EPISODE 101: The Flight Home

Wednesday May 18, 2011
United Flight 298- First Class Cabin
Over British Columbia, Canada
2:07 PM Local Time


“...tailwind we should be in Chicago about half-an-hour ahead of schedule. Thank you again for flying United Airlines, and please enjoy the flight.”

The gentle *ding* of the seatbelt sign being turned off sounded throughout the cabin, and I couldn’t help but smile as nearly ever passenger on the Airbus A319 dug out some sort of electronic device, flipping them on. I myself leaned forward, digging my Ipod and book of crossword puzles. The two diversions likely wouldn’t keep me occupied all the way through the four hour flight, but at least it would kill some time. And once I grew tired of crosswords, there was always looking out the window at the terrain below.

Not the first time that day, I wish we hadn’t taken the latest of the three daily flights leaving Vancouver for Chicago. After the two flights, and the hour and a half layover at O’Hare, I wouldn’t be getting home until nearly midnight. And I would be coming home to an empty house. Terrence had left for Lexington, Ohio that morning for the Mid-Ohio Sports Car course, where he was to receive a “crash course” (and I absolutely LOATHED that term) on road racing in preparation for his upcoming race in New Jersey, the only race out of the whole ARCA schedule that required cars to turn right. He had left Theresa with Cassie, but it would be far too late to pick her up by the time I got home. I sighed inwardly- all the demands of my schedule and Terrence’s kept splitting the two of us up. I just hoped that none of it was negatively affecting my daughter any.

Well, there was nothing I could do about it from seat 4A, that’s for sure. I turned my Ipod on, trying to decide which musical’s soundtrack I would listen to, ultimately deciding on Oklahoma! I began to slip my earbuds in, only to be distracted by the sounds of painful grunting next to me. I glanced over, and saw my manager, unsuccessfuly trying to lean over and grab his laptop bag, which he had set on the floor. It was obvious from his facial expression that the attempts were making him fairly uncomfortable, the obvious soreness he was feeling only added to his obesity in the difficulty factor.

“You need help?” I asked. Even though Pollaski stubbornly shook his head no, I leaned forward and grabbed the bag, and hoisted it into his lap, thankful that the more accomodating first-class cabin allowed me the room. Pollaski mumbled his thanks, and began pulling out the computer.

“How you feeling?” I asked, looking at my manager with concern. He had taken a considerable beating at the hands of Kevin Flynn the previous night, and he definitely looked the part. One eye was swollen, and one could tell by the stiffness in his movements that there were a lot of bruises on his body.

“About as good as I should have expected” Pollaski said, shooting me a strained smile. “I got my ass kicked, not the first time, probably not the last. I’ll recover.”

I shot him a reassuring smile, as Pollaski finished taking his laptop out, then tossing the bag back onto the floor. “I suppose I should thank you,” he muttered as he turned the laptop on.

“For what?” I asked, glancing sideways at my manager.

“For saving me last night. Y’know, ripping the chair out of Flynn’s hand and standing in the way. I suppose I owe you one...”

I almost shivered, feeling the intensity from the previous night. I was almost amazed with myself, how I had been able to calmly stand in that ring, while Kevin Flynn stood inches away, screaming in my face. It had taken every ounce of restraint to not either step away, or punch Kevin in the mouth, especially because I had expected Flynn to take a swing at me at any moment.

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” I replied, grabbing my earbuds, and beginning to put them on. Pollaski reached over, and grabbed my arm, however.

“I’m serious,” he said, his voice low. “Knowing how you felt about the situation, I honestly thought that you were just going to let Flynn kill me.”

It was true- I hadn’t been overly pleased with the stunt Pollaski had pulled, especially considering that the victim of the ‘prank’ had suffered fairly serious injuries. But for better or for worse, Daniel Pollaski was my friend, and I wasn’t going to throw my friend to the wolves.

“What would letting Flynn kill you have done?” I asked, looking over at him.

Pollaski shrugged. “Some might say that after what I did to Kristi, it would have been appropriate to allow Kevin some sort of revenge.”

“And he got it,” I replied. “He faced you man to man in that ring, and beat you flat out. The fact is, even if Flynn had killed you, flown your corpse to Minneapolis, and dragged your body around the city behind his car to desecrate it, he still wouldn’t be satisfied. We all know what he wants- its the exact same thing he wanted before you attacked Kristi.”

“Counter-attacked,” my manager replied, that ever-mischievous smile coming through. “She still attacked me first.”

I snorted, and glanced sideways at Pollaski, shaking my head. “Anyways, Flynn wants my title, and he wants me broken and battered. Nothing’s changed on that front. And in three weeks, he gets that chance.”

“You’re still nervous about it, aren’t you?” Pollaski asked.

I paused for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, although, I’m kind of mixed. On one hand, I know that if this Fatal Attraction match isn’t the most dangerous thing I’ve done, its definitely up there in the top three, and considering what I have at home relying on me, the thought of what would happen if something... goes wrong terrifies me. But at the same time, another part of me is just tired of all the delays, and I want to get it over with, regardless of what becomes of it.”

“Well, we’ve been working on what you need to do,” Pollaski said, turning to his laptop. “There’s a reason why you’re the champion, and Flynn couldn’t even make it past the quarterfinals of that tournament. Hell, he should be lucky that he faced Szalinski the first round, when his mind was broken. Outside of him, the rest of that tournament field was worthless.”

“Yeah,then I’d have a different person trying to kill me,” I muttered. I still felt guilty from hearing that I had been the cause of Szalinski’s muteness. I knew my Irish Death was a damaging move- and could even cause severe injury, but considering that the move targeted the abdomen, I never could have imagined it could cause brain damage. The thought honestly had me questioning whether I should ever really do the move again. I took pride in causing as little lasting injury to my opponents as possible.

Pollaski chuckling broke into my thoughts, and I looked over at him. He was staring at his laptop screen, having connected the computer to the Airbus’ in-flight wi-fi system. Sensing me staring at him, he turned the computer, and I was surprised to see a picture of me sided along with a picture of Katherine Stryfe.

“Speaking of worthless participants in that tournament...” Pollaski grinned.

I smiled softly. “About time I got back in the ring.” I had been off the last two Shatterpoints, but considering all that had happened, it’d actually been almost two months since I had been in singles competition in X3W. It felt good to finally be back on my own- especially considering that I was becoming more and more disillusioned with the power struggle that was taking place in the company. Obviously Madelyne had it out for me, with her crony Mike Powers and all their sordid underlings, Kevin Flynn included. But even the other side in the quarrel had me concerned. Brydon Talinsdale had completely disappeared from the landscape, and Graham Clauson, for as honorable as he had seemed, was becoming more and more unbalanced with each passing week, ever since he had come running down with that chainsaw. Add in his entire family (many of which seemed even more crazy than Graham did), and I honestly had begun to feel that the best course for me was to just shut up, stay out of it, and focus on defending my title.

This match would help me do that, I figured. Katherine Stryfe hadn’t had much to do with the conflict taking place in the leadership of the company. Heck, to be fair, Katherine Stryfe recently hadn’t had much to do with anything, I thought wryly. My thoughts flashed back to the night before, when I had expressed surprise and disappointment that Katherine had failed to show up for her match. I wonder if somehow word had gotten to Madelyne, and given her the idea for the match.

“I heard a rumor this morning that Stryfe had an emergency... is that true?” I asked, looking over at Pollaski. If anyone knew the dirt on what was going on with a particular wrestler, chances are my manager would hear it.

“No idea,” Pollaski confessed, with an apologetic shrug that caused him to wince. That wince turned into a snort however. “She was probably off getting high or something, and forgot she had a match.”

“Unlikely,” I replied, rolling my eyes, and looking out the window. We had begun to fly over some low clouds, so any chance of ground-watching for this part of the flight had just become impossible. I glanced back over at Pollaski, who had returned to playing around on his computer. The sudden jolting of the plane caught me by surprise, and I looked up in time to see the seat belt sign being turned back on with another soft *ding*.

“Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain. We look to be getting into some turbulence after all, so I’m going to have to ask everyone to return to their seats.”

I grimaced as the plane jolted again. I had been hoping for a smooth ride, and considering Pollaski’s injuries, I’m sure it was the last thing he wanted as well.

Oh well, I thought as I finally managed to slip my earbuds on, and began the soundtrack for Oklahoma. Those were the breaks, sometimes.
=================================


Monday May 23, 2011
Holiday Inn, Room 317
Boise, Idaho
6:10 PM Local Time

[Well, it’s been a fun week. Wendy got a whole day to relax with her daughter, before heading to meet Terrence in Ohio. Then the apocalypse happened (not really), followed by Terrence’s road racing debut at New Jersey Motorsport Park’s Thunderbolt raceway (23rd place, although he didn’t crash!), and now Wendy’s departure to Boise for the next Shatterpoint show.]

[No rest for the weary, eh?]

[Anyways, the scene opens in a small hotel room. Usual holiday in fare, with a single bed, a television, and a table with a couple chairs. Wendy’s sitting in one of those chairs, the camera set up a short distance away. The X3 champion is wearing a simple pale yellow blouse, and a pair of jeans. She sighs as the camera comes on, although she has a soft smile]

“I suppose after reading the billing for my match, a bit of explanations are in order.”

[ORLY?]

“Despite what the lineup might say, I don’t recall being terrifically upset by Katherine Stryfe’s failure to show up last week. I remember expressing a certain level of disappointment, but I don’t think I was exactly pulling out my hair in anguish over the incident, or throwing a tantrum. I’m sure Stryfe had a valid reason for not being at the arena last week, and in reality, it’s none of my business.”

[A small shrug]

“I also don’t exactly recall ever demanding a match against her, especially considering that I’m not exactly on speaking terms with the person making the matches at the moment. But Ms. McTaggert hasn’t exactly bothered herself with accuracy and the truth in the past, so I guess this shouldn’t come as a surprise. Regardless of the motivation, this match is on, set for tomorrow night.”

[Wendy pauses for just a second, her lips pursing slightly. Those who know her would easily identify it as the look she gets when she’s internally debating whether or not she should say something. Finally, Wendy shrugs, and relents]

“There’s one more inaccuracy on the preview billing, however. ‘It’s not like Katherine to not show.’ I’m going to have to beg to differ, because to be honest, the real Katherine Stryfe hasn’t shown up in X3W in the six months the place has been open.”

[Small grimace]

“When I returned to wrestling last April, Katherine and her partner, Emma McIntyre, were about halfway through what would ultimately become a phenomenal near-yearlong reign as the CWC tag team champions. Nightmare, Inc., for a long while, was the gold-standard of tag teams. This day and age, holding titles for six months is an accomplishment. Holding them for almost a full turn of the calendar is unthinkable. And yet, Stryfe and her partner managed to do it.”

[Considering that Wendy and her husband were undefeated as a tag team for nearly eight months themselves, that’s fairly high praise. Wendy, however, just shakes her head and continues.]

“And even in X3’s predecessor, EPW, Stryfe was someone to be reckoned with. There’s a good reason why she was a perennial challenger for the EPW Championship. There’s a reason why Stryfe was in EPW’s last ever main event. There was a reason why Katherine Stryfe had earned every letter of being ‘The Beautiful Nightmare’”

[A small pause, and Wendy looks directly into the camera.]

“So what happened, Kat?”

[Small sigh]

“Why didn’t the Katherine Stryfe that was making a legend for herself come to X3W? At what point did you go from being the ‘Beautiful Nightmare’, to little more than a daydream? How did transform from being one of EPW’s top contenders to being barely an also-ran in its successor?”

[Wendy shakes her head sadly]

“When X3W announced that it’s first champion would be decided in that tournament, you were one of the favorites going in. Heck, I was almost certain that if I got by Rockwell and Soldier, I’d see you in the Semifinals. But maybe that’s where the difference between me and you is evident, Kat. You foolishly assumed that because Jeremiah Belmont beat Tweeder, he’d be a walk in the park for you as well. The price of your folly was a first round exit. And I know that loss was later expunged from your record, but the fact remains- you were out of the tournament. I went into that tournament hungry, and I took NOTHING for granted. I fought my way past four wrestlers some thought I had no business being in the ring against, much less defeating, and I won that tournament, and I got the honor of being the first person to have this.”

[Wendy reaches to her side, and produces the X3W Championship belt. She calmly folds the belt up, and places it, faceplate up, in her lap.]

“And after I had won this, Kat, you were given another opportunity. One of five people selected for a round-robin tournament, with the winner moving on to face me at Fatal Attraction. And you got beaten by everybody but the hapless Holden Tyco Malone. Fourth place of five. Was that really the best you could do? This title represents the pinnacle in wrestling achievment, and I gave everything I had to win it. And when I see someone handed the opportunity you were given, and choose to make NOTHING of it, well, disappointed is hardly a powerful enough word.”

[Wendy scoffs, and shakes her head again, her voice continues to be fairly mild]

“This is not an accusation that I enjoy making, nor is it one that I make lightly. But Kat, anyone can see that your effort, your attitude over the past six months has been lacking. I don’t know why, and I honestly don’t care. But you owe it to your fans, your competitors, and yourself to give a lot more than you’re giving, and I think it’s time someone called you out on it.”

[Wendy spreads her arms wide, almost in invitation]

“So, at the risk of sounding arrogant, maybe this is what you need. A one on one match with the X3 Champion herself. A chance to prove to the world just exactly what ‘The Beautiful Nightmare’ is made of. If you even just put on a good showing, you can regain so much of the respect you’ve lost in everyone’s eyes. And if you manage to win, you’ll launch yourself into position to actually challenge for this belt after Fatal Attraction, regardless of who’s holding it.”

[Wendy’s eyes narrow a bit]

“I don’t think its an opportunity you’ve earned or deserved, but you have it, and you darn well better make the most of it. At the very least, maybe facing me will remind you what it actually takes to be a champion in this business. It doesn’t matter who I’m facing, where I am, or what the match is, I give everything I have whenever I step into that ring, and it’s going to be no exception for you tomorrow night.”

[Another small pause, before Wendy swallows hard.]

“See, Kat, some people might have thought Judgment Day was Saturday, but for you, it will be Tuesday. Because if you can’t get up for a match against the X3W Champion, if you can’t give everything you have against Wendy Briese, then maybe you need to get out of X3W before you- or someone else- gets hurt.”

[Wendy looks up into the camera again]

“It’s a harsh thing to say, Kat, but you need to hear it. So do yourself a favor, and don’t hold back tomorrow night. I’ll be in that ring waiting for you, and you can bet that I’ll be showing you just why I’m the X3 champion. But if you leave everything out in that ring, and show the world the Katherine Stryfe of old, then I know that you and I are going to bring the house down, and have an amazing contest between us. And that’s something you need desperately, Katherine Stryfe.”

[Another small pause, and Wendy takes another deep breath]

“Because your career might just be depending on it.”

[Fade]

EPISODE 100: Unfriending Ariel

Sunday May 15, 2011
Toledo Motor Speedway- Outside Garage Area
Toledo, Ohio
5:11 PM Local Time

“There he is,” I muttered to myself, as I saw the Diamond Motorsports haulers tucked away at the back of the lot, and began to push my way through the crowds towards them. The Menards 200 had just ended, and, as could be predicted, the garage area was a state of bedlam, with teams loading up haulers, fans wandering through, hoping to get a last-second autograph, or just to see up close the incredible machines they had spent the afternoon watching.

Considering Terrence now sat a meager 31st in the ARCA standings (not a horrible situation, considering he had missed the opening race of the season), the crowd in front of his hauler was understandably smaller than those of the more renowned drivers. Truth be told, it seemed, at least for the time being, that Terrence’s fanbase largely consisted of those who had been his fans while he was wrestling, and just happened to follow both pro-wrestling and ARCA racing.

My husband had already changed out of his racesuit, and was wearing a dark blue polo shirt and a pair of khakis. While the rest of his crew worked around him, Terrence stood leaning against the hauler, talking to his crew chief, a middle-aged, bearded man that I only knew as Jimbo. Despite the 26th place finish he had just taken, both men looked fairly calm and at ease, and Terrence was shrugging as he replied to a question Jimbo had just asked him. He looked up and smiled as he saw me approaching, then held up a finger, indicating that I should wait a minute, then went back to talking to Jimbo. I huffed a strand of my red hair out of my face in irritation. By the time Pollaski and I had gotten to the track, the cars were pulling out onto the circuit for the pace laps. I hadn’t seen my husband since before I left for Miami, and I was anxious to do so.

As I patiently waited for Jimbo to finish, I turned my attention to his car, the #38 Taco Bell Dodge that he’d been driving. While most of the car looked as new as it did to start the race (albeit a lot dirtier), the back end had been completely wrecked. Terrence had blown a tire early in the race, spun, and hit the wall hard. It had turned into a long afternoon, with him limping around the track to eventually finish forty-seven laps down.

A pair of strong arms grabbed me from behind, and I shrieked as I was lifted off my feet and spun around. My assailant released me, and I landed on my feet, whirling around to see my husband grinning back at me. Laughing, I threw myself into his arms, and we embraced and kissed.

“I missed you,” I murmured as he continued to squeeze me into him. He smelled like gasoline and sweat and dirt, and being trapped in a car with no air conditioning for nearly three hours, but I didn’t mind. I was just glad to be with him again.

“And I missed you too,” Terrence replied, before releasing me. He grinned at me. “How was Miami!”

“Beautiful. Hot. Sunny. Wished you were there,” I intoned.

My husband laughed in response. “I wish I was there too,” he replied. “Weather’s been a bitch up here. With the thunderstorms we had last night, I was afraid we wouldn’t even get the race in!”

I grimaced in concern as I heard the word ‘thunderstorms’. “How did Theresa do?”

Terrence shrugged. “Scared the hell out of her. Let her sleep in our bed with me. Can’t blame her really, there were some good boomers.” He looked around. “Where is she, anyways?”

“She, Pollaski, and Cassie went back to the RV,” I said, hoping that we would be heading that way soon ourselves. To my relief, Terrence slipped my hand in mine, and turned to walk away, but then stopped, turning back to say goodbye to his crew.

“Thanks, guys! I’m taking off, I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“Wednesday?” I queried, as Terrence’s pit crew returned the farewell, and we began walking away from the hauler. “I thought you didn’t have to be in New Jersey until Friday evening!”

“Yeah, but then all the brass started taking a look at things, and NOW they all figure out that I’ve never competed in a road race before in my life. That’s now a concern for them.”

“Surely turning right can’t be THAT hard?” I asked as we slowly worked our way towards the exit.

“It’s more than that, hon. Different turn radiuses, elevation changes, anyways, long story short, I’ve spent half the weekend trying to convince them to not replace me with a road specialist. So they want me to spend a couple days at Mid-Ohio, and see if I can handle it.”

“I’m sorry,” I murmured.

“It’s alright,” Terrence said, shrugging. “We all gotta do shit for our jobs, right? And besides, I think this could actually be fun. I don’t gotta be Michael Schumacher out there, just not crash the car at the first chicane I come to.”

Stil, I grimaced. May was turning out to be a hard month for us to spend time together. I was leaving for Boise the next day, and now I’d be coming back to find Terrence gone to Ohio. At least we’d all still be going to Canada for Conviction together.

“So, you have fun at Breaking Point? I caught it on TV. Fun stuff,” Terrence’s voice jarred me from my thoughts, and I looked back over at him. “Loved the brawl at the end.”

“That was nuts,” I confessed, breaking my hold on Terrence’s hand momentarily to circumvent a large crowd of people that had gathered near the winners car. “And yeah... I had fun there. For the most part.”

Terrence chuckled as he retook his hand in my own. “Still pissed at Snyder?”

“Not angry,” I corrected, sighing. “Just.. confused. I don’t know where she would even get the idea of accusing me of-”

“Because she knew you’d take offense to it, and offending you is a surefire way to get attention,” Terrence replied firmly. “Look hon, Rori Snyder suckerpunched you, slammed you headfirst into the ringpost, tried to viciously open a cut, and STILL lost within a couple minutes. The only reason she’s doing what she’s doing is because any credibility she’s had has been shot to shit, and she’s trying desperately to find some way to remain relevant.”

“Pollaski reckons she’s going to be released after Shane Sanders destroys her,” I sighed. “I hope not. She’s a good kid- she’s just... misguided.”

“She also ain’t your problem anymore,” my husband said, squeezing my hand. “Rori Snyder won’t get an Evolution title shot in a million years. You, on the other hand...”

“Am three matches away from one.” I finished, smiling slightly. We walked in silence for a while after that, out the gate and into the adjacent RV lot. The lot was just as chaotic as the garage area was, the entire fleet of motorhomes packing up, already a good percentage had either left, or were waiting in the long line of RV’s waiting to leave. Our own RV had already seen most of its neighbors depart. Terrence scoffed as we darted between a gap in two RVs in the traffic jam.

“Don’t see why everyone’s so damned anxious to pull out and wait in a line,” he muttered, as we walked towards our cinnamon-hued forty-five foot Newmar King Aire. “Might as well chill until the dust settles.”

I hummed and nodded my head in agreement as I swung open the door to our RV, and climbed up the stairs. “Hey Terr-Bear!” I smiled as my daughter ran towards me, and I scooped the giggling girl up into my arms, giving her a hug and a kiss.”

I gently set Theresa down, and she bounded back over to the couch, where she had been watching Looney Tunes. Cassie sat nearby, reading a book, while Pollaski had perched himself at the table, clicking away on his laptop. He grinned as he saw Terrence and I walk in, and waved me over. “Hey, Wendy! You might wanna take a look at this.”

Curious, I walked over to the table, sliding in next to Pollaski, who turned the laptop so that I could see. Terrence leaned over me as well, trying to get a look.

“This was taken last night after Breaking Point,” my manager explained, then hit play.

I watched intently as the short video played, with Ariel Shadows leaving the building, looking fairly agitated. Even though the interview had been censored (very, VERY censored) with bleeps, I still looked alarmingly over at my daughter, relieved that she wasn’t paying attention in the slightest. I quickly looked back at the computer.

"*BLEEP!* THEM ALL! I am taking my man back home. *BLEEP* FFW, *BLEEP* the crown, *BLEEP* Crystal, *BLEEP* Wendy, and *BLEEP* whoever's got a problem with it. I got more important *BLEEP* on my mind than some go*BLEEP*n butterfly belt."

As video ended, everything went silent, save for the murmur of Looney Tunes playing on the television. I looked at the computer screen, my mouth wide-open in astonishment, unable to find my voice.

Terrence found his for me. “What the hell was that all about?”

“I’m going to guess that Ariel’s in a bad mood. A REALLY bad mood,” Pollaski said blandly.

My eyes narrowed. “No kidding.” I muttered sarcastically. “You have any idea WHY?”

My manager shrugged. “Well, I’m gonna GUESS she probably wasn’t too happy about losing to Crystal Hilton. A heckuva match, but a tough loss for her. As for you, she’s probably pissed that it turned out you were the reason her boyfriend can’t talk anymore.”

“Oh,” I nodded, looking again over at the television. Suddenly, my head snapped back so quickly my neck popped. “Wait... WHAT?”

“Turns out when you jumped on him, you might have cut off the bloodflow to his brain, and as a result hurt the part that controls speech.” Pollaski replied matter-of-factly.

My mind raced back to that night in Dallas, a couple of months before I joined FFW. Ariel’s boyfriend, Madman Szalinski, and I were facing in a ladder match. We hadn’t exactly gotten a long before that, but the weeks building up to the contest had been as hate-filled as I could ever remember. The culmination had been when Szalinski had blindsided Terrence right in front of my daughter, and attacked him brutally enough to put him in the hospital.

The match itself had been no less vicious, with Szalinski using every single opportunity he had to hurt me. The worst was when he had tried to strangle me to death by placing the ladder over my throat and standing on it. Truth be told, only Ariel’s intervention had saved me, and after that, I was pretty ticked off, and after a few kicks, I had climbed up to the turnbuckle, and hit my Irish Death foot stomp.

The searing burn of wrathful umbrage had washed over me after I landed the move, and so I did it again, not even bothering with the turnbuckle, just jumping and landing feet first on. Over and over again, I had jumped on him, having no idea about the damage I was really causing.

Until now.

“Oh, God...” I breathed, horrified. I shot an accusing look over at my manager. “Why didn’t you tell me about this?”

Pollaski scoffed. “What am I, an RSS newsfeed? I thought you’d have known already. My bad.”

“For crying out loud,” I muttered, turning away from my manager, and throwing my husbands arm off of me. I practically ran across the RV, to where I had plugged my phone into its charger after dropping off my luggage before the race. I quickly picked up the Droid, flipping through my contact list to find Ariel.

And gasped, stunned as the phone was ripped out of my hands.

Angrily, I looked up, and saw Terrence casually tossing the Droid from one hand to another. I glared at my husband. “What are you doing? Give me back my-”

“Nope, sorry hon.” Terrence replied mildly. “Not gonna do it.”

I paused for a second, still confused as to why my husband would be teasing me, when it was clear that I was upset. Then I lunged trying to grab the phone as it passed from one hand to the other, but Terrence had anticipated it, tossing the phone higher this time, and deftly sidestepping out of the way. I stumbled, nearly bowling over Cassie in the process, as Terrence deftly caught the phone again.

By now, I could tell that Cassie and Theresa were paying attention, and I clenched my fists, my face burning in embarassment and anger. “Terrence Andrew Thompson,” I snarled, “Give me back my phone. NOW.”

Terrence paused. He looked amused by the stunt he was pulling, although there was a seriousness in his eyes. At that moment, I was too indignant to care. I’d wrestle him to the ground and use a nervehold if I had to...

“Are you gonna call Ariel?” Terrence asked, tossing the phone again, this time catching it in the same hand.

“Of course I’m going to call her!” I replied. “She’s my friend! I owe it to her to-”

“You don’t owe her anything,” Terrence replied mildly. “And she’s not your friend right now, she’s your enemy. Your opponent. The last thing you need to be doing is calling her up and apologizing because you hit a perfectly legal move on her boyfriend in a match. If you still feel that bad about it after Conviction, you can apologize then.”

“What? That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard! I’m not going to put a friendship on hold over some match! Now give me-”

“Really?” My husband arched an eyebrow, and while his face was calm, I could see a bit of hurt creeping into his eyes. “You were more than willing to put OUR MARRIAGE on hold last year when you had to face me. Twice.”

I stopped in my tracks, and opened my mouth, but no words came out. Terrence’s words were true enough. Twice I had been scheduled to compete against Terrence last year, and both times, I had left the house, my husband, my family to be on my own in the week leading up to the match. I wanted to win, and I didn’t think I could perform to the best of my ability if I continued to live with the man who was now my enemy. Still...

“And that was a huge mistake,” I finally responded, unable to keep a tremble out of my voice. Even though I had come home with Terrence the night after the events both times, I still couldn’t remember ever feeling more destitute and alone during those weeks. “I never should have...”

“Actually, considering your performances during those matches, I’d say it was probably the right thing to do,” Terrence responded, flipping the phone again and catching it. “If you wanted to win, you couldn’t view me as your husband. You had to view me as a foe. And you sure as hell outshone me the second time around.”

“Doesn’t mean I liked it,” I protested.

“Well, yeah. But facing our friends is one of the nasty little parts of this business nobody really likes to talk about,” Terrence said quietly, suddenly completely serious. “I didn’t like facing you either, but it’s something we had to do. But we didn’t take what happened out there personally, and we were in each other’s arms the night afterwards.”

I scoffed mildly, but after a few moments thought, I nodded. “You’re probably right. Ariel and I knew from the moment we became friends that there was always a chance we would end up against each other, and it’d be a dishonor to her if I let anything cause me to hold back when we faced. If there’s still hard feelings after all of this, we’ll settle it over lunch or something.”

Besides, I thought darkly, I had tried to be encouraging and friendly to Rori Snyder in the days leading up to our match, and I remembered all too vividly how THAT turned out. There was room for friends in professional wrestling, but not amongst your opponents. Sometimes, things just had to be put on hold. Anyways, after that profanity laden video, I wasn’t sure if Ariel even wanted to be my friend anymore, anyways. I guessed I’d have to wait and find out until after Conviction.

I looked over at Cassie and Theresa. Cassie looked concerned at the confrontation between my husband and I, although Theresa looked like she was completely and utterly lost by the conversation. A glance at Pollaski told me that my manager was finding the entire spectacle fairly amusing.

“So, promise not to call Ariel?” Terrence asked, a bit of a smirk returning to his face, as he once again began tossing the phone. “Or answer if she decides to call you?”

“Yeah, if you quit throwing my phone around,” I shot back in exasperation.

“Deal,” Terrence flipped the phone up, this time towards me, and I deftly caught it. I took the Droid in my hands, and looked at it, looking accusingly back up at Terrence a couple seconds later.

“You deleted her from my contact list!”

Terrence broke into another one of his insufferable grins. “Consider it an insurance policy against temptation. Ask her to give it back to you in Morse code as she’s tapping out to the Banshee. Anyways, traffics probably cleared up. We probably should get going. I’d like to get home before midnight if at all possible.”

As Terrence walked by me, heading up to the RV’s cockpit to get us started, I watched him, feeling a mixture of admiration and exasperation. I knew that I was the idealist between the two of us, while Terrence always took a much more realistic approach to life. It led to a lot of arguing between the two of us, to the point that some observers actually thought our marriage was in a crisis. But those arguments never got out of hand, they never resulted in a jeopardization of our relationship. They simply gave both of us perspective. Maybe that’s why we had always been so successful as a tag team- reality probably lay right in the middle between our viewpoints.

I was in a combat sport, and in a combat sport, one didn’t succeed by altruism. Whatever I felt about someone, once I got in that ring, my job was simple- do what ever I could (within the rules, of course!) to bring them down and defeat them, whether they were male or female, large or small, friend or foe. Maybe after five years in the business, it should come instinctually, but sometimes, it didn’t hurt to be reminded by Terrence’s pragmatism that I had a job to do, and it wasn’t making friends.

I slipped my phone back into my pocket, and slowly walked up to the copilots seat, just to the right and behind Terrence’s drivers seat as he finished the final preparations for our departure. No, I wouldn’t be calling Ariel. The next time I’d be interacting with her wouldn’t be over a phone, or by text message, or a cup of coffee. It would be in the ring, as opponents, until the final bell had rung.

It couldn’t be any other way.

EPISODE 99: Epic Pollaski

The following is a column that was posted on whirlybirdz.com

Hey Kids!

You know, if there is one word that has ever been ruined by the internet, it’s the word ‘epic’. Originally, the word was used to defined something of enormous magnitude, a grand scale that dwarfed mankind’s usual perception of the norm. But now, thanks to bloggers and bulletin board posters who toss the word out every other freakin’ post, the concept of ‘epic’ has been watered-down significantly. Just one of the casualties of the technological revolution, I guess.

As such, I dont really like to use the word. I’m not one for cliches, and lets face it, ninety-five percent of the time, tossing that word out there just makes you look like one of the losers who spend their entire lives on 4chan. You know, the types who’s ultimate goal in life is to find an exception to Rule 34. Or prove it. I don’t fuckin’ know.

But once in a rare while, the term actually becomes appropriate. Something so big, so powerful, so unbelievable, that there really is no other term to describe it. Something, that can actually, honest-to-God, be described as EPIC.

And kids, the ending of Shatterpoint 16 was one of those.

Now before we go any further, let me make something clear. When I squashed Kristi Hughes flatter than she was before her obvious enhancement surgery, I didn’t actually really mean to hurt her. Send a message? Yeah. Knock the wind out of her? Definitely. Break three ribs and collapse a lung? Not really.

Ah, couldn’t have happened to a nicer girl, right?

So Kristi Hughes, if you’re able to read this, I’m very very sorry, and I hope you make a quick, and relatively painless recovery, to return to the side of your man soon.

But in all fairness, you did attack me first. And, quite frankly, you’ve really had something like this coming to you for a while.

Besides, just how injured are you really?

You see, it was mentioned recently that Hughes was holed up in the ICU of the Mayo Clinic. Now, admittedly, the Mayo Clinic is one of the finest hospitals in the world, and I could be lucky to get such treatment should I ever have need of it. But there’s just one little catch here. Mayo Clinic has facilities in the cities of Rochester, Minnesota; Scottsdale, Arizona; and Jacksonville, Florida. I turned Kristi into pate in Seattle, Washington.

Now maybe its just me, but it seems that transporting someone with three broken ribs and a collapsed lung a couple thousand miles to another ICU would be a rather unnecessary and costly risk, especially considering that Harborview Medical Center in Seattle, just a mile or so from Key Arena, would be more than adequate to treat Kristi’s injuries.

So what’s going on? I don’t know. Maybe they’re faking it, trying to make me feel bad for what I’ve done. Maybe they’re planning some sort of rouse. Maybe they really did risk Kristi Hughes life to fly her to Minnesota. Maybe Kevin thinks that all hospitals in America are run by the Mayo Clinic. I don’t fuckin’ know.

What I do know, is that as a result of all this, I now face Kevin Flynn at the next Shatterpoint I actually tried to get out of the match, but Wendy’s insisting that I compete. Something about being held accountable for my actions, or some bullshit like that. She might act all indignant and shit, but I know she loved every second of it.

Especially the part where both Kevin and Kristi had little drops of water leaking out of their eyes. Yeah, Kevin was chemically aided, and I’d probably tear up too if I just jumped on myself, but the fact is, yours truly, a mere wrestling manager, made Kevin Flynn and Kristi Hughes cry on national television. And after all that shit they talked about my client, too.

So you know what? To hell with it. I’ll suit up, walk down to the ring, and fight Kevin Flynn. Flynn probably thinks he’s getting the easiest win on the planet. All he’s gotta do is show up, kick yours truly’s ass, and revenge will be his.

Here’s the catch: I’m hardly as helpless as Kevin thinks I am. There’s some serious power underneath all this blubber, and I just need one good punch ot the jaw and Kevin’s lying on the mat, cold. Or maybe a good kick to the gut, and it’s all ready for the Lycan Drop. It may not be much of a chance, but I have one, and I fully intend to make Kevin’s day as miserable as possible.

It may not be much of one, but I got a chance, and I’m not going to back down. And let’s think for a second... what happens if I win? What happens if I crack one right into Kevin Flynn’s jaw, and he drops for the three count? Can you imagine the horrors then? Of the number one contender losing a match to a freaking MANAGER? How could the Powers that be survived when their top guy, the guy that’s going to bring them the world championship, can’t even beat me?

So you know what, Flynn? Bring it on. Step in the ring with the Pollaskinator, and show me exactly what you got. The way I see it, I’m playing with house money? Losing might hurt a bit, but all the world knows is that you can beat up a manager. And if I win? Well, your career is going to drop faster than Kristi’s panties in a Motel 6.

Just keep in mind, when my fist shatters your face, and you’re left lying in a broken little heap, that had you not tried to attack me last week, none of this would have happened.

Polla the fuck out. Bitch.