Monday August 27, 2012
Northwest Airlines Flight 228- First Class
Somewhere Over Western British Columbia
11:13 AM Local Time
“Folks, we’ve reached the altitude where it is okay for you to turn on your approved electronic devices. However, until we climb up to are cruising altitude of 37,000 feet, I’m going to keep the seatbelt sign on. We’ve got a good tailwind right now, so we’re expecting to be in Chicago about twenty minutes early today. Please enjoy the rest of your flight, and thank you for flying Northwest Airlines.”
Already, Wendy could hear her fellow passengers rummaging through their carry-ons, pulling out phones (in airplane mode, of course), MP3 players, video game systems, and Kindles. To her left, Pollaski had already turned his phone on the moment the announcement had started, and was already immersed in a game of Angry Birds. Wendy reached into the front seat pocket, and pulled out her own Android phone, turning it on for some music.
As the melodious sounds of Sarah Brightman began to swim in through her headphones, Wendy grabbed her book from the seat pocket as well- Jane Auel’s The Land of Painted Caves, lowering her seat tray as she did. A folded up piece of paper sat marking her page, and Wendy took it out as she opened the book, only to pause, and on an impulse, open the paper instead.
It was what Yuri had given her the previous night, at the SVW PPV. She had been casually pouring herself a cup of coffee, when her brother had approached her. Without a word, he had handed her this note, then disappeared. She had sensed a level of agitation in the behemoth, although whether it had been stemming from his dislike of her, his inability to properly beat Nathan Thunder earlier in the night, or what else, she couldn’t guess.
She sighed as she looked down at the paper. It wasn’t the first time she had seen a one-day only SVW contract. She’d signed one a year before, when, at the invitation of Anthony Gambini, she had appeared for one night in the company in a match against Lucas Peek. Heck, she had just signed one a few days ago, to be a guest commentator for the Peek/Kincaid match.
This one was for wrestling, not commentating, though. One single match, Wendy Briese against Chernobyl, the ‘stipulation to be determined at a later date.’ Apparently the battle in that apartment back in Belfast hadn’t been enough to sate Yuri’s thirst. She supposed she couldn’t blame him- for all intents and purposes, he had lost.
She felt a pudgy finger tapping on her arm, and Wendy glanced over at her manager, sliding her headphones off as she did. Daniel Pollaski’s forehead had a large bandage on it, covering up a gash Robbyn Helmsley had opened up in their match together, and his eyes were red and puffy from the mace he had taken. Right now those red and puffy eyes were directed straight at the paper in her hands, and she silently cursed herself for not taking precautions. This wasn’t exactly something she wanted everybody else seeing.
“You gonna do it?” Pollaski asked, a mixture of trepidation and curiosity on his face.
“Don’t be silly,” Wendy snapped back at him, jamming the paper into the seat pocket with enough force to drive a protest from the person sitting in front of her. “Sorry,” she quickly uttered, then turned back to Pollaski. “I have enough matches in FFW to last me a lifetime. I have no desire to face Yuri.”
Pollaski shrugged. “I dunno. Think about it... brother against sister, settling the score. I mean, hell, the Sanders kids are gonna do it, from the looks of things and the history between you two is WAY more than-”
“That’s exactly why we won’t be doing it,” Wendy hissed, closing her eyes, and sighing in frustration. She was cursing herself for opening that stupid contract here, and now. Why didn’t she just throw it away the moment Yuri had walked away?
“Because you might make too much money off of it?”
“Because it’s an absolute certainty that this is going to get out of hand!” Wendy replied fiercely. “I mean, the last time he and I fought, I shot him!”
“True...” Pollaski began, “Although my thinking is that whatever the stipulations are for the match, there’s probably not going to be a gun at ringside. He tapered off into a sheepish grin as Wendy glared at him. “Although talk about your groundbreaking stipulations!”
“Not. EVER. Going. To. Happen.” Wendy seethed. “The only reason I didn’t throw the stupid thing away was that I needed a bookmark,” she insisted.
Pollaski arched his eyebrows and tapped the closed book sitting on the seat tray. “Fat lot of good it did you. You lost your place.”
The glare that Wendy transfixed on her manager would have likely immolated a normal human being, but it merely caused Pollaski to shrug, and pick up his phone again, going back to Angry Birds. Wendy glared at him for several more seconds, then slipped her headphones back on, opening her book. It didn’t take her long to find her spot- she was still in the early workings of the novel. However, she only managed to get through three more pages before she felt the same pudgy finger tapping her on her arm again.
“What?” Wendy half-whispered, half-snarled as she put the book down (face down, to keep her place this time), and turned back towards Pollaski.
While Pollaski’s dignity and grace were never really at high levels, she’d rarely seen them go this low either. He was was attempting a full on ‘sad little puppy dog face’, complete with doe-eyes and a quivering lip. It gave her the overall impression of the worlds most overgrown, fat, pug-basset hound crossbreed.
“What if you did it to avenge me?” Pollaski whined.
“... What?”
“Well, the guy did nearly kill me in a completely brutal, unprovoked attack,” Pollaski reminded her, somehow managing to keep his lip quivering even as he talked. “Don’t you remember?”
“Yes. I also remember that you’re a fully trained professional wrestler who just so happens to be in the same company as him... so there’s nothing stopping you from avenging yourself.” Wendy replied.
“Right... only an ill-tempered Ukranian who’s bigger than me,” Pollaski muttered.
“And yet, you have no issue with me going out there and taking him on,” Wendy replied, giving her manager a cool glare.
“Well, you’re better than me,” Pollaski confessed with a shrug. When Wendy didn’t respond with anything more than another glare, his shoulders slumped. “So that’s still a ‘no’?”
“You’re catching on,” Wendy deadpanned, turning away again and slipping her headphones back on, picking up her book, but not turning her attention back to it quite yet. She thought again about the contract sitting in the seat pocket. After all, she was always looking for a challenger, right? And what harm could come in a sanctioned match?
Plenty, she knew, as her minds eye flashed to some of the horrific results she’d seen from grudge matches gone wrong, the latest being a small crater in the Conviction stage where Jennifer Stryfe’s lifeless body lay. She wanted a challenge, but not one where failure could very well result in something catastrophic.
But what if...?
No, there was no what if’s. She didn’t care how much money it left on the table, or what damage it’d be to her pride. She wouldn’t fight her brother ten years ago. She wouldn’t fight her brother six months ago. And she wouldn’t fight her brother now. She forced herself back into the book, trying to focus on the story at hand, instead of the sirens call of the contract in the seat pocket.
At least she managed to go a full chapter this time before the pudgy finger prodded her arm again. “WHAT?!” She snarled as she wheeled on her manager, oblivious to the stares the other first-class passengers were giving her. “For the last time, I’m not going to-”
“Whoah! Calm down!” Pollaski pleaded, waving his hands defensively. “This isn’t about the damned epic sibling vs. sibling match you’re spurning. It’s just...” he snickered. “Crystal Hilton’s on twitter asking if you can put it all behind you, and just be friends.”
Wendy paused for just a second, glancing at her manager’s phone, and shaking her head with a scoff. “Obviously she didn’t watch my promo.” she muttered.
“Well, she’s changing. She promises.” Pollaski guffawed.
“In my experience, if someone’s more focused on letting you know that they’re ‘changing’ instead of actually changing, it’s a farce. She might not actually realize it’s a farce, but it’s still a farce.”
“I love that word,” Pollaski said, grinning. “Farce!”
“Yeah, it’s a fun word, isn’t it?” Wendy sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Being fake is just so much fun!”
“Yeesh, someone’s got a seat wedgie...” Pollaski muttered, making a show of attempting to edge away from his client, a gesture made somwhat futile due to the constraints of his seat and the plane’s fuselage.
“Look, I spent nearly a YEAR trying to live down that loss to her, okay? Every single time she melted down, or went on a weird psychotic binge, or did something, I couldn’t help but think ‘I can’t believe she beat me’. Beating her in that ring the other night... and PROVING myself right about her ‘spotmonkey’ baloney... you have no idea how much relief I felt to finally right that wrong.”
“Well, you’ve been doing a lot of righting haven’t you? Your failure as Evolution champion... extinguished. Your loss to Crystal... extinguished. You’ve avenged damn near every single loss you’ve had here, save a couple.” He paused, and burst out into a laughter. “Guess you better get some new setbacks to go about amending!”
To his surprise, instead of laughing, or rolling her eyes, like she normally did, Wendy looked away, looking somehow even more stressed than before. “That’s what I’m worried about.” Wendy finally said.
“Oh.” Pollaski paused. “Serafina?”
It took several seconds before Wendy nodded. “That, and War Games. I mean... Serafina, yeah, it’s obvious. The girl’s had a whopping two matches in FFW, and suddenly she’s getting a title shot. But that’s her prize for Future Shock, and I can’t begrudge her for taking it, I guess. But War Games...” she paused. “I begged to be on that team. And here I am. but... I’m the only one not in the Mackenzie Mafia. I’m the outside selection, the wildcard. It’s a huge honor, I got, but...”
“You’re afraid you’re gonna fuck it up, and prove that someone else should have had your spot.”
Wendy nodded. “I mean, it’s silly, right? I’m as good as anyone else on our team. As good as anyone else in this match. I know it. You know it. Everyone knows it. But...I mean, we *have* to win this. This is as big as when I stood against Team Danger, or Defiance, or the Cartel. It’s all the same thing.. we HAVE to stop these people from running roughshod over everyone else, just because some spoiled brat of a billionaire likes them.”
“Well, on the bright side, everything you’re worried about, you’re in a pretty damn good position to have a say in how it all plays out.” Pollaski grinned. “Serafina, yeah, we don’t have a very strong sample from her. But that’s never stopped you and i from coming up with a strategy before. We’ll beat her. And as far as the Power Trip goes... I guarantee you that Starla and Tara are dreading the thought of getting back into that ring with you. You so thoroughly wrecked Starla the last time you faced- made her tap twice, while all she had was Adonis *trying* to run interference,” He grinned, knowing that he was the main reason the meathead manager had failed. “There’s a reason why she didn’t take her own rematch clause, and ran off to the tag division to go annoy Pink, Inc. and Bounce & Pounce. Hell, you’ve beaten three members of the Power Trip. How many people out there can say they’ve done that?’
“Not many,” Wendy admitted. “I suppose that’s why I’m on the team...”
“Nah, you’re on the team because when you make a cause your own, you go all the damned way with it,” Pollaski replied. “The moment those girls ambushed Jennifer Stryfe and put her in the hospital, every single one of them had a bulls eye on them where you’re concerned. Ryan saw that, and he’d have been a fool to not make use of it. There was no way in hell he’d have turned you down.”
Wendy smiled softly. “Thanks Dan.”
“You’re a special woman, Wendy Briese. I’m a damned lucky man to have you for a client.” Pollaski said, then grinned. “Even if you do get a little angsty and stressed and irritable from time to time. How’s dealing with all that going, by the way?”
“You mean Doctor Epstein?” Wendy asked, shrugging, although she blushed slightly as she remembered her first session. She hadn’t even told Terrence about having to wear the clown shoes and nose. She had a feeling her coulrophobic husband wouldn’t be too keen on it. “Good, so far, although I’ve only been in one session with him. My next one’s tomorrow night. We’re going to see the Glass Menagerie. He thinks watching me watch a play is going to show him something.”
“Hunh,” Pollaski looked somewhat nonplussed, but he shrugged it away. “Well, keep going to him, okay? I’m normally not into all this shrinky-dinky psycho mumbo jumbo, but after what you’ve been through, it’s probably beneficial that you have someone to talk to.”
“I know.” Wendy replied. “There’s a lot up there, sometimes.” She smiled, softly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going back to my music and book.”
“Nah, not at all,” Pollaski replied waving his hand, and then broke into a grin. “Want me to let you know if any of your other former opponents desperately tries to start being one of your friends? Starla? Tara?”
Wendy couldn’t help but laugh. “No. I’m sure whatever it is can wait til after we land.” And with that, she slipped her headphones back on, turning her attention back to her book.
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