Wednesday June 25, 2014
4:33 PM Eastern Daylight Time
Streets of Indianapolis, Indiana
“Sometimes I stare into space! Tears all over my face! I can’t explain it. Don’t understand it! I hadn’t ever felt like this before!”
It wasn’t very often that one could catch Pollaski singing Linda Ronstadt at the top of his lungs, even while driving, but he certainly was today, even if the convection in his Saturn was making it rather hard to breathe.
“Has high blood pressure got a hold on me? Or is this a way that love’s supposed to be? It’s like a HEAT WAVE! Burning a hole in my heart! Can’t… breathe…”
Pollaski leaned to his left, and stuck his head out the window, taking great big gulps of air, which helped a little. He probably should have fixed his car’s air conditioning at the start of summer, but he had kept putting it off, and now… it was a bit late. It wasn’t exactly ideal- even simply having the windows rolled down wasn’t enough to keep cool. At least it was better than his stuffy apartment, and it would be definitely nicer once he got to the Thompson house and their lovely, air conditioned abode.
He turned into the neighborhood, slowing the car down. That didn’t help- the airflow was less, and he immediately began to sweat again. He’d basically been sweating nonstop ever since they had come back from Green Bay into this immolated hell hole, and he was certainly looking forward to the trip to the (hopefully) much cooler Portland.
Almost no one was outside as Pollaski drove down the street. Everyone had shut themselves up in their suburban four bed three baths that comprised the majority of the neighborhood, preferring the comfort of inside to the agony of outside. Finally, he pulled into the driveway, flinging the door open, and peeling himself off of his carseat (which was quite painful). With the promise of 70 degree thermostats ringing in his brain, he scurried up the front walk, flung open the door, and dove inside.
“JESUS CHRIST! It’s an oven in here!”
“Hey, Dan.” he heard a weak voice to the side, and turned to see Wendy lying on the couch, holding her Nexus tablet, on which he could hear commentary for an FFW match (likely one of Maddie’s since she was her next opponent). On her head was a bag of ice that was quickly melting, dripping water down her face onto her shirt, although she didn’t seem to particularly mind.
“Air conditioners broken,” she explained. “Terrence is working on it.”
“Oh,” Pollaski paused. “Has Terrence ever fixed an air conditioner before?”
“Nope.” Wendy said simply, her eyes never leaving the tablet, although, judging by the half-vacant stare in them, Pollaski wasn’t sure if she was actually watching. “By the way, your SVW paycheck came here again. They got your address wrong.”
“Ah, dangit. I’ll get it fixed this weekend at Uprising.” Pollaski said. He wasn’t entirely sure why his check kept coming to the Nest instead of his own apartment. Something to look into, indeed. “Where is it?”
“Over on the dining room table with the rest of the mail.” Wendy said blandly, pointing over at the neighboring room, where Theresa sat working on some schoolwork. Pollaski walked over, Theresa barely looking up. Like Wendy, she was lethargic, despite the desk fan blowing full speed in her face.
Pollaski flipped through the mail, grabbing his check, then heading into the kitchen, and grabbing a bottle of propel out of the fridge. Heading back to the living room, he paused, looking down at Theresa. “Annapolis is the capital of Maryland, not Baltimore,” he whispered, rousing the seven year old from her stupor.
“Thanks!” Theresa said, flipping her pencil over to use the eraser.
“No problem,” Pollaski said, heading back into the living room, where he collapsed into a recliner, unscrewing the cap and taking a big swig. “So what’s the good word?” he asked Wendy.
“Hot. Watching match tape.” The sweltering redhead replied. “What about you?”
“Oh, just chillin. Was hopin it’d be cooler here, but..” he shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “I see Terrence got his Nationwide application.”
THAT seemed to get Wendy’s attention, and she spun to regard him. “You KNEW about that?”
“Well yeah. I thought he told you too.”
“No,” Wendy replied. “He didn’t tell me anything about it before today!”
“Oh.” Pollaski frowned. “I could have sworn that you were in the room when he said it. Either way, hope he can get it this year. That’d be a huge break for him.”
“Yeah.” Wendy said flatly, turning back to her sceen. “Enormous.”
“You’re not thrilled?” Pollaski asked, leaning over, now suddenly curious.
Wendy looked as if she was going to give another sarcastic response, but then thought better of it. Glancing to make sure Theresa wasn’t listening, she turned back to Dan. “How many races does the Nationwide series run?”
“Uh, like thirty-three, I think.”
“And how many dates does ARCA have?”
Pollaski bit his lip as he recalled the number. “This year? Twenty-one.”
“That’s twelve more weekends Terrence is going to be on the road! Twelve more weekends we’ll likely have to split up! That’s a QUARTER of the year!”
“Wait? So? FFW Averages almost forty…”
“Exatly!’” Wendy hissed. “So we’ll have like three weekends in December and January where neither of us have anything. Do you see the strain that’s going to cause?”
“Not really.” Pollaski replied. “I mean, Nationwide generally races on Saturday, so on Velocity weeks, you can fly over to meet him, and on Breaking Point or PPV weekends, you guys both do your thing then meet up however you want.”
“Right. So he’ll never make another pay-per-view again because he’ll be busy! I LIKE him at pay-per-views! No, don’t say anything!” she snapped as Pollaski began to open his mouth. “You’ll take his side. You ALWAYS take his side.”
“What the fuck am I? Your marriage counselor?” Pollaski shot back.
“Language!” Wendy hissed nodding her head towards Theresa, who’d fallen asleep at the table again. Her voice softened. “Look, I’m just tired of him not telling me about anything! He bought that stupid dog without consulting me, and now he’s going to join the Nationwide series without asking for my input? What happened to us being tag partners in and out of the ring?”
“Well, now you know, Wendy. And he’s still in the preliminary phase of getting his Nationwide license anyways, so nothing is set in stone. It’s not like he’s going to go ‘bye hon, I’m off to race the Firecracker 250!’ sometime next week. And did it ever occur to you that maybe he doesn’t tell you because you treat nearly everything like its the end of the world?”
“I do not!” Wendy protested.
“Oh, God, yes you do.” Pollaski said. “Buying the RV, his retirement, the dog, the racetrack, Nationwide. You thought everyone’s going to be a disaster, and none of them have been.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure of the dog,” Wendy interjected. “She got in the garbage again. Just this morning. I just… I just wish I had more SAY around here, okay?”
“Okay. Fine. You now have total say in Terrence’s racing career. Does he go to Nationwide, or stay in ARCA?”
“What’s wrong with ARCA? He was so excited to get into it three years ago.” Wendy sighed.
“Nothings wrong with it. But it’s a fourth-tier series, Wendy. You know that. Nationwide is second-tier. Better cars, better drivers. Normally better sponsors, but Terrence kinda lucked out with that. Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if whoever’s interested in him doesn’t hope he’ll bring FFW along. Kinda like how Paul Menard always gets a ride because his family owns the hardware store chain and will always sponsor him. But you never answered my question.”
“I… I suppose I’d want him to do what made him happy.”
“There you go,” Pollaski said, smiling a bit. “Look, this isn’t going to happen overnight, but just make sure Terrence keeps you in the loop, and… for the love of God, let him know it’s okay for him to come to you with news that you may not like without you biting his head off. You have to remember how many disaster’s you’ve had because one or both of you weren’t communicating.”
“I guess you’re right.” Wendy said with a sigh. “I should be happy for and supportive of him, just as he’s always been happy for and supportive of me. And if we find our time together gets strained, we’ll work with it then.”
“Awesome,” Pollaski said mildly, knowing this wasn’t quite the finality Wendy was trying to project.
“But I’m still getting rid of that freaking dog at the end of July.”
“That’s between you two,” Pollaski said mildly, again making sure Theresa wasn’t hearing. “I also suspect it probably wasn’t the best day to be hearing unsettling news, with it being all nine hundred degrees out there and shit.”
“Tell me about it,” Wendy sighed. “Anyways, thanks at least for listening, Dan. I’ll talk to Terrence once… it’s not so hot. And we have a better idea of what’s going to happen.”
Pollaski nodded, and took a chug of his Propel, while Wendy went back to watching her match tape. He sat in silence, half-listening to the commentary (Mark and Mai, which was always amusing). After a couple of minutes though, he decided he’d rather watch some TV of his own, maybe check how the World Cup was going. But as he reached for the remote, something caught his eye, and he turned to look.
A portal was opening on the front lawn, shimmering blue in the sunlight. Pollaski rose from his chair, as two women, one with flaming hair, another in a full set of armor, stepped through the portal, accompanied by a massive lion-like creature walking on his hind legs. The three walked towards the house, entering the front door without even bothering to knock. Wendy leapt to her feet, indignant. “May I help you?!”
The three ignored her, instead turning their attention to Daniel. The leonin spoke first, in a deep rumbling voice. “Pollaski.”
“Ajani,” Pollaski said in reply, rising to his feet, and nodding at the trio. “Chandra. Elspeth,” he said, nodding at the flaming woman and the knight, respectively. “What brings you here to Indianapolis?”
“Nicol Bolas has made his move. Dominaria is under attack, and we need your help.” Elspeth said.
Pollaski paused for just a second, frowning, before sighing, and nodding. “We feared this day would come. I’m ready.”
“Wait! You can’t go!” Wendy cried, drawing his attention away.
“He has to go.” Chandra said. “It is his destiny.”
“But… when will you be back?”
“I don’t know,” Pollaski said simply. “Maybe never.”
“But… what about Breaking Point? What about Unstoppable?” Wendy was almost on the verge of tears.
“You’ll be fine.” He assured her. “But this is more important. The lives of millions, no Billions are at stake.”
“But… everything I’ve ever done in my career I owe to you!” Wendy exclaimed, breaking into sobs. “You’re the one who’s guided me to the top. You’re the one who’s given mme the training and strategies and mindset I neeed to succeed. Without you, I’m lost!.” She wiped her eyes. “I’ll go to Cody Kincaid and retire. I can’t go on without you.”
“You’ll find a way, Wendy. I know you will.” Pollaski said, giving her a hug. “But I have to go now. He knelt down to Theresa, giving her a hug too. “Take care of your mom and dad for me, okay?”
Theresa nodded, snuffling tears. “I’ll miss you.”
“I know.” Pollaski stood up, and hugged Wendy one last time. “Tell Terrence I’m sorry. But I have to go. We’ve wasted too much time as it is.” He turned, steeling his will, back to the trio who had come for him. “I’m ready.”
Elspeth made a gesture and chanted something, and soon the world began to go white, and he felt himself being whisked away from the Nest, from Indianapolis, from Earth. All the while he could hear Wendy’s sobbing. “Pollaski! Pollaski come back! POLLASKI!!!!”
“POLLASKI! HEY, POLLASKI!”
Pollaski eyes open and he bolted upright at the sound of Terrence’s voice, and looked around, to see his best friend standing above him. “Wha… what’s up?”
“I fixed the air conditioner,” Terrence said, looking fairly smug with himself. “We’re going out for ice cream. You wanna come?”
Pollaski looked back over at the window, but there was only grass outside, leading to a sidewalk, then a street, the to the lawns and houses beyond. No portal, no shimmering blue. He sighed sadly as he made to rise from the chair. “Yeah… I’m coming.”
=============================
Saturday June 28, 2014
11:38 AM Pacific Daylight Time
Ira Keller Fountain Park
Portland, Oregon
A couple miles south of the Moda Center (AKA THE ROSE GARDEN, YOU STUPID OREGONIAN SELLOUT FUCKS), across the scenic Wilammette River, sits the Keller Fountain Park. Built on just under an acre in 1970, the plaza sits home to the Ira Keller fountain, a massive waterwork construct that pumps 13,000 gallons a minute over a dazzling modernist series of platforms, the water cascading from one platform to the next and down into the pool at the bottom. It is here that we open, with Wendy Briese sitting on a park bench at the bottom of the falls, the landmark in the background. Wendy’s dressed in a pair of jeans, and a pale green t-shirt, an umbrella in her hands testifying to the dreary conditiions of the day, although we appear to have caught a break between showers.
“I just want to say a big thank you to the city of Portland, for making a wonderful weekend so far here.”
Wendy flashes a genuine smile as she crosses her legs, setting the umbrella down next to her on the bench.
“Thank you for sales tax-free shopping. Thank you for being so beautiful, and offering scenic views of Mount Hood… at least yesterday when there were less clouds. Thank you for such kind people and dedicated fans, and… most of all…”
“Thank you so, so, SO much for not having hundred degree weather.”
She’s exaggerating. THe worst it ever got was 97. With 80% humidity.
“Alright, so let’s get down to business. I’m back in the ring for the first time since I lost to Tara, which broke all kinds of streaks and added another person breathing down everyone’s neck in the FFW Championship picture. Not to mention… God that was brutal. I can’t remember ever taking a shot like that. But I had a month to pick up my pride and dignity, heal up, and get back on the horse. So here I am ready to go, and waiting across the ring from me tonight will be… Madelyne McTaggert.”
“Of. Course.”
Wendy flashes a very strained grimace, one that’s filled with about three and a half years of irritation.
“Madelyne, I’ve already heard what you’ve had to say, and I confess myself disappointed. I’m disappointed because we have a match here that’s been brewing for three years, and you go and spew the exact same schlock that you did for Eileen, Kate, and everyone else beforehand. Ten Femme Chaos was a sham! Hypocrites! I’m superior because I’m not held down by petty morality! And, my personal favorite… At least I’m honest about what I am!”
“And of course sprinkled in you have the exact same stock anti-Wendy Briese fodder that half the company’s already tried their hand at. Wendy’s a hypocrite, not really a good person, tyrant, bad for business, yada yada yada, my God has anyone ever actually stopped and thought and realize that none of this actually works?”
Wendy gives a disdainful laugh and a shake of her head, rolling her eyes.
“And of course you give the anecdotes to ‘prove’ all this. The wrong woman got pinned in Ten Femme Chaos and Wendy’s okay with it because it doesn’t hurt her or her friends! Actually, Wendy deferred to her boss on the matter for an impartial opinion, and he dismissed it out of hand. Wendy put Madman Szalinski in a coma! Except that coma happened three years after our match, when Szalinski’s been wrestling the entire time, presumably with medical clearance, and collapsed after a barbaric cage match. So while I feel bad for Madman and Ariel for what happened, and wish him the best, but to blame me when every shred of medical evidence goes against it… yeah, no.”
“And the amazing…. the UTTERLY amazing thing about it all of this is that YOU, of all people, Madelyne, actually had something in my past that you could have dragged out. And I was curious to see if you were going to fling my closet open and toss the skeleton out for the entire world to see, but somehow… SOMEHOW you FORGOT. The biggest moment of our old company, X3W, where our mutual dislike stems from, and you FORGOT it. You RAN this company, you MADE this match, you sat in the back laughing the entire time it was going on and now, three years later, while spewing CONTRIVED anecdotes left and right, forget the big one? Since it so obviously slipped YOUR mind, Madelyne, I’ll go ahead and do it for you. After ALL, I am HONEST about what I really am. ”
Even with the sarcasm evident, there's still a measure of disbelief in Wendy's voice
“So I’m sure most of you in the FFW Faithful are confused by now. Wondering what the big deal is, because this is, in reality, ancient history. But I think it’s important because for all the yipping she does about what a hypocrite and horrible person I really am, Maddie can’t even seem to remember the time I whipped Kris Keebler in the face with a steel chain. Not to mention giving him a Banshee after he had fallen atop a steel chair wrapped in barbed wire.”
“How the HELL did you forget that, Maddie? You’re the one who made the Fatal Attraction. You’re the one who gleefully commissioned an electrified steel cage wrapped in barbed wire, and ordered every single weapon you could think of fastened to it. You’re the one who put C4 on the turnbuckles, and gave Keebler’s girlfriend the activation code so she could set them off while I was atop them. You’re the one who booked me into the match, to face Kris, gleefully cackling the entire time about how ‘Little Miss Sunshine’ was going to be DESTROYED. And somehow, now, all those details have slipped your mind, and we’re back to ‘I didn’t really lose Ten Femme Chaos?’”
It’s evident by the tone of her voice, that was a night Wendy Briese isn’t going to be forgetting anytime soon. She looks directly at the camera, her voice soft, but with a definite edge to it.
“You don’t even realize what you accomplished that night, do you? You hit the jackpot, Maddie. You helped find Wendy Briese’s breaking point, that glorious little event horizon where my idealism SHATTERS into cold, hard pragmatism. It’s not an easy place to take me to, Maddie, because it involves a spot that I purposely steer FAR away from, because I don’t want to go there. I don’t want to go anywhere NEAR that line where it stops being about winning and losing, where it stops being about retaining a title, and it becomes a matter of pure survival. But YOU of all people helped take me there, that’s the height of your accomplishment, and you should be bragging about that from the highest mountain top. But no… instead it’s stock anti-Wendy Briese promo number seventy-four.”
“So there you have it, folks. The deep, dark secret of the White Knight. When she’s afraid for her life. When she’s terrified that she’s never going to see her daughter and husband again. When she KNOWS that one slip up, one mistake, one lapse will have her RAMMED into an electrified barbed wire cage so many times she will be sliced to ribbons and her heart STOPPED… that’s when this all crashes down. The absolute edge of the pit of despair and destruction. And some of you may call that hypocrisy. But I call it being human. I’m willing to do, and undergo, a lot of things for the sake of pure competition, but dyings not one of them, and if people have a problem with that… sorry.”
Wendy takes a deep breath. It’s obvious that what she’s just been talking about was a bit difficult to go through.
“But now can you see why I’m not a fan of the Ultraviolence Division? The POINT of that division is to push people towards that dark spot. But at least there it’s voluntary, comprised of women who WANT to be there, instead of those forced into it by a sadistic boss who wants to commit murder by proxy. And it serves a purpose, being an EXCELLENT vehicle for those who get a rush going into that dark, dangerous area, giving them a venue they can play without -ahem- having to ‘change their personality’.”
“In fact, it’d be a wonderful place for you, wouldn’t it, Maddie? After all, it’s the SUPERIOR style of wrestling, right? You have so much freedom! You’re unfettered from everything, and you can go up against strong, like-minded women who are just as unfettered, without having to worry about those pesky disqualifications. Everyone can play by YOUR rules! It’s really a haven for you, and you don’t have to waste your time picking on us fettered weaklings like Eileen Amaro and myself.”
Wendy’s not even attempting to keep the sarcasm out of her voice at this point.
“Yeah, that’s not worked so well for you, has it? You get Kate Steele, a woman that the rest of the division seemingly has NO respect for, inside a steel cage. Carte Blanche to do ANYTHING you want to her, and she leaves you lying in the middle of the ring, one two three. You get Penny Buchanan at Byte This, and she runs you over. Alysson in a tag match? Same result. So maybe this whole Ultraviolence Division thing ISN’T a good idea after all, especially now that you’ve ticked the entire division off by breaking their title. I guess you ARE better off taking on us reluctant weak rule-abiders. At least then you can get yourself disqualified to save face.”
“Pretty much your modus operandi the entire way, isn’t it? If you can’t win, break something. You did it back in X3W… I managed to survive your stupid death match, and you were losing control of the company to its rightful owner, so you steered the ship right into the rocks and killed the company. Here in FFW, the Blondetourage flounders, so you completely humiliate your supposed best friend and run her out of the company. Eileen starts getting the upper hand on you, no surprise, so you get yourself disqualified and try to save face by smashing Eileen’s skull in. Kate Steele whips your butt in a cage match, so you run over her title.”
Wendy leans forward, her voice dripping with disdain.
“You hve no sense of pride. No heart. No perserverence. Not even any willpower. You’re the same darn thing every match. Come down to the ring. Use some stupid, underhanded trick to get yourself the advantage. Hold it for a few minutes, realize your opponent is tougher than smarter than you gave them credit for. Completely panic, attempt to blow everything up, come up with an excuse, and move on to the next one. The only time it’s ever subverted is either when you get caught and it blows up in your face, like against Rebecka, or, even more rare, you somehow manage to get away with it, like against Figgins.”
“And that is the fundamental difference between myself and you, Madelyne McTaggert. I have heart. I have perserverence. I have willpower. When a match goes wrong for you, you start looking for a way OUT. When a match goes wrong for me, I look for a way to stay IN. You witnessed that first hand in Ten Femme Chaos. You had me isolated, tired, weary, and your team gave me a beating. Over, and over, and over you guys pounded me, and over and over and over I fought to keep myself in the match, and find that opening to make the tag and make everything you put me through be for naught. And I did it. I tagged out, I helped our team win.”
“And the most hilarious thing about it all is that your ‘superior mindset’, as you so like to think of it, COST you the match! Your ‘willingness’ to break the rules didn’t work so well when you had a referee in there that was actively UNwilling to allow you to. Had you guys kept up the isolation, maintained pressure, hit your big moves, and kept me from gaining any momentum, maybe, just MAYBE you would have worn me down enough to pin me. But instead you decided to get STUPID. Use the ropes to assist holds. Choke. Illegal double teams. And more often than not, the ref caught it, put a stop to it, and your lot bickered with them, which gave me time to recover, and eventually break free to my own corner, where four fresh partners stood waiting, and the rest is history.”
“That willingness to do anything sure has helped you SO much, hasn’t it?”
Wendy breaks out into mocking laughter, looking up at the sight of more potential rainclouds gathering, reaching over and grabbing her umbrella, just in case.
“There was a time, Madelyne, when I actually dreaded you. That was back when you had the power to make my life a living hell, and you used it with abandon. You threw your minions at me, you put me in horrible stipulations to screw me over. And I would fight through it all, only to do it all over again the next week, over and over again, culminating in that horrible night inside the Fatal Attraction. So when you reentered my life by joining FFW after I had been BLISSFULLY rid of you for two years… I think you can understand my concern, especially when your very first action was to suck up to our boss with all that ‘Pretty Miss Samantha’ nonsense. And when you pummelled that poor rookie before her TRYOUT match for crying out loud, for a second,for just a brief second, I thought the reign of terror was beginning anew, and I was determined to put a stop to it.”
“I needn’t have worried.”
“No, Maddie, I needn’t have worried, because THIS ‘reign of terror’ has more turned into a reign of moderate irritation. You and your associates have proven time and time again that the only power you possess is the power to annoy. You can’t dominate ANYONE here. You can’t dominate Misty. You can’t dominate Kate. You can’t dominate Nicole. Neither Witches’ Brew, the Rockin’ Kittens. NOBODY, because you're only able to successfully prey on the WEAK, and there’s precious little of that in Femme Fatale Wrestling.”
“So where does that leave you now? Three years ago, you were a puppetmaster, pulling strings and manipulating matters to your own ends. Now you’re little more than an overgrown high school girl, focused more on being pretty, and petty, and catty, blonde than any particular meaningful objective. And you stand alone! You chucked the only person in this company with the same mindset you had to the curb, and your new compatriot isn’t exactly endorsing of your methods, is she?”
Wendy gives another disdainful shake of her head.
“And maybe you should listen to Syren a bit more, Maddie. Stop dismissing every plea she makes to reign it in, because she’s exactly right. You’ve deluded yourself into believing your greatest weakness is actually your greatest strength, and vice versa where people like me are concerned. Because cheating’s not even a part of your gameplan… it IS your gameplan, and you’ve turned it into a crutch. People see it coming a mile a way, the ref knows to look out for it, nobody’s surprised when it happens.”
“So yeah. Tonight. You’ll swing at my head with a ring bell, or a chair, or whatever else you can get your hands on tonight. Right. We all know its coming. There’s really no point in pretending it’s not. And you honestly think I’m worried? Have you been paying attention around here? Do you have any idea how many people have TRIED to do stuff like that to me? The first thing Isabella Pazzini did when I faced her was smash me with a bellhammer. I recovered and won. Alex Adonis interjected himself at every opportunity when I rematched Starla for the No Surrender Championship… I won. Aimee Easter had her entire TRUTH gang wait to ambush me… I won. Sensing a pattern here?”
Wendy raises her eyebrows, as if to say ‘well’? With a small shrug.
“Once upon a time, Madelyne McTaggert, you were my worst nightmare. Tonight, I’m going to be yours. Not only someone who doesn’t subscribe to your philosophy, but someone who is willful enough, disciplined enough, and, most importantly GOOD enough to blow it up right back in your face. So what are YOU going to do, Madelyne McTaggert, when you swing a ring bell at my head, and I grab it, toss it aside, and spike your head into the mat with the Vortexinator? What are YOU going to do when you beat me with a Kendo Stick, and fight right back to my feet, knock you down and pop you in the Banshee? What are YOU going to do, when you raise a chair up, only to receive a Sparkstarter right to your jaw?”
“Nothing! Nothing, except lie there, and look like an idiot as the referee raises MY hand in victory, because once I thwart that, you will be completely and utterly out of options. Remember, Maddie. MY philosophy has gotten me five title reigns in FFW, including the biggest one in the business, so that when I walk into that proverbial little social lunchroom you keep in your mind, I can sit at the table for past FFW Champions and current FFW Championship contenders.”
“And you, Madelyne McTaggert cannot, nor will you EVER be allowed to sit there.”
As Wendy begins to get off the park bench, the scene fades.
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