Monday April 22, 2013
Central Park- Byte This Preshow Festival
New York City, New York
1:11 PM Local Time
It’s a beautiful day in New York City as we fade into a festival atmosphere, with tents, and booths, and hundreds, if not thousands of milling people. The Byte This preshow festivities are evidently well underway. Admist the tents, a small grassy area has been roped off for promotional work. Right now, Wendy Briese is making good use of it, standing a couple of feet from the ropes, where several curious souls are milling about watching. Wendy’s not alone, either- her manager is standing right next to her, as is her husband. All are smiling (or in Pollaski’s case, smirking) at the camera. Despite the not-quite-warm weather, Pollaski’s bedecked in his usual shorts and Hawaiian shirt, while Wendy is wearing jeans and a windbreaker. Terrence has on his FFW racing firesuit, black with pink stripes.
Wendy: “Hey everyone! As you can see, I’m already here at Byte This, and we’ve got quite the party going! We’re still a couple hours from the start of the show, but man, you can see that people are already turning out in droves for this. It’s actually kind of a carnival atmosphere here, and I think that there’s something here for everyone. We’ve got great food, some really fun auctions for charity. I saw a couple of game booths, and of course, a chance to meet all of your favorite FFW Stars... Including myself!”
Wendy grins.
Wendy: “So if you’re in the New York area, come on down! There’s plenty of things for you to do before the show begins at four. And of course, we’ll be kicking things off proper at four o’clock with our fourth Byte This internet pay-per-view, which features four incredible matches! Of course, all this is going to benefit the Red Cross, so whether you come on down and donate blood and watch some wrestling, or simply tune in on your computer, everything’s going towards a great cause!”
Terrence takes a step forward, standing next to his wife, the pink linings of his racing suit glinting in the sun.
Terrence: “That’s right, hon. You see, between the terrorist attack in Boston, and the horrible tragedy in Texas, last week served as a very harsh reminder that disaster can strike at any time, anywhere in the world today. The Red Cross is here to provide relief for victims of disasters and tragedies. On average, the American Red Cross responds to about seventy THOUSAND disasters per YEAR. That ranges from individual house fires to wide-ranging catastrophes like Hurricane Sandy. They help people survive and get back on their feet in the wake of such tragedies. The proceeds that Byte This produces today will go towards helping the Red Cross be prepared for the NEXT disaster.”
Now Pollaski steps forward.
Pollaski: “And preparedness is a key factor. I never let a client get into that ring without having a solid gameplan in mind. But matches are scheduled, you KNOW when they’re going to happen. That’s not the case for most disasters. Earthquakes and tornadoes can strike without any warning whatsoever. In situations like that, the difference between life and death can come down to minutes. That’s why being as ready as possible is so important. Donating blood after the fact won’t save lives. That’s why it’s so important that your local communties blood reserves are well stocked TODAY, and ready to be put to use for the next emergency.”
Wendy: “Every two seconds, someone in America needs blood. That’s forty-four thousand donations needed every day, and over thirty MILLION in a year. Sadly, though, only thirty-eight percent of the U.S. population is even eligible to donate blood. Which means we need those who ARE able to be as generous as possible, especially if you have type O-negative blood, which can be universally used. Terry here has O-negative, and he gave today!”
Terrence grins, and gingerly taps his arm.
Terrence: “Did you know that if someone donated on their seventeenth birthday, and donated once every eight weeks until they were seventy-six... they’d have donated over forty-eight gallons of blood? That’s enough to have potentially saved a THOUSAND lives! And donating blood is a safe process. All donors are given a brief physical, to ensure that it’s safe for them to be a donor, and the entire process is done in a clean and sterile environment, to ensure the safety of both the donors and the recipients.”
Pollaski: “And blood is used for a lot more than you might think. Sure, it’s used to keep people who have lost too much blood in disasters alive, but it’s also used for transfusions in cancer patients going through chemotherapy, and victims of sickle-cell disease. They also-
“ARE SUPER HELLA TASTY!!!!!”
Pollaski’s voice is promptly cut off as a girl comes walking into the picture. She’s hardly the most attractive woman in the world, a little scrawny, with her hair a greasy dirty-blonde tangle. Despite the weather only being in the upper fifties, she’s dressed in a bikini top and a pair of short booty shorts. She’s also covered head to toe in glitter. Like... she just took a bath in it. The woman is holding a pouch of donated blood, complete with the Red Cross logo. As Terrence and Wendy watch in horror and disgust (Pollaski is oddly unaffected by all this), she takes a big unladylike swig, the blood sploshing onto her face, running down her cheeks.
Girl: “WHOOOOO! SPRING BREAK BLOOD KEGGER!”
There’s a long pause, with Terrence and Wendy both staring at the girl with slack-jawed expressions. Finally, Wendy finds her voice, albeit weakly.
Wendy: “That’s... Kool-Aid.... right?”
Terrence: “You’re a VAMPIRE!!”
Terrence snaps his fingers, pointing at her, his voice thick with jovial recognition. He always was quick on the uptake, that one. This proclamation is quickly followed by a smacking sound, as Wendy’s palm collides with her own face.
Wendy: “Oh, my god...”
Vampire Girl: “That’s right. And a member of the finest wrestling family in the world today, so you better show me the respect I deserve!”
Terrence scratches his chin, suddenly confused.
Terrence: “You’re a Mackenzie?”
Vampire Girl: “NO, YOU IDIOT! I’m a fucking BELMONT! I’m Pollaski’s newest client, Naughta!”
Pollaski: [very quietly] “You, uh... weren’t supposed to mention that part.”
Wendy’s disbelieving, horrified gaze has turned into a furious glare directed at her manager. Pollaski does his best to pretend not to notice, but he’s clearly unnerved by Wendy’s dagger-eyes.
Wendy: “Naughta... Belmont?”
It hits her. Another facepalm.
Wendy: “Oh... my... God...”
Terrence doesn’t seem to be any more impressed about this either.
Terrence: “So we’re stealing jokes from Geico, now?”
Pollaski: “FUCK GEICO! I HAD THIS PLANNED OUT WELL BEFORE THAT FUCKING COMMERCIAL AIRED!”
True story. Although there’s a slight pause after Pollaski’s outburst.
Pollaski: “What I meant to say is that I have absolutely no idea what you’re talking about. Kelly McGuffin does bad jokes. Maybe this is HER doing... you ever think of that?
The expression on Wendy’s face clearly indicates that she’s not buying this in the least. Or that she wants any part of it. That second emotion only increases when Naughta reaches into her shorts, and for all appearances starts fingering herself. Terrence’s eyes bulge, and Wendy angrily opens her mouth to object- only for Naughta to somehow pull another pouch of blood from her shorts. She opens it, and starts taking another drink.
Naughta: “Wow, this shit’s awesome. Is this really blood?”
Wendy facepalms for the third time. Two more and we have a record. Terrence covers his mouth, knowing full well his wife will kill him if he so much as smiles. Pollaski simply nods, although he’s starting to look like he may have bitten off more than he could chew with Naughta.
Pollaski: “Um... yes. Yes it is.”
Wendy: “Okay! Daniel, why don’t you show your new... ‘client’ around the place, and introduce her to the other girls? Or... just away from here. I’ll take care of the rest of things here.”
Pollaski opens his mouth to protest, but one glance at Wendy tells him that is a very VERY bad idea.
Pollaski: “Yeah. Come on, Naughta. Let’s go...”
Naughta: “I’m still going to get paid for this, right?”
Pollaski: [sigh] “Just keep walking...”
Wendy watches them as they exit, and sighs, taking a deep breath and turning back to the camera.
Wendy: “I can’t believe he seriously did all that just to make a stupid Belmont joke...”
Terrence: “Well, to be fair, it’d been like seven months. He was probably going through withdrawal.”
Hardly seems like an acceptable reason for Wendy, but for the sake of professionalism, she’s willing to let this go.
Wendy: “Okay, well, anyways. Like I was saying, I hope that as many as possible can make it down here for some fun and supporting a good cause. I know I’m looking forward to my match tonight, when I make my in-ring debut after a five and a half month wait, against Trinity. Now I...
Wendy’s interrupted again, as her husband clears his throat. Wendy glances over at him.
Terrence: “Y’know, I was just thinking. If Trinity’s really a nun, she could help out with this blood drive today. All she needs to do is get some communion wine, and do some transubstantiation, and then voila...
Terrence’s voice trails up when he realizes that Wendy’s glaring at him.
Terrence: “...Or does that put too much of the ‘Ewwww’ in the Eucharist?
And the glare goes straight from daggers to death-star calibur laser beams.
Terrence: “I’m... um... gonna go help Pollaski with Naughta...”
Wendy: “You do that.”
Terrence hastily exits after Pollaski and Naughta. Wendy pauses for a second, taking a deep breath, gathering her thoughts, before turning back to face the camera.
Wendy: “ANYWAYS... I don’t think I need to tell everyone that I’m pretty anxious about tonight. I mean, its been over five months since that ill-fated match I had in Glendale. I’ve been training hard ever since I got cleared to come back over a month ago, and I’m confident that I’m more than ready to step in that ring tonight. But still... you go so long, you have to pray that you haven’t missed a step or that you’ve shaken all the rust off. Especially when you hit the ground running, going up against such a challenging individual.”
“I know a ton of people are looking forward to this match, and I’m sure that you’re one of them, Trinity. After all, this whole Catholic Collision thing. New Doctrine versus Old Doctrine. The stuffy old conservative Irish-Catholic against the new liberal...”
Wendy bursts out laughing, shaking her head.
“I can’t even say it. You think you’re some sort of liberal progressive, Trinity? You think what you’re doing is anything new? No. It’s not. Catholicism has an unfortunately VERY long history of people like you. People who think the rules shouldn’t apply to them.”
“You probably know the histories, even at the highest ranks of the Church. Pope John the Twelfth turned the Vatican into his own personal whorehouse. Alexander the Sixth took nepotism to a level beyond anything Kat Stryfe could even begin to envision. Leo the Tenth was so bad, the church splintered in two and plunged Europe into centuries of bloody war. Even now, we hear the reports of corruption in the Vatican, and of the enormous task our new Pope Francis has in rooting it all out.”
“Our church has a lot of problems, Trinity. Luckily, you’re not one of them.”
Wendy folds her arms, biting her lip.
“You’re not a problem, Trinity, because when it comes to this church, you’re irrelevant. You can dress up in your Halloween costume all you want and scream ‘lookee me, I’m a nun!’, and it won’t matter worth a darn because your little fringe-cult means nothing. You’re little more than the mistress of a Catholic-themed brothel, and the only reason anyone’s even HEARD of you is because you’re a talented enough wrestler to get signed with the greatest women’s promotion on the planet.”
“It doesn’t matter how many matches you win, and it certainly doesn’t matter how creatively you manage to warp Scripture to suit your own needs, that’s not going to change. Maybe that’s a bit of a frustration for you, because you’ve apparently so wrapped your identity in this charade, there is nothing else to you. I’m Catholic, yes, but there is FAR more to me than which church I go to on Sundays. You’re the slutty fake-nun who wrestles, nothing more.”
Wendy looks down at her hands, scratching her knuckles before glancing back up at the camera.
“Luckily for you, Trinity, this is going to be a wrestling match, and I learned long ago that God has other things to worry about than who win’s a sporting contest. Even better for you, you’re FAR more relevant in the Halls of Femme Fatale Wrestling than you will EVER be in the Vatican. You haven’t had all that many matches, but you’ve been flat out devastating when you have wrestled, even if all your tactics are a bit dodgy.”
“Forget all this battle of the Catholics nonsense... THIS is why I need to win tonight, Trinity. Because I don’t like losing.”
Wendy pauses for a second, then laughs, shaking her head as she realizes the utter ridiculousness of what she just said.
“Master of the obvious right there, eh? I don’t think any of us likes to lose a match, considering the how much it hurts, both physically and in the pride, but... when I drop a match, especially one I know I could have won, it BOTHERS me. I want it back. I want to face them again, and I want to beat them this time around. And you can look at Kitty Stryfe and Crystal HIlton as evidence of what happens the second time around. I don’t like to think of myself as a vindictive person, but when I want a revenge win, I seem to get it.”
“There’s only two women in the company right now that hold unanswered victories over me in singles competition- Valerie Lamb and Serafina Reynolds. Valerie Lamb... I know that rematch is going to happen sooner or later naturally. We’re going for the same title, and we’re both valid contenders for it. Our paths will cross sooner or later, maybe even as early as Unstoppable... with the title on the line.”
Wendy smiles slightly, apparently amused by her own wishful thinking.
“But Serafina... when I passed on my rematch clause to go after the greatest prize in women’s wrestling, I passed on any guarantee I had of another match with her. My own choice, I know. And one I don’t regret... but that night in September still burns brightly in my mind. One careless foot placement, a sweep of the leg, and it was over just like that.”
Wendy snaps her fingers, and grimaces, although it slowly turns into a smile.
“If I can’t beat Serafina directly, the next best thing I can do is to beat her nemesis. You’ve beaten her three times, now, although of course that’d have been zero if you hadn’t resorted to underhanded tactics, such as using a holy symbol you’re supposed to be venerating as a weapon, or having that fat phony figurehead you call the Cardinal attack her boyfriend. I know, I know... one of those was no holds barred, so you were fully within your legal... spare me, please. Even in an ‘anything goes’ match, there’s some lines you don’t cross. But you did, because you wouldn’t have stood a chance against Serafina otherwise.”
“But I’m going to do what Serafina couldn’t. I’m going to beat you. I’m going to leave ZERO doubt in that ring, when the end of the night comes, and there isn’t a trick you can come up with that’s going to prevent it. I almost hope you do try one of your underhanded tactics on me. I would love nothing more than to make it blow up completely in your face. It’d be a nice message to send to the Power Trip, and whoever’s making the decision on who I’m going to face at Relentless. I swore that I was going to take the Power Trip to task for what they’ve done, and I don’t see how you’re any different from them, save for the fact that you couldn’t make it past the audition stage.”
Wendy’s no longer smiling, just glaring intently into the camera.
“I’ve had my fill of cowards and cheaters who hide behind warped semantics in some pathetic, desperate attempt to justify themselves. I’ve had my fill watching the best women this company has to offer getting blindsided time and again and screwed out of match after match. I’ve had my fill of screwjobs, and mockeries, and all around pathetic behavior that no decent person would ever partake in.”
“In short, Trinity, I’ve had my fill of people like you, and I’m just getting started. So tonight, Trinity, you’re going to become more than just that “Slutty Fake-Nun who wrestles”. You’re going to become more relevant both inside this ring and out than you could ever possibly want.”
“You’re going to become an example.”
Wendy steps back, looking grimly at the camera, as it starts to fade out, only for it to snap back on with the sound of loud voices and screams.
Voice: “STOP HER!”
Wendy’s stern visage cracks as she looks to her side, her eyes widening as Naughta comes running back into the picture, her arms now full of blood pouches. She’s giggling maniacally, grinning back at her pursuers.
Naughta: “WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE! DRINK *ALL* THE BLOOD!”
And just like that, the glittery fake Belmont is off again, chased by a bunch of white-coated Red Cross workers. Wendy only watches in silent horror, as Terrence and Pollaski come running up. They stop, and Pollaski doubles over, panting, nearly falling to the ground when an irate Terrence shoves them.
Terrence: “YOU FUCKING IDIOT! You used CHERRYADE for FAKE BLOOD? Have you learned NOTHING from Belladonna?”
Pollaski’s still trying to catch is breath, and he sounds on the verge of tears as he looks at Terrence helplessly.
Pollaski: “I... think she’s... on crack... dude. Anyways... that’s real blood she’s got now, so...”
Wendy’s eyes bulge as she sees something off camera, and she begins to point helplessly, in the general direction of the off-camera FFW Racing booth.
Wendy: “Uh... Terrence? Naughta’s... um...”
Terrence looks up, following his wife’s point, and his eyes go wide too.
Terrence: “HEY! GET AWAY FROM MY RACE CAR YOU CRAZY BITCH! I HAVE TO RUN AT SALEM NEXT SUNDAY! Wai... WHAT ARE YOU DOING? NO! DON’T YOU DARE DUMP THAT INTO MY GAS TA-AUUUUUUUUUUUUGH!”
Terrence’s scream echoes throughout the Park, causing anyone who wasn’t looking at the Birdz before to be staring at them now. Pollaski cringes in sympathy, while Wendy’s turned beet red, shaking her head in dismay. Terrence stops his shriek, turning towards Pollaski, his face thunderous.
Terrence: “YOU! THIS IS *YOUR* FAULT!”
Pollaski gulps.
Pollaski: “Meep?”
Terrence: “AAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
And with that rage filled shriek, Terrence leaps at Pollaski, tackling him and both men go tumbling to the ground. Pollaski immediately begins howling for mercy, although judging by the heavy blows being struck, Terrence’s mercy pretty much went down the drain seconds ago. Wendy stares at the fight for a couple of seconds.
Wendy: “[sigh] I’m going to go check on Theresa.”
And so she leaves her manager and husband behind, and the last thing we see as we fade out is Terrence continuing to attempt to ground and pound the unfortunate Pollaski into hamburger.
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