Thurdsay September 4, 2014
1:37 PM Moscow Time
Moscow Ramada Hotel- Empress Alexandra Room
Moscow, Russia
The answer to that, of course, is no.
No, even at a Catholic school, teacher’s aren’t allowed to hit the students with yardsticks, and that’s what Wendy told Theresa last night on Skype, to the dismay of Terrence who had been torturing Theresa all afternoon with the answer ‘only because we said they could’.
So, Theresa’s in school, Wendy’s in Russia, and it’s probably a toss-up as to which one’s unhappier about the situation. Probably Theresa, because Wendy at least gets to LEAVE Russia right after the show’s over, making her grand total stay time in the world’s largest country about sixteen hours. In her opinion that’s about thirteen hours too long but Pollaski (who wasn’t fired, because if she hasn’t done it the first thirty times, let’s be honest…) insisted she had to do SOME time zone acclimation.
It’s odd for her too. This is probab the first time she’s ever been booked on a show in a location where she absolutely did not want to go. Obviously she’s not going to be TOO vocal about that, cause manners, but she’d still much rather be back in Edinburgh.
Anyways, the scene opens in what appears to be a small hallway, decorated with an ornate rug and a chandalier hanging overhead. Wendy stands in the middle of the room, in a simple green blouse and skirt. Standing next to her, on an easel, is a portrait of Isabella Pazzini. On it, the Imperial Crown of Russia has been photoshopped over Isabella’s head.
“I’ll say one thing. Queen Wendy’s got NOTHING on Tsarina Isabella”
A small grin at the joke, and then a sigh.
“You know, it’s actually a bit fitting that this is happening in Russia. A land who’s history is RIFE with leaders who are more than willing to sacrifice their countries stability and prosperity for self-gratification. From the days of the tsars with Ivan the Terrible and Nicholas I through the days of Stalin and Kruschev to modern times with Putin it’s something of a plague here.”
Well, there goes her popularity amongst a large chunk of the population. And the entirety of the government. Indeed, there’s a muffled voice off the camera telling Wendy something, and she only looks over with a shrug.
“Then their state television can bleep it all out. I’m not interested in being popular in Russia if it means compromising myself and the respect the rest of the world gives me as someone who isn’t afraid to speak her mind.”
In fact this DOES get edited out in the Russian subtitled version. So Wendy Briese has finally been censored. Good for her!
“And it always happens the same way too, doesn’t it? You want to believe in it. You think that this is the change we need. This is how you revitalize things. Sure a few toes got stepped on, but a revolution just isn’t a revolution without a few toes being squashed. It’s all for the better in the end. And so you buy-in, ready to experience that new beginning that’s been promised.”
“And then you realize that it was all a sham. All the promises. All the hope. All the dreams of a fresh start… it was all just posing for the camera, and the reality, its much… MUCH different.”
Wendy sighs, patting herself on her chest, as if saying ‘mea culpa’
“I’m a sucker. I bought into it. I wanted to believe making Isabella the Ultraviolence Comissioner was the best thing to do. Didn’t matter that it tread on the toes of a man I respect more than nearly anyone else in this industry. After all, Mr. Kincaid can still preside over the OTHER divisions, right? This is Isabella’s niche. She’s got experience here. So yeah, give her that power.”
“And then the truth comes out in Sydney, which has unfortunately turned into the city of undesirable revelations. At least as far as FFW is concerned.”
“As Caroline Stark always says- ‘Its obvious in hindsight’. We should have KNOWN what this was going to be. It’s not about improving a division for Isabella. It’s not about bolstering the careers of the wrestlers who toil away inside the division. Nope, its simply the Isabella Pazzini show, where your second-favorite three-time former FFW Champion can put herself on the spotlight, and if any one of the ACTUAL competitors in the division can somehow work their way into that periphary glow… well, good for them!”
The sarcasm is thick with Wendy here, but she suddenly stops, and stares at the ground, looking slightly ashamed. She looks up at the camera with a sad smile.
“And, for not realizing this sooner, Mr. Kincaid… wherever you are… I’m sorry.”
A deep breath, as she plunges on.
“Of course, like every megalomaniacal narcissistic dictator since the beginning of time, Isabella will feed us on the lie that we need this. She’s the former FFW Champion. She’s the hall of famer. She’s the Icon. It HAS to be about her, because she’s the one who sells tickets, not any of these ‘lesser’ women who will be expected to slave and nearly kill themselves for her approval. All we need now is her claiming that she’s divine- or at least mandated by the divine, and we’re all set!”
“And, of course, like every good megalomaniacal, narcissitic dictator… any dissenters, anyone who DARES consider themselves outside of that sphere of influence… they need to be put DOWN. So, because I made a couple of half-joking tweets about Isabella possibly stealing the Ultraviolence title for herself- because that’s ACTUALLY what happened the last time she had Guest-reffed a title match- she gets all hissy and sticks me in a Falls Count Anywhere match.”
A very disgruntled eyeroll from the redhead.
“See, in Isabella’s mind, this isn’t so much of a match as it is a public execution. She’s got to prove her power by making a complete and utter example out of someone and she thinks she’s got the perfect prisoner heading to that block. Someone who’s not and has never had anything to do with the Ultraviolence Division, which tells our entire roster that they are under her domain no matter what. Someone with as almost as much prestige as her, as I too am a former FFW Champion and Hall of Famer, which says it doesn’t matter how high in the company you are, you’re but a pawn for her to play with. Honestly, the only more perfect target for her would have been Scarlett Kincaid, because she’s all that too AND Isabella loathes her, while, despite everything… I actually think she kind of likes me.”
Wendy gives a small half-shrug at the camera, as if saying ‘don’t ask me WHY I think that.’
“Of course, Isabella… in her ego-driven rush to shut me up and make an example and set the entire FFW locker room aquiver over what happens when you speak out against the new tsarina… she seemed to overlook a few teensy things. Like… a falls count anywhere match? I’d be a little more anxious if it was something more insiduous, like a tables match, or a first blood match, or something along those lines- something that would force me into making a decision of sacrificing my values or winning the match. But a falls count anywhere match? You don’t need hardcore chops to win those… after all, ANYWHERE includes the ring right? And even if Emma does take the match outside the ring- which I can almost guarantee you she will try to- fine. If I have to wrestle on concrete, then so be it. But I will be WRESTLING.”
She managed to keep like a good 75% of the smugness out of her voice with that line.
“I don’t need weapons to win this, and even if Emma decides to whip them out… and I know she will- does anyone think that’s honestly going to stop me? Does anyone remember me talking a couple months ago how I was stuck in an ELECTRIFIED BARBED WIRE STEEL CAGE… and won? Does anyone remember Madelyne McTaggert taking off the turnbuckle pad, throwing me into it repeatedly, only for me to still battle back and win? Does anyone remember Mika slamming me back first into every single object at ringside, and I kept surviving, and only lost because of an unfair leverage advantage? Or… even better… does ISABELLA HERSELF remember that when we faced, the first thing she did was smack me in the head with a bellhammer, only for me to STILL win?”
WEndy scoffs and shakes her head, almost angrily.
“And that’s the fatal flaw everyone makes time and time again. That because I don’t do weapons, or go ultraviolence, that somehow makes me weak. Even my friends like Cara Stone have been begging me- don’t wrestle this match to nonexistant rules! Intelligently adapt to a bad situation!”
“Well, I WILL. Because I’ve been here before, and I know what I’m doing. I won’t wrestle to nonexistant rules- I will wrestle to MY rules- my own personal code, is very real, very effective, and I have used it to wre. And I will prove to you, once again, that refusing to use weapons, to rely on your technique instead of the quickie cheap shot, does NOT make you WEAK!”
Said with as much ferocity as she can manage, of course.
“And I want to make something clear to the other girls in the division. I’m not out to destroy or disgrace it. I’m not like Katherine Stryfe, out to win the Ultraviolence Title strictly for the sake of my own gloating ego so I can spit on anyone who wrestles in the spirit of the division. I don’t want the title, and I don’t even want this match. But I’ve been assigned, and I do my job no matter what. So if you guys start getting a lot of flack because Wendy Briese of all people won a match in the Ultraviolence division… I’m sorry. Just remember, this wasn’t MY idea, it was your fearless leader’s, who's willing to sacrifice her divison's reputation for a petty revenge play.”
Although Wendy doesn’t touch it, suddenly the Isabella portrait flops off the easel, falling to the floor with a thud. Wendy turns around, looking down at it, then shrugs, turning back to the camera.
“But I got to ask you, Emma, how does it feel? It’s been, what? Almost TWO years now since you whacked me over the head with that lead pipe in War Games and joined the Power Trip? And even now, even now with the Power Trip disbanded and Isabella retired for over a year, you’re STILL her lackey. You’re STILL her little attack dog that she sends out to deal with those she wants dealt with.”
“Once you sell your soul to someone, Emma, it’s darn near impossible to get it back.”
“I’m sure you’re happy though. After all, you don’t like me one bit, and you just got carte blanche permission to hit me with anything and everything you can lay your hands on. Get a chance to vent your frustrations and vitriol on someone you despise. Heck, maybe even you’ll see the opportunity you have here, and show some fire. Which in all honesty is a vast improvement over your norm.”
Wendy’s eyes are narrowed, and she exhales, half-raspberrying in exasperation.
“You got to wrestle in Glasgow though, and you won, so congratulations there. Not surprised really, because that’s honest to God one of two things you’ve shown any signs of caring about in the past year- wrestling in your hometown and beating the heck out of Kate Steele. But I remember sitting there last Saturday, watching your promotional video, and you pulled out your normal line about how you already know you’re not a good person, and you don’t care what people think, so stop wasting your breath… yada yada yada.”
“Actually, the phrase you REALLY like to use is ‘I don’t give an eff’.. so to speak. You love that phrase, you’ve dropped it about ten times in the last four promos alone- occasionally mixing in the word flying if you want to emphasize something, I guess. And I know you love that. Amorality is cool, right? Except the way you justify it… it’s kind of lame, really.”
Wendy’s voice takes on somewhat of a mock whine, her tone slightly patronizing.
“Almost pathetic, really. Because basically what you’re saying is that being good is too HARD. Having morals is DIFFICULT. Your just going to screw up sooner or later so its better if you don’t even TRY. Just far easier to keep your standards low and be a cynic to anyone else who tries to better themselves, right?”
Voice back to normal with a scoff.
“And if you want to live your life that way, Emma, fine. No one can tell you what to do and you’ve darn sure made it clear you’re not taking anyone’s advice. But the question rings, and I think rings clear… if you don’t care about improving your self… why would you ever care about improving your career?”
Again, her voice takes on a slight patronizing edge to it.
“Because Emma… being a good wrestler is also HARD. Having success… especially in a company like FFW… is DIFFICULT. And you’re just going to screw up sooner or later and lose, so it’s really better if you don’t even TRY. Just far easier for you to keep your standards low and be a cynic to anyone with any sort of passion, right?”
“And right now this is the part where you puff up indignantly and make some sort of remark about not being accurate… except it is. You didn’t use to be this way, but somewhere along the lines this malaise kicked in. How else can you explain the fact that a young, healthy twentysomething has gone from being FFW Champion to not even able to win an Ultraviolence Contenders match in three years?”
This time, Wendy’s voice has zero mocking, but is dead serious matter-of-fact. Her voice quiets, and she sighs, almost disappointed.
“Since I faced you just a little over a year ago, you’ve gone NOWHERE, Emma. You’ve just hovered in the same place, stagnant. The only thing that’s changed is that instead of being angry you weren’t on the Glasgow show, you’re now happy you were on it. And you beat Undine- again, congrats- but on average you’re winning what now? One in three? And… you seem okay with it!”
“Seriously… your run over the past year has been filled with a bit of anger, a lot of bitterness, and almost zero passion. You get Becky Hate in the Femme For All. You say nasty things about her. You lose. You shrug. You get in that number one contenders battle royal. You say nasty things. You lose. You shrug. You get Destiny Campbell for a shot at the Ultraviolence title. You say nasty things. You lose. You shrug. And now you get me, who’s heading into a match with Valerie Lamb for the number one contendership, you’re probably about to say some nasty things, and if you lose tonight… it’ll be with a shrug.”
And Wendy again shakes her head in disappointment.
“Heck, even when you WIN, there's no sense of joy from you, or even a feeling of accomplishment anymore. Just... yup, another SHRUG. And that’s why your words, as nasty and angry as they are, are more hollow than the inside of the Chunnel. They’re just words you spew, and I don’t even think you have that much conviction behind them anymore, because ultimately, it doesn’t matter to you which way the match goes. And that’s taking the easy route. Having passion is HARD. Caring is DIFFICULT. Because when you take a setback, it hurts all the more, so it’s better to just be as blase about everything you can, and hide it behind a mask of vitriol for those you don’t like.”
“Like Kate Steele. The Ultraviolence Champion. The one woman in this entire company you don’t have to be required to stand in front of a camera to show any kind of thoughts for. And yes, I know Kate has done some dumb things in her career. Some… really dumb things. But I’d rather have a try-hard like her than a try-not any day of the week!”
“And now she’s off playiing ‘chosen one’ with Isabella Pazzini, while you’re stuck once again doing her dirty work. That has to be a blow to your personal pride… if you even really have any left.”
Another disgusted shake of the head, as Wendy slightly fidgets from standing in one place for too long.
“It’s like you don’t even have any soul left inside of you anymore, Emma. Right, like I said earlier. That’s because you sold it to Isabella Pazzini and Samantha Star two years ago in exchange for a membership in the Power Trip and you’ve been paying for it ever since. And all that’s left of you is a burnt out hollow shell of bitterness. And honestly, I’ve discovered over the past month that biterness is a queer thing. Because, you know what? I’m angry and bitter, too. I’m bitter over the way Unstoppable ended, and I think I have every right to be. I’m bitter that I’m even in this match, because this is nothing but a hit job by a woman I thought I buried the hatchet with a year ago. And I’m bitter that everyone, from my fans down to my friends, don’t think I can win tonight unless I change some fundamental aspect of myself.”
For a second, Wendy visibly bristles, but keeps her temper under control.
“But there’s two things you can do with that bitterness, Emma. You can swallow it, and let it rot you from the inside out, like you have done. Or you can spew it out like a dragon does fire. Start a conflagration and use it to immolate the doubts, incinerate the frustration, and BURN everything holding you down until once again you’re flying high and free.”
“And that’s what I plan on doing tonight. To put Unstoppable behind me, to push my way forward back up to that summit. Tonight, I can build momentum by winning in a hostile land against a hostile opponent where the odds are stacked against me. And I can build that into Sin & Sacrifice, where once again I can beat Valerie Lamb and become the number one contender, which leads to Anarchy, where I can- but I’m getting a bit ahead of myself.”
For the first time this promo, Wendy gives a small, genuine smile.
“As far as you go, Emma. Do you see this match for what it is? Do you see it as the opportunity you have to jump start your career. To kick it out of the doldrums. To restart the fire that has gone out of you a long time ago? Or do you simply view it as yet another chance to brutalize a person you don’t like? Because ultimately, for you, it won’t matter whether you win or you lose tonight, so long as your heart is beating the correct rhythm.”
“But that’s the tough part for you. Because for far too long you’ve taken the mentality ‘I am who I am and I’m not going to change, because that’s a hassle.’ That’s not good enough anymore, Emma. It hasn’t been for a while, even if you haven’t seen it. You’re better than what you’ve been. Far better. You just have to prove it.”
“Just like tonight, I’m going to prove that I’m FAR better at adversity than people are giving me credit for. As long as there’s a pinfall or submission as the goal, I know how to get there, even if the road might be a bit more hazardous than usual. But when I get on the plane back to the states tonight, win or lose, I WILL still have my convictions, and I WILL still have my integrity.”
Wendy looks around the hall she’s in one last time, as if symbolizing once again the turf she’s standing in.
“Because those are two things I won’t let ANYBODY take from me.”
And as she walks off, the scene fades.
No comments:
Post a Comment