From the private journal of Wendy Briese
11-9-13
Things never go the way you expect them to.
It’s one of the fundamental truths of most sports- in the end, there’s no such thing as a status quo. Every season brings a different landscape to the scene, every year brings a different championship picture, and, most of the time, every year brings a different champion. It’s to the point that when there is a recurring champion, such as Alabama or the Miami Heat, it’s even more remarkable to sustain that much success. Much more often, last year’s champion is this year’s 4-5 mediocrity.
Wrestling’s no exception. Last year, heading into Anarchy, the championship picture was Isabella Pazzini and Scarlett Kincaid, with Colleen and Valerie fighting in the finals of the Femme For All. Two of those women are no longer with the company- Bella’s retired, and Colleen’s moved on to SVW. Scar and Val have traded places- Val is now filling the role of the challenger (who, concidentally is rematching having just been dethroned), while Scar is in the finals of the Femme For All.
The other two women weren’t even on the roster this time last year. I was out injured, and now I’m the FFW Champion. Mika was long gone, forgotten, widely regarded as a clown, a woman who would only face the bottom rung of competition, destroy them, and then brag about it. One win. One single win over Camilla Pazzini and, suddenly she’s in the Femme For All finals.
I didn’t see that coming. I don’t think anyone did, and that’s unsettling. Even though my main focus is Valerie right now, when you’re the champion, you always need to be on the lookout for prospective challengers. For someone to come out of NOWHERE and become one match away from being your next challenger, that’s dangerous. Being caught unawares is fatal in this business, and Mika has gone from clown to catastrophe in an alarmingly short time.
So have Witches’ Brew, come to think of it. I would never have told them this, of course, but I was fully braced to watch them lose tonight. Steph and Sunny are great people, and fine wrestlers, but I didn’t think they were ready. I didn’t think they were truly prepared to deal with Aimee and Lightning and the screwballs they’d undoubtedly throw at them. But just like Mika, they caught me by surprise, although this surprise was far more pleasant.
But again, a year ago, no one had even heard of Sunny Kyoun, and Steph was just Lyn Dallins bartender wife. Team Adonis were the champions, and everyone was waiting for Hayley and Ignis to get one more crack and finally wrestle the titles away. Now, both teams are disbanded, and Ignis and Casey have undergone considerable changes of heart.
The landscape will always shift in wrestling. It’s why groups like the Power Trip and Legendary are ultimately doomed to fail. Staying at the top forever is impossible when there’s so many ready to knock you off. You can fight as hard as you can to postpone it, but it will come eventually.
And I know that applies to me too. The last two months have been wonderful for me, and I’ve enjoyed them. But sooner or later my time will be over too. It may not happen at Anarchy, or even One Night Stand, but sooner or later someone is going to beat me, and take away this belt, and then I’ll be in the role of trying to win it back. It’s inevitable.
It’s the way it should be.
-Wendy
================
Saturday November 23, 2013
Thompson Family RV on Interstate 465
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:12 AM Local Time
So now we're flying we're free
We're free before the thunderstorm
On towards the wilderness
Our quest carries on
Far beyond the sundown
Far beyond the moonlight
Deep inside our hearts and all our souls!
So far away we wait for the day
For the light source so wasted and gone
We feel the pain of a lifetime lost in a thousand days
Through the fire and the *CLICK*
“Hey!” Terrence Thompson protested, glaring over at his wife. “What’d you do that for?”
“It’s too much, Terry,” his wife replied, rubbbing the bridge of her nose as if she had a headache. “I just can’t handle all the noise right now.”
“NOISE?!” Terrence protested with a scoff, glancing at Wendy like she had just contracted a disease. “This isn’t noise. It’s anthemic! This is the kind of music knights used to listen to as they rode into battle!”
“I *strongly* doubt Dragonslayer-”
“Dragonforce!”
“...whatever. I strongly doubt they were around back in the midieval times. In fact, considering there was no electricity, I doubt there was any heavy metal at all back then.
“Oh, there most definitely was,” Pollaski interjected from the back of the RV. “You didn’t have to lug all this in here,” he grumbled pointing to the jumbled suit of armor sitting on the RV’s couch between him and Theresa. “It’s metal, and it’s most definitely heavy.”
“How’s the polishing going, young squire?” Terrence asked as he glanced into the RV’s mirrors to change lanes, getting around a slow moving semi-truck.
“First of all, I’m not your squire.” Pollaski said, tugging at the heavy brown burlap robe he was wearing. “I’m a friar. And second… you’ve polished it like twenty times already, dude.”
“That’s because daddy needs to look good when he kicks the Black Knight’s ass today! Right, Theresa?”
If Terrence was expecting an enthusiastic affirmative, he was disappointed, because Theresa simply griped “My dress itches. Why am I even wearing this stupid thing? Halloween was weeks ago!”
Wendy turned around, smiling at her moping progeny. “Because you’re going to be a princess today!”
“Daddy says I’m always a princess,” Theresa responded, unimpressed. “I’ve never had to wear this stupid dress before.”
“Well, today you get to be an *actual* princess. Your father and I volunteered to participate in the Renaissance Faire today! Of course… many elements seem to more pertain to the later middle ages than the actual Renaissance… and that’s not really a period worth celebrating if you really think about it, but I suppose it doesn’t really hurt to romanticize it a little…”
Theresa glanced over at Pollaski. “What’s she babbling about?”
Pollaski chuckled. “You know that Game of Thrones show your dad and I like? Pretty much that. Except without all the frozen zombies.”
“Oh, so everyone’s going to run around with their boobies hanging out?”
“WHAT?! TERRENCE!”
“She walked in while we were watching an episode once, okay?!” Terrence stammered as his wife’s emerald eyes began to bore holes in him. “And Theresa, what part of OUR LITTLE SECRET do you not understand?!”
As he began to wither under Wendy’s gaze, Pollaski sighed and turned back to the confused seven year old. “Basically, we’re going to a festival that celebrates history from about four hundred to seven hundred years ago. People are going to dress up and you get to see what life was like back then. There’ll be music, and crafts, and dramatic shows. And they’re actually going to have a jousting tournament that your dad’s going to participate in, and you and your mom are going to be ladies of the court up on the royal platform.”
“What’s jousting?” Theresa asked, frowning. “Wait… is that when two guys ride at each other on horses and try to knock each other off with poles? Dad’s doing THAT?!” The small girl’s emerald eyes, matching her mothers, lit up in excitement. “Cool! Could he get killed?”
“NO!” Wendy proclaimed adamantly. “Don’t even say stuff like-”
“So how come Mom’s not in her dress? She’s just in a T-shirt and jeans!”
Wendy smiled indulgently. “Because I’m actually meeting with Mr. Grant… you know, the man who runs the website at FFW? We’re going to be doing a publicity photo shoot, and I’m not sure what he’ll want me to wear first. But after the shoots over, I’ll change into my own princess dress. Just be happy YOU don’t have to wear a corset.”
“What’s a corset?”
“Oh, look, we’re here!” Terrence announced, slowing the RV down to make the turn into the parking lot. “Thank god we get to be in the performer’s lot. Look at how far out we’d have to park otherwise…”
Wow… there’s a lot of people out there…” Theresa said, looking out the RV’s side window wide-eyed. “Are they all coming to watch daddy joust?”
“A lot of them will.” Wendy said, digging around in the RV’s glove compartment, then taking out four lanyards and tossing one to Pollaski and Theresa each. “These are your ID cards. Don’t take yours off, okay Theresa?”
Theresa nodded as she put her lanyard over her neck, Pollaski doing likewise as Terrence pulled into a parking spot. Within minutes the four of them were walking towards the entrance, Wendy carefully holding her photoshoot costumes, and Pollaski and Terrence each holding half a suit of armor.
“Good thing the weather’s nice,” Wendy said, looking up at the azure sky. “Its unseasonably balmy for this late in November. I was afraid that cold front would get here sooner.”
“Yeah, it’s kind of weird they hold it so late in the year. Then again, I’d proably rather not be dealing with this armor in the heat of the su- OY!!!”
Terrence’s arm flashed out, grabbing his daughter by the back of her arm and yanking her back, just as a black Trans-Am came roaring by, missing the little girl by not even two feet.
“Oh my God! Theresa, are you okay?” Wendy exclaimed, bending over to help steady her daughter.
“Ow, my arm,” Theresa complained, rubbing her shoulder and grimacing. “That hurt!”
“Sorry, but Jesus…” Terrence growled, glaring as the Tran-Am came to a stop fifty feet away, the passenger door opening to dispense a beautiful blonde woman, who briskly walked towards the entrance to the fair. Terrence stormed up to the car, and angrily rapped on the window.
“HEY! Hey Jackass! Watch where you’re going, you nearly hit my daughter! This is a parking lot, for God’s- HEY!”
Terrence roared and jumped back as the car peeled out, its tires spinning dirt as it sped away. Terrence, unable to help himself, stuck his middle finger in the air after the car, muttering imprecations under his breath.
“Terry, are you okay?” Wendy asked, running up to him.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Just… freaking asshole nearly kills her and doesn’t even apologize… how’s your arm, Theresa?”
“It’s fine,” the seven year old said, walking up with Pollaski. “What a jerk.”
Wendy took a deep breath, and looked back at the blue sky. “Well, let’s not let one bad apple ruin the day, okay? Let’s go in, get registered, and then we can sightsee a bit before I have to meet Adam. Let’s go. Terry, come on!”
Terrence had continued to stare angrily out after the Trans-Am, but at his wife’s insistent tugigng on his arm, relented, and allowed her to lead him towards the gate. As they had already gotten their ID cards, registration was a snap, and soon the four were pouring over a map of the festival, trying to decide how to best utilize the three hours of free time they had before Wendy’s shoot.
“I bet Theresa would love the blacksmith,” Terrence said, pointing at the right hand side of the map. “You wanna watch swords and armor get made, Terr-Bear?” When his daughter nodded, he pointed to the bottom left corner. “And there’s jugglers. That’d be fun…”
“Ooh, a harpist concert at eleven!” Wendy said, looking at the performances brochure. “Harp music is so soothing.”
“Which would be great if we wanted to be put to sleep,” Pollaski chided, and pointed to another spot near the center of the map. “The Little Globe Theater is performing Romeo In Juliet In Ten Minutes. I bet that’s worth a watch.”
“It’s at ten-thirty,” Wendy said. “That’s almost an hour away.”
“No… it’s not IN ten minutes. They do the whole play in ten minutes. I’ve seen it done with Hamlet and MacBeth. It’s worth a watch.”
“Oh,” Wendy said, coming to the realization. “Yeah… that could be good…”
“Well, the first thing we need to do is hit the jousting tent,” Terrence said, pointing on the map to a location not far from where they stood. “I’d rather not spend the whole day carrying this armor arou-AUGH!”
Terrence yelped as he was butted from behind. Dropping the armor he had tucked under his arm, he pitched forward into a table, overturning it, the papers atop spilling out everywhere.
“Sorry, didn’t see you there, little man.”
Wendy gaped as a large man- at least three inches taller than Terrence (who was 6’2) and probably fifty pounds heavier, brushed beside her and strode up to one of the registration booths. “Brutus Cato,” he announced, glancing back at Terrence and grinning savagely. “The Black Knight.”
“Terry, are you okay?” Wendy asked as she helped her husband to his feet. Together, she bent down and helped her husband pick up the spilled registration papers, while Pollaski bent and gathered up the armor Terrence had dropped. They had just gotten the last paper up when a shadow fell over them, and all of them turned to see the big man standing over them.
“See you out there, meat,” Brutus growled, deliberately stepping over Terrence’s crouched form and strolling off to meet the woman he had dropped off earlier.
“That’s your opponent in the joust?” Wendy exclaimed, standing up and putting the papers she had gathered back on the table.
“Apparently,” Terrence seethed, his teeth clenched as he stood up as well.
“Wow, Dad. He’s really big,” Theresa said, a nervous catch in her voice.
“And mean, too.” Pollaski remarked. “You know him or something? Cause he clearly didn’t like you.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like him much either,” Terrence said, glaring darkly and savagely at Brutus’ retreating form. “He was the guy in the Trans-Am who nearly hit Theresa.”
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