Thursday September 6, 2012
City Streets- Taxi Cab
Tampa, Florida
12:13 PM Local TIme
Wendy Briese looked out the window at the passing Tampa skyline, and took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in her stomach. She didn’t really know what had her so nervous. All she was doing was helping out Lyn at his school today, but she felt like a rookie about to undertake her first match in a brand new company.
It didn’t help that she was running late, either. She had hoped to have arrved at the Gym earlier in the morning, but a ‘slight mechanical malfunction’ had delayed her flight for nearly an hour, and it had taken longer than she had hoped to secure a cab from the airport.
She thought back to the previous week, when she had met with her psychologist after watching the play. She still hadn’t been sure about this entire psychologist thing, despite both Pollaski and Terrence’s insistence. But she was amazed at how much better she felt just being able to talk to somebody. What surprised her most of all, was just how perceptive Dr. Epstein turned out to be. He had honed in on her doubts about whether or not her being in wrestling was the right thing, and although he hadn’t completely removed them, she certainly felt a little more reassured.
But what had rung most with her from her visit was her lack of ‘giving back’ to the wrestling community. She’d done some things, but it hardly felt like enough. He was right- she just wasn’t going to get time to do it. She had to take initiative and MAKE it. So the next morning, she had called Lyn, and arranged to come down today. Tampa was hardly on the way to Phoenix, but Wendy didn’t really mind- the Florida Gulf was hardly the most taxing diversion out there.
She just hoped she was able to help, something, anything. She’d heard that a lot of the students were looking forward to meeting her, and she didn’t want to disappoint them.
“We’here,” the cab driver announced from the front seat, a thick Cuban accent making him slightly harder to understand. The cab came to a halt, and the driver turned around, tapping on his meter. “Forty dollars.”
Wendy handed a fifty to the cab driver, and grabbed her duffel bag, climbing out of the car, and looking up at the building in front of her. It was smaller than she thought it would be, but obviously well maintained, despite it’s obvious age. Hearing the cab pull away behind her, the flame-haired woman started towards the entrance doors, heading inside.
Her first impression upon entering was that appearances were quite deceiving. The gym seemed far bigger inside than it did from the exterior. The main room was very large, and full of exercise equipment, ranging from treadmills to ellipticals to free weights, all surrounding a full-size wrestling ring in the middle of the room. Already most of the students were at work on one machine or another, although Wendy paused to watch a dark haired girl running suicide sprints on the far end of the room.
Lyndon Dallins looked worse for wear quite frankly as he stared at the girl running suicides. There was a distinct look of contempt behind tired, very worn eyes. The students raised their heads on sight of Wendy and frenzied whispers took place. ‘It’s Wendy Briese. Holy crap.’ and ‘Think she’s gonna show us the Banshee?’ among other comments that were stated in quiet tones. Lyn offered Wendy a half-hearted smile and extended his hand. “Welcome to the gym, Wendy. Glad you could finally make it down.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dallins,” Wendy replied, taking the offered hand with both of hers in a clasp. She looked up at the gym’s owner, concern in her eyes. “How are you feeling?” she asked, lowering her voice so that the approaching students couldn’t hear.
“Like I’m being ran ragged but this too shall pass,” He replied softly, a more genuine smile crossing his features. “How about you?” Lyn inquired as he stole a glance at Caroline Dallins explaining to Stephanie Sanderson the advanced uses of proper rest hold techniques in another corner of the gym. Killer C looked up momentarily, shook her head at Lyn and continued on.
“Wish the flight hadn’t been so late.” Following Lyn’s gaze and giving the Power Trip member a short nod. She didn’t care much for “Killer C”, especially considering that she was less than a month away from meeting her in a War Games match, not to mention Dallins recently announcing her No Surrender belt as her target. But she respected the woman enough to be civil here, and not make a scene in front of the other students. She looked back to Lyn. “Is there a place where I can change? I probably shouldn’t be working out in this,” she muttered, gesturing to her jeans and buttoned blouse.
Lyn raised his head and pointed an index finger to the left. “Women’s locker room is that green door right there next to the punching bag.” Lyndon would have taken a moment to add a cute joke at the end but the old veteran lacked his usual humor. “Killer C” on the far corner returned Wendy’s nod but the moment after seemed... Unsure of why she did.
“Okay, give me ten minutes,” Wendy said, turning to walk away, then pausing. “Lyn,” she said suddenly, grabbing his arm. The King of Submissions turned to look at her. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t listen to what stupid people like Kyle or Robbyn are saying. We all support you and Steph, and Kane’s not going to get away with it.”
“No... No, Kane will not.” Lyndon muttered coldly before his eye fell on a particular corner of the gym, “Nor will The Power Trip when their time comes around. Of this I am most sure.” He patted Wendy twice on the shoulder as she began to head off to locker room. “Thank you.”
Wendy smiled her best attempt at reassurance, and turned and walked to the locker room.
Twelve minutes later, she emerged, dressed now in a black pair of tight-fitting sweats, and a dark blue Notre Dame t-shirt, gloves and boots on, her hair back in a ponytail. Over her shoulder sat the No Surrender championship, brought for the benefit of some of the curious students. She found Lyn playing spotter to a student on the weights, and stood patiently by, waiting until the set was finished before saying “Okay, I’m ready.”
Lyn nodded before he helped the student to stand up, a punk-looking boy with a blonde mohawk. The King of Submissions patted himself down for his whistle and blew three times in distinct succession. In a matter of moments, he was nearly stampeded by all the wrestlers in-training as they leapt and climbed onto the bleachers before sitting down. “Alright, so as you guys have already noticed and whispered about... We have ourselves a well traveled veteran of the ring and the No Surrender Champion of Femme Fatale Wrestling. Wendy Briese.” Well meaning applause and one or two ‘Woo woo woos!” echoed to the ceiling... And a single “Take it off!”
Lyn stared absolute death at Silo, who immediately seemed to shrink into his seat, a feat that would be likely impossible for a stocky Samoan.
Wendy blushed slightly at the attention and cheers of the students, then shot a glance over at Lyn. “I’m assuming this is the one you were telling me about,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.
A few scattered chuckles in the young crowd as Lyn responded. “That would be him. He has a lot of talent, he’s deceptively fast for a young man his size, and I’ve seen him do it all in the ring... If he’s facing a man.” He threw a glance at Silo once more, who attempted to look somewhere else. “If he’s facing a woman, he’ll be lucky to last two minutes. Tops.”
“Born twenty years too late, then?” Wendy asked lightly. “Shame somewhere along the lines it got figured out that women can compete on the same level as men, or he’d be aces. What’s the problem? I mean... I’m sure there’s a psychological block in there... although it doesn’t seem to be stemming from any sense of chivalry,” she added pointedly, looking straight at Silo and tugging on her shirt.
Silo himself gave it a few moments of thought, before he looked down with a growing sense of shame. Lydia, the tomboy-looking girl in the corner rose her hand. “Uhm, Ms. Briese? If I may? ...Silo’s never interacted with a girl whatsoever. In an intimate sense.” Silo gave Lydia a gruff look and muttered loudly. “I was always busy with school and football practice, okay? I just never thought about it until now. I was studying or playing football or doing high school and collegiate wrestling.”
Wendy thought for a second, chewing on her bottom lip. “I see. So, you sacrificed any hope you had at a romantic life to focus on your schooling and sports. Why has that changed now?”
All eyes were on Silo now. Even Lyndon seemed to have a morbid sense of curiosity, though he also looked as though he were dreading the answer. “It hasn’t really changed at all? I still take my college courses seriously, and I train here every day. It’s just when... Uh. Well... When I get in the ring with a girl my head kinda fogs over. I just stop remembering things. Like the time I got Lydia in a German Suplex position!” Another student with sandy hair and a similarly colored beard grimaced. “I remember that. Silo just stood there for five minutes while Lydia looked around and wondered when he was going to finally let go of her waist. He just went blank.”
Wendy chewed her lip for a long time, before glancing over at Lyn, then back over at Silo. Finally she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Alright, then. Silo, in the ring.”
The longest silence ever pervaded over the group as Lyn Dallins put his hands in his face and seemed to want to cry. The tiniest, “Oh dear God” echoed from him as quite a few students joined in the same action. Silo’s face told the tale of absolute dread as he sauntered over to the ring. He pulled up his gym shorts and rolled inside.
Wendy climbed up the ring steps, entering the ring herself. She shot the troubled Lyn a reassuring smile, then turned a more stern gaze upon Silo. “Okay. I’m just going to stand here. Hit me with a German Suplex.”
Silo swallowed and began to... Wrap his arms around her waist. On the positive, there was no ‘funny business’ going on under the belt in any way. On the other hand after Silo put his arms around the White Knight’s waist, the young Samoan just stood there. A blank stare appeared on his face moments later.
“Silo... do you know HOW to do a German Suplex?” Wendy asked in exasperation.
“...Yes. Uhm, your hair smells nice.” He responded.
Half the students on the bleachers sighed in frustration, A few shook their heads, Misty Whitmore frowned, Lydia rubbed the bridge of her nose and Lyndon took his clipboard and violently struck himself in the head with it.
To everyone’s surprise, Wendy smiled warmly. “Thank you, Silo. I just particularly LOVE this raspberry scented conditioner. However...” And she threw her head back, the back of her skull smashing right into Silo’s face. Silo bellowed, and let go, holding his hands up to his nose, as Wendy spun around, her legs flashing out in a flurry of kicks, one connecting hard on the back of his hamstring, bringing him to one knee. Wendy sped behind him, leaping towards the ropes, springboarding off with a dropkick to the back of his head, sending him face first to the mat. She grabbed both his arms, wrenching them behind him, and planting her foot on his back in a surfboard.
“I believe I asked you to give me a German suplex, not smell my hair,” Wendy responded calmly. “Now, before I let go, is there anything ELSE of mine you’d like to sniff, Silo?”
“No ma’am!” Silo wept in obvious pain from the agile combination of moves. From the bleachers, Lydia muttered, “Hope he listens. At this rate, we’ll need to ice him down.”
Wendy let go of the hold, stepping away as Silo rubbed his sore arms. “Now, about that German Suplex,” she intoned, again turning her back, and crossing her arms over her chest, waiting.
Silo breathed in and once again hooked his arms around Wendy’s waist. With an internal count to three, Silo hoisted his arms and fell backward with a beautiful German Suplex... Yet Wendy was still standing, arms crossed as Silo drove himself (and air) on his head and laid there for sometime. “Ow.” he murmured weakly. The bleacher full of students yelled out in frustration and agony. ‘You’re making us look bad!’, and ‘C’mon dude, you suplex me all the time!’
Wendy looked straight at Lyn, her jaw slack. Receiving only a shrug in reply, she turned back around, looking down at Silo. “Silo, I’m not even sure that what you just did is even physically possible.”
Silo rubbed the back of his head as he sat up. “I’m not even sure what just happened, Ms. Briese. I’m honestly trying.” Lyndon cleared his throat to interject. “Silo. You should have graduated from the school months ago. The only reason you’re still here is because of this tiny... Well not tiny but this problem. I know you’re trying son, but you’ll never make it if we can’t figure out what the issue here is. Even male wrestlers will be able to run you down if they have a female manager or tag partner or something just by keeping them at ringside.”
Wendy looked down at Silo, grimacing. “Do you believe there’s anything sexual in nature about wrestling a girl, Silo?”
After a brief pause, he shook his head with a grimace of his own. “No. Not at all.”
“You’re right. No more than if you were to wrestle a guy. At least there shouldn’t be... although some I’ve heard have tried to be exceptions,” she finished, shooting a dark glance over to where Sanderson was still training with Caroline. “So if there’s nothing sexual in nature about it, then what difference does it make if you’ve been intimate with a girl?”
“...I don’t know what difference it makes. It doesn’t make one I guess.” He stated offhandedly as Silo pulled himself up and grabbed onto the ring. He seemed to be completely focused on the question at hand as he began to walk around Wendy and talked to himself. “I mean, if I as a human being can’t understand the logical conclusion that this is not sexual in nature...” He continued speaking, wrapped his arms around Wendy’s waist before he lifted her upward and dropped her on her shoulders. “...Then it would be completely easy. I mean I should be able to do it in theory...” He continued talking as he sat up and leaned on the ropes. “There should be no ramifications to something like that really. We as human beings should always respect...” Seemingly lost in his own little world, unaware of what he just accomplished.
Wendy got up slowly, wincing as she massaged the back of her neck as she got to her feet. “Very good, Silo!” She said proudly. “You see? That wasn’t so bad! Now all you need to do is...” Her voice trailed off as she realized the student wasn’t listening, continuing to mutter to himself. “Silo?.... SILO!”
“Guh? Wha? Yes Ms. Briese?” He asked innocently.
“I’m trying to tell you that was very good,” Wendy responded, arching her eyebrows in exasperation.
“Uhm, what was very good?” Silo looked around haphazardly, as Lyn began to violently beat himself with his clipboard again.
“You just suplexed me. Now, do it again,” she said.
“I what? Uhm... Okay.” Silo responded before he began to make his way over to the No Surrender Champion. He locked his arms around Wendy’s waist and after what seemed like a very long... Long pause, Wendy was lifted off her feet and very... Very slowly deposited on the back of her shoulders, almost as though she was being laid on a bed and tucked in. Two steps forward and one step back.
“Silo?” Wendy asked as she forced his arms from around her waist, than began to stand up. “Are you by any chance a philosophy major?”
“Yes, I am actually. How did you guess?” The young Samoan smiled pleasantly after a pause.
“Lucky shot,” Wendy smiled. “Now do it one more time. Except, while you do it, I want you to tell me the basic fundamentals of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave.”
“Oh sure. In the Allegory of the Cave, the first fundamental is about what is real and...” As Silo continued to enjoy a light conversation with Wendy, he executed another perfect German Suplex. He stopped in the middle of his explanation and realized what he'd just done as his arms let go of her. “...No way.”
The response of the students on the bleachers was the same, shock and awe. Lyn’s jaw went slack, Kate Steele stopped her running and stared on in amazement and Caroline’s face froze as her eyes widened into headlights.
“Ah, you sure have a strong release,” Wendy replied, wincing as she used the ropes to help her back to her feet. “I think your problem is, you’re overthinking things. Just relax, and let your mind focus on what you know, not the uncertainty. Because when your mind was on philosophy... you were perfect.”
“Wow... Thank you Ms. Briese. Err, I’d hug you but I don’t want to think too hard about that either.” He said sheepishly with a smile. Lyn cracked his most joyous smile of the the day, and nodded at Wendy. “Never thought of that before. Neither did the teacher who’s spent the most time with him.” ...Over in the corner, Caroline Dallins violently slammed her head into the wall repeatedly as Sanderson watched and winced.
“Erm... I see..” Wendy said, glancing at Caroline, and cringing. “I guess the next step is to get him to more think than say it, so he does not drive everybody nuts by quoting Plato for the entire length of the match,” she finished with a grin. In truth, her heart was feeling a lot lighter, almost to the point that she could fly. She’d actually helped someone! She took a deep breath, looking over at the students. “Now, who wants to be put in the Banshee?”
Immediately, half a dozen students (mostly female, and including Misty) raised their hands eagerly, each clamoring to be first, to the point that a few were actually jostling with each other to be noticed and picked. Wendy shook her head, and glanced over at Lyn, sighing, despite the smile still on her face.
“They realize that this move’s not supposed to be *fun*, right?”
==================================
Saturday September 8, 2012
McDowell Mountain National Monument
Near Scottsdale, Arizona
10:38 AM Local Time
Located about twenty miles northeast of Phoenix, the McDowell Mountains tower 3,000 feet over the surrounding desert area, including the outlying city of Scottsdale. Just one of the many natural features that make the south-central area of the Arizona desert one of the most distinct places in the world.
Evidently, Wendy thinks its a pretty decent location for a promo, considering she’s standing in front of the camera. As could be expected for the middle of the desert in Arizona, it’s quite warm, and Wendy’s dressed accordingly, wearing a plain white sleeveless blouse, along with a tan knee-length skirt. Her long flame-colored hair is tied back into a pony tail, which blows behind her thanks to the decent wind that is coming down the scenic range behind her. She is turned towards the mountains, a faint smile on her face.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It seems like everywhere we go, there’s beauty to be found, whether its here in the southwest, or the northeast, or the midwest, or even abroad. Phoenix is no exception. I know at first glance, some might think the desert as simply vast and empty, and dry and hot. But you look at it, especially at sunset, when the entire landscape is painted into hues of orange, or at night when the sky is clear and cool, and you can see more stars than you could possibly imagine...”
“But as beautiful as the desert is, it’s deadly too. There’s the risk of exposure, either from the sweltering, triple digit heat, or from the nighttime, where temperatures can drop below freezing. Of course, there’s always the chance of dehydration, or even starvation, should you be in a desolate enough part. And of course, you have to be on the alert for animals, particularily poisonous snakes that could fell you with venom before you could even stand a hope of getting enough aid.”
“There are three keys to surviving a harsh climate like this... knowledge, experience, and discipline. You have to know where you’re going, of course. You have to know where to find water, or shelter, or how to spot danger. And of course, the more experience you have, the better chance you have of being prepared for a situation that may arise, and to keep your head when the pressure is on. And discipline... it’s such a necessity. What if you only have a canteen of water? You have to have the discipline to ration it, so that it could last for days, instead of guzzling it all at once, and dooming yourself to dehydration later. And when you’re at the breaking point, when you don’t feel you can go on any further, it’s discipline that keeps you going.”
Wendy vs. Wild. Now that would be an awesome television show. Although she'd probably not be one for drinking her own pee.
“In many ways, wrestling, particularily the No Surrender division, is like that too. Knowledge, of course, you have to know your skills, and how best to use them. Experience, of course, the more you do this, the more ingrained it becomes, until it becomes almost a second-nature. And discipline you have to maintain your focus. But more than that, in this division, you have to use that discipline and push yourself through the pain, and keep looking for a way out of the hold you might be in.”
“But at the same time, you have to know when enough is enough, when the situation is futile, and all you are doing is risking injury, and that it’s time to swallow your pride and tap that mat. It’s a fine line, that is. Tap out too soon, and you bring unnecessary defeat upon yourself, and even risk gaining a reputation for being soft. But wait too long to make that difficult decision, and you could be inviting disaster.”
“So, Serafina. Do you have all the pieces of the puzzle necessary to survive the No Surrender division, and emerge from Breaking Point tonight with the championship?”
Wendy smiles slightly. It’s evident in her mind the answer is ‘no’.
“I will give you this, Serafina. You have discipline, at least outside the ring. You are composed. You are calm. You are polite, save for where a particular fake nun might be concerned. You are proud of who you are. And you should be. Thanks to both your religion, ,and your martial arts training, you have obtained a level of discipline that most people in this business would be envious to have. Others, such as Trinity, and apparently my manager, may make fun of you, but I’m actually impressed.”
“But here’s the thing, Serafina. It’s one thing to have it all together in front of a microphone. But in that ring, when gameplans and strategies can unravel in the blink of an eye, and you have to improvise, and fight against circumstances you hadn’t forseen, when everything looks its bleakest, and your fighting on pure desperation, will your discipline hold then, Serafina? Will you be able to, as they say, ‘keep it together?’”
“You see, knowledge, discipline, and experience, they’re all connected. Through our experiences, we gain knowlege. We make a mistake, we learn not to do it again. We discover something that is effective, we tuck it away in our minds to use when it can be effective. And knowledge brings discipline, for the more we know, the more prepared we are for a situation. And through discipline, we can keep a clear head, so that we may gain more from our future experiences. All three, connected. You need a lot more than discipline to survive in FFW, Serafina. You need knowlege, and especially for you, experience.”
Wendy holds her hands up, forming a triangle, indicating the connectedness of all three points she’s saying.
“Serafina, you became an active member of the FFW roster on April 7, the day after the final of Season 6, when you beat Gabrielle Crimson to earn this opportunity. Since that day, in the five months hence, you’ve had all of two matches. You beat Trinity by disqualfication, because she lost her temper and struck an official, and then you beat Sarah Peek a month later. By comparison, Caroline Dallins, who entered at roughly the same time you did, has wrestled seven times since her contract was signed. But now, here you are. One win away from becoming the No Surrender Champion.”
Wendy pauses for just a second, biting her lip., She turns around, looking back at the mountain range, then takes a deep breath, turning back towards the camera.
“You know, Serafina... don’t take this personally, but I kind of have a problem with that.”
Wendy quickly walks towards the camera, going out of frame for just a second. When she walks back in, the No Surrender Championship is slung over her shoulder, the titanium belt glistening in the sunlight.
“I lost this belt to Starla McCloud just one week before your Future Shock final. I fought tooth and nail to get this back to my posession, and while I did, you stood in the back and watched. I faced Tara Thunder, title for title, in one of the toughest, and most emotional matches of my life, and you stood in the back, and watched. Two weeks ago, I went out in the Tokyodome, on our anniversary show, and avenged what I’ve felt was the most embarassing, shameful loss of my FFW career. And you stood in the back, and watched.”
“I understand that you had to wait for this. The prospect of Wendy Briese versus Tara Thunder was just too huge to pass up. It was a dream match to some, and to settle it at the biggest Pay-Per-View of the year, it had to be done. So you had to wait a long time. So long that the Season 7 Champion actually got to cash in her prize before the Season 6 Champion did! That’s not your fault.”
“But all along, Serafina, over those five months you couldn’t have faced somebody else. There’s over sixty women on this roster, and the vast majority of them could have given you a decent challenge as you prepared to face me. But that didn’t happen. You stood in the back, you gave the occasional interview, and you waited.”
“Maybe it’s not your fault, Serafina. Maybe it wasn’t your call to wrestle twice in the last five months. But it was somebody’s. Someone, somewhere decided that surviving Future Shock, beating Trinity by disqualification,, and pinning Sarah Peek gave you enough experience to challenge Wendy Briese for the No Surrender Championship, and I resent the HELL out of that!”
Wendy pauses, and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, before opening them again, and tapping her belt.
“I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that after everything I’ve gone through to obtain, reobtain, and retain this belt, that all anyone needs to do to rip this from me is five matches against rookies, and suddenly you have the experience and knowhow to make me tap. I refuse to believe that after everything I’ve done for this, someone who’s given three times as many backstage interviews as she’s had professional matches, is going to end my reign!”
“But, you earned a shot at this, Serafina. That was the prize, and I won’t deny you that. And if you can prove me wrong tonight, and defy all aspects of common sense, and rip this belt from my possession, then I will be the first to congratulate you. But it’s not going to be as easy as you think. And that’s saying something, because I know you know that you’re already in for the fight of your life tonight.”
“Back in June, you made a choice. You had the option of pursuing either my No Surrender Championship, or Cara’s Ultraviolence Championship. You chose me, and you chose this title. And I know you want to make good on your choice. This is your first title shot, and it’s coming FAR earlier in your career than it does for most others. And you want to make good on this. I get that. You’re going to be motivated. Even though you haven’t been in the ring, you’ve been training hard. You’re going to be ready for this.”
“But I’m going to be ready for this too, Serafina. You see, I made a choice too. Except I didn’t get to determine which belt I would pursue... I got to determine which belt I gave up. It’s a decision everyone in this company would kill to have to make. But that didn’t make it any easier. It killed me to stand in front of Mark Horton, hold that microphone up, and say ‘I relinquish the Evolution Championship.’”
Wendy pauses for a second, remembering that emotional night, before taking a deep breath, and tapping her belt.
“But that’s what I did, and it was because of this. I CHOSE this title, Serafina. I CHOSE to remain the representative of this division, because this division is who I am, and I have NEVER felt more in tune to the ideology behind a title in my entire career. I have been the embodiment of the No Surrender division from its inception, and I have no intention of having that taken from me- by you or anyone- easily, and ESPECIALLY in the first defense after making that choice.”
“Like I said in London, Serafina. This division started with me. This division IS with me, and will be for some time to come. But I know that this division will not end with me. It will happen, as it does for everyone in this sport. I know I will lose this championship one day, and when I do, I want it to be left in the best possible hands. I want to walk backstage that night, knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that the person who’s taken this belt from me is going to pick up right where I left off, and take the greatest division in wrestling today to new heights. Is that person you, Serafina?”
Wendy pauses, and then bites her lip, and shakes her head.
“No. At least not yet. You’re a talented wrestler. You’ve a bright road ahead of you, and you are truly one of the future stars in this business. But that time is not today. And I will not... I CANNOT do a disservice to this title, this division, and even you by being defeated until you are truly, honestly ready to carry this weight. Because as heavy as this belt is physically, the weight it carries in prestige and honor far exceeds it.”
“Consider tonight a lesson, Serafina. A lesson of what it truly is to face the top submissionist in the world today. A lesson of how far you may have come, but an even more telling lesson of how far you’ve yet to go. Because, Serafina Reynolds, this desert is a long, treacherous one. Don't be fooled by the mirage, your destination is not yet here. The path ahead of you is great indeed.”
“But I promise you this, Serafina. Win or lose tonight... you will certainly benefit from the experience.”
Wendy walks towards the camera, and the scene gets one final, glorious view of the McDowell Mountains before it fades to black.
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