatever Alex Adonis’ delusions might think.”
Wendy’s eyes flash with anger for just a second. Evidently, she’s still a bit sore about that.
“Of course, you’ll toe the Power Trip line on that one, won’t you? You’re best buddies with Starla now, and you wouldn’t want to make the good Doctor angry by denying her claim that she legitimately made me submit, would you? Especially the way she was just gushing over you in Pollaski’s preview column. You must feel so special to be a part of that group. The elite sisterhood of Femme Fatale Wrestling... or so you’d have us believe.”
“Have you paused to ask yourself exactly what it is you could be setting yourself up for, Tara? You don’t need the Power Trip. You’ve proven that much. And if you lose to me at Unstoppable... you think those good graces will continue? Ask Jo McFarlane how that eventually worked out for her. Do you even think that your clique will hold it together, considering three of your sisters will be facing each other for the biggest prize in women’s wrestling? There’s a lot of ego there, Tara. A lot of ego all around. That can be a bit heavy on your group dynamic.”
“Of course, you probably won’t even let yourself think of that, will you? You probably lap up Isabella’s lies like a kitten does milk. Just so long as it’s one of them leaving with the belt, it’s all okay, right? And you wouldn’t even dare entertain the thought of losing to me, would you? After all, the prospect of it inspired you to shrug and say ‘well, anything is possible... I guess.’”
Another scoff, and Wendy kicks away a few more baseballs (dear god there’s a lot of them!)
“Like I said before, Tara, I’ve been paying attention for the last few months. And even more than you running my name through the mud every chance you’ve gotten, I’ve seen another trend. You’ve always been arrogant Tara, but at this point, it’s turning to hubris, and that’s not good for you.”
“Hanna Elliot humbled you back in October, and when you faced her again, you faced the camera, shrugged, and muttered, ‘well, everyone loses at times.’ And yet, since then, you haven’t, save for that one eight woman tag match before Conviction. And with every win, with every successful defense of your title, you’ve gotten more and mroe sure of youself, to the point that you’re on camera, screaming that your opponents are losers because they dropped a previous match.”
Wendy shakes her head.
“You’ve forgotten how to lose, haven’t you? And no, that’s not a good thing. You’ve become afraid of it, to the mere prospect of it happening drives you to hysteria. You’ve made it clear- you take this too personally. I can see that, it’s pretty tough sometimes to get punched by a girl, dropped on your head by her, then hand her a stuffed tiger and go out for appetizers after the show.”
“Well, guess what, Tara? I lost to Cara, clean, one two three in that ring, and I’m still here. I still have the exact same opportunities ahead of me. Crystal’s lost to you every time you two met, and she’s actually higher up on the card than we are. I’m only 5-4 in 2012, and yet, here I am, in the exact same place you are. How does *that* make you feel?”
“This ego of yours, these hysterics you’re prone to. You need some air let out of your balloon, and I think I’m just the right person to do that. You’ve had a great run with that Evolution title, but it WILL come to an end, and if not by me, then by someone else’s hand. It’s an inevitability, that’s what these belts are made for, to be passed from one to the next. My No Surrender Championship will leave me again one day too... but not now. I’ve got much to do with this belt, much to prove... can you say the same for yours?”
“Or are you simply clinging to that belt like it’s a teddy bear? It sure sounds like it, by your actions. You’re so terrified of losing, you just want to stay in your comfort zone, the Evolution Champion. Because what Pollaski said is true- you could be #1. You could be FFW Champion. But you won’t be, not this time. You’ll be walking out of Unstoppable at most second-best in the company... and that’s if you beat me. Are you truly happy with that?”
Wendy pauses, and grimaces, as if she’s admitting a hard truth.
“See, and that’s the difference between you and I. I want to get to that level, but I haven’t gotten there yet. I have plenty more to prove before I can truly call myself an FFW Championship contender. And I can certainly prove a lot by beating you.”
“Is that what you want to be, Tara? Simply content with being a gatekeeper, a challenge to determine who is truly capable of making it to the main event? You’re like a prized bull, where comers can try to figure you out, tame you, even just stay with you for a proverbial eight seconds. But sooner or later, someone’s going to figure you out, and what then? What are you going to do when the puzzle of Tara Thunder becomes cracked, when your safety-net is taken away?”
“Because sooner or later, all bulls get figured out. Their moves become predictable, and more and more riders last to victory. And when that happens.. they’re put out to pasture. Some are used as training for novices and others... well.”
Wendy grimaces again, and runs her index finger across her neck. She then takes the title off her shoulder, and holds it in her arms, staring intently at the camera.
“I’m not going to pretend that this is altruism. I’m winning this weekend, because I need to do it for myself, but trust me, Tara. In the end, losing that belt will be what’s best for you, just like it was for Scarlett. Just like it was for Sophie and the Television Title. Just like it will one day be for me.”
“So, Prepare yourself, Tara. It’s time you remembered defeat. It’s a bitter poison to take, but hardly a lethal one. I know you’ll resist, and I know that the ensuing struggle will make this one of the best matches of the year. But if you don’t even entertain the possibility that I might just walk out of here the winner... well, I’m not just going to deflate your balloon. I’m going to pop it entirely. And while that may be something the crowd is hungry to watch, I’d rather spare myself the ugliness of that scene.”
Wendy holds up six fingers.
“You have six days to get ready, because when I hit that ring Saturday, it’s going to be faster and with more purpose than you’ve ever encountered before, and that includes the last time we faced. I have a lot to prove, Tara, and there is no one better in this company to face for it than you.”
Wendy turns, and heads back towards her house, and the scene fades.
======================================
Tuesday July 24, 2012
Northern Ireland Tourist Board- Exterior
Belfast, Northern Ireland
10:50 AM Local Time
“Splendid!” Gwendolyn Constance Briese muttered as she felt the first drops of rain beginning to fall, quickening her pace as she walked down the sidewalk. It was only sixty degrees here in Belfast, something she could hardly complain about having just left the scorching heat of the American midwest, but at the same time, why did it have to rain today, of all days?
She was already nervous, much to her surprise. She appeared on FFW television nearly every week, so she was hardly camera shy, but something about this assignment gave her stomach the flutters. She supposed it was the importance of the job- she wasn’t just being a spokesperson for a product- she was practically becoming an ambassador for the homeland of her parents, of a country she had always loved and longed to visit more often.
She hoped she was up to the task.
As she walked, her head filled with the thought of the sights she’d get to see in her work. Would she get to say her lines walking along a craggy cliff by the sea? Or maybe atop one of the mountains, or in an old castle? She hoped it wasn’t just a studio job. It’d be so exciting to get to see these landmarks she would be helping to promote!
She was so lost in her excited thoughts, that she nearly passed her destination, stopping only when she nearly ran into the sign. She paused, realizing where she was, and then looked up at the building. It was a lot smaller than she had expected, a simple, narrow brick two story building, tucked in between two others of similar design. She bit her lower lip, and double checked the sign again, making sure she was in the right place. Then, making a last ditch effort to smooth out her hair and dress, she took a deep breath, and walked forward into the building.
The lobby was even smaller than she would have guessed from the outside, consisting of a simple narrow desk with a bored-looking receptionist behind it. On the left, a creaky old staircase led to the upper floor, while a hallway on the right led back into the downstairs offices. The receptionist had been talking on the phone, but she hung up as she saw the flame-haired woman approaching. “Can I help you?” she asked, her voice heavy with accent.
Wendy smiled. “I’m here for an appointment,” she said, “Eleven O’Clock with Mr. Mahoney?”
The receptionist simplly stared back, making Wendy feel rather uncomfortable. “Who?”
“Mr. Mahoney. I’m Wendy Briese... Mr. Mahoney contacted me a couple weeks ago about shooting a commericial.”
The receptionist gave no indication that she recognized her. Instead, she simply stared back, a mixture of confusion and a slight hint of irritation on her face. “There is no one here by that name.”
Wendy blinked in surprise. “Are- are you sure?”
The receptionist nodded. “There’s only a dozen of us here. I’m pretty sure I know everyone.”
“Well, maybe I got the name wrong.” Wendy replied, trying to ignore the sinking feeling she was starting to feel in her stomach. “But someone here contacted me about an advertising campaign directed towards the United States, and they wanted me in it.”
The receptionist shook her head sympethetically, although Wendy was coming to realize with growing irritation that the woman thought she was nuts. “Haven’t heard anything about that, ma’am. I could ask our director, but he’s on holiday with his family.”
Wendy bit her lip, staring back in confusion. “But someone called me about-”
“Are you sure it wasn’t a joke, ma’am?” The receptionist shrugged. “People like to play pranks.”
“It’s a pretty mean-spirited joke,” Wendy replied back, feeling her face start to turn red. “I mean, I flew all the way here from America to...” her voice trailed off. She was starting to get upset.
The receptionist nodded. “That would be pretty mean,” she replied, smiling slightly. “Look, the best I can do for you is to take your information, and then ask around. I won’t make any promises, but there might be something going on that I don’t know about.”
She slid Wendy a piece of paper, and Wendy reluctantly wrote down her name, mobile number, hotel, and room number, and slid it back to the receptionist, who set it on her keyboard. “I’ll see what I can do,” she promised. “How long are you here for?”
“I fly back tomorrow,” Wendy replied, sighing. “I have a show in Seattle that I have to get ready for.”
The receptionist blinked. “What do you do?”
“I’m a professional wrestler.”
“Uh-hunh,” the receptionist replied, blinking, and Wendy felt her face starting to turn red. She had this feeling that she had become one of this woman’s favorite work stories- the crazy professional wrestler who thought she was coming to shoot an advertisement. “Anyways, if I find something, I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks,” Wendy muttered, beating a hasty retreat for the exit.
Her face was burning she could tell, both with the sting of humiliation and the anger at having been tricked. She she shoved her hand in her purse, fumbling around for her mobile phone. It took several attempts to grab it, and she picked it up, quickly speed dialing her manager. She didnt care what the international rates were, and she certainly didnt care that it was only six in the morning back home. She wanted answers.
“Mero?” came the sleepy answer on the other line.
“Dan!” Wendy exclaimed, trying to keep the anger out of her voice. “I just went to the Northern Ireland Tourist Board.”
“Oh, yeah.” Pollaski muttered, waking up somewhat. “How’d that go?”
“Not so good,” Wendy replied. “They said they never heard of me, or any American-based ad campaign. They never even heard of this Mahoney guy!”
“... you sure?”
“YES I’M SURE!” Wendy exclaimed. “Dan, if you think this is some sick idea of a joke, I swear to God-”
“WHOAH!” Pollaski was fully awake now, she could tell. “Would you calm down and show a little fucking faith in me, woman? I hack Twitter accounts and cannonball through living room windows. I don’t sent clients halfway around the world on a snipe hunt the week before monster pay-per-view matches.”
Wendy was surprised at the indignation in her manager’s voice, but it did little to placate her. “Then who did?” she demanded.
“No clue, but whoever it was is definitely in Belfast. I looked up the country and area code myself. So what are you gonna do now?”
“I don’t know,” Wendy sighed. “I guess maybe see some sights, and get in a bit of training. The receptionist said she’d ask around the department, but she didn’t sound too convincing.”
“Alright, well, I’m sorry about that. The whole damn thing sounded legit to me. I wouldn’t have okayed it with you otherwise. I’ll look around, see what I can dig up. Maybe you can pay a visit to this prankster and let him know how annoyed you are.”
Wendy chuckled at the thought of clamping some unsuspecting lout in the Banshee. It’d certainly serve him right for messing up her week like this. “Alright, Dan. Thanks. And... I’m sorry I yelled at you.”
“Eh no worries. I’m used to it. Take care, Wendy.”
Wendy hung up, and looked up at the sky. What had started a drizzle was slowly becoming a steady rain, and she cursed herself for not bringing her raincoat with her. She hurried her pace up the street, looking around for a tourist attraction, or some place she could reasonably take shelter in. She stopped, smiling when she saw a small shop in front of her, and ducked inside. Maybe they’d have umbrellas, and at the very least, she might be able to kill some time browsing until the rain lessened up.
To her surprise, it was a quaint shop of odds and ends, mostly second-hand, by her guess. She paused to look at some beautiful crystal jewelery in a display case, and then a rack of old hats, nearly picking out a bowler, and laughing at her mental image of Terrence wearing such a thing. Beautiful plates, mirrored keychains, tweed jackets, this place had everything!
Including umbrellas. Wendy grabbed an old looking olive-colored one. It wasn’t very big- but she only needed it for herself, and hopefully just for today. Still, she continued to browse through the store, not finding anything else worth buying, but enjoying looking at the odds and ends all the same. Finally, she approached the kiosk, the clerk a kindly elderly woman. As Wendy dug into her wallet for the notes she had converted at Heathrow, something out of the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned, and was taken in by a beautiful display of flowers. Even though the plants were clearly artificial, it had been a well worked bouquet.
It also reminded her of something she absolutely had to do while she was here.
Wendy paid for the umbrella, then asked the shopkeeper where a florist was, the woman kindly directing her to a store just a couple blocks away. Wendy quickly walked there, thankful for her newfound protection from the rain, which was steadily becoming harder. She ducked into the flower shop, and quickly selected two beautiful bouquets, paying the shopkeep.
“If you keep them in water, they’ll stay fresh longer.” The shopkeep intoned in a voice that suggested it was a reminder he gave to every single customer.
“I don’t think that’s going to be much of a problem today,” Wendy joked, gesturing outside.
It fell flat. Why did her jokes always fall flat?
Still, Wendy’s mood was hardly diminished by the time she got to the bus stop, and it wasn’t until ten minutes later, when the bus stopped across the street from her destination, that her mood grew more somber.
St. Gregory’s Cathedral was a large, gothic-looking structure, even though it had been built in the later part of the 19th Century. On a day like today, the church took on an almost forbidding appearance, although she had found the inside beautiful the last time she visited. Today, however, she wasn’t going inside, but instead directed her steps towards the enclosed gated area to the side of the church, where the cemetery lay.
It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for, not far from the gate, a few hundred feet in. Two headstones, sitting side by side. She looked first at the one on the left- “Constance Frances O’Reilly”, and then to the one on the left “Gayle Maria Briese”.
Her grandmother, dead eight months, and her mother, dead now nearly ten years.
She knelt down, ignoring the slimy feeling as the knees of her nylon stockings sank into the mud. She bowed her head, closed her eyes, and incanted a prayer- the one that had been said at her mother’s funeral, and one she uttered with regularity.
Eternal rest, grant unto them, O Lord,
And let perpetual light shine upon them.
May the souls of the faithful departed
Through the mercy of God rest in peace.
Amen.
Wendy crossed herself, and opened her eyes, leaning forward to lay a bouquet against each headstone. She stood up, keeping her head bowed, her eyes resting on one headstone first, and then the other. She was surprised by the lack of emotion that came over her. The last time she was here, she couldn’t say anything without tears leaking out.
Now, there was nothing to say. There was nothing to feel, other than an overwhelming sense of peace. Her grandmother had been a bitter woman most her life, and she was now at peace. And her mom, was right here, where she had belonged all along, not on some godforsaken forgotten hillside in upstate New York. Wendy smiled softly. If there was one thing she could feel content about, its that she had done the right thing here.
Even with the overcast sky and the falling rain, a glint of light caught her eye. She looked atop her mother’s headstone, and was surprised to see a pin sitting atop it. Careful not to tread atop the grave itself, she leaned forward, picking the pin up, wondering who else would come here to leave something for her mom. Dimly, she remembered the elderly man she had ran into here. What was his name again? D’Angelo? No... Doughtry? Doyle?
Delaney, that was it. He had said he had known her mother. Maybe he had stopped by.
She looked at the pin, turning it over. It was a pretty pin, oval shaped, colored in the orange, white, and green of the Irish Triclor. In the foreground was a Celtic Cross, and beneath it, the word ‘Saoirse’ was written.
Even with her limited Celtic, she knew what that word meant- “freedom”. Obviously it was a Republican pin.
“I don’t send my clients halfway around the world on a snipe-hunt”
“Then, who did?”
“No clue, but whoever it was is definitely in Belfast.”
Her recent conversation with her manager came rushing back to her, and her eyes went wide, the pin falling from her hand. “Oh my God...” she whispered, her voice trembling.
She suddenly knew EXACTLY who put that pin there.
She heard the rush of footsteps close behind her, and started to wheel around, but she was too late. A strong, muscular arm wrapped around her neck, over the shoulder. Wendy grunted, her mind racing. Whoever it was- they were strong, but this was an easy enough hold to break out of. All she needed to do was-
And then her assailant’s other hand came in, holding a cloth, pressing it to her face over her nose and mouth. The sweet smell of chloroform invaded her nostrils, and the world suddenly went black.
No comments:
Post a Comment