Monday July 29, 2013
Grand Nugget- Poker Room
Atlantic City, New Jersey
3:10 PM Local Time
Wendy Briese sighed as she glanced at her watch. Nearly two hours she'd sat here, and still felt no closer to her goal than when she had sat back down. Foster still sat a couple of places away, his face ruddy from imbibed drink, his mustache quivering with glee everytime he scooped up some poor sap's chip total.
And there had been many, many poor saps, men (and some women) with far too much confidence and aggression and far too little common sense, making decisions based on greed that she felt put her initial playing to shame. To her annoyance, Pollaski never slapped any of THEM, although in a couple of instances she had the feeling he really wanted to.
Things had gone the opposite for her- after getting a quick crash course on which starting hands were actually worth playing, Wendy had settled into a successful groove. Her natural cautiousness proved to be a virtue, and she had managed to stop herself several times from making bets that would prove to be fatal. In the contrary, she had amassed a small fortune through her conservative play, and now sat with nearly nine thousand chips in front of her- more than double what she had first played.
But the one that mattered most to her remained out of reach, firmly in DePeeple’s hands. She had managed to catch onto a pattern fairly quickly- the man only bet his “lucky chip” when calling an all-in wager. But everytime she had gone all-in, he’d folded, and she’d been left just to pick up the blinds and early wagers.
Wendy broke away from her thoughts to look at her next hand of cards. A six of clubs and a seven of diamonds. With a sigh, she pushed the cards into the center of the table, face down. The worst part about poker was the waiting. With so few hands evidently playable, you could go for long stretches simply folding the moment you looked at your hand. It got pretty boring, and made her impatient. But she knew that impatience was death in poker, and kept grinding away, picking her spots, and more or less coming off the better for it, even if her ultimate goal eluded her.
She tried hard not to think about how it alluded to her own career in FFW. She was winning a lot- especially small and medium pots, and even a couple big ones. She’d also taken a few disappointing losses. But ultimately, even after all this time, the ultimate goal still alluded her. Had Pollaski intended this, to get her thinking about things? She glanced back at her manager, who was sitting in a chair behind her, sipping on what was probably his twenty-fifth Diet Pepsi. At least that stupid cigar was not in his mouth anymore, instead tucked into the breast pocket on his shirt.
The hand was mercifully a quick one, and soon another pair of cards was in front of it. An Ace of hearts.... and an ace of diamonds! Wendy sat up a little straighter- she knew it was a tell, but she doubted it revealed much. After all, simply playing your hand was somewhat of a tell, right?
She thought about going all-in again, but something stopped her. Every time she’d done that, everyone, including DePeeple, folded. If she wanted to get that chip, she needed to make him call it. Being excited and aggressive was a dead giveaway for her. She had to act calm, and be her normal, more cautious self.
“Raise to $500,” Wendy said quietly, sliding a small stack of chips in front of her. She bit her lip as most of the rest of the table folded, except for DePeeple. The South African stared at her for a long time, chewing on his lip, before pushing his own small stack in.
“Call.”
The flop came down- a Queen of Spades, a King of Diamonds, and... an Ace of Clubs! Wendy tried to keep her face impassive. She had three of a kind, and although there was a definite straight draw on the table, the likelihood that Foster was sitting on a jack and a ten were low. Still, cautious was the word of the day, right? She tapped her hand on the felt table twice, signifying a check- passing play to her opponent without making a bet.
“$1,000” the South African said, sliding more chips in. Wendy glanced at him. There was a definite smugness to him, and for a second she balked. But an overwhelming feeling was telling her she had the better hand.
“Call,” she responded.
The fourth card was flipped over, and Wendy had to fight down the urge to leap up and scream in excitement. It was the Ace of Spades! She had a four of a kind!
She tried to keep her face impassive, maybe even disappointed. Maybe, with luck, DePeeple would think she was missing her own straight draw. Her mind racing, she checked again. Bite the bait, you big ugly fish... just bite it...
“$5,000” Foster announced, adding more chips to the pot, his monocole glinting as he turned to glare at her. She fought down the urge to laugh. If he was trying to intimidate her, it was failing miserably.
“All-In.” She said, as cool as she could. She knew he would call this time- simply calling the bet would have taken most of her remaining chips. But she had the lure in the sharks mouth, and now she was setting the hook.
She nearly whooped as the chip in his hand pattered onto the table, and the remaining balance was pushed forward. She stood up, flipping her cards over, and the rest of the table gasped as they saw her hand. Foster DePeeple flipped his card over too, and Wendy grinned- a ten and a king, both spades. Her four of a kind absolutely trounced his pair of kings!
“Nice going,” Pollaski breathed from behind her. She turned around, and flashed him a smile. Mission complete! And she’d be taking home twenty thousand dollars to boot!
The fifth card was turned over... a jack of spades. Gasps and applause broke out throughout the bystanders, and Wendy began to lean forward to gather up her chips, but stopped suddenly at Pollaski’s groan from behind her.
“Oh, fuck me...” Pollaski grumbled.
She glanced over at Foster’s cards again, then to the common hand, and her heart sank. A four of a kind was unbeatable...
To anything but a royal flush, that is.
That insufferable smirk on his face, Foster plucked up that chip yet again into his hand, then grinned as the pot- and all nine thousand of her chips, were shoved over to join his stack. “But...” she said helplessly, as Foster sat back down, that blue chip still turning over in his hand.
“Alright, I think that’s good enough,” Pollaski said gently, grabbing Wendy’s arm and gently leading her away from the table. “Tough break, kid.”
“But...” Wendy repeated, feeling her throat tighten in disppointment.
“Yeah, that happens sometimes. And it’s a downright bitch every time,” Pollaski consoled. “Still, you did what I wanted, so we’ll give you a passing grade here.”
“But...” Wendy couldn’t even bring herself to turn away from the table, even after being guided out of the room and out of sight of the table. “I didn’t win...”
Pollaski led her back into the rows of slot machines, and sat her down on one of the stools sitting down in adjacent one, and spinning to face her. “So,” he said, grinning at the distraught woman. “What did we learn?”
Wendy seemed to snap out of her daze, blinking at her manager. “Um...” she said, biting her lip. “I’m not sure, to be honest. I guess there were some similiarities between playing and my career. I won some hands, even some big hands, but I couldn’t figure out how to get a good crack at the ultimate prize.”
“You did in the end,” Pollaski pointed out.
“And didn’t get it.” Wendy groaned. “Does that mean I’m not going to...”
“Don’t be an idiot.” Pollaski snapped. “One card in forty-three could have saved his ass, and he just so happened to be lucky enough to get it. I’d bet you’d kill to be able to face the FFW Champion with a 98% success rate. And besides, wrestling’s a lot like Poker- you can do everything right, and still get nipped out by unfortunate circumstances.”
“Like what happened to Colleen,” Wendy sighed.
“Pretty much,” Pollaski agreed. “So here’s the question for you... who told you slowplaying your hand like that was going to work?”
Except it didn’t work, Wendy wanted to say, but she was too tired to argue the point. “No one really,” she said. “I just figured that since I got excited and aggressive every other time I went all-in, maybe if I-”
“Was yourself?” Pollaski pointed out. “You are, after all, a pretty conservative, cautious person,” he grinned, “at least as far as professional wrestlers go. But yeah, notice how well just being Wendy Briese worked out.”
Wendy snorted. “So you’re saying that the best way I can get the shot is to just be myself.”
“Yup, and I know what you’re going to say next- it didn’t work so well at the other companies. You never were as efficient in NGWA and CCW as you are now, and PWX... well, they dropped the ball on a lot of things. You were just one of the bigger balls.” He snickered as Wendy raised an eyebrow. “You don’t have that problem here. As long as Cody Kincaid is on staff, you have zero danger of being overlooked. That guy knows your value.”
“I suppose your right.” Wendy smiled. “So it’s crossing the fingers, after all.”
“Sure. BUt also think back to the game. The other important part is... you knew WHEN and HOW to make your move, and you didn’t need anyone else to tell you. Transcribe that to reality.”
“I did it, because I had just about the best hand there is.” Wendy said, chewing her lip. “I have a pretty good hand now... but I can make it better.”
“There ya go,” Pollaski said, clapping Wendy on the shoulder. “You got Emma Mac coming up- and SHE’S what you truly need to be worried about. All this title crap... it’ll sort itself out afterwards in one way or another. Focus on Emma. It’s a long time coming between the two of you, and don’t worry about any of the distractions. When you’re focused, determined, and much more importantly... yourself, you don’t lose.”
“At least ninety-eight percent of the time,” Wendy grinned. “Thanks Dan. It was an... interesting way to get the point across, but I’m glad we talked.
“It’s why they pay me the big bucks,” Pollaski grinned, tapping a small bag at his side that still carried his own poker chips. “Now get out of here, and enjoy the rest of the day, aight? We’ll have plenty of work to do on the morrow.”
“Alright, Dan. Take care,” Wendy said, squeezing her manager’s shoulder and standing up. With a last wave, she turned and headed towards the exit of the casino.
Pollaski waited a full minute and change to make sure she was gone, then pulled out his phone, quickly dialing it, and putting it to his ear, chuckling as he waited for an answer.
“Yeah, it’s me. She’s on her way back to you right now. How was bungee jumping with Theresa? Awesome! Get a pic? Yeah, I’ll see it tonight. Oh yeah, she totally would have flipped. No problem, man. Glad I could distract her for you. What? Oh yeah, she lost. Four thousand. HA! I guess she won’t be giving you any lectures on wasting money in the near future, eh? Ah, consider it just an added favor. See ya tonight, dude. Yeah. Have fun. Bye.”
Pollaski hung up, and leaned against the slot machine, sticking his unlit cigar back into his mouth as he surveyed the goings on of the casino. He sighed contentedly as he patted the pile of chips in the bag next to him.
Sometimes, it was very very good to be Daniel Pollaski.
==============
Saturday August 10
MEO Arena- Auxillary Production Room
Lisbon, Portugal
5:11 PM Local Time
Before we fade in, a small graphic appears on the screen, saying:
APRIL 18, 2013
And then we fade into a moment from Velocity, ironically, on April 18, 2013.
Allison: Given the issue between Undine and Kate already, I’m sure you aren’t alone in that regard. Another return we saw at Chaos Theory happened in Ten Femme Chaos, when we saw the arrival of Wendy Briese. And also the surprising actions from Scarlett and Kelly. I’d like to get your thoughts on Wendy’s return, and being as close to the Kincaid family as you are, did what Scarlett and Kelly allow to happen surprise you?
Emma thinks for a moment, then shakes her head a little.
Emma: It should, but it doesn’t. Kelly really only looks like she’s been influenced by Christian to stop playing the good girl card, and Scarlett? Let’s be fair here, she’s been taking the golddigger or sleeping her way to the top crap for so long it’s really not a shock she finally said “screw this” and walked away.
“Sometimes, omission can speak volumes.”
Given that it’s about 100 degrees (F!) in Lisbon today, and sunny as hell, Wendy’s inside today, in a small studio with the FFW banner hanging behind her. Evidently she’s not exactly in the mood to risk sunburn right before going toe to toe with one of the hardest hitters in the company.
Anyways, Wendy’s dressed fairly casually tonight, wearing a pair of capri-cut jeans, as well as one of the new Eileen Amaro Evolution Championship T-shirts. Despite her fairly casual dress, she is formally in a bad mood, trying to keep her voice light, at least in somewhat of a sardonic matter. It’s not working so well.
“The entire time I was out injured, Emma MacNamara LOVED to take potshots at me. My four title reigns? The low points in company history. My injury? I had it coming, the piece of filth that I am. Over and over, she just loved taking these little digs at me, knowing full well that I was sitting at home on my couch, unable to so much as train, let alone compete. Real brave of you, Emma.”
“And then at Chaos Theory, I come running down the ramp to help out against a five on three beatdown, and send all your friends fleeing to the back with their tails between their legs. Allison Marx asks you point blank a couple weeks later your opinion on a girl coming back who you spent MONTHS taking potshots at during her injury, and it’s let’s talk about Kelly and Scarlett and move on, thank you very much. In fact, you haven’t talked about me much at all since my name reappeared on the roster page.
“Sad, Emma. For all the issue’s I’ve had with you, all the problems we’ve had, I never once figured you to be someone to hold her tongue.”
Wendy snorts, and shrugs.
“But you have to have known this was coming sooner or later! You don’t get to whack your own teammate over the head with a lead pipe and leave them a bloody mess in the middle of the ring on live national television, and not expect there to be some sort of consequence. I was hoping for a... pardon the pun... crack at you a lot quicker than this, but of course, there were all kinds of issues. Femme For All, injuries and the like.”
“By the time I came back, I was pretty much fed up with the whole lot of you that I wanted to take every single one of you on, bit by bit, and it didn’t matter a darn which one of you I started with. So I made that open challenge, willing to take anyone in the Power Trip offered, but deep down, I was kind of hoping it’d be you to be shoved forward.”
Evidently, whatever amity Wendy’s achieved with Isabella in the wake of Unstoppable isn’t carrying over to her former stablemates.
“Of course, you had that parking lot brawl two weeks prior, and there wasn’t much of a chance that you’d be patched up enough to be ready to compete at Relentless. But I pretty much knew that you wouldn’t be stepping forward the moment you shoved your head in the sand and evaded Allison’s question.”
“Well, you can’t hide from your problems forever, Emma. And I’d say an irritated housewife from Indianapolis with a chip on her shoulder can be a very, VERY big problem. So this is it- no more delays. Tonight, I have you all in that ring to myself, one on one, and you’ll be getting everything I have. And since I have your attention now, I might as well give something else- a piece of my mind. Because I’ve been waiting a little over ten months to say what I’m about to.”
A small smile from Wendy, and a deep breath.
“I’ve been trying to come up with a good adjective to describe you. Evil’s too harsh- you’re really not evil, despite some of the horrible things you’ve done. But misguided is too soft- you know full well what you’re doing is wrong. What you are Emma, is backwards. Completely backwards, right up to the fact that you’re okay with it... even proud of it!”
“You’ve said and done some pretty horrible things over the past few months, Emma. To me. To Cara. To Kate. To Misty. The list goes on, and you don’t bat an eyelash. And yet, I can’t help but think about to the last day of last September, when you threw a Twitter Tantrum for over a FULL HOUR because I said something so horrible, so low, that you couldn’t believe it. Wendy Briese insulted your parenting! Wendy Briese brought your kids into this! Wendy Briese crossed the line! Wendy Briese is so goshdarn JUDGEMENTAL!”
Wendy scoffs, and rolls her eyes, clearly irritated almost to the point of amusement.
“Wendy Briese actually simply pointed out that betraying your team mates in the middle of a competition is setting a pretty bad example, and that you wouldn’t be so callously dismissive if the same thing happened to you or your family. The mere fact that such a simple common sense statement serves as a berserk button for you is backwards.”
“You might have noticed, Emma, that I see a lot of things I don’t quite agree with, that I don’t make a fuss about. I’m not out to destroy everyone who doesn’t measure up to my expectations, because that would be everyone including myself. I dont’ have the time or the inclination to go around being a Knight Templar, and even i I did, I’m well aware of what an unbearable DRAG I’d become around my friends.”
“But there’s a line, Emma, and if you’re too backwards to even see it when you’re walking, well, maybe you should consider turning around. It’s not going to be crossed. Not with me, and not with my friends. YOu crossed that line at Sin & Sacrifice, and you’ve shown no inclination to go back. Just because it took this long for me to catch up with you... that doesnt’ dim any of the memories in my mind.
“Neither does the fact that it’s completely rich of you to throw all your toys out of the pram becasue someone else JUDGED you, when you are the first person in this whole COMPANY to dump on ANYONE for doing something you don’t like. Kate, Cara, Serafina, myself, the list goes ON, but the moment it turns around back on you its a simple YOU HAVE NO RIGHT! I KNOW I’M NOT A GOOD PERSON AND SO I’M LEAST I’M NOT A HYPOCRITE!”
Another eyeroll from Wendy, followed by a single sarcastic chuckle, and another shake of her head.
“No, Emma, you’re so very wrong. So very backwards. I’m the one you clubbed with a lead pipe at Sin & Sacrifice. I’m the one you left lying in a puddle of blood. I have EVERY RIGHT IN THE WORLD to call you out on it. And if you don’t like it, then maybe you shouldn’t have DONE IT.”
“Imperfection does not absolve you or excuse you, no matter how many times you praise it as a virtue. And the mere fact that you have to resort to semantics and literalism and technicalities to justify yourself PROVES how backwards you really are. ‘Lead pipes are allowed in War Games and I was on the other team too, and so it’s all okay.’ THE HELL IT IS!”
Wendy pauses to catch her breath, the last four words coming out as quite the outburst- even for her.
“It’s because of people like YOU, Emma, that our legal code is as complicated and convoluted and so freakishly huge as it is. People like YOU, who instead of sucking it up, taking their lumps, and attempting self-improvement look for every little loophole and caveat they can to justify themselves. It’s because of people like you that common sense and critical thinking has been rendered to an AFTERTHOUGHT, because simple application of it would blow every lame justification you come up with out of the bloomin’ water!”
“I’ll always remember what you said to Cara. ‘I’m not a traitor. I’m simply someone who looks after herself, and only herself.’”
Wendy busts out into open contemptious laughter here, shaking her head incredulously.
“THATS WHY PEOPLE BECOME TRAITORS, EMMA! You think Benedict Arnold wasn’t looking out for himself when he SOLD West Point to the British? You think the Rosenberg’s weren’t spending the money the Soviets gave them for nuclear secrets? You think Judas would have handed Jesus over if thirty pieces of silver weren’t on the table? Traitors are people who put their own self worth over the group they belong to! THATS WHY THEY BETRAY THEM!”
“You didn’t want to team with Cara or I because we were goody-two shoes or co-dependent or whatever other lame excuse you came up with? Fine. You should have said something BEFORE the match started, so either we, or you, could have been replaced. You wanted to leave the Mafia for the Power Trip? Fine, there were other ways to do it. But no, you wanted to do it in the most heinous way possibly on purpose. You wanted to make as big an impact as you could, so you did it in the middle of a Pay-Per-View Main Event.”
“Well, congratulations, Emma. You got your impact. For all the good it did you. Was it worth it? Truly worth it? Because let’s fast forward ten months.”
“All along, you bragged that the Mackenzie Mafia was dead. You said it was over, the Power Trip reigned supreme, and you SCOFFED when I told you that the spirit of the Mafia would live on, even if the name did it. And I was right. Did we have our rough spots? Yeah. Did we have our casualties? Sadly, yes. We lost Cara and Colleen due to termination, and Caroline to injury, and even myself for several months. But those of us who survived, we kept going, on and on. And now look at us now.”
Wendy does one of her normal small smirks, but isn’t quite able to hold it, and it turns into an almost full mocking grin.
“Val’s the FFW Champion, and she did it by knocking off Power Trip member Starla McCloud... twice. Eileen’s the Evolution Champion. I just beat the CAPTAIN of the Power Trip, Isabella Pazzini, and put her into retirement. Camilla’s gearing up to help Val smash Fight or Flight on Thursday in a massive match. Colleen’s over in SVW, making Legendary’s life even worse than she made all yours. Even Caroline’s hinting more and more about a possible return. I think the lot of us are doing pretty considering what you guys tried to do.”
“And it’s certainly better in comparison, because where’s the Power Trip? Dead! Gone! In both name and spirit. You guys are now on your own again. No superclique to torment the rest of us anymore!”
“I’d say, Ms. MacNamara, we won after all. It may not have been any of us who dealt the death blow to your clique, but we still have outlasted and outsurvived you.”
That smile remains. For a second, Wendy looks a little bit smug. Yeah, she gets a little less rigid when there’s some serioius contempt going on.
“And what have you ultimately gotten? A ten month run as a second tier member in a now dead stable? A three and a half month Ultraviolence title reign? I’m actually insulted that high-level betrayal is bought so cheaply these days.”
“And where are you now, Emma? The Power Trip’s dead. Your title’s gone, and in the hands of a woman you so despise you refuse to say her name. Last year, as the Mafia’s hitgirl, you were in the main event in your homeland. You think your recent actions and comments might have had anything to do with you not even being booked for a return trip?”
“So, I’ll ask you once again, Emma MacNamara. Was it all worth it?”
Wendy pauses for a second, her body language almost suggesting ‘go on, I’ll wait’, for several seconds.
“Of course, by this point, I’m sure you’re rolling your eyes. Probably laughing, even muttering to yourself. I’m sure ‘not what I said,’ or ‘putting words in my mouth’, or ‘not paying attention’ are coming out, since those seem to be the standard fall backs you have whenever someone calls you out on things you’d rather not deal with. And then, of course, there’s the tried and true line about how this is who you are, and you know what kind of person you are, and where you’re headed, and not interested, and la la lalala you’re not listening.”
Wendy finishes by putting her fingers in her ears, and talking in a singsong voice. She chuckles as she pulls her fingers out.
“I shouldn’t laugh, but it is a little bit funny. Or at least ironic. I remember a couple years ago when you confronted Jo McFarlane at catering over her decisions and acting like a petulant child. And now here you are, acting ten times worse, without even the ability to use inexperience as an excuse.”
“And just like Jo did, you’re probably going to spout of the same tired CRAP she did to me already. I’m a phony. I’m hiding behind my manager. Everything I do is just for publicity. Please, for the love of God, find something different. I’m sure I have enough REAL imperfections to harp on without you making some stuff up.”
“You wanna be a bad person, Emma? Go ahead. Be as miserable a wretch as you can possibly be. Go be a bad person with your new friends in Club CK, where you practically FLED so dang quickly after the dissolution of the Power Trip. Go be a bad person at home. Go be a bad person on a Virign Airways flight. Go be a bad person in your strip club. I don’t care. But do it on your own time to where the rest of us in this company don’t have to deal with your consistently negative and sadistic CRAP.”
A small shrug.
“Of course, that won’t happen. You wouldn’t take my advice in a million years. You probably aren’t even listening anymore. You probably started tuning me out two or three minutes into this, because you just don’t want to hear it. But I don’t care. Because honestly? After ten months of watching you treat pretty much everyone in this company like garbage, it’s quite cathartic to say it.”
“But that’s NOTHING in comparison to tonight, Emma. Because this was just me getting some stuff off my chest. Tonight, THAT is going to be where you’re going to learn the meaning of regret. THAT is going to be when you learn that you should have picked a far better time to join the Power Trip. And THAT is going to be the moment when anyone who’s ever thought about taking a lead pipe to my head will immediately gain very VERY substantial reservations.”
Wendy leans forward, and we can see the intensity and anger burning in her eyes- on a significantly higher level than what we normally see when she’s annoyed with someone.
“Because I don’t need to break rules to make you feel pain, Emma. I don’t need to cheat to make you scream. Just remember, though- I’m ultimately out to win, so once it starts, feel free to acquiesce at anytime, and it will stop immediately. Even in vengeance, I can be merciful once it’s over.”
Wendy’s voice softens, and she leans back, taking a deap breath.
“Because despite all that you’ve done to me and others, Emma, I don’t hate you. I don’t think you and I will ever be bosom buddies, but I know there’s a likeable side of you, and as much as you want to go around pretending it was all an act, it’s still there. But you went over the line, Emma, and you’ve been over for far to long, and tonight, I’m going to drag you back, kicking and screaming if I have to. Just try and keep your eyes open as it happens. This way, for future references, you’ll know where it is.”
Wendy starts to turn to go, but stops, and turns back around, looking one more time at the camera.
“Just remember, Emma. You could have avoided all this easily with a little bit more common sense”
And fade.
Monday, August 12, 2013
EPISODE 221: All-In, Part 2
Monday July 29, 2013ed.
Golden Nugget- Main Gaming Floor
Atlantic City, New Jersey
1:18 PM Local Time
“Oh, excuse me!” Wendy Briese exclaimed as she narrowly avoided tripping a cocktail waitress carrying a tray full of drinks. She winced as the tray began to tilt to the side, reaching her hand out to help steady it if need be, but the woman had impeccable balance, and managed to right everything without spilling a single drop.
“No problem, ma’am!” the woman said in a cheery voice that Wendy could easily sense was somewhat forced. “No harm done!” And with that, the girl was briskly walking away, soon disappearing behind a row of slot machines.
Wendy sighed, looking around in dismay. Casino’s were hardly her favorite place in the world. It wasn’t that she hated gambling- it was surprisingly one of the few vices in the world she didn’t detest (so long as it was done in moderation, of course!). But casino’s were just so loud and bright and headache inducing with all the flashing lights, and the Golden Nugget was no exception. And of course, she had absolutely no idea where she was supposed to go.
Why in St. Patrick’s Sheleileigh did Pollaski drag her here, anyways?
So far, this entire trip to New Jersey had been a giant waste of time. After her surprisingly pleasant conversationw with Isabella, she had gotten to the gate only to discover that her flight had been delayed. By the time the flight landed in Philadelphia, and the cab that had been designated to take her to the track arrived in Millville, the race had already started, and was in it’s third lap.
Terrence hadn’t even made it that far, and Wendy sat down just in time to watch his car get pulled out of a ditch off of Turn 6.
Although he was unharmed, finishing dead last hadn’t done much for her husband’s disposition, especially since the horrendous result dropped him from second to sixth in the ARCA points standings. It had been a quiet, uncomfortable night in the WhirlyBirdz’ RV- all celebration over Wendy’s victory muted by the lousy crash in New Jersey. And the east to spend a day on the coast hadn’t been much more enjoyable, with the sudden flat tire and Terrence throwing a childish tantrum over discovering that they were going to spend a few days with her Aunt on the way back to Indianapolis.
And now instead of playing on the beach with her daughter, she was here in a casino because Pollaski had insisted she come here to the Poker Room on ‘urgent business’.
He better not need money or something, Wendy thought irritably. Her manager had received a CONSIDERABLE bonus for Untoppable, and if he had blown it all here...
She was tempted to turn around and march right back out the door, but instead she stopped another passing waitress, and received directions to her destination.
For several long minutes, she scanned the room, idly tapping her foot in frustration. Her manager was nowhere to be seen. If he had stood her up...
There was one man her eye kept going back to though- an overweight man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a large panama hat, and sunglasses, with an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth. She could have sworn she saw Pollaski wearing that shirt a couple weeks ago, and the man was certainly bulky enough to...
Then the man dove forward, cradling a small pile of chips in his arms, and dragged them to him, laughing triumphantly as he did so.
Yup, it was Daniel Pollaski, alright.
Shaking her head in bemusement, she picked her way through the crowds surrounding the other tables, strolling up to the one her manager sat up. “Hey,” she said quietly, tapping him on the shoulder. Pollaski answered her by holding up his index finger, indicating she wait a moment. He then reached down, and tilted his hand up towards him. He barked in sarcastic laughter, and slid the cards forward, standing up. “Looks like all those Diet Cokes are getting to me, finally,” he said, stretching. He reached forward, picking up a red chip from his surprisingly sizeable stack, and tossing it to the dealer. “Guard my spot and my chips, will ya?”
“What’s with the getup?” Wendy asked, arching her eyebrows as Pollaski led her away from the table and out of the bustling room.
“You like it?” Pollaski asked, the cigar still in his teeth. “Saw the hat in the hotel souvenier shop.”
“And the cigar?” As far as Wendy knew, Pollaski had never smoked in his life, nor had he any plans to- he liked to joke that he’d done enough bad things to his heart without adding another.
“For show,” Pollaski said, grinning. “I couldn’t smoke it even if I really wanted to, though,” he said, pointing to a nearby NO SMOKING sign. “But it completes the ensemble,” he said, turning around and spreading his arms wide.
Wendy arched her eyebrows, her lip twitching. “You look like the worst Miami Vice villian ever. Please tell me you didn’t call me here just so I could admire your outfit.”
“Of course not!” Pollaski protested, scoffing in the process. “I called you here for training purposes.”
“Training, in a casino?” Wendy asked, scowling as her mind put two and two together. “Pollaski, No. I’m not going to rough someone up because you have gambling debts...”
“Seriously?” Pollaski scoffed again. “DId you SEE the pile of chips I just raked in? I’m ahead today, and that’s where I plan to end. No, no... today’s training is going to be a bit more of a... mental exercise.”
Wendy blinked, evidently a bit confused, and Pollaski interpreted that as a signal to continue.
“I’ve been doing some thinking about what you and I talked about on the flight up here yesterday,” Pollaski said, leaning against a nearby column. “You know, how you want to make a challenge for the FFW Championship, but don’t know the best way to do it without coming off like a Kat Stryfe.”
“Something along those lines,” Wendy assented, folding her arms over her chest.
“So we’re going to be doing a little experiment. An experiment in how to get what you want offered, and then to take it home.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a blue chip. “And this is what it is you’re after.”
Quick as lightning, Wendy reached out and snatched the chip out of Pollaski’s hand. “Oh, look. I win,” she dedpanned.
“Har har,” Pollaski said, grabbing Wendy’s arm and leading her back to the entrance to the Poker Room. He pointed at the table he had been sitting at, where a well dressed gentleman in a mustard colored suit sat. What was lacking for hair on his head was more than made up for by the brilliant walrus mustache under his nose, and Wendy’s eyebrows raised as she realized the man actually had a monocle. “See Colonel Mustard right there?”
“That’s his real name?”
It was evident that Pollaski was resisting the sudden urge to smack her. “No, his real name is Foster DePeeple. He’s the owner of the largest Diamond Mine in South Africa. Worth billions of dollars.”
“Why’s he playing at such a small table?” Wendy asked. It was mostly a guess- she doubted her manager had the resources to play a truly high stakes game, the kind she figured billionaires would play. Pollaski’s answer confirmed she was right.
“Because he’s a predator.” Pollaski said simply. “He likes to play for the massive ego stroke winning the little people’s money gives him.”
“How do you know that?” Wendy hissed.
“I’ve seen the type before,” Pollaski said. “The fact of the matter is, he’s the only decent fish at the table right now. None of the others have a clue what they’re doing. I’m the only other decent one, and even I’m not that good. So he just sits there, a fat cat eating each little mouse that comes along.”
“So what do you want me to do about it?”
“For as cocky and arrogant as he is... he’s one superstitious son of a bitch,” Pollaski responded. “Since I’ve started playing, he’s held a single $500 chip in his right hand. He’s tossed it in the pot from time to time, but always gets it back, and he makes sure it’s the exact same chip he picks up again. A good luck charm or something.”
Wendy couldn’t see the connection. “...And?”
“And you’re going to win it. That chip. Specifically”
Wendy laughed sardonically, rolling her eyes.“And how do you expect me to do that? I’ve barely ever played Texas Hold-Em. Everything I know is from listening to you and Terrence talk about it while watching TV. And you want me to skin your little shark out of his good-luck charm?”
“You know the basics, and you’re a smart girl.” Pollaski replied with a shrug. “You’ll be fine. And besides-” he grinned. “Now we’ll see if there is such a thing as beginner’s luck.”
“Alright,” Wendy said starting forward. With any luck, she’d either win the chip or go bust quickly, and then get out of here. At least Pollaski had built up a nice little stack for her to start with...
“You may want to hit the ATM first,” Pollaski said from behind her. “I’d say a couple grand would be a good buy in.”
“A couple gra-” Wendy choked, wheeling around. “Why can’t I use your chips!”
Pollaski burst out laughing as if Wendy had just said the dumbest thing possible. “Because those are MINE. I put my bonus money to good use. Your green ass isn’t going to wreck it.”
“So you expect me to shell out thousands of dollars trying to win a stupid poker chip worth a fraction of that?! Why dont’ I just offer him the money for the stupid chip instead!?”
“Because you have more pride than that. Now hurry along. I ain’t gonna be able to keep that seat open forever.”
Mumbling imprecations under her breath, she found an ATM, and put in her debit card, withdrawing pretty much her entire Unstoppable paycheck in one go. It was a colossal waste of money, especially considering the family was trying to fix the race track that was going to be plenty of times this amount. She should have just told her manager to bugger off, and left the casino. But some more adventerous, curious part of her was just dying to know what Pollaski was trying to prove with all this.
Sometimes she hated that side of her.
Pollaski had gathered up his own chips by the time she returned, and was explaining to the table that she was going to fill in for him. Wendy blushed slightly as she sat down, her throat tightening as she handed two thousand dollars to the dealer to buy in. She had a feeling that a couple of the players recognized her, although the South African man only licked his lips, and for a second, Wendy had the distinct feeling of a mouse about to be pounced on.
Predator, indeed.
Wendy’s mind raced as she tried to remember everything she ever learned about Texas Hold ‘Em poker as the cards were dealed out. The big blind of $100 was just to her right, so she was the first one to bet. Craning, she took a peek at her cards.
“OOH! A pair of Aces! ALL IN!” Wendy exclaimed, shoving her chips in. She was immediately greeted by groans and eight people immediately folding her hands. Behind her, she heard a smack that was evidently Pollaski trying to push his palm through his skull.
“Win to the... excited young lady in green.” The dealer said, staring at her as if she had just flatuated.
“I did it! I won!” Wendy exclaimed.
“Yeah... a whopping $150.” Pollaski groaned. “On the best deal in the game. And nowhere near what you’re trying to get.”
Wendy blushed crimson. “I shouldn’t have said what I had, should I have...”
Pollaski’s only response was a sigh. Wendy turned back ot the table, and cringed a little, as pretty much all her fellow players suddenly had facial expressions akin to the same ones the Power Trip would give her. “Sorry,” she whispered, as the cards were dealt.
This time she was on the big blind, so she went last, and she watched as everyone else either folded or matched her bet. She looked at her cards, and as soon as the man on the right folded, she smirked, and said again. “All-In.”
Pollaski groaned, and she watched as everyone folded- except one. DePeeple glared at her for just a second, then tossed the chip he was holding in, muttering “Call” in an accented voice. He then added enough chips to match her bet, and Wendy turned to flash a grin at Pollaski. This was going to be easy!
Pollaski, for his part, was refusing to so much as look at her.
“Flip your cards over, please.” The dealer said, and she gleefully turned hers face up, grinning.
“What the FUCK are you DOING?” Pollaski groaned, sounding on the verge of tears.
“Thirty-Eight!” Wendy protested. “Terrence’s number! That means it’s lucky! I’ll w-”
“Win to Mr. DePeeple with a pair of Kings.”
Wendy wheeled back around, and saw the billionaire taking all her chips away, making sure to pick up his lucky chip and put it back into his hand. She looked down at the table in front of her, where nothing remained. “Oh...” she said quietly.
“Excuse me a second,” Pollaski said quickly, grabbing Wendy’s arm, and jerking her away from the table. Wendy squawked in protest, as he dragged her halfway across the room, then spun her around to face him.
“You can NOT drag me like that!” Wendy hissed, color creeping up into her face. “I am NOT some-”
Pollaski sighed in resignation. “This is for your own good,” he said.
*SMACK!*
Wendy recoiled as his hand slammed into her left cheek, gingerly holding up her own hand to where the sting was. Her eye’s watered slightly. “What the FU-”
“SIR!” A steward came running over, looking apalled. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave!”
“Dude,” Pollaski replied, matter-of-factly. “She went all-in on three-eight off-suited on the big blind.”
There was a small pause, as the steward recoiled, then turned to Wendy-
*SMACK!*
-backhanding her across the other cheek.
“He’s right, that WAS for her own good,” the steward said, walking away.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!” Wendy cried, blinking her eyes rapidly as she rubbed her other cheek.
“A three and an eight of a different suit is like the second worst starting hand in hold ‘em,” Pollaski said, rubbing his eyes. “Never play it. Never ever ever ever ever ever ever! And NEVER go all in on it!”
“Oh...” Wendy said. But then her indignation returned. “You couldn’t have just TOLD me that?”
“Corporal punishment sends a MUCH better message,” Pollaski said, walking away. “Now go get some more money. Let’s try this again.”
ANOTHER two thousand dollars? Wendy balked, ready to just run out of the casino, but again, she found herself walking towards the ATM, albeit all the while imagining things she would do to Pollaski that she’d NEVER attempt during a sanctioned wrestling match.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
Golden Nugget- Main Gaming Floor
Atlantic City, New Jersey
1:18 PM Local Time
“Oh, excuse me!” Wendy Briese exclaimed as she narrowly avoided tripping a cocktail waitress carrying a tray full of drinks. She winced as the tray began to tilt to the side, reaching her hand out to help steady it if need be, but the woman had impeccable balance, and managed to right everything without spilling a single drop.
“No problem, ma’am!” the woman said in a cheery voice that Wendy could easily sense was somewhat forced. “No harm done!” And with that, the girl was briskly walking away, soon disappearing behind a row of slot machines.
Wendy sighed, looking around in dismay. Casino’s were hardly her favorite place in the world. It wasn’t that she hated gambling- it was surprisingly one of the few vices in the world she didn’t detest (so long as it was done in moderation, of course!). But casino’s were just so loud and bright and headache inducing with all the flashing lights, and the Golden Nugget was no exception. And of course, she had absolutely no idea where she was supposed to go.
Why in St. Patrick’s Sheleileigh did Pollaski drag her here, anyways?
So far, this entire trip to New Jersey had been a giant waste of time. After her surprisingly pleasant conversationw with Isabella, she had gotten to the gate only to discover that her flight had been delayed. By the time the flight landed in Philadelphia, and the cab that had been designated to take her to the track arrived in Millville, the race had already started, and was in it’s third lap.
Terrence hadn’t even made it that far, and Wendy sat down just in time to watch his car get pulled out of a ditch off of Turn 6.
Although he was unharmed, finishing dead last hadn’t done much for her husband’s disposition, especially since the horrendous result dropped him from second to sixth in the ARCA points standings. It had been a quiet, uncomfortable night in the WhirlyBirdz’ RV- all celebration over Wendy’s victory muted by the lousy crash in New Jersey. And the east to spend a day on the coast hadn’t been much more enjoyable, with the sudden flat tire and Terrence throwing a childish tantrum over discovering that they were going to spend a few days with her Aunt on the way back to Indianapolis.
And now instead of playing on the beach with her daughter, she was here in a casino because Pollaski had insisted she come here to the Poker Room on ‘urgent business’.
He better not need money or something, Wendy thought irritably. Her manager had received a CONSIDERABLE bonus for Untoppable, and if he had blown it all here...
She was tempted to turn around and march right back out the door, but instead she stopped another passing waitress, and received directions to her destination.
For several long minutes, she scanned the room, idly tapping her foot in frustration. Her manager was nowhere to be seen. If he had stood her up...
There was one man her eye kept going back to though- an overweight man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a large panama hat, and sunglasses, with an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth. She could have sworn she saw Pollaski wearing that shirt a couple weeks ago, and the man was certainly bulky enough to...
Then the man dove forward, cradling a small pile of chips in his arms, and dragged them to him, laughing triumphantly as he did so.
Yup, it was Daniel Pollaski, alright.
Shaking her head in bemusement, she picked her way through the crowds surrounding the other tables, strolling up to the one her manager sat up. “Hey,” she said quietly, tapping him on the shoulder. Pollaski answered her by holding up his index finger, indicating she wait a moment. He then reached down, and tilted his hand up towards him. He barked in sarcastic laughter, and slid the cards forward, standing up. “Looks like all those Diet Cokes are getting to me, finally,” he said, stretching. He reached forward, picking up a red chip from his surprisingly sizeable stack, and tossing it to the dealer. “Guard my spot and my chips, will ya?”
“What’s with the getup?” Wendy asked, arching her eyebrows as Pollaski led her away from the table and out of the bustling room.
“You like it?” Pollaski asked, the cigar still in his teeth. “Saw the hat in the hotel souvenier shop.”
“And the cigar?” As far as Wendy knew, Pollaski had never smoked in his life, nor had he any plans to- he liked to joke that he’d done enough bad things to his heart without adding another.
“For show,” Pollaski said, grinning. “I couldn’t smoke it even if I really wanted to, though,” he said, pointing to a nearby NO SMOKING sign. “But it completes the ensemble,” he said, turning around and spreading his arms wide.
Wendy arched her eyebrows, her lip twitching. “You look like the worst Miami Vice villian ever. Please tell me you didn’t call me here just so I could admire your outfit.”
“Of course not!” Pollaski protested, scoffing in the process. “I called you here for training purposes.”
“Training, in a casino?” Wendy asked, scowling as her mind put two and two together. “Pollaski, No. I’m not going to rough someone up because you have gambling debts...”
“Seriously?” Pollaski scoffed again. “DId you SEE the pile of chips I just raked in? I’m ahead today, and that’s where I plan to end. No, no... today’s training is going to be a bit more of a... mental exercise.”
Wendy blinked, evidently a bit confused, and Pollaski interpreted that as a signal to continue.
“I’ve been doing some thinking about what you and I talked about on the flight up here yesterday,” Pollaski said, leaning against a nearby column. “You know, how you want to make a challenge for the FFW Championship, but don’t know the best way to do it without coming off like a Kat Stryfe.”
“Something along those lines,” Wendy assented, folding her arms over her chest.
“So we’re going to be doing a little experiment. An experiment in how to get what you want offered, and then to take it home.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a blue chip. “And this is what it is you’re after.”
Quick as lightning, Wendy reached out and snatched the chip out of Pollaski’s hand. “Oh, look. I win,” she dedpanned.
“Har har,” Pollaski said, grabbing Wendy’s arm and leading her back to the entrance to the Poker Room. He pointed at the table he had been sitting at, where a well dressed gentleman in a mustard colored suit sat. What was lacking for hair on his head was more than made up for by the brilliant walrus mustache under his nose, and Wendy’s eyebrows raised as she realized the man actually had a monocle. “See Colonel Mustard right there?”
“That’s his real name?”
It was evident that Pollaski was resisting the sudden urge to smack her. “No, his real name is Foster DePeeple. He’s the owner of the largest Diamond Mine in South Africa. Worth billions of dollars.”
“Why’s he playing at such a small table?” Wendy asked. It was mostly a guess- she doubted her manager had the resources to play a truly high stakes game, the kind she figured billionaires would play. Pollaski’s answer confirmed she was right.
“Because he’s a predator.” Pollaski said simply. “He likes to play for the massive ego stroke winning the little people’s money gives him.”
“How do you know that?” Wendy hissed.
“I’ve seen the type before,” Pollaski said. “The fact of the matter is, he’s the only decent fish at the table right now. None of the others have a clue what they’re doing. I’m the only other decent one, and even I’m not that good. So he just sits there, a fat cat eating each little mouse that comes along.”
“So what do you want me to do about it?”
“For as cocky and arrogant as he is... he’s one superstitious son of a bitch,” Pollaski responded. “Since I’ve started playing, he’s held a single $500 chip in his right hand. He’s tossed it in the pot from time to time, but always gets it back, and he makes sure it’s the exact same chip he picks up again. A good luck charm or something.”
Wendy couldn’t see the connection. “...And?”
“And you’re going to win it. That chip. Specifically”
Wendy laughed sardonically, rolling her eyes.“And how do you expect me to do that? I’ve barely ever played Texas Hold-Em. Everything I know is from listening to you and Terrence talk about it while watching TV. And you want me to skin your little shark out of his good-luck charm?”
“You know the basics, and you’re a smart girl.” Pollaski replied with a shrug. “You’ll be fine. And besides-” he grinned. “Now we’ll see if there is such a thing as beginner’s luck.”
“Alright,” Wendy said starting forward. With any luck, she’d either win the chip or go bust quickly, and then get out of here. At least Pollaski had built up a nice little stack for her to start with...
“You may want to hit the ATM first,” Pollaski said from behind her. “I’d say a couple grand would be a good buy in.”
“A couple gra-” Wendy choked, wheeling around. “Why can’t I use your chips!”
Pollaski burst out laughing as if Wendy had just said the dumbest thing possible. “Because those are MINE. I put my bonus money to good use. Your green ass isn’t going to wreck it.”
“So you expect me to shell out thousands of dollars trying to win a stupid poker chip worth a fraction of that?! Why dont’ I just offer him the money for the stupid chip instead!?”
“Because you have more pride than that. Now hurry along. I ain’t gonna be able to keep that seat open forever.”
Mumbling imprecations under her breath, she found an ATM, and put in her debit card, withdrawing pretty much her entire Unstoppable paycheck in one go. It was a colossal waste of money, especially considering the family was trying to fix the race track that was going to be plenty of times this amount. She should have just told her manager to bugger off, and left the casino. But some more adventerous, curious part of her was just dying to know what Pollaski was trying to prove with all this.
Sometimes she hated that side of her.
Pollaski had gathered up his own chips by the time she returned, and was explaining to the table that she was going to fill in for him. Wendy blushed slightly as she sat down, her throat tightening as she handed two thousand dollars to the dealer to buy in. She had a feeling that a couple of the players recognized her, although the South African man only licked his lips, and for a second, Wendy had the distinct feeling of a mouse about to be pounced on.
Predator, indeed.
Wendy’s mind raced as she tried to remember everything she ever learned about Texas Hold ‘Em poker as the cards were dealed out. The big blind of $100 was just to her right, so she was the first one to bet. Craning, she took a peek at her cards.
“OOH! A pair of Aces! ALL IN!” Wendy exclaimed, shoving her chips in. She was immediately greeted by groans and eight people immediately folding her hands. Behind her, she heard a smack that was evidently Pollaski trying to push his palm through his skull.
“Win to the... excited young lady in green.” The dealer said, staring at her as if she had just flatuated.
“I did it! I won!” Wendy exclaimed.
“Yeah... a whopping $150.” Pollaski groaned. “On the best deal in the game. And nowhere near what you’re trying to get.”
Wendy blushed crimson. “I shouldn’t have said what I had, should I have...”
Pollaski’s only response was a sigh. Wendy turned back ot the table, and cringed a little, as pretty much all her fellow players suddenly had facial expressions akin to the same ones the Power Trip would give her. “Sorry,” she whispered, as the cards were dealt.
This time she was on the big blind, so she went last, and she watched as everyone else either folded or matched her bet. She looked at her cards, and as soon as the man on the right folded, she smirked, and said again. “All-In.”
Pollaski groaned, and she watched as everyone folded- except one. DePeeple glared at her for just a second, then tossed the chip he was holding in, muttering “Call” in an accented voice. He then added enough chips to match her bet, and Wendy turned to flash a grin at Pollaski. This was going to be easy!
Pollaski, for his part, was refusing to so much as look at her.
“Flip your cards over, please.” The dealer said, and she gleefully turned hers face up, grinning.
“What the FUCK are you DOING?” Pollaski groaned, sounding on the verge of tears.
“Thirty-Eight!” Wendy protested. “Terrence’s number! That means it’s lucky! I’ll w-”
“Win to Mr. DePeeple with a pair of Kings.”
Wendy wheeled back around, and saw the billionaire taking all her chips away, making sure to pick up his lucky chip and put it back into his hand. She looked down at the table in front of her, where nothing remained. “Oh...” she said quietly.
“Excuse me a second,” Pollaski said quickly, grabbing Wendy’s arm, and jerking her away from the table. Wendy squawked in protest, as he dragged her halfway across the room, then spun her around to face him.
“You can NOT drag me like that!” Wendy hissed, color creeping up into her face. “I am NOT some-”
Pollaski sighed in resignation. “This is for your own good,” he said.
*SMACK!*
Wendy recoiled as his hand slammed into her left cheek, gingerly holding up her own hand to where the sting was. Her eye’s watered slightly. “What the FU-”
“SIR!” A steward came running over, looking apalled. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave!”
“Dude,” Pollaski replied, matter-of-factly. “She went all-in on three-eight off-suited on the big blind.”
There was a small pause, as the steward recoiled, then turned to Wendy-
*SMACK!*
-backhanding her across the other cheek.
“He’s right, that WAS for her own good,” the steward said, walking away.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!” Wendy cried, blinking her eyes rapidly as she rubbed her other cheek.
“A three and an eight of a different suit is like the second worst starting hand in hold ‘em,” Pollaski said, rubbing his eyes. “Never play it. Never ever ever ever ever ever ever! And NEVER go all in on it!”
“Oh...” Wendy said. But then her indignation returned. “You couldn’t have just TOLD me that?”
“Corporal punishment sends a MUCH better message,” Pollaski said, walking away. “Now go get some more money. Let’s try this again.”
ANOTHER two thousand dollars? Wendy balked, ready to just run out of the casino, but again, she found herself walking towards the ATM, albeit all the while imagining things she would do to Pollaski that she’d NEVER attempt during a sanctioned wrestling match.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
EPISODE 220: All-In, Part 1
From the private journal of Wendy Briese
7-30-13
Saturday night was weird.
It was obvious that however Isabella wanted to go out, it was going to be after she got every single violent, cheating impulse she posessed out of her system. I had never been in a match where the cheating was that blatant, that frequent, from the opening bell to the final one. It left me a bloody wreck... a victorious bloody wreck to be sure, but a bloody wreck nonetheless.
And yet, when it was all said and done, there she stood in the middle of the ring, waving to the fans as they chanted “Thank You Bella.” Here’s this woman, one of the most hated wrestlers in FFW history, going out like a hero despite wrestling her final match with the same disregard for the rules or any sense of human decency she’s always displayed.
And the weirdest thing of all... it seemed so fitting. For two years I was incensed every time she hit someone else with that stupid bell hammer of hers, but at Unstoppable, when my turn came, and the match was over... I found myself strangely unbothered. It was just Isabella Pazzini being Isabella Pazzini, for one last time. How can I be upset about that, when it was so ultimately... fitting?
And so another chapter in the FFW history books is closed, and I hope that her epilogue is a happy one. Isabella’s never struck me as someone who’s lived a very joyful life, and I hope now that she has her husband, she finds what she’s been looking for all these years.
But for me, my place in wrestling history is still being written. I have much more to write before my own story is told, and it’s time for me proverbially break out the pen. Isabella Pazzini is gone. The Power Trip is dissolved. Samantha Star has become strangely... amiable since her return.
And my next goal is clear.
The Femme For All is coming up, and already I’m hearing the speculation. Of course my name is being tossed into the prospective brackets, and a lot of them are even tipping me as the favorite. And yet, hearing that talk, I almost get upset about it. It’s strange, I know.
I just beat Isabella Pazzini. I beat Katherine Stryfe in my second match back. I helped my team beat Scarlett Kincaid at the Anniversary show (by count-out, I know). And if I get my way, I’ll be beating Emma MacNamara in Portugal. Four former Champions defeated in less than four months.
If that doesn’t merit me getting an FFW title shot, I don’t know what does!
But how do I do it? How do I go about telling the world that I deserve to be ONE match away from the FFW Championship, not four? How do I show that if Shane Sanders and Desirae Kain can get a shot, why not me? Because demanding title shots rarely goes over well in any company in any capacity. In FFW? For the best title in the land? It’s a bad mistake.
But I refuse to meekly accept my fate anymore. To sit on the sideline and smile and shrug every time I’m passed over. I did that in PWX, and it cost me. I did that in CCW, and it cost me. I did that in NGWA, and it cost me. I’m not going to be pushy, or a bully, but I will be assertive. There’s a happy medium in there somewhere, and I need to find it, and fast.
This past week has made me more than aware of my own mortality and age, and the fact that my own time remaining is far less than the others in this company. I need to make my move now. I can’t afford to wait any longer.
But ultimately, I can only control what I can control. And I can’t control the minds of Mr. Kincaid and Ms. Star, only influence them through my ring work. And if I haven’t influenced them enough to merit an outright shot, and must go through the Femme For All again, then so be it. But that also means the focus I have to have for Emma needs to be greater than ever. Yes, this is the woman who betrayed me and my friends nearly a year ago. Yes, this is the woman who battered me with a tire iron repeatedly and left me for dead in that ring. Yes, this is the woman who, when she found out I was seriously injured, bemoaned that it wasn’t worse. But this is also one of the best wrestlers in this company, and a former FFW Champion in her own right.
Which is why my showdown with her is more than a rivalry.
More than a grudge match.
More than payback.
It’s an Audition.
Sunday July 28, 2013
George Bush Intercontinental Airport- Lefty’s Lone Star Grille
Houston, Texas
10:13 AM Local Time
“So, how does it feel?” Wendy Briese asked as she took a sip of her orange juice, looking across the table at the woman she had been fighting in the ring only ten hours prior. She hadn’t truly expected Isabella to return the message she had left on her locker room door after the event, and couldn’t believe she was here eating with her. But there was no time like the present to iron things out now that...
She couldn’t believe it was all over for the woman who had been her biggest foil in the two years she had spent in FFW.
“Calm... quiet I suppose. Today was the first time I got up, and realized I didn’t have to train. It... it felt nice I suppose. But last night... last night was special. The reaction of the fans... it made me know that, for everything I’ve done, the last seven years were not a waste.” Isabella’s demeanour was difficult to read, but she seemed cheerful and friendly enough. In some ways, it was almost hard to believe she was the same woman who had terrorized FFW for so long.
“If you felt it was a waste, then why did you do it?” Wendy asked quietly.
“Ha!” Isabella chuckled. “All I ever wanted was to be remembered. Way back in the day, I never guaged myself on how many titles I won or how many matches I won. I cared about how my matches were recieved. I wanted to be an entertainer. Somewhere... somewhere I think I lost sight of that goal. But then I realized it last night. The stunts I pulled... the things I did... it probably did more for me than thousands of great matches. I was the one everyone wanted to see lose. People would sell out arenas for the chance to see me get embarrassed and humiliated. So as selfish as I was... I guess maybe I worked towards my original goal all along.” She smiled. “Funny how that works out in the long run.”
“It is. I honestly still don’t understand why after all that, the fan’s cheered you...” Wendy said bluntly. “But I suppose, in the end, I don’t have to. I just hope that when my time comes, my send off is just as grand. Or at least better than the one I got the first time I retired,” she grinned.
“You’ll do fine, I’m sure. You’ve done as much in your career as I have.” Isabella smiled at her. “You know, I used to be like you. Perhaps not quite as stuffy...” She laughed. “But essentially a good person. Violetta Flaherty & I used to be part of a tag team called the Respect Revolution, you know. Pioneering for more respect in wrestling, for an end to the incessant name calling and bullying that goes on. But a certain individual got in my ear, rubbed my ego... and from that point onwards I pretty much became what you see to this day. It makes me wonder. If it wasn’t for that individual... what would have happened to me? What would have happened to the last three years of my career?”
“You had a chance to find out,” Wendy reminded her, not quite able to keep the bitterness from her voice.
“I did. But things were different by that point. By that point, Samantha was running the show. And you saw what happened to me. I was a nobody for those six to eight months.” Isabella shook her head. “Samantha’s not a bad person you know, Wendy. She looks out for those she cares about. The trouble is... she holds grudges. And is ruthless. She’ll step on anyone’s head to get what she wants. And believe me, it’s a lot more pleasant stepping on heads than being stepped on.” She sighs. “I don’t really have much of a moral compass, I know. I understand I’ve hurt a lot of people in this business. But now... I’m not in the business anymore. It means I’ll be able to devote a lot more time to the Foundation, and maybe start rebalancing my karmic debt after all these years.”
“I know. I know what it feels like to be stepped on. And believe me, I’ve heard the siren’s call too, from time to time. But I...” Wendy stopped herself. It wasn’t going to do her any good to preach and berate now. She took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “I hope whatever you do, Isabella, you’re happy. Truly happy.”
“I am. For now. It’s like a weight has been lifted. ...Thank you, Wendy.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Wendy asked, breaking into a smile. “Now that you suddenly have so much free time.”
“The foundation will be a priority. As well as investing more time in my label; Samantha got me a great new opportunity in Los Angeles, so I can get my name out there. I’ll have plenty to do, don’t worry about that. This isn’t one of these three month retirements. It’s over.” There was perhaps a tinge of sadness in her voice as she said that, but she smiled regardless.
“Three months, maybe not. But five years... you never know..” Wendy grinned self-deprecatingly. “A label... like a record label? All you’ll need is a movie studio, and you’ll rival Crystal Hil-”
“Fashion label. Believe me, nobody wants to hear me sing.” Isabella laughed. “Then again, no-one wants to hear Crystal sing, so maybe I do rival her in that respect!!!”
Wendy laughed, and shook her head. “Well, I’ll suppose I’ll stick to singing. I tried designing a costume once for a play... my seamstress fell off her chair laughing.” She grinned. “Well, whatever I can do to help your Foundation, let me know. It’s a worthy cause to be sure.”
“Of course. Some things are bigger than wrestling rivalries.” She nods. “For what it’s worth... I don’t hate you, Wendy. I admire you in many ways for having principles. We may be polar opposites in the ring, but... well, that doesn’t matter anymore. I really hope you achieve everything you set your heart to.”
“Thanks,” Wendy said quietly. “And for what it’s worth... when you’re not cheating or completely trying to beat in skulls or end careers or playing Power Trip Games... you’re actually a pretty good person yourself.”
“Thank you.” Isabella took the compliment for what it was.
Wendy checked her watch, grimacing. “Shoot, I better go,” she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her wallet. “My flight to Jersey is boarding in fifteen minutes. My treat today,” she said, stopping as Isabella was going for her own purse.
“Okay. Thank you again.” Isabella smiled. “I enjoyed our little chat.” She stood up, and gave Wendy a warm handshake.
“I enjoyed it too,” Wendy said. “It’s nice to smooth some things over once in a while. I’d hate to think we’ll all end up bitter sixty year olds because of what we did to each other during our careers.”
“Life’s too short. I don’t want to leave this business with enemies.” She smiled at her once more. “Goodbye Wendy. Have a nice flight.”
“Thanks, Bella. And thanks for talking to me. You have a good flight too.” And picking up her purse, she took a deep breath, and headed towards her gate.
Nothing lasts forever.
Even hatred.
No, especially hatred.
7-30-13
Saturday night was weird.
It was obvious that however Isabella wanted to go out, it was going to be after she got every single violent, cheating impulse she posessed out of her system. I had never been in a match where the cheating was that blatant, that frequent, from the opening bell to the final one. It left me a bloody wreck... a victorious bloody wreck to be sure, but a bloody wreck nonetheless.
And yet, when it was all said and done, there she stood in the middle of the ring, waving to the fans as they chanted “Thank You Bella.” Here’s this woman, one of the most hated wrestlers in FFW history, going out like a hero despite wrestling her final match with the same disregard for the rules or any sense of human decency she’s always displayed.
And the weirdest thing of all... it seemed so fitting. For two years I was incensed every time she hit someone else with that stupid bell hammer of hers, but at Unstoppable, when my turn came, and the match was over... I found myself strangely unbothered. It was just Isabella Pazzini being Isabella Pazzini, for one last time. How can I be upset about that, when it was so ultimately... fitting?
And so another chapter in the FFW history books is closed, and I hope that her epilogue is a happy one. Isabella’s never struck me as someone who’s lived a very joyful life, and I hope now that she has her husband, she finds what she’s been looking for all these years.
But for me, my place in wrestling history is still being written. I have much more to write before my own story is told, and it’s time for me proverbially break out the pen. Isabella Pazzini is gone. The Power Trip is dissolved. Samantha Star has become strangely... amiable since her return.
And my next goal is clear.
The Femme For All is coming up, and already I’m hearing the speculation. Of course my name is being tossed into the prospective brackets, and a lot of them are even tipping me as the favorite. And yet, hearing that talk, I almost get upset about it. It’s strange, I know.
I just beat Isabella Pazzini. I beat Katherine Stryfe in my second match back. I helped my team beat Scarlett Kincaid at the Anniversary show (by count-out, I know). And if I get my way, I’ll be beating Emma MacNamara in Portugal. Four former Champions defeated in less than four months.
If that doesn’t merit me getting an FFW title shot, I don’t know what does!
But how do I do it? How do I go about telling the world that I deserve to be ONE match away from the FFW Championship, not four? How do I show that if Shane Sanders and Desirae Kain can get a shot, why not me? Because demanding title shots rarely goes over well in any company in any capacity. In FFW? For the best title in the land? It’s a bad mistake.
But I refuse to meekly accept my fate anymore. To sit on the sideline and smile and shrug every time I’m passed over. I did that in PWX, and it cost me. I did that in CCW, and it cost me. I did that in NGWA, and it cost me. I’m not going to be pushy, or a bully, but I will be assertive. There’s a happy medium in there somewhere, and I need to find it, and fast.
This past week has made me more than aware of my own mortality and age, and the fact that my own time remaining is far less than the others in this company. I need to make my move now. I can’t afford to wait any longer.
But ultimately, I can only control what I can control. And I can’t control the minds of Mr. Kincaid and Ms. Star, only influence them through my ring work. And if I haven’t influenced them enough to merit an outright shot, and must go through the Femme For All again, then so be it. But that also means the focus I have to have for Emma needs to be greater than ever. Yes, this is the woman who betrayed me and my friends nearly a year ago. Yes, this is the woman who battered me with a tire iron repeatedly and left me for dead in that ring. Yes, this is the woman who, when she found out I was seriously injured, bemoaned that it wasn’t worse. But this is also one of the best wrestlers in this company, and a former FFW Champion in her own right.
Which is why my showdown with her is more than a rivalry.
More than a grudge match.
More than payback.
It’s an Audition.
Sunday July 28, 2013
George Bush Intercontinental Airport- Lefty’s Lone Star Grille
Houston, Texas
10:13 AM Local Time
“So, how does it feel?” Wendy Briese asked as she took a sip of her orange juice, looking across the table at the woman she had been fighting in the ring only ten hours prior. She hadn’t truly expected Isabella to return the message she had left on her locker room door after the event, and couldn’t believe she was here eating with her. But there was no time like the present to iron things out now that...
She couldn’t believe it was all over for the woman who had been her biggest foil in the two years she had spent in FFW.
“Calm... quiet I suppose. Today was the first time I got up, and realized I didn’t have to train. It... it felt nice I suppose. But last night... last night was special. The reaction of the fans... it made me know that, for everything I’ve done, the last seven years were not a waste.” Isabella’s demeanour was difficult to read, but she seemed cheerful and friendly enough. In some ways, it was almost hard to believe she was the same woman who had terrorized FFW for so long.
“If you felt it was a waste, then why did you do it?” Wendy asked quietly.
“Ha!” Isabella chuckled. “All I ever wanted was to be remembered. Way back in the day, I never guaged myself on how many titles I won or how many matches I won. I cared about how my matches were recieved. I wanted to be an entertainer. Somewhere... somewhere I think I lost sight of that goal. But then I realized it last night. The stunts I pulled... the things I did... it probably did more for me than thousands of great matches. I was the one everyone wanted to see lose. People would sell out arenas for the chance to see me get embarrassed and humiliated. So as selfish as I was... I guess maybe I worked towards my original goal all along.” She smiled. “Funny how that works out in the long run.”
“It is. I honestly still don’t understand why after all that, the fan’s cheered you...” Wendy said bluntly. “But I suppose, in the end, I don’t have to. I just hope that when my time comes, my send off is just as grand. Or at least better than the one I got the first time I retired,” she grinned.
“You’ll do fine, I’m sure. You’ve done as much in your career as I have.” Isabella smiled at her. “You know, I used to be like you. Perhaps not quite as stuffy...” She laughed. “But essentially a good person. Violetta Flaherty & I used to be part of a tag team called the Respect Revolution, you know. Pioneering for more respect in wrestling, for an end to the incessant name calling and bullying that goes on. But a certain individual got in my ear, rubbed my ego... and from that point onwards I pretty much became what you see to this day. It makes me wonder. If it wasn’t for that individual... what would have happened to me? What would have happened to the last three years of my career?”
“You had a chance to find out,” Wendy reminded her, not quite able to keep the bitterness from her voice.
“I did. But things were different by that point. By that point, Samantha was running the show. And you saw what happened to me. I was a nobody for those six to eight months.” Isabella shook her head. “Samantha’s not a bad person you know, Wendy. She looks out for those she cares about. The trouble is... she holds grudges. And is ruthless. She’ll step on anyone’s head to get what she wants. And believe me, it’s a lot more pleasant stepping on heads than being stepped on.” She sighs. “I don’t really have much of a moral compass, I know. I understand I’ve hurt a lot of people in this business. But now... I’m not in the business anymore. It means I’ll be able to devote a lot more time to the Foundation, and maybe start rebalancing my karmic debt after all these years.”
“I know. I know what it feels like to be stepped on. And believe me, I’ve heard the siren’s call too, from time to time. But I...” Wendy stopped herself. It wasn’t going to do her any good to preach and berate now. She took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “I hope whatever you do, Isabella, you’re happy. Truly happy.”
“I am. For now. It’s like a weight has been lifted. ...Thank you, Wendy.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Wendy asked, breaking into a smile. “Now that you suddenly have so much free time.”
“The foundation will be a priority. As well as investing more time in my label; Samantha got me a great new opportunity in Los Angeles, so I can get my name out there. I’ll have plenty to do, don’t worry about that. This isn’t one of these three month retirements. It’s over.” There was perhaps a tinge of sadness in her voice as she said that, but she smiled regardless.
“Three months, maybe not. But five years... you never know..” Wendy grinned self-deprecatingly. “A label... like a record label? All you’ll need is a movie studio, and you’ll rival Crystal Hil-”
“Fashion label. Believe me, nobody wants to hear me sing.” Isabella laughed. “Then again, no-one wants to hear Crystal sing, so maybe I do rival her in that respect!!!”
Wendy laughed, and shook her head. “Well, I’ll suppose I’ll stick to singing. I tried designing a costume once for a play... my seamstress fell off her chair laughing.” She grinned. “Well, whatever I can do to help your Foundation, let me know. It’s a worthy cause to be sure.”
“Of course. Some things are bigger than wrestling rivalries.” She nods. “For what it’s worth... I don’t hate you, Wendy. I admire you in many ways for having principles. We may be polar opposites in the ring, but... well, that doesn’t matter anymore. I really hope you achieve everything you set your heart to.”
“Thanks,” Wendy said quietly. “And for what it’s worth... when you’re not cheating or completely trying to beat in skulls or end careers or playing Power Trip Games... you’re actually a pretty good person yourself.”
“Thank you.” Isabella took the compliment for what it was.
Wendy checked her watch, grimacing. “Shoot, I better go,” she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her wallet. “My flight to Jersey is boarding in fifteen minutes. My treat today,” she said, stopping as Isabella was going for her own purse.
“Okay. Thank you again.” Isabella smiled. “I enjoyed our little chat.” She stood up, and gave Wendy a warm handshake.
“I enjoyed it too,” Wendy said. “It’s nice to smooth some things over once in a while. I’d hate to think we’ll all end up bitter sixty year olds because of what we did to each other during our careers.”
“Life’s too short. I don’t want to leave this business with enemies.” She smiled at her once more. “Goodbye Wendy. Have a nice flight.”
“Thanks, Bella. And thanks for talking to me. You have a good flight too.” And picking up her purse, she took a deep breath, and headed towards her gate.
Nothing lasts forever.
Even hatred.
No, especially hatred.
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