EPISODE 52: Nana

Friday October 15, 2010
Indianapolis International Airport- Main Terminal
Indianapolis, Indiana
5;15 PM Local Time

“So, uh...” Terrence Thompson began, barely supressing a measure of hope in his voice. “If a plane crashes, do they say on here, or do they try to keep it a secret?”

‘Probably shouldn’t talk like that in an airport, dude,” Daniel Pollaski muttered by his side as both men looked up at the video screens that showed the day’s Departures and Arrivals. “You never know if someone with a very big badge and a even bigger gun and absolutely no sense of humor might be listening.”

“Sorry,” Terrence said, without any empathy whatsoever. “It’s not that I WANT the plane to crash... you know if she got sucked out of the airlock, or choked on an in-flight peanut, or got beaten to death by the other passengers, that’d be okay too...”

“What’d be okay?” a feminine voice asked, and Terrence jumped slightly as Wendy Briese-Thompson walked up next to him, clinging to her daughters little hand as she walked beside her. Wendy quickly pecked her husband on the cheek, than turned her attention to the video screens. “What was Nana’s flight number again?”

Terrence quickly pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, and opened it. “United Express 7515, in from O’Hare,” he muttered, looking back up at the screen.

“But I thought Gramma was coming from Belfast?” piped up Theresa, suddenly confused.

Wendy looked down and smiled, and squeezed her daughters hands. “She is, honey. They just don’t fly planes directly from Belfast to Indianapolis, so first Nana had to fly to London, then to Chicago, and then to here. She’s going to have had a long day. She’s going to be very tired.”

“Planes in,” Pollaski announced, and all eyes turned followed his pointing finger, to where ‘ARRIVED’ was flashing next to the flight information. Wendy broke into a nervous grin, while Terrence grimaced slightly.

“Well, we better get just outside security so we can greet her,” Wendy said brightly.

“Or at least get them to shoot her,” Terrence muttered under his breath, but not quite quiet enough to avoid a nasty glare from his wife.

Wendy redoubled the grip on her daughter’s hands and, the WhirlyBirdz followed in the wake of Pollaski (who was a natural crowd clearer), as they worked their way across the concourse. Finding an out of the way bench just outside the checkpoint, Wendy sat down, and began rooting through her purse, pulling out a hairbrush. “Come here, Theresa,” Wendy said, and the small girl, looking none too happy about what was about to happen, leapt up next to her mother on the bench.

“You’re brushing her hair again?” Terrence asked, his tone halfway between amazement and disgust. “You spent twenty minutes doing her hair at the house, and another fifteen in the car on the way over.”

“I... I know,” Wendy replied defensively, “but there’s a loose strand and...”

“...And you’re on the threshold of hitting ‘creepy child beauty pageant mom’ in obsessiveness, hon.” Terrence interrupted. “Her hair looks fine. Theresa looks fine. And You look fine. So quit spazzing.”

Even Wendy couldn’t miss the relieved expression on Theresa’s face when Terrence spoke up, and with a sigh, she relented. Without another word, she tucked the brush back into her purse, and sat quietly, although she wrung her purse strap repeatedly in her hand. While Theresa looked around in wonder at the many people bustling past, Terrence leaned back against the wall, looking at his manager helplessly.

“So what’s she like?” Pollaski asked, as he leaned against the wall next to Terrence and watched the security checkpoint.

“Completely neurotic.” Terrence said, rolling his eyes.

“I was actually talking about her grandma,” Pollaski responded with a grin, drawing a soft chuckle from Terrence.

“She came stateside for Christmas five years ago. Wendy and I had just gotten married, and we were settling in Indianapolis trying to start a family. Couldn’t go five minutes without her reminding Wendy what an awful choice of a husband I was.” Terrence responded, some bitterness tinging his voice. “Why the hell does her family hate me so much?”

“Must be a British thing,” Pollaski chuckled. “After all, the Belmonts are from there, and they hate you too.”

Terrence chuckled, then lowered his voice. “Wouldn’t be wise to call her British, dude. She hates anything and everything English. She’s Irish through and through, right on down to her name.”

“Oh, really?” Pollaski replied, arching an eyebrow.

“Nah, O’Reilly,” Terrence responded, lightly elbowing his manager in the side with a wink.

“Wow,” Pollaski responded, shaking his head in disgust.

Suddenly, Wendy stood up, her purse rolling down her lap and falling to the floor. The movement both caught the eye of Terrence and Pollaski, who turned to regard her. Wendy had turned pale, her emerald eyes wide in a state of alarm. “Th... that’s her,” she whispered, pointing at a woman exiting the security checkpoint.

For being in her late-seventies, Constance O’Reilly was in fairly good shape. Shorter than her granddaughter by a couple inches, and extremely thin, the woman nonetheless carried herself with a grace and sharpness that defied her years. Nonetheless, her bright white hair had thinned somewhat with age, but her eyes- the same vibrant shade of green as Wendy’s- shone brightly as she looked around the terminal as she walked, leaning on a cane for support.

“NANA!” Wendy cried as she scurried forward to embrace the woman. Without much of a choice, Terrence, Pollaski, and Theresa followed behind (although Terrence did think to grab Wendy’s forgotten purse). The woman, upon hearing the voice, turned towards the sound, and she broke into a smile at the red-haired woman rushing towards her.

“Gently now, dear,” the elderly woman said in a definitive Irish brogue as Wendy embraced her. “Me bones ain’t what they used to be.”

Wendy released her grandmother and stepped back, her eyes shining with tears, as Terrence, Theresa, and Pollaski approached from behind. “Thank you so much for coming to visit, Nana.” she said. “It’s so good to see you.”

“‘Tis good ta see you too, Gwendolyn,” Nana replied, “You’re every bit as beautiful as your mother was at your age.”

For a second, the only sound was the constant bustle of the other denizens of the airport. Pollaski over at Terrence and mouthed “Gwendolyn?”

Terrence showed absolutely no surprise at hearing the name, although he did look somewhat uneasy. But that was nothing compared to Wendy, who had turned beet red in about three seconds flat, and she was unconsciously rubbing the back of her neck.

“P..please don’t call me that,” she managed to stutter.

“And why shouldn’t I call me beautiful granddaughter by her beautiful name?” Constance replied sharply. “I don’t know why you-”

She was cut off as Pollaski, unable to control himself, interrupted. “Your name is GWENDOLYN?”

Terrence wasn’t sure how his wife managed to turn any more red, but she managed to pull off the feat, as she shot Pollaski and Terrence a panicked, pleading look.

“It was me mother’s name,” Constance replied sharply, shooting the portly manager a curious glare, before turning back to Wendy. “Honestly, dear, don’t you think you’ve grown a bit old for childish nicknames? Amongst other things,” she said, giving Terrence a meaningful look.

Terrence accepted the barb with a simple nod of his head, and placed a fixated smile across his lips. “Nice to see you again, Constance,”

“Mrs. O’Reilly!” the elderly woman snapped, with such force that even the PWX Grand Prix Champion was forced to take a step back. Constance looked from Terrence back to Pollaski, taking a brief measure of him. “I always knew you were a gay!” she snapped again, fixating her gaze firmly back on Terrence.

Terrence went complely bug-eyed, while Pollaski sputtered, then choked as a bit of saliva went down the wrong tube. As Terrence thumped his manager in the back, Wendy stammered to find a response.

“No... No!” she protested. “Terrence isn’t... he’s... VERY heterosexual, Nana,” she paused for just a second as the color flooded back into her cheeks. “Pollaski’s just a... well... he’s my manager. And he’s here because...” she paused, and looked over at Pollaski. “Why ARE you here?”

Pollaski shrugged. “It was either this or the movies.”

“Right,” Wendy said, wanting to steer the subject away. Finally, she saw the perfect direction for the conversation. “Theresa, come say hello to Nana.”

For her part, Theresa had been watching the exchange between the adults with an absolute blank expression, having absolutely no clue what they were talking about. But when her mother turned to her, Theresa bounded in, smiling shyly at the strange woman her mother had hugged.

Constance smiled warmly at her great-grandaughter. “And you must be Theresa,” she said, holding a wrinkled hand out, which the little girl took semi-reluctantly.

“Welcome to Indy-polis, Nana!” Theresa managed to squeak into the strange face.

“Thank you, Theresa, dear.” Constance replied, then immediately frowned. “Why is her hair such a mess?” she asked, looking reproachfully up at her granddaughter. “Look at these loose strands.”

Wendy suddenly went pale, “Um... I...?”

But Constance had already turned back to Theresa. “Tell you what, dearie. Once I get me luggage, I’ll get out me hairbrush, and we’ll make it right, so you don’t look like a street urchin.”

“Oh! Baggage claim!” Wendy said, her voice strangely fast-paced and high pitch. “Um, we REALLY should go there or else your bag will be too long on the conveyor belt and it will build up all kinds of static electricity and if you touch it you’ll elecrto...cute... your..self...” she stopped as she realized she was stammering, and the members of her group weren’t the only ones staring at her in concern. “It’s this way.” Wendy finally said meekly, pointing the direction from which the Birdz originally came.

“Well, then, shall we go?” Nana asked, looking down at Theresa, who nodded. Holding Theresa’s hand in her right, and her cane in her left, she hobbled off towards the baggage carousels.

As soon as she was a sizeable distance away, Wendy wheeled around at her husband, a snarl on her lips. “Thanks a lot, TERRY!”

As Wendy stormed off after her grandmother and daughter, Terrence stared after her, mouth agape. “What did I do?”

“Oh, I’m so glad I chose this over the movies,” Daniel piped up from next to him. “Although it kinda sucks not having popco-”

“Shut up, Pollaski,” Terrence growled, as he stalked after the rest of his family.


=======================
Friday October 15, 2010
The RV- Cockpit
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:10 PM Local Time

[The Nest has been invaded.]

[The enemy? Constance O’Reilly, aka “Nana”. In just a few short hours, this deceptively nasty old viper has managed to turn the Thompson family on its head. Needless to say, as soon as she arrived home from the airport, the criticisms- everything from the amount of dust in the hutch to the organization of the family DVD collection- began to fly. Not to emasculate the PWX here, but granny managed to do what no one in PWX has- make Terrence tap out, armed only with a razor sharp tongue.]

[Oh, and a cane, which, as poor Terrence’s instep can attest, she’s remarkably adept at using.]

[So, in desperate need to get away from Nana, Terrence has sought refuge in one of the two places he possibly could. And given that there’s no way in hell he’d ever enter Pollaski’s apartment without a life or death emergency at hand (although this is getting close), Terrence has decided to cut his promo for the week from the family RV.]

[And so that is where the scene opens, with Terrrence sitting in the driver’s seat of the RV, looking into the dashboard mounted camera. Due to the lack of engine noise, as well as no sense of motion coming from lights flashing by the window, its fairly safe to say that the RV’s not moving, just occupied. Which is really a good thing, because Terrence’s hands aren’t on the wheel, but rather behind his head as he leans back in his chair.]

“The world of sports is filled with heated rivalries. Opponents that you know will turn up the intensity every time they step into an arena together. Wolverines and Buckeyes. Cubs and Cardinals. The United States and Canada. Celtic and Rangers.”

[Short, cheesy grin from Terrence. Okay, so maybe he had to wikipedia the last one. But he had to come up with something for the benefit of those across the pond.]

“And now, dare I say, that the Birdz and the Belmonts have reached that status?”

[Small shrug.]

“I know I sure feel the intensity go up a few notches when I see either Valerie or Jeremiah’s name across from me on the lineup, and I know Wendy feels the same way as well. So when, for the first time, we face each other as teams, with the Tag Titles on the line, you know that the intensity is going to be through the roof.”

[As if already anticipating the coming fight, Terrence cracks his knuckles, then leans back in his chair again.]

“Now, I know, on an individual basis, I’ve had tremendous success against the Belmonts. Four matches, four victories for Terrence Thompson. Hell, both of my singles title reigns have come at their expense. But I know Jer and Val are the type of team where the whole is certainly greater than the sum of the parts. A couple of weeks ago, they faced Wendy and Ashley Graves, and they excelled at keeping my wife out of that match. They’re truly one of the great teams in the history of tag team wrestling.”

[Slight pause, and Terrence chuckles and shakes his head]

“So its almost baffling to hear what whiners they have become. Now, I’ll be the first to admit that the seven months the Belmonts were kept waiting is too damn long. Should we have faced them sooner in our reign? Perhaps. Should they have even been given a chance at the titles before us? Perhaps. But on either count, it didnt’ happen. Get over it, honestly.”

[A crooked smile, and a lopsided shrug]

“The hilarious part is, all this whining seems to be revolving around some mythical double standard. How the Belmonts were kept from a rematch for the titles because Jeremiah was on track to become the World Champion, and JPO doesn’t want double champions. It’s a fairly laughable notion, considering that Valerie Belmont was the Next Generation Champion when they won the titles in the first place. Also, while they were champions, Jeremiah was also granted a shot at the World title, as it was called back then, at Vendetta, in his homeland, in a match of his choosing. Almost predictably, he lost.”

[A brief pause.]

“Yeah, I know the pre-Birdz history of PWX.”

[Helps when you have a manager who doubles as the unofficial fed statistician]

“But let’s suspend reality here, and assume that this whole concept of eliminating double-champions is true. There’s still one very large difference between the Belmonts and the Birdz.”

[Terrence reaches down next to him, and pulls something off the floor beside him. Smirking, he holds it up in front of the camera, and we can see that its his half of the PWX Tag Team Titles]

“We never lost these.”

[Grinning, he sets the title on his lap, and cracks his knuckles again.]

“Had we lost them, and gotten an immediate rematch, THAT would have been a double standard, but that never happened. That’s really all the difference in the world, isn’t it? The Belmonts lost their titles to a makeshift tag team of Josh Graves and Devon Pooole, and yet they mock us for beating so-called makeshift tag teams. And predictably, their next line will be that Randy Treehugger interfered, costing them the match.”

[Scoff]

“Its almost a good excuse, except that I recall defending this in a match where the entire goddamned Cartel was allowed to run in against us, and yet, we’re still the champions. Do you honestly think that the management of PWX was going to deny me a chance at the Grand Prix title strictly on the basis that my wife and I are just too damned good a tag team?”

[Terrence chuckles a couple of times, and shakes his head, as if the very notion of it was ridiculous.]

“In fact, if I recall, it was just the opposite. It’s actually BECAUSE of the tag belts that I’m the Grand Prix champion. Or did anyone else forget how I came to be the number one contender?”

[smirk]

“That’s right. Brian Hollywood couldn’t stomach the thought of Wendy and I being the tag champions, so he offered up a wager- I win, I’m the number one contender, but if I lost, the tag titles were vacated. With my wife’s permission, I accepted the match. And there, I did what Jeremiah Belmont couldn’t do at Vendetta- I beat Brian Hollywood when everything was on the line.”

[Terrence chuckles softly, a small part of him giddy with the thought of Jeremiah Belmont grinding his teeth with the reminder.]

“And, that’s really what this rivalry is ultimately about. It’s plain as can be that the Belmonts are simply jealous of my wife and I.”

[Terrence shrugs matter-of-factly]

“I suppose I can’t really blame them. After all, earlier this year, Jeremiah and Valerie were the toast of PWX. Valerie was the Next Generation Champion, Jeremiah was the Legends Cup winner. The two hottest commodities PWX had, and them being vampires only added to their mystique.

[Terrence pauses for a second, as if he’s resisting the urge to say something else.]

“Not to mention it brought in the Twilight crowd...”

[Yeah, self-control was never exactly Terrence’s strongpoint. Terrence flashes a cheesy grin, but quickly manages to sober himself.]

“When Wendy and I joined the PWX, we were dismissed as simply Belmont clones. Hell, the first time I faced Valerie herself, she even mentioned it. And yes, there were, and still are, remarkable similarities between our two families. But then something funny happened.”

[Pause]

“People began to realize that maybe there was more to these WhirlyBirdz, after all.”

[Small shrug]

“Throughout the summer, you could see which of the two teams was rising, and which was falling. Jer and Val had to actually walk down to the ring and remind people that they were supposedly the ‘first family of PWX.’ Wendy and I? We didn’t need to say a damn word. We went out, and we won every single match we got entered in, and we let the fans decide for themselves who was better.”

[Terrence scoffs, and nods his head slightly]

“I don’t think the Belmonts were liking the answer to that question. But the thing is, while we were standing our ground against overwhelming odds, keeping Brian Hollywood from driving this company into the ground, they went and played ‘Days of our Lives’ with Tyler Graves.”

[Slight pause.]

“Actually, I guess ‘Dark Shadows’ would be a bit more appropriate, eh?”

[Ba-zing...]

“And the week of Civil War, while Jeremiah and Valerie were pointing and laughing at the ‘sheep’ that they had fooled into thinking they had broken up, I walked down to that ring, and I beat Jeremiah, and I took his title. And here I still stand, three months into one title reign, and nearly a month into the other.”

[Terrence leans over, and picks up his Grand Prix title belt off the floor. He slowly drapes it over one shoulder, then picks the tag belt up off his lap, and drapes it over the other shoulder]

“Jeremiah, Valerie. You can cry all you want about a double standard, but all you’re doing is using a crutch to cover your own inadequacies. I am the PWX Grand Prix Champion, and I am one half of the PWX Tag Team Champions, because I fucking earned it. I earned it by beating the Kings Among Men. I earned it by beating Pariah and Wild. And I earned it by beating you both.”

[Short pause, as Terrence looks into the camera. There’s no trace of a smile anymore, just a cold look of intensity.]

“You want a shot at these belts? You want a chance to become the two time PWX Tag Champions? You have it, in less than seventy-two hours, at the fiftieth Adrenaline. So quit your belly-aching, and get to training. Stop playing the vampire card. Stop playing the excuse card, and stopped playing the double standard card. Because NONE of it matters.”

[As he says the last of it, Terrence shakes his head.]

“All that matters is, when that bell rings, two families are going to collide, and one is going to walk with these belts, and their pride still intact. This isn’t about who the fans like more. This isn’t about whether Chloe or Theresa is going to be the happier little girl at the end of the night. All that this is about is finding out who the best goddamned tag team in PWX is.”

[One final smirk]

“When it’s come to you guys, I’ve never had a problem proving who is better.”

[Fade]

EPISODE 51: Dust in the Wi... Hutch

Saturday October 9, 2010
The Nest- Formal Dining Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
1:59 PM Local Time

Wendy Briese coughed at the dustcloud that had been kicked up as she opened the hutch, waving away the airborne particles lest she breathe them in. How long had it been since she cleaned this thing? Too long, obviously. For a second, she debated about grabbing an old rag and using it to cover her mouth, lest she breathe in the dust, but she was behind enough already today.

Still, Wendy mused as she sprayed the shelvings of the ornate wooden cabinet with a liberal dose of Pledge, cleaning had been going very well. Wendy prided herself on her housekeeping, but considering her grandmother had worked as a maid in Belfast for many years, she knew Nana had a critical eye about everything, and she intended to make the house as beautiful as she could. So when she wasn’t training for her upcoming match against Jenna Himmler, or spending some quality time with her daughter, Wendy had devoted pretty much every waking hour to the enormous task preparing for company entailed.

Wendy was too engrossed in her task that she initially failed to notice her daughter bounding into the room. Theresa stared at her mother, curious as to what the young redhead might be doing. Realizing she wasn’t going to be getting an answer any time soon, Theresa’s attention turned towards the stack of china plates and other valuable dishes sitting on the dining room table. Theresa grabbed a porcelain teapot, staring in wonder at the ornate flowery designs covering every inch of its surface.

Some sixth sense alerted Wendy to another presence in the room, and Wendy turned around, smiling at her daughter. That smile disappeared almost immediately, and Wendy had to fight down the urge to shriek in dread as she saw the priceless antique in her daughter’s hands. “No...” she said, leaving the rag and the can of Pledge in the hutch, and hurrying to her daughter’s side. “Please don’t touch ANYTHING, hon” Wendy begged her daughter as she delicately removed the teapot from her grip. “A lot of this stuff is very old and very valuable. And VERY fragile”

“Sorry,” Theresa replied, looking sullen. “Didn’t know.”

“It’s okay, sweetie,” Wendy said, carefully setting the teapot on the table, and then turning back to her daughter. Just always ask permission before you touch something, okay?”

Theresa nodded. “Okay,” she said, although she still looked somewhat crestfallen.

Wendy looked at her daughter, and smiled. “You want to help mommy clean the hutch?”

Although Wendy knew full well that within ten years, her daughter would dread a task such as this, the young girl nodded ferociously. Wendy smiled, and walked back over the hutch, grabbing another dustcloth and spraying some pledge on it. “Here, you can wipe down the outside, as high as you can reach, while I do the rest. Okay?”

Theresa noddd with excitement, and took the cloth. “Mmm! It smells like lemons!” she said.

“It does, but don’t breathe it in,” Wendy warned. “The vapors aren’t good for you. Just wipe down the wood, like this, okay?” Wendy demonstrated, and Theresa went to work on the bottom of the hutch, mimicking her mother.

“Well, aren’t you two having fun?” a male voice behind her surprised Wendy, who wheeled around. When she saw it was just her manager, Wendy exhaled. Pollaski grinned at her. “Sorry, didn’t mean to surprise you.”

Theresa gave a shriek of joy, and ran to Pollaski, who knelt down, and gave her a quick hug.

“What are you doing here?” Wendy asked, not unkindly. By this point, Pollaski pretty much came and went as he chose during the day, and was more than welcome to enter the Nest without bothering to knock. “I thought you were on your way to the airport”

“You’re leaving?” Theresa asked, disappointed, before Pollaski could even respond.

“I am,” he confessed, although he smiled as he did so. “But just for a couple days. I gotta go to Los Angeles to compete in CPW. Your mommy and daddy are picking me up from the airport in Chicago on Monday, so I’ll see you then.”

“Don’t we come with you?” Theresa asked.

“Not this time,” Wendy said in a consoling tone. “We have too much to do around here. Pollaski’s on his own.”

“I’ll be fine,” Pollaski promised her, waving a hand dismissively. He turned his attention back to Wendy. “Oh, someone left the ladder out, I put it away for you.”

“Thanks,” Wendy said, although she rolled her eyes as she did so. “Figures Terrence would leave that out. If he’s done cleaning out the gutters, he’ll be clearing out under the back deck, if you want to say goodbye.”

“Thanks,” Pollaski said.

“Good luck against Aoraki,” Wendy said, smiling, and turning to head back to her task.

“Thanks,” Pollaski repeated. “And just in case he DOES break every bone in my body like a meat-grinder,” he said, winking at Theresa to let her know he was kidding, “good luck against Himmler.”

Wendy’s expression hardened for just a second, then softened as she looked away. “She’s tough,” she finally said. “If she’s even better this time around... I could have my hands full.”

“Bah, you can take her,” Pollaski replied reassuringly. “Its a big match, and you shine in those. Just remember- you lose, and Terrence is probably forced into a ten thousand flaming sandpaper thumbtack legos on a pole glass cage of death match. Or something.”

“Thanks, Dan,” Wendy responded, shooting her manager an annoyed look.

Pollaski grinned back. “Just sayin’. We’ll both be fine. I’ll see you on Monday. What we say, Theresa?”

“POLLLLLLAAAAAAAAAAAAAA.....” Theresa began, but before she could finish the phone rang. Wendy quicky picked up the cordless receiver she had set on the dining room table, and looked at the caller ID.

“It’s Terrence...” she said, sounding confused. She flipped the phone on, and held it up to her ear. “Terry where are-”

Wendy cringed, and pulled the phone away from her ear, as if it was suddenly hurting her. Even from several feet away, Pollaski could hear a male voice screaming over the earpiece.

Wendy stared at Pollaski, and the portly manager wasn’t entirely certain if she was about to laugh or cry. “Did... did you make sure he still wasn’t on the roof when you put the ladder away?”

“I didn’t see him,” Pollaski shrugged. “But I didn’t exactly walk around the entire house either.”

“Perhaps you should have,” Wendy replied, turning pale.

There was a long pause, where the only sound that could be heard was the continued screaming of Terrence over the phone, along with a few loud thuds coming from over their heads. Wendy, Pollaski, and Theresa all looked at the dining room ceiling, where the hanging light fixture was beginning to sway back and forth.

“I’ll... um... go get him down.” Pollaski said meekly.

“Please,” Wendy agreed, as her manager turned and sprinted towards the front door of the house.

========================================
Saturday October 9, 2010
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
7:19 PM Local Time


[So the main event of Never Say Die IV will be a Pollaski Pinata on a Pole match.]

[Nobody’s exactly sure what the hell that is, but Terrence has vowed on all that is holy that will be the match should Wendy defeat Jenna Himmler at the next Adrenaline. Near as anyone can tell, it involves hanging Daniel Pollaski from a pole and beating him with a very large stick, something Terrence is no doubt keen to do at the present moment]

[Anyways, Wendy found the whole ladder incident slightly amusing (save for being screamed at by her husband- something he later apologized for), and chalked it up to just another misadventure to be had when preparing for company.]

[So we now cut to the living room of the Nest, where Wendy is sitting on the couch. Not wanting to cut her promo wearing cleaning clothes, Wendy has changed into a much nicer long dark green skirt, along with a white blouse. As usual, Wendy’s sitting stiff as a board, as prim and proper as she could possibly be.]

“Well, I suppose everyone knew this was going to happen sooner or later.”

[Wendy slouches her shoulders just a bit, but ]

“Almost two months ago, at Adrenaline 42, I faced a young rookie in just her second match by the name of Jenna Himmler. While most of the so-called ‘experts’ predicted an easy win for me, I had a feeling that despite her inexperience, I would be in for one rough battle. Unfortunately for the nerve endings in my body, I was proven right, and we fought to a tremendous contest that left me battered and bruised, but ultimately the victor.”

[Wendy smiles ruefully]

“As with most contests that end in a near-upset, rumors of a rematch began almost immediately, but soon after, Jenna was taken off the active roster, feeling she needed more training. Only this past week, she returned to in ring competition, and, as could be predicted, we’ve been chosen to face once again.”

[Wendy nods, and looks away from the camera for just a second, before turning her attention back]

“Its funny, because I hear whisperings that perhaps this time, it is I who’s the underdog. After all, Jenna was just raw talent, while I’m a fully trained experienced wrestler, and yet, she still almost won. Now that she’s gotten more training under her belt, its only logical that she should win this time, right?”

[Wendy sighs, and shakes her head.]

“I suppose its crazy, but I actually feel MORE confident about this match than I did our last meeting.”

[Wendy shrugs, and brushes a stray hair from her face, before resuming]

“I’m sure Jenna’s refined her technique through endless hours of training. I’m sure she can punch and kick harder than ever before, and her knee strikes are flat out devastating. But, near as I can tell, Jenna lacks one key element, the exact same missing element that led her to lose against me the first time.”

[Small pause]

“Discipline.”

[Say what?]

“In the ring, Jenna is driven by pure emotion, namely rage. She attacks with abandon, doing everything in her power to do as much damage to her opponent as quickly as possible. She doesn’t hold back anything, and that makes for an extremely exciting slugfest of a match. But there’s a problem with that mentality- it expends so much energy.”

[Wendy talks calmly, as if she’s lecturing a group of students on the merits of in ring strategy.]

“Fighters such as that end their fights in one of two ways. They either land a devastating blow, and gain the victory, or they tire quickly, until they make a critical mistake, one that can easily be capitalized on to defeat them. And that’s what happened back in August- I was willing to be patient, Jenna wasn’t. And because of that, it was my hand raised at the end. All the training she’s gone through won’t matter if she lets her emotions control her in the ring again.”

[Wendy shrugs, and sighs again.]

“Maybe she has, and maybe I’m wrong. I won’t know until I step in that ring, but I do have a strategy for whichever way Jenna decides to approach it. She wasn’t the only one who learned some pretty tough lessons in that match. I will say one thing for certain- if we lock up, I’ll be watching out for those knees.”

[Weak smile]

“But whether Jenna decides to turn this into another brawl. or actually decides to compete in a wrestling match, this is a contest I cannot afford to lose. I’m already coming off a tough loss to the Belmonts, a frustrating contest where Jer and Val managed to keep me impotent on the apron for the majority of the match, isolating Ashley Graves and picking up the win. Losing once is tough enough, but with the Belmonts coming up next week, losing two in a row heading into that match would be devastating.”

[Wendy shakes her head, disgusted with herself and her inability to help her partner a couple weeks ago]

“And then there’s the stipulation of this match- the winner’s significant other will get to pick the match type at Never Say Die. A tremendous advantage to be sure, and one I would love Terrence to have. But even more important than allowing Terrence to pick the match, is NOT allowing Ojeda to pick the match.”

[The fire in Wendy’s emerald eyes kindles just a bit, although Wendy’s voice remains mild]

“Unless JPO has a surprise up his sleeve, Never Say Die will mark Terry’s first defense of his Grand Prix Championship- a title that hasn’t been successfully defended in an actual match since the World and Next Generation titles were merged at Full Throttle. I’m not going to let John Ojeda turn this match into a mockery with one of his stupid death match gimmicks.”

[Wendy’s eyes blaze even more intensely. It’s obvious that John Ojeda’s about the last man on Earth she ever would want to see holding the GP title.]

“As far as Jenna goes, the dislike is mutual. I don’t like what she stands for, and I most certainly don’t like her attitude. I’ve said it before, but it’s a shame, because the raw talent she possesses is remarkable. But her attitude will always keep her from being the best she can be. Jenna can hate me all she wants for saying that, but deep down, she knows its true.”

[A sad sigh]

“But she’ll never change. The hatred in her heart is too much, and one day, it’ll probably get her into something worse than a loss in a wrestling match. But it’s not any of my business, I guess. I just need to focus on the task before me. But after Jenna’s comment at the last PWX show about her need to prove that her family was just as ruthless as it was in the nineteen thirties, I got to thinking.”

[Pause]

“Seventy years ago, the Third Reich was the scourge of Europe, terrorizing half a world with their effeciency and brutality. And now its ‘legacy’ is a deranged foul-mouthed brawler who is little more than a mistress for a two-bit biker thug.”

[Wendy sighs one more time, before cracking a small smile that has neither mirth nor humor behind it.]

“Considering all it ever had been was a bunch of deranged thugs, it’s awfully fitting.”

[Fade]