From the private journal of Wendy Briese
12-15-13
They say that when you’re a champion, you always need to be looking over your shoulder. That you have a target on your back, to be prepared to deal with someone- anyone looking to get the upper hand on you, no matter how unscrupulous the methods. To be a champion in this industry, you need to have constant vigilance, and thick skin, both physically and mentally.
Tonight, I got that full in the face- to a jarring level.
One Night Stand has gone from extremely difficult to insane, with the addition of Valerie Lamb to the main event. It’s not a complaint- it’s only fair that Val get another shot at the belt after what happened. But that still means I’m defending against two former champions- perhaps the two best wrestlers in the company, period, at once. If I walk out of One Night Stand with the title… I’ll have earned it for certain!
But it goes beyond that. It even goes beyond Sophie Richards being drawn as my Byte This opponent. I have Camilla Pazzini suddenly acting like I’m the worst person in the history of the company. I have Mika Demidov somehow offended because I wanted so badly a match against Scarlett. And now I have Aimee Easter finally cashing in her poison, with the bonus of wanting to use me as some sort of an example for a “revolution.”
So yeah, 2014 is going to be pretty busy with that line.
At least the pressure’s off somewhat until the New Year. It’s hard to feel THAT sorry for yourself when you’re about to face another champion, once who’s gone through far worse than you have. But Wendigo’s a respectful opponent, and with Legendary gone from ringside, it should just be a fun, challenging exhibition match between two great wrestlers. Its nice to have one of those once in a while, and not worry about titles or grudges. Just a chance to turn wrestling into the pure art form it has the potential to be.
But once the New Year hits, the Pressure’s back on. Aimee Easter first, and then onto One Night Stand, and then Byte This. A regular Tour De Force.
No one ever said being a champion was easy, after all!
-Wendy
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Sunday December 29, 2013
Tampa Bay Times Forum- In Ring
Tampa, Florida
10:41 PM Local Time
“UNGH!” Wendy Briese grunted as her upper back slammed into the mat, the ring shaking with the force of the impact. That was… what… the THIRD time Wendigo had slammed her like that in a row?
Her vision slightly swimming, she saw her ring boots suspended in the air above her, her body folded up like a matchbook. Wendigo must have bridged the move into a pin, a smart idea really… although… oh crap...
“NO!” Wendy suddenly snapped to, jerking her arm towards the ropes on instinct, grabbing the lower rope just before she heard a hand pound the mat. The crowd erupted, then groaned, as Wendigo released her. There was no bell sound… at least she didn’t THINK she heard a bell…
She could hear voices nearby, muffled by the cheering of the crowd. Wendigo and the referee? Was he arguing? If so, that gave her time… she needed to clear her head. Rhythmic breathing… pain management… she could do this.
Mercifully, no attack came. His mistake, Wendy thought with the barest flicker of a smile. The match had been going badly against her, ever since he had countered that cobra clutch into a stunner. It had taken Wendy five minutes before she could even open her mouth, and by then, Wendigo had done quite the number on her.
But now was her chance. Wendigo’s attack had stalled, for whatever reason. She was regaining her wits and her strength, and he wasn’t doing anything to stop her. She could get it turned around right here. For good.
But first she needed to get off this canvas.
Slowly, painfully, Wendy struggled to her knees, wincing as pain shot up her leg from that modified TTFO. She’d have to ask Markus about that submission after that match… it was one she didn’t mind learning. She could never know too many holds, after all!
Suddenly, she froze, goosepumps prickling her skin. Something was wrong. The buzzing of the crowd- it was too expectant. They were expecting something big to happen- Wendigo hadn’t broken off his attack- he was setting her up for the finish. She glanced at the corner in front of her, which was empty. Wendigo had to be behind her. Waiting… ready to pounce like a polar bear.
A smile slowly came to her lips. Well two could play that game. If he came in low, she could trip him, and lock hiim in the Banshee. If he came in high enough, maybe a reversal into a Vortexinator. But she had to time it perfectly. Too quick, and she’d miss her chance. Too slow, and the match was over.
She heard no footsteps behind her, no pounding of feet. He was waiting for her to turn around. She slumped forward, bending over slightly, as if fatigued from the climb to her feet. Alright, Champ. One…. two…
THREE!
Wendy whirled, bracing for the attack, but it never came. Wendigo was already down, slumped in the corner, having been done in by the briefcase that had just smashed on his head. And holding the briefcase, standing on the apron was…
“EASTER!” Wendy howled, dimly hearing the bell ringing somewhere off in the distance. Aimee was kissing the briefcase, mocking her as she leapt down from the apron. Wendy stormed across the ring, ready to climb out and go after the Evolution Champion herself. But she paused as a blur stormed into the ringside area, swinging away at Easter, the crowd erupting in cheers.
“Eileen,” Wendy whispered, surprised at seeing the Tsunami in person right in front of her. Even more surprising- and slightly disconcerting, was the rage on Eileen’s face. She wasn’t just out to drive Aimee off- she was going to hurt her. Even now, she had her in a Thesz press… firing shot after shot onto the woman who had done all she could to ruin her life.
And all Wendy did was stand there transfixed, staring down as security tried to separate the brawling women. The adrenaline was coursing out of her, her strength going with it. She stepped back from the rope, looking helplessly over at Angela Rocca, who shrugged apologetically. The match was over, and even if she’d been too focused on Easter to overhear Youle announcing the result, she had no doubt in her mind what it was.
Great, two matches against SVW talent, two disqualification losses. At least this one was a TEENSY more legitimate than Starla tossing her for bumping into her when she faced Moxie. She glanced up the ramp, just in time to see a fleeing Aimee disappear behind the curtain, Eileen in hot pursuit. She then glanced over at Markus. He was shakily getting to his feet.
“I’m sorry!” she yelled, trying to get her voice to carry over the crowd. “I didn’t mean to… I mean… I didn’t think anyone would… well… congrats.” She couldn’t hear Markus’ reply over the crowd, but the tone sounded agreeable enough, and he was offering a handshake. Without reservation, Wendy took it, and he raised her arm up, the crowd around cheering the two champions. Wendy smiled shakily, squinting at the massive array of flashbulbs washing over here. Well, at least the night ended somewhat-
Wendy gasped as the lights flickered, and some heavy metal song began to play… Rebecka Hate’s song. She looked up at the entrance ramp. Christian Kane was already out, and Hate was stepping out to join him. In her arms was another briefcase.
“NOW?!” Wendy exclaimed, looking over at Wendigo, aghast. But the Yukon native didn’t seem to hear her. He was staring up the ramp at Hate, the barest flicker of a smile on his face.
In a rush, Wendy came to truly appreciate Markus’ predictament. Sure, she’d had a briefcase cashed in on her, but she at least had nearly a month’s advance warning, not to mention it was non-title. If Becka Hate was about to do what she thought Becka Hate was about to do, he’d be defending on zero notice, and already weakened. And yet, he seemed to be welcoming it.
As for her… she’d never felt more tired in her life. Or more like a third wheel.
“Good luck,” she whispered, slinking away to the side of the ring, even as Becka began to climb in. She rolled out, slinking quietly away from ringside as the crowd noise began in anticipation of a second, far more impactful main event.
Most of the crowd’s attention was on the confrontation in the ring, but a few die-hard FFW fans were cheering her as she walked to the back, some even extending their hands out, hoping for a high five. She ignored them, her gaze squarely transfixed on that curtain. She just wanted to get back there, and get out of the limelight for a bit. Plenty of time for that later.
Youle was announcing the title match as she reached the top of the ramp, and the explosion of crowd noise helped push her backstage. She pushed through the staging area, down a corrider, stopping by a row of production boxes. She hopped up on one, taking a seat, and leaning back against the wall, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
“So, have fun out there?” a voice spoke up behind her, and Wendy looked over to the grinning face of her manager. Pollaski was still wearing the South Florida football jersey he had competed in, and by the smell of it, hadn’t showered yet either.
“I did,” she replied, wrinkling her nose slightly. “At least until You-Know-Who decided to go and wreck everything.”
“You-know-who? What, is Aimee Lord Voldemort?” Pollaski said, cackling. “Nah, they’re both ugly, but Aimee’s face is WAY more lumpier. Like she had marshmallow injections.”
Wendy didn’t smile. Instead she glanced over at her manager. “Did you think she was going to do that?”
“Nope,” Pollaski said, his tone turning more serious. “If I had, I’d have stayed out there, instead of coming back here.” He paused. “I guess we should have.”
“No kidding,” Wendy sighed hopping down from the crate, and turning to head back to the locker room. “That’s the second match in a row I’ve had ruined by someone.” she said, glaring at her manager. “I don’t want any surprises on the Ninth, Daniel.”
“If you’re talking about Scarborough Fair signing, I can totally…”
“I’m talking about keeping the dang ring clear!” Wendy snapped, glaring at her manager, although her tone softened. “She’s got that Tommy idiot following her now, and of course Lightning. Keep them away. Do what I pay you to do, and make sure it stays one on one! I’ll take care of the rest.”
“Yeah, I think I can do that,” Pollaski said, cracking his knuckles with a slight grin. It faded under another withering glare from his client. “You look worried.”
“I am,” Wendy confessed. “Maybe it’s all a ruse, but the way that woman acts, like she’s got this huge master plan she’s putting into action, that no one’s been able to stop yet.”
“And you’re the next objective,” Pollaski commented. “Which means you could be the one to derail the entire thing. Wouldn’t that be hilarious?”
Again, Wendy didn’t laugh, but instead sighed. “Why can’t this sport ever be SIMPLE? Get in the ring, face your opponent, fight to a fall, move on. Instead we have plotting and run-ins and backstabbings and screwjobs. It can get rather wearying. Especially on a night like this, when the fans paid to see a great match, not the Aimee Easter Show.”
“Ah well, at least the fans get a great match to end it,” Pollaski said, pointing to a monitor down the hall that was showing Becka and Markus struggling in the ring. “And Eileen was fuckin’ AWESOME.”
“Mmm-hmmm,” Wendy nodded, smiling slightly, while rubbing her chin. “In fact, that seems like a pretty good place to start.”
“With Eileen being fuckin’ awesome?” Pollaski frowned.
“Eileen’s always awesome, Pollaski. Moreso than you could possibly realize.” Wendy said, smiling enigmatically, a vision of blurring brown hair and Amaro’s rage-filled face from earlier tonight coming to her mind. “Anyways, get our flight pushed back a day, and I’ll see if she can meet for lunch tomorrow.” She paused, hoping silently that Eileen had the strength and courage to do what she was about to ask.
“I think Eileen and I need to have a little chat.”
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