From Wendy Briese’s private diary
11-26-2012
Anarchy was tonight.
105,000 people packed Cowboys Stadium to the rafters to watch the last FFW Pay-Per-View of 2012. Thirteen matches. Four titles on the line. Three number one contenders matches. Some of the best wrestling ever seen anywhere. An out and out all around success to add to Thanksgiving Weekends Newest tradition.
And I had absolutely nothing to do with it. All I did was sit at home and watch it on the television, because that was all that I could do. Sixteen days since I was injured in that match with Valerie Belmont, and I had to watch the most attended Pay Per View in FFW history from 900 miles away, because I can’t even stand up and walk to the bathroom without Terrence’s help.
It was a good show, although hardly what I had hoped. Isabella’s still champion, and Scarlett Kincaid is completely and utterly out of the Championship picture. As long as Bella holds it... she can’t contend. Luckily... that’s likely for only another couple of months. Colleen won the Femme For All and will probably face Bella at Cold Blooded. With all respect to Val, Colleen stands the better chance of dethroning Pazzini. I’m almost giddy at the prospect- Colleen won’t stand for any of Bella’s tricks. Isabella’s got nowhere to run or hide this time- Colleen WILL defeat her at Cold Blooded.
I should be happy for that, of course. The too long “third” reign of Isabella Pazzini is coming to an end. But everytime I think about it, every time I remember that image of Colleen’s hand being raised in the air tonight, I can’t help but think that could have been me.
That SHOULD have been me.
I should be the one going to Cold Blooded to face Pazzini. I should be the one cornering her like the dog she is, and whipping her as such, and taking her title. I should be the one saving FFW from the Iron Clamp of the Power Trip. I know I would have won the Femme For All, if only...
If only my back hadn’t been crunched on the steel steps at ringside.
I’ve seen the replay more times than I could stand, and I know its an accident. There was no way Val could have known she was that close to the steps, and even if she did, I was the idiot who decided to run full speed at her. We talked on Twitter, and she apologized, and I’ve forgiven her... but still. It makes me grind my teeth to think about it- I was winning that match, and in the blink of an eye, I was incapacitated. I should have quit then, but I kept thinking ‘it’s just a bruise, shake it off, a few more seconds...’ Now it’s going to be a few more months. I won’t be at When Worlds Collide. I won’t be at Cold Blooded. I won’t be at Chaos Theory. I might not even be at Conviction. Is Unstoppable 4 really the next major show I have a chance at being in, and even then, just starting back in, the bottom of the card? Or is it over? Do I have nothing left for me in wrestling anymore because my spine couldn’t take so much as an armdrag anymore?
Damn you, Valerie Lamb! You did this to me! You took my spot in the finals. You took the best chance I ever had at the FFW title, and you flushed it down the drain.
But she didn’t. I know she didn’t, and it’s not fair to think that. I’ve forgiven her in public, and I have to forgive her in my heart too. Maybe when the pain subsides, and I can move again, and the questions on my return go from ‘if’ to ‘when’, then maybe it’ll be easier to forgive. But right now, I’m just bitter. A bitter woman who can’t even get off the couch on her own.
At least tonight gives me something to look at pushing forward. Anarchy slapped me full in the face with what could have been, and now I have to remember that might still be. I will heal, I will complete my physical therapy, and I will become strong again. It might take six months. It might take a year. But I will be back in that ring, and when I do, there’s nothing that will stop me from going to the top.
No matter who is there.
Wendy
=======================
Wednesday March 13, 2013
Methodist Hospital- Main Entrance
Indianapolis, Indiana
12:47 PM Local Time
“Did you hear about Dr. Ferdinand’s DUI?”
Susan looked over sharply at her companion so fast her neck nearly cricked. By and large, for the better part of the last fifteen minutes, she had been ignoring the other woman, as she rambled on about various topics, none of which had been any interest to her. Instead, she had been far more content to simply lean against the pillar, glancing up at the perfectly azure mid-March Indiana sky, and enjoy her cigarette. But at the mention of one of the doctors, and “DUI” in the same sentence, her curiosity was piqued. Susan loved gossip as much as the next nurse.
“No,” she said, arching an eyebrow as she looked over at the other nurse- a short woman in her early thirties with a blonde pixie cut. Veronica might be younger than Susan, but she certainly seemed to be much more in the know than the middle-aged nurse. “What happened?”
Veronica finished taking a drag of her own cigarette, then grinned. “Apparently they pulled him over late last night, and he was TANKED. Even better, there was a woman in the car with him.”
“His wife?” Susan asked, already knowing- and, in fact, gleefully expecting the answer to the question!
“Nope!”
“Oooooh!” The two women giggled at deliciousness of the morsel of gossip Veronica had supplied. Neither one knew the doctor in question all that well, but it never mattered to them. Gossip was gossip, and the naughtier the better.
Susan took another drag of her cigarette, then looked over at her compatriot. “Do you think they’ll get a divorce? I hope he got a good-”
*BAM!*
Both woman shrieked in alarm as the door behind them opened violently, banging into Susan and knocking the cigarette from her hand. Both woman turned to look at the woman who had just come stumbling out of the building. She was certainly pretty- in her early thirties, slim, but seemingly well toned, with flame-red hair flowing freely down her back. That hair was slightly more askew now, as she nearly stumbled from the impact, but saving her balance just in time.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” the woman said, bending over and picking up the discarded cigarette. She handed it to the stunned nurse, nearly trembling with excitement. Susan and Veronica exchanged glances. The redhead was as giddy as a school girl.
Unaware, or perhaps unashamed of her enthusiastic exit from the building, the woman began backing away slowly, grinning wildly. “Sorry about that! I should really look where I was going!” She spun away, heading towards the parking lot...
...And was promptly nearly ran over by an arriving ambulance, which screeched on the brakes, and stopped inches from the redheads face the panicked driver leaning on the horn.
Seemingly still unfazed by her near death experience, the jovial redhead waved at the ambulance. “I’m sorry! Thank you for stopping! Have a great day!”
And then she was off across the parking lot, jauntily jogging towards a waiting emerald green motor scooter.
Susan looked over at Veronica, who was looking after the redhead with a positively stunned expression on her face. Susan couldn’t blame her- she probably looked the exact same way.
“What the hell was that?” she asked.
For once, the talkative Veronica had no answer.
====
Wednesday March 13, 2013
College Park Elementary School- 1st Grade Wing, Ms. Savage’s Class
Indianapolis, Indiana
1:37 PM Local Time
5. 12+19= _____
Theresa Thompson bit her lower lip as she stared at the problem, the Ticonderoga pencil in her hand waggled back and forth as the first grader tried to work out the arithmetic. She then moved her pencil to the paper.
Clearly the answer was 21.
WAIT! A voice inside her head stopped her just as she put the tip of her pencil to the paper.
That couldn’t be it... no. She needed to do something else too... what was it? Oh, right! Two plus nine was eleven, so she needed to carry the one! And that would make it....
31.
Theresa quickly wrote down the number, suddenly proud of herself for not falling for what- at least in her mind- was a trick by Ms. Savage to catch her off guard. Her eyes darted up for just a second, to where the elderly teacher sat, alternating between grading last night’s homework and scanning the class to make sure there were no problems with the test. Smirking slightly, Theresa looked at the next problem.
6. 52-18= _______
Crud. Subtraction. Theresa hated subtraction. The six year old could hardly understand the two functions were simply two sides of the same coin. All she knew was that putting things together was WAY more fun than taking them away. Easier too.
Theresa clenched her teeth in annoyance as she heard Lily Britchett’s pencil tapping on the desk. Lily always did that when she was having a hard time with math, and since Lily was an idiot... that happened a lot. Theresa tried to block it from her mind as she stared at her own problem. Two minus eight? How do you...
More tapping. Louder this time, and Theresa gritted her teeth.
“Knock it off Lily,” she hissed under her breath, leaning back over her paper. She needed to make the two a twelve, right? And twelve minus eight was four... but she also needed to make that five a four then, since she took ten out... so...
“THERESA!”
The little girl’s head snapped up, looking at the front of the class. Had Ms. Savage heard her telling Lily to stop? She had a strict no talking policy during tests, and Theresa had seen her tear a student’s paper in half before for breaking the rules.
But Ms. Savage wasn’t looking at her. She wasn’t looking down at the stack of papers she was grading either. Instead, she was looking, her eyes wide with surprise and confusion, over at the nearest window. Theresa, curious now, followed her gaze...
And froze in horror.
Her mom was standing on the window, rapping on the glass, and Theresa realized this- not Lily’s stupid pencil was the sound she had been hearing. A sinking feeling began in Theresa’s stomach, the kind one gets when they know they are doomed. This was going to be worth a week of merciless teasing from the other kids... she could already tell that...
Wendy only then realized that she had gotten her daugher’s- along with the rest of the class’s- attention. The grin on her face widening even more, she held up a piece of paper, excitedly pointing to it as if she expected her daughter to read it from halfway across the room through a window.
“Theresa! They cleared me! I’m okay to go again!”
While normally that would have been great news to the six-year old’s ears, considering that pretty much everyone in the classroom was now turning to look at her, and her face was flushing a color of red she had no idea she was capable of achieving. Unable to think of anything else to do, she weakly smiled back at Wendy, giving the smallest thumbs up.
It seemed to be enough for the overly-excited redhead. “I’ve got to go tell your father! Bye-bye! I love you and I’ll see you when I get home!”
And then she was gone.
Her face hot enough to melt the polar ice caps, Theresa turned her attention back to her test, shoving her nose as close as she could to the paper. 52-18... 52-18.... 52-
“Was that your Mom?” came a voice from behind her. Lily’s, and just as irritating as smacking your pencil against a desk. Even worse, Ms. Savage was too stunned in her own right to tell her to be quiet and finish the test.
So Theresa did the only thing she felt she could do at that moment.
“Nope,” she lied, hastily scribbling 34 into the answer blank. “I have no idea who that was.”
======
Wednesday March 13, 2013
Thompson Auto- Main Garage
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:06 PM Local Time
“You idiot! You’re trying to rip me off! I know you are!”
Terrence Thompson closed his eyes, taking a deep breath in an increasingly more difficult effort to not throttle the man standing in front of him. Even though he was the defending champion of the ARCA racing series, he still spent plenty of time at Thompson Auto, the garage he jointly owned with his uncle. It was more than an obligation that he help run the business his uncle had partially given him as a wedding present years ago- he genuinely loved to work on cars when he wasn’t racing them.
Not so much at the moment.
“Look, dude, I can promise you that I’m not trying to rip you off...”
“Don’t ‘look-dude’ me!” Came the irate reply, the man puffing up in indignation. “I saw on Sixty Minutes how mechanics are always trying to make up problems with the car so they can charge more for labor! There is absolutely no way fixing the car is going to be that much!”
“We need to replace both the transmission and the camshaft” Terrence replied, trying to keep his voice calm. “I don’t know how long it’s been since you had maintenance done, but-”
“How dare you! I have my car tuned-up regularly!”
“Well, then you might want to show this report to THEM,” Terrence replied, holding up his clipboard. “And believe me, we have seventeen cars waiting behind this one to get fixed, so trust me when I say that we don’t have time to make unnecessary repairs, even if we were so desperate to cheat our customers. Now, do you want the repairs done? Or do you just want to pay the diagnostics, and call a tow truck to haul this somewhere else?”
The customer took another deep breath of indignation, and Terrence clenched his teeth. He was about to not even let this bastard have a choice. He could haul his burnt out hunk of metal to the dealership, for all he cared.
“Terry! Terry!”
The feminine voice calling his name surprised him, and he looked over, his eyes widening as he saw his wife running across the garage, a piece of paper in her hand.
“Hon, can this wait? This is kind of a bad ti-”
Terrence lost his voice as 145 pounds bowled into him, staggering him back as she wrapped his arms around him. He glanced over at the customer, and wasn’t surprised to see the man looking more irate, his face starting to turn crimson. Terrence tried to shoot him an apologetic look as Wendy kissed him a couple times, before releasing him, holding up that piece of paper, triumphantly.
“Terry! I’m clear! The doctor said I’m okay to go back to wrestling again! Isn’t that great?”
“Uh.. yeah...” Terrence stammered. “That’s really good, but...”
But Wendy was again jumping into him, giggling like a schoolgirl as she kissed him a couple more times. Only then did she seem to notice the annoyed customer standing there. For a second, she blushed a little bit, as if apologetic. But then she did the last thing Terrence ever thought she would do- or wanted her to do, for that matter.
She hugged him as well, the man stiffening in shock as the redhead embraced him, then quickly pecked him on the cheek, her normal reservedness lost in the excitement of her triumph.
Terrence could almost see the lawsuit forming in his mind as his wife let go, apparently still too giddy to realize what she had just done. She turned back to him, backpedaling all the way.
“Bye Terry! I’m off to the gym to train! I’ll see you tonight at home! I love you!”
And then she was jogging... no... not jogging... she was SKIPPING for God’s sakes- out of the door, leaving Terrence alone in the garage with the now beet-red customer.
For a long while, neither man said anything, just stared at each other instead. Finally, Terrence decided to test the water.
“I’ll knock off fifteen percent...” he began.
“Deal,” the embarassed customer replied quickly. “Good talk.”
========
Wednesday March 13, 2011
Daniel Pollaski’s Apartment
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:16 PM Local Time
“Oh, Kongregate, you wonderful, wonderful website you,” Daniel Pollaski purred as he scanned his computer screen for a list of possible- and free- games to play. So many choices.. what to do, what to do...
He selected one of his favorites- a top down shooter that went by the name “Bullet Heaven”, and began limbering up his fingers for an hour or so of dodging massive ornate bullet patterns. Nothing better to do this Tuesday afternoon...
At least until the phone rang.
Thankful that the interruption had come before he had started his game, rather than during, Pollaski reached over and grabbed his Android off the table, glancing down at the screen.
CALL FROM: WENDY BRIESE-THOMPSON
Daniel Pollaski knew better than to ignore a call from a client.
“Hey Wendy, what’s up?” Pollaski asked,
“I’M CLEARED! I CAN WRESTLE AGAIN!!!!”
The voice was almost ear-shattering in its pitch and volume, and Pollaski had to hold his Droid away for a second or two, lest his eardrum rupture. WHen he finally thought his prognosis on ever being to hear again was somewhat good, he returned the phone to his ear tentatively. “That’s good... bout time they let you go,” he said.
“I know, right?” Wendy’s voice was clearly still excited. “I’m on my way to go train now! You’re going to come, right?”
Pollaski glanced back at his laptop screen, and the “Bullet Heaven” title flashing across it, trying his best not to audibly sigh. “Now? Are you sure?” he asked.
“Of course I’m sure!” Wendy replied, as if aghast he would even think of such a thing as postponing the start of training. “I haven’t been able to train in four months, and I have to be all kinds of rusty! Now meet me at Speed City as soon as you can get there!”
“Uh... wait a sec, Wendy” Pollaski began, cringing...
“Daniel Robert Pollaski, I am your client and I know for a fact that you’re not with another one at the moment! So you have twenty minutes to get your butt down here or we will be having a nice earnest discussion on why you don’t feel you need to fulfill YOUR end of the bargain!”
“But that’s not it,” Pollaski began, groaning inwardly. “It’s just...”
“I’m not hearing it, Daniel!” Wendy said crisply. “I’ll see you in twenty!”
And then she hung up.
Pollaski sighed, looking up at the ceiling and closing his eyes in dismay. It was great that his longest tenured client was back in action, to be sure. But it kind of sucked that he was going to be ripped away from what was looking to be a promising gaming session.
But what really bothered him was what he wasn’t able to share the news with her that really mattered. He had no idea how she was going to react to the news that...
======
2:28 PM Local Time
“SPEED CITY IS GONE?!”
Her voice muffled by her helmet, Wendy stared at the building that used to house her longtime home training gym. She rubbed at her tinted visor, as if somehow it was distorting what she was seeing, but didn’t want to believe.
How could this had happened? Sure, she hadn’t been since her injury four months ago- she had done most of her physical rehabilitation at the hospital. But there was no place in Indianapolis that came even close to training for full-contact sports like Seed City Gym & Training Center had been. But now...
The building that had housed the gym was almost unrecognizable. A new facade had been slapped on it, and the parking lot had been repaved, the yellow striping of the parking spaces crisp and clear against the asphalt, compared to the faded white lines she remembered. And even more telling, the parking lot was more full than she’d ever remembered it either, and not just with cars, but nice ones. Lamborghinis, Porsches, even a Maserati.
Whatever had taken over Speed City’s location was certainly popular. Wendy could see why, as she looked up at the brand new, glowing neon sign hanging over the entrance.
APHRODITE & APOLLO: A HEALTH CLUB FOR BEAUTIFUL PEOPLE
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