Thursday January 23, 2003
Indiana State Department of Transportation Headquarters
Indianapolis, Indiana
4:19 PM Local Time
“Thank you for meeting with me, detective.”
IPD Detective Darren Presgrave nodded silently at the man standing in front of him, briefly reaching out to grasp the offered hand, giving it a quick shake, before picking up his briefcase and rising from his seat. “I was told you had something for me, Mr...”
“Harbor. Nelson Harbor.” came the reply, its giver beckoning the detective to follow.
Detective Presgrave paused for just a second, and looked over this Nelson Harbor. He looked no different than any other government beaurocrat he had ever faced. He was younger-ish... maybe mid to late thirties, a bit of gray on his close cropped hair. Nothing about him suggested anything interesting. Even the man’s solid pale blue tie was bland.
He waited until the man’s back was fully turned before sighing and rolling his eyes. This had better be worth his time...
He followed the bureaucrat through a maze of cubicles, each one filled with some drone doing... he didn’t know. Whatever the hell they did here at the DOT. He could care less. All he wanted to do was get the hell out of here, and go home. His shift had supposed to be over at four, but his captain had insisted he meet with this prick before taking off.
Harbor took one last turn, into a hallway, then finally stopped at a door, entering a quick keycode to gain access, he held the door open for Presgrave, beckoning for him to enter. Darren did, tryng hard to not look as bored as he was feeling.
The room was dark, save for the light of a dozen television screens mounted on the walls. As Presgrave watched, the televisions flickered back and forth betweeen different traffic cameras around the city, each monitor showing three or four locations, resting for about fifteen seconds on each locale before flickering to the next. He groaned inwardly as one video screen flicked up- an accident on I-465 so recent that safety crews hadn’t even begun to arrive yet. Already traffic was being backed up further than the camera could see.
Perfect, that was his route home.
“I suppose you’re wondering why I asked for you to come here.” Harbor interrupted his thoughts. Presgrave looked down at the man, narrowing his eyes, and resisting the urge to slap the idiot. Of course he was wondering why he was dragged all the way to DOT headquarters when he should be going home!
Harbor took his silence as an indication to continue. “Do you remember a couple month’s ago... there was an accident on 65. A woman, hit by a semi-”
“Gayle Briese,” the detective interrupted. Of course he remembered that. It had been one of the grisliest scenes he had ever been sent to investigate. “She stumbled drunk into traffic after her husband’s car broke down. What of it?”
“I heard the autopsy found no trace of alcohol in her blood. And the truck driver claimed she came into the road way too quickly for an ordinary stumble.”
“Of course it wouldn’t. She lingered for several days after the accident. And you can’t give much credence to driver’s report. It was late at night, and being in a traumatic situation often distorts the truth...” Presgrave growled. Was this prick really going to question how he handled HIS investigation. “This whole matter was investigated two months ago, and it was ruled an accident. I don’t see-”
Harbor didn’t respond, just simply picked up a tape lying on the table next to the control console. He put it into a small slot, and beckoned to a monitor that had been previously blank. “You might want to watch closely, detective.”
Annoyed, but no less curious, Presgrave stared at the screen. The video was a traffic camera, the same as all the others in the room- although in this one, it was clearly night. Gus looked down at the bottom left corner of the screen, which had the information concerning the feed.
11/24/02 22:52:32
GEORGETOWN ROAD
“Wait a second...” Presgrave said. “Our records indicated there was NO traffic camera at the Georgetown Road overpass!”
“They probably hadn’t updated yet. The DOT had only installed it that week,” Harbor replied. “Now watch...”
Presgrave did, leaning over Harbor to get his face as close to the screen as he could. He kept his eyes on a spot in the road, approximately 150 yards away. Then he saw her, a figure going into the road, spinning just in time to see the truck that struck her. Presgrave winced as the body went flying nearly forty feet, bouncing several times as the truck came to a stop.
Presgrave felt sick. Even though he had surveyed the accident scene for several hours, seeing it happen on the tape was far worse. It was amazing she had even survived that long. Then again, he wasn’t sure surviving in that state was a good thing.
“Rewind it... play it again.”
Harbor did as he was instructed, and Darren forced himself to watch. This time, he didn’t wince as the woman stumbled into the road. He did, however, bite his lip. The truck driver was right... she had come into his lane too fast, too far for an ordinary stumble. And even at this distance, he could see her arms pinwheeling for balance. It was almost as if she was...
“Pushed,” the detective whispered, not sure whether to curse himself for missing this, the DOT for not updating their damn records, or the truck driver for actually saying one sensical thing in the midst of his distraught rambling.
“That’s what I thought.” Harbor agreed, a smug sense of pride in his voice, like a dog who had located a fox his master couldn’t.
Presgrave considered asking Harbor to rewind again, but decided against it. The screen was too small, too low quality for him to gain much more here. “Right.” Presgrave said. “Is this the original tape?”
“Yes, sir. We already made a copy for our own records. You’re free to take it.”
“Thank you,” Presgrave replied, pleased that this smug little prick had at least managed to clear one batch of red tape for him. “I’ll take this back to our crime lab, and see if we can see exactly why Mrs. Briese was in the right lane of Interstate 65 that night.”
Harbor ejected the tape, but paused before handing it to the detective. “Just... one thing. If my supervisor calls about this, would you make sure he knows that it was me who figured it out? I’m going for this position upstairs, and it’d look REALLY good if-”
“No problem.” Presgrave responded, as fake a smile as he could muster on his face. He didn’t like Nelson Harbor. At all. But the man did just give him a tremendous lead, one he himself would never had discovered. He owed him at least a good word to the higher upper.
Harbor grinned as he handed the tape over, and Presgrave took it. “Thank you, Mr. Harbor. Have a wonderful evening. I can show myself out.”
He didn’t hear Harbor’s response as he swung open the door, and walked into the hallway, glancing down at the tape as he maneuvered his way back through the cubicle maze. He grimaced, realizing he was about to make a damnably unpleasant phone call to his wife.
Looks like he wasn’t going home after all.
========================================
Wednesday February 5, 2003
Marion County Jail- Interrogation room
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:38 PM Local Time
“Is it true?”
Wendy Briese glared through red-rimmed eyes across the table at her father. The last time she had seen him in person, he had stood over her as she lay on her kitchen table, taunting and disowning her. Now, he was little more than an old man in an orange jumpsuit. Handcuffed even now, deep in the pits of the city jail, he could only stare across the table at his now estranged daughter.
She had been fortunate enough to not suffer any injuries more major than a concussion and bruised ribs from the attack her half-brother had given her that night in December. The biggest injury, of course, had been a broken heart, shattered at the realization that she had only been valuable to her father as long as he had a use for her. Once that facade had fallen, it had been devastating, even if it had been something she had begun to suspsect all along.
But it hadn’t ended with that night. The day after, as promised, Chernobyl had been added to her company’s roster. And while the man had only had a match or two since signing, he had definitely taken great joy in interfering in her own matches. Twice now, her half-brother had cost her a shot at a title, the latest in absolutely heartbreaking fashion, as she had finally been about to pin Azreal to claim the World Cruiswerweight Championship.
And all the while, her brother had made it clear what he wanted- the two of them in a steel cage, no rules. Wendy, of course, had refused. If she walked into a cage, or anything with Yuri, she knew he’d have done everything to ensure she never walked back out. Her refusal earned her sneers of cowardice from some of the other members of the locker room, but she didn’t care. She was NOT going to face her own brother. Not like that. Not in a million years.
The pressure had built up to almost breaking levels for Wendy. She couldn’t make a turn without seeing his shadow. Even on matches he didn’t interfere in, she lost because she spent half the contest looking over her shoulder preparing for the worst. Everything was unravelling, and it only seemed a matter of time until Wendy lost it all.
Until yesterday, at least.
That was when she had received a phone call from the IPD, with both the best and worst news she had heard in two months. Augustus Briese, Yuri Ganiyeva, and Ivana Ganiyeva had all been arrested, for murder, conspiracy to commit murder, and accessory to murder, respectively.
It was the best news, because it meant finally, FINALLY the nightmare had ended. Their incarceration was like an enormous weight being lifted off of Wendy’s shoulders. She could breathe again, and not spend the rest of her life looking over her shoulder.
It was the worst news, because Wendy couldn’t fathom the horror of realizing how low her father had stooped.
“Is it true?” she repeated again, miffed by her father’s silence.
“Is what true?” came the reply, in almost a dull, bored tone.
Wendy clenched her fists at her side, and stared at her father in the face. “Is it true that you killed Mother?”
Gus chuckled helplessly, and shrugged. In truth, he himself had been caught off guard by the police showing up at his house, claiming new evidence in this whole situation, and placing him under arrest. How could anyone have known there was a traffic camera on that damned overpass?
But hitting him the hardest was the knowledge that this wouldn’t be a repeat of Blaine. There would be no savior coming in the form of Derrick Delaney. There would be no miracle this time. He was going to jail, for a very very long time. He was screwed.
But he’d be damned if he was going to let this snivelling, self-righteous bitch see that.
“I already told you, Wendy. You killed her.”
“SHUT UP!” Wendy screamed, pounding the table. She saw the guard tense out of the corner of her eye, prepared to intervene if she charged. She glared at him. “Stop playing games. For once in your life, tell the damned truth!”
“I thought you were above swearing,” Gus replied lazily. “Or are you not the little perfect princess you imagined yourself to be? I may have been the one who had her shoved in front of that truck, but you’re the one who killed her. Had you not defied me, time and time again...”
Wendy couldn’t help but laugh coldly. “That’s how you justify yourself?”
“You tore this family apart, Wendy. You distanced yourself from us with your insistence at playing at this stupid wrestling, and your clinging to that derelict you dare to call a fiancee. And you tore your mother and I apart with that little temper tantrum. You know how much it hurt her to see you throw that rosary...”
Wendy looked away. For once, her father had found a truth, and it stung. She fought back a new wave of emotion, swallowing hard, trying to keep her focus. “And your little whore had nothing to do with it at all?” she whispered. “Or is there another reason why she’s locked up elsewhere in this building, rotting in another cell on accessory charges?”
“You know prosecutors. They love making names for themselves, and when the fishing’s good, they’ll haul as many aboard as they can get a net on,” Gus sighed. “So, tell me this, daughter. Did you really fly fifteen hundred miles to ask me a question you’ve already answered for yourself?”
“I just want to know why.” Wendy whispered.
“Well, I told you why. I’m sorry you don’t like the answer. But we all have to face hard truths sometimes.”
“So you have no regret, no remorse over this at all?” Wendy demanded.
Gus laughed, and raised his shackled hands, nodding to them. “Well, I certainly regret being caught. I mean, installing a traffic camera that very week? How unlucky.” He paused for a second. “And I regret that I never got to give you what you deserved. Believe me... what Yuri and I had planned. Oh, it would have been glorious.”
Wendy gripped the edge of the table again, and she saw the security guard tense one more time. Maybe if she was quick enough, she could at least get a couple good punches in before...
“I tire of this,” Gus told the guard. “Take me back to my cell.”
The guard moved in, hauling Gus to his feet, preparing to take him away, but Gus, stopped just a second, turning to Wendy.
“Why are you so upset? This is what you’ve wanted. You’re free now. You don’t have me. You don’t have Yuri. No more family burdens. No more filial responsibilities. Just you, and your gutter-trash boyfriend. And wrestling. I’m sure it’ll be a wonderful life.”
Laughing, he allowed the guard to lead him away, leaving Wendy alone in the room, tears streaming down her face.
“It will be wonderful,” she vowed, wiping away moisture from her eyes. “And either way, it’ll be a better life than you ever had.”
============================
Thursday June 14, 2012
Cafe Rio - Outside dining area
Belo Horizonte, Brazil
10:55 AM Local Time
The average winter temperature in Indianapolis is about 31 degrees Fahrenheit.
It’s currently 71 degrees in Belo Horizonte. And winter.
Guess where Wendy wants to move?
The scene opens outdoors, in an outdoor cafe in the heart of the city. It’s a brilliant day, partly cloudy, a slight breeze, so it’s understandable that Wendy is enjoying a nice iced mocha outside, reading a book as she takes in the sights and sounds of this wonderful city she’s come to visit. Realizing that the camera is turned on, and facing her, she smiles somewhat, closing up her book, and preparing to speak, her face shining thanks to the copious amount of sunscreen she has put on. Sunscreen that- one would notice, hasn’t stopped a small red splotch from forming on her left arm.
This is why she hid indoors while in Puerto Rico, kids.
However, before Wendy can even begin to speak...
Terrence Thompson: “Hellooooo!”
Wendy smiles, looking up to see her husband coming back, although he’s still out of the field of vision of the camera. That smile is short lived, however, as she has to quickly cup her hand over her mouth to keep from spitting out her drink. She stares at her husband in abject horror.
Wendy Briese: “Terry... what do you think you’re DOING?”
Terrence finally saunters into the field of vision of the camera. While he has his usual pair of sunglasses and a pair of denim cargo shorts on, the most telling feature of his wardrobe is a soccer jersey. The kit, is white and pale blue in alternating vertical stripes, one of the most recognizable jerseys in all the world.
Terrence: “Oh, Pollaski bought me this. Said it’s one of the local team’s jersey’s.”
Wendy: “It’s... not. It really is not.”
Terrence scoffs, shrugging.
Terrence: “How would YOU know?”
Wendy: “Because that’s the jersey for ARGENTINA... Brazil’s biggest rival!”
There’s a long pause.
Terrence: “No its not.”
Wendy: “IT HAS THE FLAG ON IT!”
Terrence: “Oh yeah? Well, check this out! MARADONA MESSI!”
The cafe goes quiet at Terrence’s yell. A little too quiet. Terrence turns back to Wendy, grinning.
Terrence: “See, that’s the name of the local team! I say it, and everyone gets quiet in reverence!”
The ‘OMGIMGONNADIE’ expression on Wendy’s face is borderline priceless at the moment.
Wendy: “Terry.. Pollaski’s wrong. Dead wrong. And I might end up meaning that literally.”
Terrence: “Right. And why would Pollaski lie to me?”
Wendy: “...because he’s Daniel Pollaski.”
For the first time, Terrence begins to think that maybe, just maybe, he might have gotten played after all. Quickly, he looks around for a distraction. Luckily, he finds one.
Terrence: “Hey look! Everyone else is back too!”
Wendy turns, her expression brightening up as she sees who else is coming towards her.
Theresa Thompson: “MOMMY!!!!”
Wendy catches the little girl running towards her, lifting her up and giving her a big squeeze. Also walking into the frame is the pale-blonde haired Cassandra DeSlair, Wendy’s friend and Theresa’s babysitter. Her pale complexion reddens as she realizes she’s on camera, and takes a step back hiding behind Terrence to get better out of view.
Wendy: “How was shopping with Cassie and Pollaski?”
Theresa: “It was fun! I got you a present!”
Wendy: “You did?!”
Theresa holds up a bag, and Wendy looks touched, taking it from her. She opens it up and pulls out a set of beautifully designed ornate candles.
Wendy: “Oh, Theresa, they are beautiful!! Thank you so much!”
Theresa grins proudly, happy that her mom liked her present.
Theresa: “Thanks! I loved them too! And I heard Pollaski telling Cassie that all ladies love Brazillian wax, so...”
Wendy’s smile fades somewhat, and she catches her husband’s eye, her sudden glare leaving no doubt that Pollaski’s probably going to end the day in the Belo Horizonte morgue. And as luck would just have it... he arrives.
Pollaski: “Alright, one-side, Lionel. We got important things to do here.”
Pollaski shunts a confused Terrence to the side, and plops down at the table, next to Wendy, who can only glare at him. Pollaski shrugs, feigning innocence, as he sets a small stack of placards on the table next to him.
Wendy: “Busy day, Daniel?”
Pollaski: “You have no idea. Anyways... we have a situation on our hands. And only you can rectify it.”
Wendy’s eyes narrow even more.
Wendy: “I’m starting to see that.”
Pollaski: “Good. Then you know what needs to be done. You must kill Desirae Kain.”
Wendy: “Yeah, I... wait... WHAT?!”
Pollaski nods grimly.
Pollaski: “I think everyone here can agree that Desirae Kain is one of the nicest, sweetest wrestlers in all the company, right? The fans love her. Most of her colleagues respect her. She’s a great person.”
Wendy nods, not entirely sure of where this is going. Pollaski grabs the first placard.
Pollaski: “Okay, so hear me out. Rori Snyder. Sweet innocent rookie. Best friends with Scarlett. Afraid of blood. A bit on the dim and needy side, but all in all, a nice person. You beat her...”
Pollaski holds up the next placard, showing her grinning evilly as she prepares to set Scarlett Kincaid on fire.
Wendy: “What...?”
Pollaski grabs the next placard.
Pollaski: “Whitley Mercer. The eternal underdog. Beloved member of Pwn3d! Pink haired nice girl with her buddy Gretchen. Not all that successful, but still pretty beloved. You beat her...”
Pollaski holds up the next placard, showing Whitley, not looking all that different from the first photo, although she and her boyfriend are abusing poor Dani Mason backstage.
Pollaski: “Then you beat her again...”
Pollaski switches placards, this one showing Whitley with straggly blonde hair, an open sneer, and the trashiest clothes imaginable. Wendy winces.
Wendy: “So you’re saying that...”
Pollaski waves her quiet, and continues.
Pollaski: “Crystal Hilton. A bit on the messed up side, but still pretty loved by fans. Arrogant, cocky, but with a good heart, just needing someone to love her. You beat her, then lose to her in a hellacious two-out-of-three falls match, then beat her out for Breakout star of the Year...”
The next placard is a bit odd. Longtime Radiohead fans would recognize it as a screencap from the Karma Police music video, with a guy running away from a car, the perspective being from behind the wheel. To make sure there’s no subtlety about this, Pollaski’s written “BRITTANY” on the photo, and drawn an arrow pointing to the running person.
Wendy: “Okay... really?”
Pollaski “So now you have Desirae Kain. Sweet, good natured. Friendly and beloved by all, well-respected. Probably in stiff competition with you for the nicest person in the company. And you’re facing her tonight. So if you win...”
Pollaski finally lifts the final placard. Its an illustration, not all that well done, showing Desirae Kain with devil horns and fangs, cackling madly as she holds the pitchfork into a huge inferno. Wendy squints, distaste evident in her expression.
Wendy: “Is.. is she barbecuing her own children?”
Pollaski nods sadly, as if Desrae is already at home starting the broiler.
Pollaski: “Horrible isn’t it? Now do you see why you have to do what needs to be done?”
Wendy chews on her lip.
Wendy: “So you’re saying that there is something about me that turns good people into horrible monsters whenever I beat them in a wrestling ring.”
Pollaski: “Well, I guess you could put it that way if you wanted to blame yourself...”
Wendy takes a deep breath, sighing. She looks from her manager, to Terrence in the Argentina jersey, to her daughter, to the candles in her hand, to the discarded placards on the table. Finally, she dives forward, thunking her head on the table- not hard, but still enough to make an audible noise.
Wendy: “What in the hell did you eat for breakfast today?”
Pollaski: “What does that have to do with anything?”
Wendy: “Well, something’s made you... more you than normal.”
Pollaski: “That makes no sense whatsoever.”
Actually, if you think about it, it kind of does.
Pollaski: “Anyways... just think about it. After all, Desirae might already be on her way to the dark side.”
Wendy: “Okay, what are you talking about now?”
Pollaski: “You heard what Sophie Richards said. She ‘went to bed with Ari-’
Wendy: “Sophie Richards also said that Kasey Summers held her tights, which isn’t true by any stretch of the imagination. Alex Houser also agreed with everything she said, which makes pretty much that entire interview questionable in its veracity.”
Pollaski: “Ah, but if it is true...”
Wendy: “It’s not.”
Pollaski: “If it IS... well, you know what it’s like to come from a family where one parent sleeps-”
And there goes the last of Wendy’s patience. She abruptly stands up.
Wendy: “Alright, we’re done here.”
Pollaski dusts himself off, as if his work here is done.
Pollaski: “Alright, that’s a wrap! I’ll put ‘er up back at the hotel.”
Wendy’s eyes suddenly go bug eyed, as she seems to remember for the first time in a while that this has all been recorded.
Wendy: “Wait.. no. This is NOT going on the FFW site. You have any idea how unprofessional...”
Pollaski: “Well, your contract requires a video. So...”
Wendy pauses, chewing on her bottom lip. She looks to the camera, then to Pollaski, then to the rest of her entourage.
Wendy: “Okay, fine. I’ll start over. By myself. All of you go back to the hotel, and Terrence, for the love of God change your shirt before you get shot. ”
Everyone groans disappointedly. Wendy bends over, and gives her daughter another hug.
Wendy: “Go back to the hotel with daddy now, okay, Terr? I’ll be just a few minutes, and then we’ll go have lunch with Eileen.”
Theresa nods, kisses her mom on the cheek, and turns, skpping after Terrence and Cassie.
Wendy: “So just edit this first part out, and leave my shoot. This whole thing would be embarassing if it...”
Pollaski: “Alright, fine. No problem.”
Considering you’re watching this... what a lying jackass! Anyways, Pollaski trudges after Terrence, Cassie, and Theresa. Wendy sits down, takes a few deep breaths, and turns to the camera.
Wendy: “So, Desirae. Today we finally meet-”
Pollaski: “Can we still do the placard thing? Cause these were kinda expensive to make and I-”
Wendy: “I SWEAR TO GOD, POLLASKI!”
Pollaski: “Alright, alright! SHEESH!”
Pollaski beats a much quicker retreat this time muttering about being unappreciated, and Wendy’s face turns beet red, realizing that the entire cafe is looking at her again. She grins apologetically, and sits back down, forcing herself to take a few more deep calming breaths.
Wendy: “Happy place, clear blue ocean, fields of flowers, deep breath.”
Wendy takes a deep breath, and turns to the camera, smiling slightly, ready for take three.
“So we’re just over two weeks out from the conclusion of the Conviction PPV, and, you can certainly say that it was a mixed bag coming out of that show. On one hand, a tremendous wrong has been righted, and the title I never should have lost in the first place is finally back in my hands. On the other hand... nothing can compare to the horror of how that show ended. The formation of the Power Trip is bad enough... but what they did to Jennifer Stryfe... that wasn’t deserved, by anyone.”
“Samantha and their cronies can brag all they want, but there’s a time and place for everything, and the time of their undoing is closer than they’d want to admit. The battle lines are being drawn in the sand, people are choosing sides. Already, the first shots are being fired... tonight Emma and Isabella square off, a match that I’m sure both women have been dying to have for a long time now. Next week, Shane Sanders and her cronies are going to attempt to rob Stacey Mackenzie of the FFW Championship. And next month at Unstoppable 3, all hell is going to break loose.”
“Already I’ve been told I’m going to face Tara Thunder, the Evolution Champion. Title for title, winner take all. The first, and perhaps only time this will ever be done in FFW. It’s a huge match, no bones about it. Tara and I fought once before, with me barely coming out the victor. The rematch, set with this Power Trip takeover as a backdrop, with the stakes so high... it’ll mean everything.
“At least I’m being well prepared, as tonight I’m in another champion vs. champion match, albeit neither title is on the line this time around. Desirae Kain, one half of the tag team champions. Future Shock Season Four Champion. And, as my own manager declared her- the hottest thing going in the entire company right now.”
Wendy looks genuinely impressed, and smiles a bit.
“They say that Desirae has pulled off upset after upset after upset since entering the roster. She beat Colleen. She beat Jennifer Stryfe, who had only beaten me the week before. She and Arianna just beat Bounce & Pounce. And now apparently I’m next in the upset train. One more notch for Desirae’s belt.”
“And I say hogwash.”
“There comes a point in time that upsets stop being upsets. That the shock gives way to the realization that the person is in question is just that good. For me, it took almost two years to happen. Desirae is lucky- she’s had it happen in just a couple of months This isn’t some Cinderella story anymore. There’s no glass slipper, the clock isn’t about to strike midnight. Desirae Kain is the real deal, and anyone who hasn’t seen that yet, does so at their own peril.”
A small smile.
“I know, it’s not exactly the kind of thing you’re supposed to hear in a promo. We get up here, belittle each other, downplay our accomplishments. Call each other hypocrites, and harlots, and point out every flaw we can think of. I don’t want to do that with Desirae Kain. I don’t want to insult her, or belittle her, or downplay anything she’s done.”
“I sure as hell want to beat her though. Oh, you can bet I want to do that. Because how often does a match like this happen? Two women, both tremendous competitors clash in the ring. There’s no bad blood, no animosity whatsoever. Just a stiff athletic competition completely based around respect, and wanting to beat your opponent that much more because you respect them. Because you know what a victory like that means.”
“I really wish I was in more matches like this. Matches where I don’t have to worry about the referee screwing me over because they were hand picked by Samantha Star. Matches where I don’t have to wonder if my opponent is hiding something under her ring gear, just waiting for the right time to strike. Matches that aren’t precipocated on some wrongdoing or notion of revenge. Just a match where two girls can go in there and WRESTLE.”
Wendy breaks into a smile.
“But consider this an invitation, Desi, and I hope you listen to it carefully. I already told you that battle lines are being drawn in the sand, and that a huge fight is coming, one that is going to affect who controls the power in FFW, and whether or not we’re going to allow ourselves to be dominated by yet another small cadre of Samantha Star’s handpicked. I know what you can do. And I know you’re a good person, and what I’m trying to say is...”
“We could really use someone like you. You care, Desi. And you want things done the right way, just like me, just like Eileen. Just like Emma. You don’t want Samantha and the Power Trip to dominate us any more than we do. So why not help us out?”
“Just think about it, okay? I know you’re focused on your tag belts with Arianna, and I know the water in that division is getting hot.. boiling even. But after tonight, win or lose, whatever happens... just think about what a difference you could make, if you stood up for what you believed in.”
“As for tonight, Desirae... did you know that there’s this moment... and it only happens a handful of times in a wrestler’s career, if at all. It’s that moment when you and your opponent are so in tune with each other, that it’s almost as if you stop fighting altogether. The winning and losing become secondary, and it becomes something like... a dance. You hit just as hard, and you still feel the pain, but... I can’t explain it. Think of it as wrestling in a vaccum, when you feel like you and your opponent can do anything. I’ve been there before, a couple of times, and I’d like to go there again.”
Wendy chuckles, looking a little sheepish.
“It sounds silly, because you really can’t plan for something like that to happen. It just does, spontaneously. But you’re exactly the type of person that I could do that against And tonight, Velocity in Brazil... well, why not? So what do you say, Desirae? Shall we try to make this as great a contest as FFW has ever seen? Shall we see if we can push this to the next level?”
**
One final smile.
“Desirae Kain... shall we dance?”
Fade
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