Friday April 14, 1978
The Lyric Theater- Female Lead Dressing Room
Belfast, Northern Ireland
10:56 PM Local Time
There was no possible way that Margaret Blaine could have been in a better mood.
Tonight had been, in no uncertain terms, the biggest night of her life. She had been in the theatrical arts since she was a little girl, but tonight had been the first time she had performed as the lead in a major production. The opening night of ‘My Fair Lady’ had been looming ahead of her ever since she had gotten the lead. She had been terrified, thrown up her lunch in the bathroom about a half-hour before showtime, and had looked so pale to the point the director told off the makeup lady for applying too much powder. But despite the nerves, she had done it. She had NAILED it.
Already she was envisioning the Entertainment section in the next morning’s edition of the Belfast Telegraph. She knew the review would be good- there was no possible way it couldn’t have been. She wondered what words would be used to describe her performance of Eliza Doolittle. Sublime? Flawless? Julie Andrews, Eat Your Heart Out?
Margaret laughed out loud at the thought. A girl could dream, after all.
Humming “Wouldn’t it be Loverly” to herself, the twenty-five year old Englishwoman picked up a case of lipstick, and quickly applied it to her lips, blotting them on a piece of tissue, and admiring herself in the mirror. Her job may have been finished for the night, but there was no way her evening was done.
“You’re off-key,” came a sour, Irish accented voice from the open doorway to her dressing room. Margaret started at first, but quickly calmed herself, turning to acknowledge the uninvited guest. There was no denying that Gayle O’Reilly was a pretty woman, with the small dash of freckles on her nose and cheeks complimenting her long chestnut hair. And there was no denying that the woman could act and sing, possibly, although she hated to admit it, even better than Margaret herself..
But there was also no denying that her understudy was a damnably unpleasant woman. She wondered how much prettier that face of Gayle’s would be if it wasn’t scowling all the time. She wondered how much prettier her voice would be if it wasn’t constantly giving imperious commands to everyone within hearing distance.
Still, she tried to force a smile. “Well, it’s a good thing I wasn’t on-stage, then!” Margaret laughed, not unkindly, but unable to keep the excitement from her voice. “Did you see them, Gayle? They loved it! SIX curtain calls! On opening night! I can’t believe it!”
Gayle’s face took on a hard edge, and Margaret almost winced at the almost predatory smile that was forced towards her. “Neither can I,” the brunette seethed.
An awkward silence reigned over the dressing room. Margaret hadn’t meant to offend Gayle with her exuberance, but it was obvious that she had. She supposed she couldn’t blame Gayle, the rivalry the two had developed as they had fought for the role of Eliza had been intense, and Margaret still counted herself lucky that she had beaten out the native Belfastian. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that there were hard feelings here, especially considering Gayle’s nature.
“I should be going,” Margaret said, trying to sound apologetic as she did. “Gareth is going to be waiting for me.”
“Oh right,” Gayle replied, her tone acidic. “Your... boyfriend.”
Margaret bristled at the latent ridicule behind Gayle’s statement, but merely bit her lip. It was true that Lord Kensington was fifteen years older than her, but there was no denying that the two of them were made for each other. Whatever his reputation as a member of the House of Lords was, around her, it didn’t matter. He was kind, caring, intelligent, witty, handsome- everything she could ever want in a man.
“Yes,” Margaret replied stiffly. “My boyfriend. He came up from London just to see me tonight, and he’s flying back tomorrow. So I’d better get going...”
“Ah yes, rushing back to introduce ANOTHER law that will treat the Irish like dirt, right? Can’t leave well enough alone?”
Margaret closed her eyes, and sighed. She hated politics. “Look, I know the curfew, and the restricted areas are unpopular,” she tried explaining. “But he’s just trying to keep the peace here.”
“You want peace in Belfast? Easy,” Gayle explained. “Go to London, and tell that bitch on the throne that she and her church can go fuck themselves, and leave us to our own.”
“I’m not arguing this, Gayle. Not tonight,” Margaret said softly, yet firmly. “We should be celebrating, not fighting. Where’s Augustus? Aren’t you two going out tonight as well?”
For the first time, Gayle’s anger seemed to melt away, and the blonde sensed something else in her understudy. She didn’t know what it was, but it certainly wasn’t happiness. Dismay? Resignation?
“Gussie’s working late at the dinner theater,” Gayle finally replied. “But yeah, we’re going out after that.”
Margaret snatched up her coat, and smiled at her rival. “Well, have fun. I’ll see you tomorrow, Gayle.”
She left the dressing room, to a half-hearted farewell from Gayle, and stepped into the hallway. It took another few minutes to reach the exit- other cast and crew kept coming up and congratulating her on her performance. But finally, she was out the door, into the cool spring evening.
For once, it wasn’t raining, Margaret thought as she walked towards her car, a 1976 Jaguar that Lord Kensington had bought for her several months ago. Maybe tonight, after dinner, they could go up to Black Mountain, which overlooked the city, and...
Margaret was so in tune with her thoughts and plans, that she never noticed the lone figure atop the building across the street, looking down on her in the darkness. She never saw the flash of light coming from the roof, and never heard the loud crack that echoed through the night air. She only barely registered something hitting the side of her head, and then she knew no more.
Margaret Blaine, twenty-five years old, stood upright for just a fraction of a second longer, before her knees buckled, and she pitched forward onto the ground. Her car keys slipped from her hands, and skittered on the asphalt a couple feet away.
And Margaret Blaine lay there, motionless, face-down in a puddle of the blood that was pouring from the bullet hole in her temple.
====================
Wednesday November 16, 2011
The Nest- Front Lawn
Indianapolis, Indiana
7:43 AM Local Time
“WAIT!”
The sound of a little girl’s voice filled the crisp autumn morning as Theresa Thompson sprinted across her front lawn, waving her arms frantically. The five year old yelled again, a pleading that the yellow school bus two hundred yards away would wait for her. Her breathing labored, she pounded after the large transport, letting out a final, desperate scream as the bus pulled away from the stop, slowly accelerating.
And then stopped. Whether the driver had heard her, he had seen the frantically running child in his rear mirror, or another student had alerted him, he had taken notice. Theresa didn’t slow down, continuing to sprint until she had reached the yellow vehicle.
From the front porch of the Nest, Wendy Briese-Thompson sighed with relief as she watched her daughter climb up the steps inside. A couple seconds pause, and the bus rolled away again, this time for good. Wendy turned around to go inside, exhaling another misty cloud of morning air, before tugging the front door shut behind her.
That had been too close, and this was becoming too frequent, she thought to herself. Once the novelty of being in school had worn off, Theresa had turned sluggish in the morning, to the point that every day seemed to be a battle to get her out the door on time. She wasn’t going through one more year of that- much less thirteen. If Theresa was having problems getting ready in the morning, she’d simply have to get up earlier. And that would mean going to bed earlier. If anything, maybe the threat of an eight-thirty bedtime might get the girl to stop dragging her heels in the morning.
“One can only hope,” Wendy muttered to no one in particular. The house was empty- Terrence had gone down to Thompson Auto to help out Steve, and so she was alone, at least until Pollaski came over in a couple of hours to pick her up for their daily training session.
Wandering into the kitchen, Wendy plucked a box of Life Cereal from the shelf, and poured a bowl, adding a liberal helping of skim milk. Grabbing a spoon, she carried her breakfast to the kitchen table, grabbing her laptop on the way and powering it up.
Wendy munched on her cereal as she read the news from various websites, including a preview of her now twenty-fourth ranked Irish’s upcoming game against Boston College, as well as numerous news and rumors concerning the upcoming Violent Night pay-per-view. She had just finished her cereal, and was starting to read the debut edition of the Cat’s Eye column, when the phone rang.
A cordless set was on the counter, and Wendy grabbed it, pressing the talk button. “Hello?”
“Yes, ma’am. May I please speak to a Ms. Gwendolyn Briese, please?” To Wendy’s surprise, the official-sounding voice carried an Irish accent.
“Um... this is her,” she replied, not even bothering to ask that her true first name not be used.
“Ma’am, my name is David O’Leary, and I’m a Sergeant with the Belfast City Police Department. Do you know a woman by the name of Constance O’Reilly?”
Wendy suddenly had a sinking feeling that she knew what this call was about. “I.. I do. She’s my grandmother. Why... is she okay?”
“I’m sorry, ma’am. She was found dead in her flat this morning.”
Wendy sucked in a sharp intake of breath, and exhaled slowly, closing her eyes. “Oh, Nana,” she breathed. It was something she had been expecting- the woman had been well into her eighties and had certainly looked more frail when she had come to visit the prior year, but still, it was news that the young redhead was hardly looking forward to.
It took another couple seconds to remember that she was on an international line, and her manners. “I’m sorry,” she said, more for lack of anything else. “Thank... thank you for letting me know.”
“I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.” In truth, the voice sounded like it had made this call too many times for genuine sympathy to show through anymore. “You’re in the United States, correct?”
“Yes, um... Indiana,” Wendy clarified, although it likely didn’t matter.
“Well, you were the only person who’s contact information we could find. And, well, city policy says that we have to notify any next of kin if possible before we, um, assume control of the remains. Do we have your permission to dispose of the body? She’ll be cremated, and buried in a small cemetery. We’ll send you information on the site, if you’d like.”
For a second, Wendy almost said yes, but something stopped her. It wasn’t right she realized. The woman had lived eighty-plus years, had two daughters, a son, and at least eight grandchildren, and she was going to be ‘disposed of’ by a couple of city bureaucrats?
“No, I’ll come out and take care of it,” Wendy said, trying to sound forceful. “She should.. be buried by someone she knew. I’ll be on a plane tomorrow, and in on Friday.”
“Very well, ma’am. Is there anything else I can help you with?”
“Yes, um. If it’s not too much trouble. Do you have a number for any cemeteries? Preferably a Catholic one.”
“Sure thing ma’am. Just hang on while I pull this up...”
The officer actually provided her with several, and Wendy thanked him before hanging up. She leaned against the counter staring at the phone, as if still wondering if what she had just heard was a dream. She supposed she should cry- after all, isn’t that what you were supposed to do when someone you loved died?
But no tears came, just a sense of resignation that this had to happen sooner or later. And, strangely, a feeling of relief. Wendy couldn’t deny it- her grandmother had hardly been the most likeable woman. Her whole life had been filled with anger, and bitterness, and something inside Wendy was at least grateful that the woman was finally at peace. Everyone needed to find peace in the end.
Everyone...
Suddenly, she knew EXACTLY what she was going to have to do. She grabbed the phone, and quickly dialed Pollaski’s number.
“Wha....?” obviously her call had just woken her manager up. “Igotanhour...”
“Dan, I need your help here,” Wendy insisted, trying to cut through Pollaski’s sleepiness. “I just got a call... Nana’s dead.”
“Wait, what?” Apparently that woke him up a bit. “Your grandmother’s dead?”
“Yeah. Belfast police found her this morning.”
There was a pause, although Wendy was almost certain that she could hear her manager humming a few bars of Kool & The Gang’s “Celebrate”. “I’m sorry for your loss,” Pollaski finally said, suddenly chipper.
Wendy sighed. This morning was going more downhill by the second. “Listen, Dan. I’m going to Belfast. I’ve got to take care of this.”
“What? Why? The city’ll take care of it. Let them.”
“I... can’t. I can’t explain why, I just know I have to go over, okay?”
Pollaski was taking on a tone that was suggesting she was being unreasonable. “Wendy, you have a match in ten days. In front of a live crowd of a hundred thousand people. Against a girl who would LOVE to humiliate you. And you’re going to fly halfway around the world?”
“I didn’t plan this Dan, okay?” Wendy was starting to feel irritated. “That’s why I’m calling you. You’re my manager. I need your help here.”
There was a long pause. “Fine, what all do you want me to set up?”
“I’ll leave tomorrow, and come back Sunday, so get me a hotel for Friday and Saturday nights. And see if you can find a gym that I can train at.”
“Isn’t the School of Hard Knocks in Belfast?” Pollaski asked, a teasing note entering his voice.
“Dublin, I think. And *NOT* them, given that they’re a little more affiliated with my opponent.”
“Alright, alright. So a hotel, a place to workout. And a flight, I assume.”
“Hold off on the flight, I’m getting to that,” Wendy said. Her mind was racing now, and she was struggling to keep the words from pouring out at once, lest she not be understood. “I’m going to email you some numbers for Belfast cemeteries. Call around, and see if you can get me two burial plots. Price is not an issue.”
“Okay... wait.. TWO burial plots?”
“Yeah, Dan. Two. And I’m not going to Belfast straight away. I need to go to Carthage, New York. I think the closest airport’s Syracuse, but if you can get me nearer, so much the better. I don’t want to spend much time there.”
“Carthage, New... where the FUCK is that?” Pollaski exclaimed, as Wendy heard him typing, evidently on google maps. “Yeah... closest is Syracuse, but it’s still a two fucking hour drive. Wait... I remember this place. That’s where they buried your...”
Wendy nodded, even though she knew Pollaski couldn’t see her. For the first time, the emotion was starting to overwhelm her. “Yeah. It is. It’s not where she belongs, Dan. It never was, and it’s time to fix it. I’m going to get her, and I’m going to bring her home.”
She sniffled as the tears began to leak out,
“I’m taking mama back to Ireland.”
Saturday, December 10, 2011
EPISODE 142: Stinkylaski
The following was posted on whirlybirdz.com. The opinions expressed are solely that of the author, and do not reflect the opinions of Terrence Thompson, Wendy Briese, SVW, or anyone else. You’ve been warned.
Hey kids!
Daniel Pollaski here, coming to you from the city of Brotherly Love! Now, I know that it’s been a while since you guys last saw the Pollaskinator in action, losing a tough fight to Crazy Millar and his kitchen sink, but I’m back, and ready to kick some ass!
Tonight, I’m up against GAry Gillray, a bonafide sick motherfucker. Now, I’m sure everyone saw what Gary tried doing to Erica Horton a couple weeks ago, and I gotta say, even I can’t condone that kinda shit. Even the Troll that Feeds Himself has his limits on the bounty of good taste. After all, its kinda tough to do a wrestling company when you’re fucking banned from every media outlet.
Besides, what Gary did was just so damned overdone anyways. Trust me, I’ve managed a female prude for the better part of the last decade. You honestly think Gary Gillray is the first person to try using sex as a method to get under a female rival’s skin? Granted, Gary’s doing it a bit on the creepy side so I suppose points for delivery. But still, not original, been there, done that. Blah.
And the blood licking thing? Yeah, it sure looked fucked up, and it didn’t help that Erica was lying unconscious in the middle of the ring while he did it. But gimme a break dude. Her fucking SISTER supposedly does that to sustain herself, and you’re gonna tell me this is scary. The only way that could be any worse if if creepy pervy Gary Gillray saliva feels worse than vampire lunatic Valerie Belmont saliva (okay, I know which one I’d prefer, but...)
And I know there’s this talk going around that I’m afraid of Gillray. That I’m going through this not showering thing because I’m afraid that Gary will, in his terms “plunder my asshole” (obviously Gary’s never seen a fat person trying to wipe), and I’d prefer to keep my orifices slightly more on the pure side. Now, granted, the sweat stained bodycheese might be a bit on the insurance side, but afraid of Gilray? I think not. There’s only two things in life I’ve ever been afraid of, and that’s the prospect of Kansas missing the NCAA tournament, and Wendy watching Notre Dame lose.
I’m not afraid of Gary because I think Gary is all image, no substance. There is nothing that is going to stop me from pounding his stupid ugly face all over Philadelphia, and that includes him. He might have done it against Frigid Bitchcakes, but he ain’t doing it to me. The only ass-plundering’s he’s doing is in his own, when he kindly retrieves the New Balance sneaker I’ll have lodged up there.
Nah, on second thought, he can keep it. I probably won’t want it back.
Polla Out.
Hey kids!
Daniel Pollaski here, coming to you from the city of Brotherly Love! Now, I know that it’s been a while since you guys last saw the Pollaskinator in action, losing a tough fight to Crazy Millar and his kitchen sink, but I’m back, and ready to kick some ass!
Tonight, I’m up against GAry Gillray, a bonafide sick motherfucker. Now, I’m sure everyone saw what Gary tried doing to Erica Horton a couple weeks ago, and I gotta say, even I can’t condone that kinda shit. Even the Troll that Feeds Himself has his limits on the bounty of good taste. After all, its kinda tough to do a wrestling company when you’re fucking banned from every media outlet.
Besides, what Gary did was just so damned overdone anyways. Trust me, I’ve managed a female prude for the better part of the last decade. You honestly think Gary Gillray is the first person to try using sex as a method to get under a female rival’s skin? Granted, Gary’s doing it a bit on the creepy side so I suppose points for delivery. But still, not original, been there, done that. Blah.
And the blood licking thing? Yeah, it sure looked fucked up, and it didn’t help that Erica was lying unconscious in the middle of the ring while he did it. But gimme a break dude. Her fucking SISTER supposedly does that to sustain herself, and you’re gonna tell me this is scary. The only way that could be any worse if if creepy pervy Gary Gillray saliva feels worse than vampire lunatic Valerie Belmont saliva (okay, I know which one I’d prefer, but...)
And I know there’s this talk going around that I’m afraid of Gillray. That I’m going through this not showering thing because I’m afraid that Gary will, in his terms “plunder my asshole” (obviously Gary’s never seen a fat person trying to wipe), and I’d prefer to keep my orifices slightly more on the pure side. Now, granted, the sweat stained bodycheese might be a bit on the insurance side, but afraid of Gilray? I think not. There’s only two things in life I’ve ever been afraid of, and that’s the prospect of Kansas missing the NCAA tournament, and Wendy watching Notre Dame lose.
I’m not afraid of Gary because I think Gary is all image, no substance. There is nothing that is going to stop me from pounding his stupid ugly face all over Philadelphia, and that includes him. He might have done it against Frigid Bitchcakes, but he ain’t doing it to me. The only ass-plundering’s he’s doing is in his own, when he kindly retrieves the New Balance sneaker I’ll have lodged up there.
Nah, on second thought, he can keep it. I probably won’t want it back.
Polla Out.
EPISODE 141: Boston Flashback
Sunday November 11, 2001
Logan International Airport- Baggage Claim
Boston, Massachusetts
3:34 PM Local Time
“Ugh, he’s late,” Wendy Briese huffed as she looked at the Logan International Airport clock. She supposed she oughtn’t have been surprised, given the nature of her boyfriend, but considering that she had told him SIX times over the phone, not to mention three e-mails to his Prodigy account, that her flight was arriving at 3:15. They were supposed to meet here at the baggage claim. Yet, here it was, twenty minutes beyond, and she was standing alone.
It was hardly an auspicious omen for the way this new chapter in her life was starting out, and the twenty year old was already nervous enough about this move. Lord knows her parent’s had tried to talk her out of it, reminding her that with the Briese name, she could waltz into New York and get signed on some Broadway theater immediately. At least take Terrence’s departure as a sign that the two of them weren’t meant to be together. But she hadn’t wanted that. Not yet, at least. For now, she just wanted to study art at Boston University.
And be with her boyfriend, of course.
Terrence had left for Boston the first day air travel had resumed after the attacks, and Wendy had missed him dearly every day that they had been separated. Six months of him in a mental institution had been hard enough, but at least there she could have visited him as he recovered from the mental breakdown that had forced him out of auto racing. For him to announce within a fortnight of his release that he was leaving for Beantown had been heartbreaking. And for what? To become a professional wrestler?
Professional wrestling. Wendy snorted with derision as she thought about the pseudo-sport Terrence had taken up, because “it’s a great thing for adrenaline junkies like me”. It was a stupid, pointless, exercise in brutality that no one in their right mind would EVER want to do.
Maybe Terrence wasn’t quite healed yet. Maybe he needed another couple months of therapy if THIS was the best thing he could think of to do with his life.
Maybe she needed therapy herself, coming out here and joining him as he embarked on this stupid quest for self-fulfillment. Well, she wouldn’t be starting class until January. Until that time, she needed to find herself a job, and perhaps she could persuade Terry to find a more sensible profession as well.
Ultimately though, all she wanted to do was see Terrence, and hold him in her arms, and know that he was alright. Even if she was going to kill him for keeping her waiting like this.
And then she saw him, sprinting through the crowd, making his way towards the security gates to meet her. Predictable, Wendy sighed, as she pushed away from the column she was leaning against. To her consternation, she realized that Terrence wasn’t wearing the t-shirt and jeans that he normally wore, but a... racing firesuit?
Oh well, deal with that later.
“Terrence!” Wendy called, waving her hands. When he didn’t slow down, she yelled louder “TERRENCE!”
The second yell finally caught his attention, and he turned around, grinning as he saw her. He pushed through the bustling crowd, making his way towards her, and she fought down the impulse to sprint at him as well. But soon he was upon her, and she was leaping into his arms, the two laughing, hugging, and kissing.
“Oh, I’ve missed you,” Terrence said, as he squeezed her into him.
“I missed you too,” she replied, wincing slightly. There was no doubt about it- Terrence was definitely stronger than he was when he left Indianapolis in September.
Finally, they broke apart, and Wendy looked up at her love, wiping some moisture from her eyes. For a second, they were quiet, before Wendy gestured. “Why are you wearing a racesuit?”
Terrence shrugged, and grinned at her in a lopsided fashion. “It’s comfy. And, I don’t know. Wearing it reminds me of what I used to be. And what I want to be again,” he couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Still, Wendy wasn’t exactly convinced. “That... really can’t be healthy, Terrence,” she said,
Her boyfriend shrugged. “I’m fine, hon.” he said, then leaned over and picked up her bags. “Oh, I got a new apartment!”
Wendy looked surprised. “You got a new place? Already?!”
“Yeah,” Terrence replied, grinning. “Uncle Steve wired me some money to help me out. It’s a lot nicer than my first place, and it’s two bedroom.” He paused, and grinned at her. “Unless you WANT the one-bedroom.”
Wendy rolled her eyes, and slapped him on the arm. “Not until we’re married!”
Terrence winced, but remained grinning. “I know, I know. But still... worth a shot, right? But jeez Wendy, you have some power there. Maybe you should try this wrestling thing.”
Wendy narrowed her eyes, and glared at her boyfriend. “Never in a million years. I’m an actress, not a barbarian.”
Terrence chuckled, and squeezed her shoulder with his free hand. “Suit yourself, hon. Now, come on, I bet you’re starving from that flight. Let’s go get something to eat.”
Wendy nodded, and took one more nervous look around the baggage claim area, before following her boyfriend towards the exit to the terminal, to begin her new life.
=======================
Friday November 11, 2011
Logan International Airport- Baggage Claim
Boston, Massachusetts
2:12 PM Local Time
“Right here, Terrence!” Wendy Briese-Thompson exclaimed as she pointed excitedly at a column in the middle of the baggage claim area. “Right here!”
“Hunh?” Terrence stopped walking to turn around and look at his wife, hanging on to his daughter’s legs to help her keep her balance on her shoulders. “No, hon. That’s carousel 3. Our baggage is coming out on carousel six.”
“No, Terry!” Wendy exclaimed in exasperation. “This is where you and I met when I first arrived in Boston, ten years ago today!”
Terrence paused, and scratched his head. “Hunh? You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure” Wendy shook her head, and looked crossly at her husband. “You don’t remember?”
“Yeah, of course I do. We were supposed to meet at baggage claim, but you were at security, so I had trouble finding you.. And we ate at Subway afterwards.” Terrence set the suddenly restless Theresa down, “Ugh, you’re getting heavy, Terr.” He then looked up at his wife. “So... how’d I do?”
“Close.” Wendy said flatly. “Kind of like how you were *close* to beating Omnipotent in that stretcher match.”
Terrence winced at the cruel jab, and looked away, muttering something about being fatigued from triptophane. Theresa bounded over to Wendy, who knelt down to give her daughter a hug.
“You used to live in Boston?” the five-year old asked, looking up at her mother.
“We did,” Wendy said. “For a couple years, actually. Daddy got signed to a really small independent wrestling company out here, and moved out here to begin his wrestling career.”
“And you soon came out to join him?” Theresa asked. “To wrestle, too?” she pressed after Wendy nodded her head.
This time, Wendy shook her head, and smiled. “No. I came out just to be with Terrence, and take classes at Boston U. I honestly never imagined that I would become involved in it. I thought it was a stupid sport, a bunch of thick idiots beating each other with chairs and stuff. But it’s what Terry wanted to do, so I was determined to try and be supportive... at least until I could find a way to talk him out of it.”
“So why did you change your mind?” Theresa asked.
Wendy paused, biting her lip, and leaning back against the column. In all honesty, she had never been sure of the answer to that question herself, even after a decade. Still, she at least owed it to her daughter to try to find an explanation. “Most of the wrestlers in Terrence’s company were either power-brawlers or hardcore style. But there were a few technical wrestlers, and I remember becoming really enthralled watching them perform. It wasn’t like they were fighting... it was almost as if they were dancing with each other, the way they attacked and counter-attacked. And a couple of them were women, and they were actually able to beat guys twice their weight, so I actually started to find myself wondering if I could do that.”
Wendy looked up at Terrence, who grimaced. He knew what was coming next in the story, and it was hardly his favorite part.
“Well, right after Thanksgiving, your dad got beat in a stretcher match by a big, mean man named Omnipotent. Omnipotent had his buddies ambush Terrence during the match, and they really took liberties with him, so he was hospitalized with injuries. I actually was considering using that to talk Terry out of ever wrestling again... but the more and more I thought about it, the angrier I got that this man did these things to Terrence. So when the owner of the company came to me about finding Terrence’s replacement for his next match... I chose myself.”
There was a fairly decent pause, as Theresa let the information sink in. She looked over at her mother. “But.. you didn’t know how to wrestle.”
Wendy smiled, but couldn’t help but sigh. “No, I didn’t. I don’t know what came over me, but I certainly didn’t think things through. It was a six-person tag team match, and my partners would have been the tag team champions. I figured they’d help me through it, and I’d teach Omnipotent and his overweight bullies a lesson. The only problem is, they jumped my partners backstage, and took them out, and I... kind of had to face them alone.”
Theresa gasped, and turned white. “How did you do?”
Wendy smiled, and shook her head. “Well, technically, the match was cancelled. But I lost. Very, very badly. And Terrence didn’t even know about it until I came in to see him the next morning all battered up. He wasn’t happy.”
“Of course I wasn’t happy.” Terrence interjected. “You had no training, no idea what the hell you were doing. You were a sitting duck.”
“Oh, that you remember,” Wendy smiled, looking up at Terrence. “Terrence didn’t want me wrestling. But I told him that I really didn’t want HIM wrestling either. And both of us refused to acquiesce. So, we figured that if we were going to do this, we might as well do it together. So we formed a tag team.”
“The WhirlyBirdz!”
“Yup,” Wendy said, laughing. “And it was rough at first, learning as we went. We lost... a LOT. But we worked really hard at it, and we got better, and better. There’s always room to get better. Even now.”
“And Pollaski helped too, right?” Theresa asked.
Wendy’s smile became more strained, considering she wasn’t exactly on the best of terms with her manager at the moment, due to his sudden strategy of not showering. “Yes. Pollaski did help too. Sometimes. A little.”
Terrence laughed. “Don’t let the attitude and appearance and... smell fool you, Terr-Bear. Daniel Pollaski is a hell of a researcher, and match strategist.”
“And it’s a good seven hours before his plane lands, and our nostrils are offended again,” Wendy remarked, standing up. “So come on, Theresa. Let’s get our bags, and we’ll show you around Boston. This is a beautiful city, and it’s rich in history.”
“But first, let’s go remember what our first meal together in Boston was like, and hit up Subway,” Terrence said, rubbing his stomach. “I’m hungry.”
Wendy rolled her eyes, and shot an exasperated look at her husband. “Is all you can think about food?”
“When I’m hungry, yes.” Terrence responded, turning to walk away. “Come on, Theresa. Let’s go get our bags.” He tousled his daughter’s hair as she ran and caught up with him,
Wendy leaned back against the column, and watched her husband and daughter retreat into the crowd, a smile on her face. It felt odd, that ten years ago she stood in the exact same spot, making a decision that ultimately would change her life for the better. Had she not come to Boston then, what would have happened? She certainly wouldn’t have been in wrestling, would she still be with Terrence? Would her parents still be together, would her mother even be alive? What would have happened?
She didn’t know... but she doubted that it could possibly be any better than what did.
Saturday November 12, 2011
Embassy Suites- Room 421
Boston Massachusetts
1:31 PM Local Time
Fade in with... Khan? From Star Trek II? Yup. Khan, AKA Ricardo Montelbon, isn’t looking so hot here, leaning up against a chair, breathing fairly labored. Finally, he begins to speak.
Khan: I've done far worse than kill you. I've hurt you. And I wish to go on hurting you. I shall leave you as you left me, as you left her; marooned for all eternity in the center of a dead planet... buried alive! Buried alive...!
Cut to a still frame of Arabella, taken from a promo, her mouth open in rage, while her closing line from the last promo is played over the still.
Arabella: CUUUUUUUNTS!
And so we cut to a hotel room, where Wendy Briese is standing in front of a television, having just watched the exact same scene we just did. Her mouth is open, in that now-trademark WTF look we’ve come to love from her. A few feet away (although not nearly as far as Wendy would want, given by her nose-wrinkling), stands Pollaski, who’s grinning at the television like a proud parent. Finally, Wendy looks up, and over at her manager.
Wendy: “...Really?”
Pollaski shrugs, and grins.
Pollaski: “I thought it was funny. And 315 likes on YouTube already!!”
He probably isn’t going to mention the 21 dislikes.
Wendy: “Well... I suppose it IS a prevailing aspect of her vocabulary... such as it is. But it can’t be easy going through life that insane...
Pollaski nods.
Pollaski: “Although the person here I feel really sorry for is Colleen. She’s got a busted shoulder, and she still has to carry this team through our match. I mean, Arabella’s descent, but she’s already proven herself inferior to Desirae... and like you said, she’s batshit insane. Chances are she’ll be disembowling a popcorn vendor five minutes into the match because he yelled too loud. And Jo... well, is Jo.”
Wendy: “As contradictory and senseless as usual? Like how Desirae Kain couldn’t do anything right in Future Shock en route to her victory... coming from someone who didn’t even make it past the first cut?”
Pollaski nods.
Pollaski: “Yeah, no one really knows what Jo is, other than the possibility that she’s a space alien sent to Earth to destroy all semblance of rational thought. So, yeah. Poor Colleen. Poor, poor Colleen.
Wendy smiles, although she’s hardly sympathetic here.
Wendy: “It’s just the latest problem the A-List seems to be having, problems that are only going to compound for them. And that’s why we’re here this afternoon, just before we head to the arena for Breaking Point. Because I have an important message to give to our opponents tonight.”
A big smile, and Wendy’s not quite able to keep the gloating from her voice.
Wendy: “You guys blew it.”
Small chuckle.
Wendy: “You had your chances to teach us a lesson, and to prove your dominance here. You had your chance to destroy Isabella... you failed. You had your chance to destroy me in that battle royal, and not only did you fail, I managed to rise above you and win it. And in that lumberjack, you had SIX people out there against me. And despite your microphones, and Kendo sticks, and advantage in numbers, you still couldn’t get it done. I’m still standing, and I’m still standing against you. And now...”
Wendy quickly claps her hands together.
Wendy: “...that window of opportunity has slammed shut on you. I’ve weathered your storm, and I’ve taken the best you’ve had to throw at me. And now... I start fighting back.”
Small smirk.
Wendy: “Even better, I won’t be by myself this time. I didn’t choose Pink, Inc. as my partners, I’d never talked to either Desirae or Arianna until two weeks ago, but I’m certainly glad that someone upstairs saw fit to put me in a match with them. Because after the last Breaking Point, and our time in Seattle, I’m confident that I’ve got two of the best partners someone could ask for. And you know what the hillarious thing is?”
Hillarious, although Wendy’s hardly laughing.
Wendy: This all came about because of you guys. You came out, and attacked Pink, Inc at a moment of vulnerability. Had that not happened, I never would have come out to join them. I wouldn’t have found a couple of allies. So I suppose I should thank you guys.
Slight pause.
Wendy: “But it’s just another example of you guys not getting it. You strut around, acting like royalty with only numbers to back it up, and you think that’s enough. It’s not, and if you haven’t figured that out by now, the lot of you are in trouble. I don’t need to ask people to help me, the fact is that every attack you make, every person you blindside, makes another woman in FFW realize just how much you need to be stopped.
Wendy’s expression darkens slightly, and she glares at the camera.
Wendy: “I was likened to the leaders of the 1916 Revolution in Ireland. An interesting idea, but a flawed one. You see, I’m not rallying anyone. There’s no banner I’m waving. I don’t have to. Your own hubris and intent to subjugate those not in your little clique are doing that enough. The women of FFW aren’t rolling over and letting you run the place, and it’s almost laughable to even assume they would. I just happened to be one of the first to get sick of it.”
Wendy pauses, and sniffs the air, coming to the realization that she’s standing too close to Pollaski (even though the distance is about six feet) She takes a few steps to her left, increasing the distance.
Wendy: “But I know this isn’t a futile gesture, we can win. Because whatever image people want to paint of me as some naive white knight crusader, I’m far more self-aware than most people think. I know what I believe, and I’m steadfast in it. But I also know that very few people see the world the way I do, for right or wrong. And I discovered long ago that I’d be very lonely if I only befriended people who agreed with me on every single little thing.
Shrug
Wendy: “Such as Arianna. Do I agree with what she’s done in SVW? For the most part, I don’t, and I’m sure she’s aware of that. But you talk to Arianna, and you know that she’s a decent person. And this isn’t about SVW... she’s here in FFW, and she’s here to WRESTLE. She’s here to move beyond the limiting constraints of the T&A division, and going by her first two matches, she’s doing that rather darn well. I don’t care who you are, you have to respect that.”
Pollaski doesn’t quite look convinced by this, although even he’s admitted Arianna’s had a heck of a breakout performance.
Wendy: “I can agree to disagree with someone, and remain civil. Lord knows I do it enough, with my colleagues, with my manager, heck, even with my husband. So I find it pretty ironic that, for all the garbage they spew at me, those on the A-List are FAR more closed-minded than I could ever possibly be.”
Wendy nods, and promotes her newly revealed open-mindedness by taking another step away from her manager (although you can’t blame her here!)
Wendy: “Disagree with me, and you might get a stern look and an argument. Disagree with Colleen, and you get a barrage of four letter words and a microphone to your skull. Disagree with Arabella, and you get a shrieking barrage of four-letter words and an eviscration attempt. Disagree with Jo, and you get a petulant tantrum and... um...”
Wendy apparently can’t think of a second thing, so Pollaski helpfully chimes in.
Pollaski: “More nonsensical bullshit? Like, how women like you are the reason she wants to bury you... whatever that means?”
Wendy can’t help but smile at that.
Wendy: “I suppose it’s good that I’m like... people who are like me. Otherwise, we could have a paradox on our hands.”
Small grin.
Wendy: “But back to the subject at hand. I think I’m a fairly tolerant person. I can tolerate things I disagree with, and I can tolerate it when other’s disagree with me. About the only things I can’t tolerate, when it comes to wrestling, are blindside attacks, and blatant attempts to injure someone. In short...
Wendy shrugs.
Wendy: “About the only thing I can’t tolerate right now... is the A-List.”
Wendy turns away, and the scene fades.
Logan International Airport- Baggage Claim
Boston, Massachusetts
3:34 PM Local Time
“Ugh, he’s late,” Wendy Briese huffed as she looked at the Logan International Airport clock. She supposed she oughtn’t have been surprised, given the nature of her boyfriend, but considering that she had told him SIX times over the phone, not to mention three e-mails to his Prodigy account, that her flight was arriving at 3:15. They were supposed to meet here at the baggage claim. Yet, here it was, twenty minutes beyond, and she was standing alone.
It was hardly an auspicious omen for the way this new chapter in her life was starting out, and the twenty year old was already nervous enough about this move. Lord knows her parent’s had tried to talk her out of it, reminding her that with the Briese name, she could waltz into New York and get signed on some Broadway theater immediately. At least take Terrence’s departure as a sign that the two of them weren’t meant to be together. But she hadn’t wanted that. Not yet, at least. For now, she just wanted to study art at Boston University.
And be with her boyfriend, of course.
Terrence had left for Boston the first day air travel had resumed after the attacks, and Wendy had missed him dearly every day that they had been separated. Six months of him in a mental institution had been hard enough, but at least there she could have visited him as he recovered from the mental breakdown that had forced him out of auto racing. For him to announce within a fortnight of his release that he was leaving for Beantown had been heartbreaking. And for what? To become a professional wrestler?
Professional wrestling. Wendy snorted with derision as she thought about the pseudo-sport Terrence had taken up, because “it’s a great thing for adrenaline junkies like me”. It was a stupid, pointless, exercise in brutality that no one in their right mind would EVER want to do.
Maybe Terrence wasn’t quite healed yet. Maybe he needed another couple months of therapy if THIS was the best thing he could think of to do with his life.
Maybe she needed therapy herself, coming out here and joining him as he embarked on this stupid quest for self-fulfillment. Well, she wouldn’t be starting class until January. Until that time, she needed to find herself a job, and perhaps she could persuade Terry to find a more sensible profession as well.
Ultimately though, all she wanted to do was see Terrence, and hold him in her arms, and know that he was alright. Even if she was going to kill him for keeping her waiting like this.
And then she saw him, sprinting through the crowd, making his way towards the security gates to meet her. Predictable, Wendy sighed, as she pushed away from the column she was leaning against. To her consternation, she realized that Terrence wasn’t wearing the t-shirt and jeans that he normally wore, but a... racing firesuit?
Oh well, deal with that later.
“Terrence!” Wendy called, waving her hands. When he didn’t slow down, she yelled louder “TERRENCE!”
The second yell finally caught his attention, and he turned around, grinning as he saw her. He pushed through the bustling crowd, making his way towards her, and she fought down the impulse to sprint at him as well. But soon he was upon her, and she was leaping into his arms, the two laughing, hugging, and kissing.
“Oh, I’ve missed you,” Terrence said, as he squeezed her into him.
“I missed you too,” she replied, wincing slightly. There was no doubt about it- Terrence was definitely stronger than he was when he left Indianapolis in September.
Finally, they broke apart, and Wendy looked up at her love, wiping some moisture from her eyes. For a second, they were quiet, before Wendy gestured. “Why are you wearing a racesuit?”
Terrence shrugged, and grinned at her in a lopsided fashion. “It’s comfy. And, I don’t know. Wearing it reminds me of what I used to be. And what I want to be again,” he couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.
Still, Wendy wasn’t exactly convinced. “That... really can’t be healthy, Terrence,” she said,
Her boyfriend shrugged. “I’m fine, hon.” he said, then leaned over and picked up her bags. “Oh, I got a new apartment!”
Wendy looked surprised. “You got a new place? Already?!”
“Yeah,” Terrence replied, grinning. “Uncle Steve wired me some money to help me out. It’s a lot nicer than my first place, and it’s two bedroom.” He paused, and grinned at her. “Unless you WANT the one-bedroom.”
Wendy rolled her eyes, and slapped him on the arm. “Not until we’re married!”
Terrence winced, but remained grinning. “I know, I know. But still... worth a shot, right? But jeez Wendy, you have some power there. Maybe you should try this wrestling thing.”
Wendy narrowed her eyes, and glared at her boyfriend. “Never in a million years. I’m an actress, not a barbarian.”
Terrence chuckled, and squeezed her shoulder with his free hand. “Suit yourself, hon. Now, come on, I bet you’re starving from that flight. Let’s go get something to eat.”
Wendy nodded, and took one more nervous look around the baggage claim area, before following her boyfriend towards the exit to the terminal, to begin her new life.
=======================
Friday November 11, 2011
Logan International Airport- Baggage Claim
Boston, Massachusetts
2:12 PM Local Time
“Right here, Terrence!” Wendy Briese-Thompson exclaimed as she pointed excitedly at a column in the middle of the baggage claim area. “Right here!”
“Hunh?” Terrence stopped walking to turn around and look at his wife, hanging on to his daughter’s legs to help her keep her balance on her shoulders. “No, hon. That’s carousel 3. Our baggage is coming out on carousel six.”
“No, Terry!” Wendy exclaimed in exasperation. “This is where you and I met when I first arrived in Boston, ten years ago today!”
Terrence paused, and scratched his head. “Hunh? You sure?”
“Yes, I’m sure” Wendy shook her head, and looked crossly at her husband. “You don’t remember?”
“Yeah, of course I do. We were supposed to meet at baggage claim, but you were at security, so I had trouble finding you.. And we ate at Subway afterwards.” Terrence set the suddenly restless Theresa down, “Ugh, you’re getting heavy, Terr.” He then looked up at his wife. “So... how’d I do?”
“Close.” Wendy said flatly. “Kind of like how you were *close* to beating Omnipotent in that stretcher match.”
Terrence winced at the cruel jab, and looked away, muttering something about being fatigued from triptophane. Theresa bounded over to Wendy, who knelt down to give her daughter a hug.
“You used to live in Boston?” the five-year old asked, looking up at her mother.
“We did,” Wendy said. “For a couple years, actually. Daddy got signed to a really small independent wrestling company out here, and moved out here to begin his wrestling career.”
“And you soon came out to join him?” Theresa asked. “To wrestle, too?” she pressed after Wendy nodded her head.
This time, Wendy shook her head, and smiled. “No. I came out just to be with Terrence, and take classes at Boston U. I honestly never imagined that I would become involved in it. I thought it was a stupid sport, a bunch of thick idiots beating each other with chairs and stuff. But it’s what Terry wanted to do, so I was determined to try and be supportive... at least until I could find a way to talk him out of it.”
“So why did you change your mind?” Theresa asked.
Wendy paused, biting her lip, and leaning back against the column. In all honesty, she had never been sure of the answer to that question herself, even after a decade. Still, she at least owed it to her daughter to try to find an explanation. “Most of the wrestlers in Terrence’s company were either power-brawlers or hardcore style. But there were a few technical wrestlers, and I remember becoming really enthralled watching them perform. It wasn’t like they were fighting... it was almost as if they were dancing with each other, the way they attacked and counter-attacked. And a couple of them were women, and they were actually able to beat guys twice their weight, so I actually started to find myself wondering if I could do that.”
Wendy looked up at Terrence, who grimaced. He knew what was coming next in the story, and it was hardly his favorite part.
“Well, right after Thanksgiving, your dad got beat in a stretcher match by a big, mean man named Omnipotent. Omnipotent had his buddies ambush Terrence during the match, and they really took liberties with him, so he was hospitalized with injuries. I actually was considering using that to talk Terry out of ever wrestling again... but the more and more I thought about it, the angrier I got that this man did these things to Terrence. So when the owner of the company came to me about finding Terrence’s replacement for his next match... I chose myself.”
There was a fairly decent pause, as Theresa let the information sink in. She looked over at her mother. “But.. you didn’t know how to wrestle.”
Wendy smiled, but couldn’t help but sigh. “No, I didn’t. I don’t know what came over me, but I certainly didn’t think things through. It was a six-person tag team match, and my partners would have been the tag team champions. I figured they’d help me through it, and I’d teach Omnipotent and his overweight bullies a lesson. The only problem is, they jumped my partners backstage, and took them out, and I... kind of had to face them alone.”
Theresa gasped, and turned white. “How did you do?”
Wendy smiled, and shook her head. “Well, technically, the match was cancelled. But I lost. Very, very badly. And Terrence didn’t even know about it until I came in to see him the next morning all battered up. He wasn’t happy.”
“Of course I wasn’t happy.” Terrence interjected. “You had no training, no idea what the hell you were doing. You were a sitting duck.”
“Oh, that you remember,” Wendy smiled, looking up at Terrence. “Terrence didn’t want me wrestling. But I told him that I really didn’t want HIM wrestling either. And both of us refused to acquiesce. So, we figured that if we were going to do this, we might as well do it together. So we formed a tag team.”
“The WhirlyBirdz!”
“Yup,” Wendy said, laughing. “And it was rough at first, learning as we went. We lost... a LOT. But we worked really hard at it, and we got better, and better. There’s always room to get better. Even now.”
“And Pollaski helped too, right?” Theresa asked.
Wendy’s smile became more strained, considering she wasn’t exactly on the best of terms with her manager at the moment, due to his sudden strategy of not showering. “Yes. Pollaski did help too. Sometimes. A little.”
Terrence laughed. “Don’t let the attitude and appearance and... smell fool you, Terr-Bear. Daniel Pollaski is a hell of a researcher, and match strategist.”
“And it’s a good seven hours before his plane lands, and our nostrils are offended again,” Wendy remarked, standing up. “So come on, Theresa. Let’s get our bags, and we’ll show you around Boston. This is a beautiful city, and it’s rich in history.”
“But first, let’s go remember what our first meal together in Boston was like, and hit up Subway,” Terrence said, rubbing his stomach. “I’m hungry.”
Wendy rolled her eyes, and shot an exasperated look at her husband. “Is all you can think about food?”
“When I’m hungry, yes.” Terrence responded, turning to walk away. “Come on, Theresa. Let’s go get our bags.” He tousled his daughter’s hair as she ran and caught up with him,
Wendy leaned back against the column, and watched her husband and daughter retreat into the crowd, a smile on her face. It felt odd, that ten years ago she stood in the exact same spot, making a decision that ultimately would change her life for the better. Had she not come to Boston then, what would have happened? She certainly wouldn’t have been in wrestling, would she still be with Terrence? Would her parents still be together, would her mother even be alive? What would have happened?
She didn’t know... but she doubted that it could possibly be any better than what did.
Saturday November 12, 2011
Embassy Suites- Room 421
Boston Massachusetts
1:31 PM Local Time
Fade in with... Khan? From Star Trek II? Yup. Khan, AKA Ricardo Montelbon, isn’t looking so hot here, leaning up against a chair, breathing fairly labored. Finally, he begins to speak.
Khan: I've done far worse than kill you. I've hurt you. And I wish to go on hurting you. I shall leave you as you left me, as you left her; marooned for all eternity in the center of a dead planet... buried alive! Buried alive...!
Cut to a still frame of Arabella, taken from a promo, her mouth open in rage, while her closing line from the last promo is played over the still.
Arabella: CUUUUUUUNTS!
And so we cut to a hotel room, where Wendy Briese is standing in front of a television, having just watched the exact same scene we just did. Her mouth is open, in that now-trademark WTF look we’ve come to love from her. A few feet away (although not nearly as far as Wendy would want, given by her nose-wrinkling), stands Pollaski, who’s grinning at the television like a proud parent. Finally, Wendy looks up, and over at her manager.
Wendy: “...Really?”
Pollaski shrugs, and grins.
Pollaski: “I thought it was funny. And 315 likes on YouTube already!!”
He probably isn’t going to mention the 21 dislikes.
Wendy: “Well... I suppose it IS a prevailing aspect of her vocabulary... such as it is. But it can’t be easy going through life that insane...
Pollaski nods.
Pollaski: “Although the person here I feel really sorry for is Colleen. She’s got a busted shoulder, and she still has to carry this team through our match. I mean, Arabella’s descent, but she’s already proven herself inferior to Desirae... and like you said, she’s batshit insane. Chances are she’ll be disembowling a popcorn vendor five minutes into the match because he yelled too loud. And Jo... well, is Jo.”
Wendy: “As contradictory and senseless as usual? Like how Desirae Kain couldn’t do anything right in Future Shock en route to her victory... coming from someone who didn’t even make it past the first cut?”
Pollaski nods.
Pollaski: “Yeah, no one really knows what Jo is, other than the possibility that she’s a space alien sent to Earth to destroy all semblance of rational thought. So, yeah. Poor Colleen. Poor, poor Colleen.
Wendy smiles, although she’s hardly sympathetic here.
Wendy: “It’s just the latest problem the A-List seems to be having, problems that are only going to compound for them. And that’s why we’re here this afternoon, just before we head to the arena for Breaking Point. Because I have an important message to give to our opponents tonight.”
A big smile, and Wendy’s not quite able to keep the gloating from her voice.
Wendy: “You guys blew it.”
Small chuckle.
Wendy: “You had your chances to teach us a lesson, and to prove your dominance here. You had your chance to destroy Isabella... you failed. You had your chance to destroy me in that battle royal, and not only did you fail, I managed to rise above you and win it. And in that lumberjack, you had SIX people out there against me. And despite your microphones, and Kendo sticks, and advantage in numbers, you still couldn’t get it done. I’m still standing, and I’m still standing against you. And now...”
Wendy quickly claps her hands together.
Wendy: “...that window of opportunity has slammed shut on you. I’ve weathered your storm, and I’ve taken the best you’ve had to throw at me. And now... I start fighting back.”
Small smirk.
Wendy: “Even better, I won’t be by myself this time. I didn’t choose Pink, Inc. as my partners, I’d never talked to either Desirae or Arianna until two weeks ago, but I’m certainly glad that someone upstairs saw fit to put me in a match with them. Because after the last Breaking Point, and our time in Seattle, I’m confident that I’ve got two of the best partners someone could ask for. And you know what the hillarious thing is?”
Hillarious, although Wendy’s hardly laughing.
Wendy: This all came about because of you guys. You came out, and attacked Pink, Inc at a moment of vulnerability. Had that not happened, I never would have come out to join them. I wouldn’t have found a couple of allies. So I suppose I should thank you guys.
Slight pause.
Wendy: “But it’s just another example of you guys not getting it. You strut around, acting like royalty with only numbers to back it up, and you think that’s enough. It’s not, and if you haven’t figured that out by now, the lot of you are in trouble. I don’t need to ask people to help me, the fact is that every attack you make, every person you blindside, makes another woman in FFW realize just how much you need to be stopped.
Wendy’s expression darkens slightly, and she glares at the camera.
Wendy: “I was likened to the leaders of the 1916 Revolution in Ireland. An interesting idea, but a flawed one. You see, I’m not rallying anyone. There’s no banner I’m waving. I don’t have to. Your own hubris and intent to subjugate those not in your little clique are doing that enough. The women of FFW aren’t rolling over and letting you run the place, and it’s almost laughable to even assume they would. I just happened to be one of the first to get sick of it.”
Wendy pauses, and sniffs the air, coming to the realization that she’s standing too close to Pollaski (even though the distance is about six feet) She takes a few steps to her left, increasing the distance.
Wendy: “But I know this isn’t a futile gesture, we can win. Because whatever image people want to paint of me as some naive white knight crusader, I’m far more self-aware than most people think. I know what I believe, and I’m steadfast in it. But I also know that very few people see the world the way I do, for right or wrong. And I discovered long ago that I’d be very lonely if I only befriended people who agreed with me on every single little thing.
Shrug
Wendy: “Such as Arianna. Do I agree with what she’s done in SVW? For the most part, I don’t, and I’m sure she’s aware of that. But you talk to Arianna, and you know that she’s a decent person. And this isn’t about SVW... she’s here in FFW, and she’s here to WRESTLE. She’s here to move beyond the limiting constraints of the T&A division, and going by her first two matches, she’s doing that rather darn well. I don’t care who you are, you have to respect that.”
Pollaski doesn’t quite look convinced by this, although even he’s admitted Arianna’s had a heck of a breakout performance.
Wendy: “I can agree to disagree with someone, and remain civil. Lord knows I do it enough, with my colleagues, with my manager, heck, even with my husband. So I find it pretty ironic that, for all the garbage they spew at me, those on the A-List are FAR more closed-minded than I could ever possibly be.”
Wendy nods, and promotes her newly revealed open-mindedness by taking another step away from her manager (although you can’t blame her here!)
Wendy: “Disagree with me, and you might get a stern look and an argument. Disagree with Colleen, and you get a barrage of four letter words and a microphone to your skull. Disagree with Arabella, and you get a shrieking barrage of four-letter words and an eviscration attempt. Disagree with Jo, and you get a petulant tantrum and... um...”
Wendy apparently can’t think of a second thing, so Pollaski helpfully chimes in.
Pollaski: “More nonsensical bullshit? Like, how women like you are the reason she wants to bury you... whatever that means?”
Wendy can’t help but smile at that.
Wendy: “I suppose it’s good that I’m like... people who are like me. Otherwise, we could have a paradox on our hands.”
Small grin.
Wendy: “But back to the subject at hand. I think I’m a fairly tolerant person. I can tolerate things I disagree with, and I can tolerate it when other’s disagree with me. About the only things I can’t tolerate, when it comes to wrestling, are blindside attacks, and blatant attempts to injure someone. In short...
Wendy shrugs.
Wendy: “About the only thing I can’t tolerate right now... is the A-List.”
Wendy turns away, and the scene fades.
EPISODE 140: Flying Fish
Friday November 3
Pike Place Market- Fish Area
Seattle, Washington
3:11 PM Local Time
It’s not often that a wrestling promo fades in on two grown men playing catch with a twenty-five pound salmon, that that indeed does appear to be the case here today. We’re in the world famous Pike Place Market, a large shopping center just north of downtown Seattle. The most famous attraction of the center, the Fish Market, is abuzz with tourist activity, eager to watch the famous “flying fish of Seattle” as the salesmen on the floor lob their purchases back to the wrappers in the back to be prepared and packaged. The camera watches as another salmon goes arcing through the air, over the counter, into the hands of a worker, before rotating almost a hundred eighty degrees.
There, it catches three lovely young women walking in- the newly crowned Unity Tag Team Champions Arianna Millar and Desirae Kain, as well as their friend and upcoming third-woman partner, Wendy Briese. All three women are watching the spectacle with a sense of wonder.
Pollaski [from obviously behind the camera]: So... a South Carolinian, a Hoosier, and a Frog all walk into a bar...
Pollaski trails off as all three women simultaneously give him dirty looks.
Pollaski: What? There’s gotta be a joke in there somewhere...
Desirae: Wendy.............
Desirae turns her attention slowly toward the woman that would be her and Arianna’s partner at the upcoming edition of Breaking Point.
Desirae: Why did you bring him along?
Wendy wilts just a bit under Desirae’s glare, stepping back, and grinning sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders.
Wendy: Well, we needed a cameraman. And I’ve got to do something to justify what I’m paying him...
Arianna: You pay him? Really? I’d have thought living with you guys was payment enough. Maybe he should take a paycut... or a shower. Preferably the latter.
Arianna wrinkles her nose, as Pollaski is apparently still a little stinky.
Pollaski: Hey! Would you rather I go the same way as stupid Erica Horton on the next Aggression? I don’t think so. Besides, it’s only a week and a half til the show. It’ll fly by!
Wendy rolls her eyes, and looks over at Arianna and Desirae
Wendy: I just feel sorry for whoever has to sit with him on the plane. Because I KNOW for a fact it’s not going to be me...
Desirae shakes her head.
Desirae: It won’t be me.......good grief, I can’t even imagine being on a plane, in a small, cramped area with him while he’s like that. It’s not right. I think it’s inhumane, really.
Arianna: I agree. And that’s when he HAS showered...
Pollaski snorts, and begins to rebut scathingly, but Wendy cuts him off by clearing her throat, and looking over at her partners.
Wendy: Just ignore him. This isn’t about him, he’s just here to film it. This is about us, and the fact that on the next Breaking Point, I’ve been given the tremendous honor of teaming with the brand new Unity Tag Champs... only because of Kat Stryfe’s leg injury, of course.
Wendy finishes this with a teasing wink at her companions.
Desirae: Of course, something had to take the blame...........right?
She nudges Arianna with a wide grin on her face.
Arianna: Of course! But anyway, shall we get on point?
Pollaski: I have a point... if anyone wants to-
Wendy: ANYWAYS... I’m looking forward to this contest.. not just because it’s another chance to prove to the A-List that they’re not any better than the rest of us, but that I don’t have to stand alone this time,either. I have two highly capable, and trustworthy allies standing next to me going into this match.
Desirae nods.
Desirae: Yeah, you helped Ari and I out at the last Breaking Point when Arabella and Colleen decided to blind side us after our match with the Flame and I think it’s only fitting that Ari and I kind of return the favor and help the odds get even around here for once. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m tired of seeing people being thrown into two on on, three on one, four on one situations. It’s not right, it’s not fair and it’s going to come to an end at Breaking Point. All of this numbers game stuff is out the window and there’ll be no sneak attacks either. It’s just going to be them and us, nose to nose and face to face and really.....is there any doubt that they’re going to get their keisters handed to them? There IS a reason that the A-List usually don’t fight fair, after all........
Arianna: Yeah, I mean, it’s not as though our opponents are exactly flying high at the moment. Arabella’s still sore about you kicking her butt, and is apparently insane because I hugged her boyfriend... which is about six shades of crazy right there. Then you have Jo, who can’t beat anyone that isn’t a complete no-talent loser, and Colleen, who is definitely the strongest member of the team, but has what we call “big match choking syndrome”.
Wendy grimaces just a bit- given that Colleen’s beaten her before, and she’d like to think it was a big match... at least for her.
Wendy: It’s not even that this about their talent, or in-ring performance. All three women.. even Jo... have shown flashes of brilliance inside that ring. That’s not the issue... the issue is that they may be talented, but they are NOT the best, and the fact that they’ve banded into this clique doesn’t change a thing. You get them into that ring, away from the numbers advantage, and every single one of them is extremely beatable. We’ve seen it time and again, and we’ll see it even more on Saturday night.
Desirae smirks as she looks at both of her partners for Saturday night.
Desirae: Yeppers peppers! Each and every member of the A-List seems to be losing steam at an alarming rate from Rose Jenkins to Colleen. I don’t know about either of you, but I’ll be more than happy to keep their downward spiral going at Breaking Point! Especially after some of the things that Arabella and Colleen have said about me over the last few months. Both of them are rather mean and pretty cocky on top of that. But there’s nothing I love more than knocking high and mighty people down a few notches. Heck, I’ve done it with Arabella before! Remember how I won Future Shock? I beat Arabella by outsmarting her in a bullrope match. Yeah, throwing Colleen by her side certainly seems to have brought out an even more aggressive side to her but I’m sure I can deal with it. I’m definitely looking forward to this match, I know that much.
Arianna: Aggressive side... pah. When people talk about Arabella, that’s all they talk about. Aggression. Sure, she can win matches... at least, ones where she can hit opponents with weapons. But when have you ever seen her outwrestle someone convincingly? I mean, Mindy Smith had her on the ropes for a time, and she couldn’t win a match to save her life, bless her. The truth is, Arabella is too aggressive, and simply not smart enough to get ahead in this business. Not to mention completely mental!
Wendy nods, giving a small smile
Wendy: Honestly, I don’t think you can succeed in this business without being at least a little bit nuts. But you definitely can’t accuse the A-List of thinking things through, that’s for sure. I don’t think they realize just how counter-productive these little sneak attacks are. They’re not hurting anyone, they’re not sending any messages. All they’re doing is getting people fed up with them, and banding together to stop them. You two. Me. Isabella. And how many more will be added to that list the less people like Arabella use their brains, and more use their fists?
With a snicker, Desirae nods in agreement.
Desirae: They’re not making many friends and making a whole lot of enemies, that’s for sure. And I don’t know how anyone in their right mind could think that doing such a thing could end up working to their advantage or in their favor. Pretty much, the only thing that they have going for them is that they’re all in the boss’ pocket and each one of them seems to be the definition of the term “yes woman”. Which in itself is a shame. I mean, I don’t like Colleen at all no matter how good anyone says she is but it’s sad to see someone like Jo McFarlane in that kind of a role. I actually liked her when I first saw her and thought that she was a nice girl with a lot of potential, most of which is being wasted now that she’s running around with a kendo stick and swinging away at anything and everything.
Arianna: What kind of sick individual do you have to be to do that, anyway? Last I checked, we were WRESTLERS. What have kendo sticks got to do with wrestling? By using one, you’re only trying to injure people, and that’s simply unacceptable. You remember when Triple-X Rex took that nasty shot from Alexander Stryfe a few months ago? It hit him nastily, and he still hasn’t recovered. It’s a dangerous weapon. See, for me, Jo isn’t a wrestler... as proved by the fact that she can’t beat anyone... she’s just a nasty little bully, who needs to sit on the naughty step.
Wendy sighs, then nods, a mixture of sadness and anger on her features.
Wendy: I used to like and respect Jo too, before she... changed. But you know what? She’s chosen her path, and by the time Breaking Point is over, she’s going to realize just how bleak that path she’s about to walk is. Come Violent Night, Arabella gets to kick back and enjoy the night off, and Colleen gets to tangle with Shane Sanders. But Jo... she HAS to face me, and the next time, she won’t have Arabella and Colleen to hide behind. And then she’s going face the consequences for her actions... and it won’t be a time-out on the naughty step. Mainly because she’s not going to be able to sit...
Wendy smirks, and looks over at the girls of Pink, Inc.
Desirae: Poor Jo, I don’t envy her one bit. She deserves what you give her, Wendy. Heck, every single one of those A-Listers deserve to get their backsides kicked around like that and I have no doubt that on Saturday night, the three of them that we step into the ring with will us will get the beatings that the FFW faithful wants to see them get. I don’t know about the two of you, but it don’t matter to me if it’s Jo, Arabella or Colleen in that ring. I just want to get at them.
She shrugs a shoulder.
Desirae: Though I do suppose that I kind of look forward to locking up with Colleen the most. I mean, she is the most successful of that entire group and as I’m sure the two of you have heard, has proclaimed herself “the franchise”. She’s good, I admit that but she’s not good enough to carry Jo and Arabella, especially not against the three of us, right?
Arianna: Absoluuuuutely right! Colleen has a pretty crappy record in these kinds of matches. You remember the last time you faced her in this kind of match, Wendy?
Wendy pauses, before bursting out in a chuckle.
Wendy: I had almost forgotten about that six-woman tag match back in June. Odd, because it was a huge win for me, Kassi, and Crystal. But I also remember that’s really where the animosity between Colleen and I started. I pointed out in a promo that she, Robbyn, and Undine might not be entirely on the same page due to their rivalry, and she got paranoid and thought I was trying to manufacture a schism... that was already there.
Wendy snorts, and shakes her head.
Wendy: Well, I turned out to be wrong, because the ability to function as a team played little factor in that match on either side. And yet, we still won. And ability to funciton as a team won’t play a factor here. I trust you guys to have my back, and I”m sure that Colleen trusts her cronies to follow her lead as well.
Desirae rolls her eyes.
Desirae: Yeah, I’m sure that Jo and Arabella will be following Colleen’s lead. God forbid they have minds of their own, you know? Heaven forbid they try and be leaders instead of followers, hmmm?
She ends up sighing and shakes her head as she beams a smirk in Wendy’s direction.
Desirae: But yeah, Ari and I know that you’ve got our backs given what happened on the last Breaking Point and you know we got yours. You saved us from one of their craptastic beat downs and the least we can do to say “thanks” is stand by your side here and take them on. That and plus......evening up the odds and foiling their plans are pretty fun!
Arianna nods.
Arianna: We’ll totally kick their tails! It’ll be great fun! I mean, they totally have it coming. Besides, I think they’ve forgotten how to fight fair... at least successfully anyway!
Wendy smiles, and beckons towards the fish counter.
Wendy: Well, to be honest here, I still feel like the odd-woman-out. A guest at a party. And, well, I thought, kind of an icebreaker present, it’d be cool if I got you each a fish. You know, in hopes that our time together goes... swimmingly.
Wendy grins at her horrible joke.
Arianna: Um... sure, okay? I noticed some fish!
Desirae wrinkles her nose.
Desirae: I’ve been smelling it the whole time we’ve been here.......of course I thought it may have been Dan, too....
Pollaski: Maybe you forgot to freshen up after Cars-
Wendy: SOOOO... I’ve had these salmon before, and they’re REALLY good... you’ll love ‘em! And they pack it real good so you can fly them home without worrying about them spoiling.
She leads Arianna and Desirae through the crowd, before they’re right in front of the fish counter. SHe quickly talks to the salesman, pointing out, three huge salmon. The man picks up the first fish, and heaves a perfect toss, about twenty feet over the counter, to the cheers of the crowd. A second fish goes flying, and then a third. Wendy turns, grinning to her companions.
Wendy: It just takes a couple of seconds, and we’ll have dinner all ready for us!
Sure enough, its not long before there’s a shout, and the fish, now tightly wrapped and packaged in ice packs, comes flying back over. The salesman catches it, and hands the first one to Arianna, who nearly drops it. The second one is ready to be tossed, and the camera moves in to get a better view.
This turns out to be a very, VERY bad idea
Salesman: OH MY GOD... Is that... we caught these this morning!
He stumbles away, choking, and gasping for breath, at the same moment the second fish is tossed... right at Pollaski and the camera.
Pollaski: Uh oh...
Flying fish fills the viewscreen, and suddenly, the camera (and presumably Pollaski) is on the ground, giving a very nice view of Arianna’s pink sneakers. There’s a long silence, save for the gasping and tittering of the crowd.
Wendy: Um... is there anyway we can get another one?
Fin
Pike Place Market- Fish Area
Seattle, Washington
3:11 PM Local Time
It’s not often that a wrestling promo fades in on two grown men playing catch with a twenty-five pound salmon, that that indeed does appear to be the case here today. We’re in the world famous Pike Place Market, a large shopping center just north of downtown Seattle. The most famous attraction of the center, the Fish Market, is abuzz with tourist activity, eager to watch the famous “flying fish of Seattle” as the salesmen on the floor lob their purchases back to the wrappers in the back to be prepared and packaged. The camera watches as another salmon goes arcing through the air, over the counter, into the hands of a worker, before rotating almost a hundred eighty degrees.
There, it catches three lovely young women walking in- the newly crowned Unity Tag Team Champions Arianna Millar and Desirae Kain, as well as their friend and upcoming third-woman partner, Wendy Briese. All three women are watching the spectacle with a sense of wonder.
Pollaski [from obviously behind the camera]: So... a South Carolinian, a Hoosier, and a Frog all walk into a bar...
Pollaski trails off as all three women simultaneously give him dirty looks.
Pollaski: What? There’s gotta be a joke in there somewhere...
Desirae: Wendy.............
Desirae turns her attention slowly toward the woman that would be her and Arianna’s partner at the upcoming edition of Breaking Point.
Desirae: Why did you bring him along?
Wendy wilts just a bit under Desirae’s glare, stepping back, and grinning sheepishly, shrugging her shoulders.
Wendy: Well, we needed a cameraman. And I’ve got to do something to justify what I’m paying him...
Arianna: You pay him? Really? I’d have thought living with you guys was payment enough. Maybe he should take a paycut... or a shower. Preferably the latter.
Arianna wrinkles her nose, as Pollaski is apparently still a little stinky.
Pollaski: Hey! Would you rather I go the same way as stupid Erica Horton on the next Aggression? I don’t think so. Besides, it’s only a week and a half til the show. It’ll fly by!
Wendy rolls her eyes, and looks over at Arianna and Desirae
Wendy: I just feel sorry for whoever has to sit with him on the plane. Because I KNOW for a fact it’s not going to be me...
Desirae shakes her head.
Desirae: It won’t be me.......good grief, I can’t even imagine being on a plane, in a small, cramped area with him while he’s like that. It’s not right. I think it’s inhumane, really.
Arianna: I agree. And that’s when he HAS showered...
Pollaski snorts, and begins to rebut scathingly, but Wendy cuts him off by clearing her throat, and looking over at her partners.
Wendy: Just ignore him. This isn’t about him, he’s just here to film it. This is about us, and the fact that on the next Breaking Point, I’ve been given the tremendous honor of teaming with the brand new Unity Tag Champs... only because of Kat Stryfe’s leg injury, of course.
Wendy finishes this with a teasing wink at her companions.
Desirae: Of course, something had to take the blame...........right?
She nudges Arianna with a wide grin on her face.
Arianna: Of course! But anyway, shall we get on point?
Pollaski: I have a point... if anyone wants to-
Wendy: ANYWAYS... I’m looking forward to this contest.. not just because it’s another chance to prove to the A-List that they’re not any better than the rest of us, but that I don’t have to stand alone this time,either. I have two highly capable, and trustworthy allies standing next to me going into this match.
Desirae nods.
Desirae: Yeah, you helped Ari and I out at the last Breaking Point when Arabella and Colleen decided to blind side us after our match with the Flame and I think it’s only fitting that Ari and I kind of return the favor and help the odds get even around here for once. I don’t know about anyone else, but I’m tired of seeing people being thrown into two on on, three on one, four on one situations. It’s not right, it’s not fair and it’s going to come to an end at Breaking Point. All of this numbers game stuff is out the window and there’ll be no sneak attacks either. It’s just going to be them and us, nose to nose and face to face and really.....is there any doubt that they’re going to get their keisters handed to them? There IS a reason that the A-List usually don’t fight fair, after all........
Arianna: Yeah, I mean, it’s not as though our opponents are exactly flying high at the moment. Arabella’s still sore about you kicking her butt, and is apparently insane because I hugged her boyfriend... which is about six shades of crazy right there. Then you have Jo, who can’t beat anyone that isn’t a complete no-talent loser, and Colleen, who is definitely the strongest member of the team, but has what we call “big match choking syndrome”.
Wendy grimaces just a bit- given that Colleen’s beaten her before, and she’d like to think it was a big match... at least for her.
Wendy: It’s not even that this about their talent, or in-ring performance. All three women.. even Jo... have shown flashes of brilliance inside that ring. That’s not the issue... the issue is that they may be talented, but they are NOT the best, and the fact that they’ve banded into this clique doesn’t change a thing. You get them into that ring, away from the numbers advantage, and every single one of them is extremely beatable. We’ve seen it time and again, and we’ll see it even more on Saturday night.
Desirae smirks as she looks at both of her partners for Saturday night.
Desirae: Yeppers peppers! Each and every member of the A-List seems to be losing steam at an alarming rate from Rose Jenkins to Colleen. I don’t know about either of you, but I’ll be more than happy to keep their downward spiral going at Breaking Point! Especially after some of the things that Arabella and Colleen have said about me over the last few months. Both of them are rather mean and pretty cocky on top of that. But there’s nothing I love more than knocking high and mighty people down a few notches. Heck, I’ve done it with Arabella before! Remember how I won Future Shock? I beat Arabella by outsmarting her in a bullrope match. Yeah, throwing Colleen by her side certainly seems to have brought out an even more aggressive side to her but I’m sure I can deal with it. I’m definitely looking forward to this match, I know that much.
Arianna: Aggressive side... pah. When people talk about Arabella, that’s all they talk about. Aggression. Sure, she can win matches... at least, ones where she can hit opponents with weapons. But when have you ever seen her outwrestle someone convincingly? I mean, Mindy Smith had her on the ropes for a time, and she couldn’t win a match to save her life, bless her. The truth is, Arabella is too aggressive, and simply not smart enough to get ahead in this business. Not to mention completely mental!
Wendy nods, giving a small smile
Wendy: Honestly, I don’t think you can succeed in this business without being at least a little bit nuts. But you definitely can’t accuse the A-List of thinking things through, that’s for sure. I don’t think they realize just how counter-productive these little sneak attacks are. They’re not hurting anyone, they’re not sending any messages. All they’re doing is getting people fed up with them, and banding together to stop them. You two. Me. Isabella. And how many more will be added to that list the less people like Arabella use their brains, and more use their fists?
With a snicker, Desirae nods in agreement.
Desirae: They’re not making many friends and making a whole lot of enemies, that’s for sure. And I don’t know how anyone in their right mind could think that doing such a thing could end up working to their advantage or in their favor. Pretty much, the only thing that they have going for them is that they’re all in the boss’ pocket and each one of them seems to be the definition of the term “yes woman”. Which in itself is a shame. I mean, I don’t like Colleen at all no matter how good anyone says she is but it’s sad to see someone like Jo McFarlane in that kind of a role. I actually liked her when I first saw her and thought that she was a nice girl with a lot of potential, most of which is being wasted now that she’s running around with a kendo stick and swinging away at anything and everything.
Arianna: What kind of sick individual do you have to be to do that, anyway? Last I checked, we were WRESTLERS. What have kendo sticks got to do with wrestling? By using one, you’re only trying to injure people, and that’s simply unacceptable. You remember when Triple-X Rex took that nasty shot from Alexander Stryfe a few months ago? It hit him nastily, and he still hasn’t recovered. It’s a dangerous weapon. See, for me, Jo isn’t a wrestler... as proved by the fact that she can’t beat anyone... she’s just a nasty little bully, who needs to sit on the naughty step.
Wendy sighs, then nods, a mixture of sadness and anger on her features.
Wendy: I used to like and respect Jo too, before she... changed. But you know what? She’s chosen her path, and by the time Breaking Point is over, she’s going to realize just how bleak that path she’s about to walk is. Come Violent Night, Arabella gets to kick back and enjoy the night off, and Colleen gets to tangle with Shane Sanders. But Jo... she HAS to face me, and the next time, she won’t have Arabella and Colleen to hide behind. And then she’s going face the consequences for her actions... and it won’t be a time-out on the naughty step. Mainly because she’s not going to be able to sit...
Wendy smirks, and looks over at the girls of Pink, Inc.
Desirae: Poor Jo, I don’t envy her one bit. She deserves what you give her, Wendy. Heck, every single one of those A-Listers deserve to get their backsides kicked around like that and I have no doubt that on Saturday night, the three of them that we step into the ring with will us will get the beatings that the FFW faithful wants to see them get. I don’t know about the two of you, but it don’t matter to me if it’s Jo, Arabella or Colleen in that ring. I just want to get at them.
She shrugs a shoulder.
Desirae: Though I do suppose that I kind of look forward to locking up with Colleen the most. I mean, she is the most successful of that entire group and as I’m sure the two of you have heard, has proclaimed herself “the franchise”. She’s good, I admit that but she’s not good enough to carry Jo and Arabella, especially not against the three of us, right?
Arianna: Absoluuuuutely right! Colleen has a pretty crappy record in these kinds of matches. You remember the last time you faced her in this kind of match, Wendy?
Wendy pauses, before bursting out in a chuckle.
Wendy: I had almost forgotten about that six-woman tag match back in June. Odd, because it was a huge win for me, Kassi, and Crystal. But I also remember that’s really where the animosity between Colleen and I started. I pointed out in a promo that she, Robbyn, and Undine might not be entirely on the same page due to their rivalry, and she got paranoid and thought I was trying to manufacture a schism... that was already there.
Wendy snorts, and shakes her head.
Wendy: Well, I turned out to be wrong, because the ability to function as a team played little factor in that match on either side. And yet, we still won. And ability to funciton as a team won’t play a factor here. I trust you guys to have my back, and I”m sure that Colleen trusts her cronies to follow her lead as well.
Desirae rolls her eyes.
Desirae: Yeah, I’m sure that Jo and Arabella will be following Colleen’s lead. God forbid they have minds of their own, you know? Heaven forbid they try and be leaders instead of followers, hmmm?
She ends up sighing and shakes her head as she beams a smirk in Wendy’s direction.
Desirae: But yeah, Ari and I know that you’ve got our backs given what happened on the last Breaking Point and you know we got yours. You saved us from one of their craptastic beat downs and the least we can do to say “thanks” is stand by your side here and take them on. That and plus......evening up the odds and foiling their plans are pretty fun!
Arianna nods.
Arianna: We’ll totally kick their tails! It’ll be great fun! I mean, they totally have it coming. Besides, I think they’ve forgotten how to fight fair... at least successfully anyway!
Wendy smiles, and beckons towards the fish counter.
Wendy: Well, to be honest here, I still feel like the odd-woman-out. A guest at a party. And, well, I thought, kind of an icebreaker present, it’d be cool if I got you each a fish. You know, in hopes that our time together goes... swimmingly.
Wendy grins at her horrible joke.
Arianna: Um... sure, okay? I noticed some fish!
Desirae wrinkles her nose.
Desirae: I’ve been smelling it the whole time we’ve been here.......of course I thought it may have been Dan, too....
Pollaski: Maybe you forgot to freshen up after Cars-
Wendy: SOOOO... I’ve had these salmon before, and they’re REALLY good... you’ll love ‘em! And they pack it real good so you can fly them home without worrying about them spoiling.
She leads Arianna and Desirae through the crowd, before they’re right in front of the fish counter. SHe quickly talks to the salesman, pointing out, three huge salmon. The man picks up the first fish, and heaves a perfect toss, about twenty feet over the counter, to the cheers of the crowd. A second fish goes flying, and then a third. Wendy turns, grinning to her companions.
Wendy: It just takes a couple of seconds, and we’ll have dinner all ready for us!
Sure enough, its not long before there’s a shout, and the fish, now tightly wrapped and packaged in ice packs, comes flying back over. The salesman catches it, and hands the first one to Arianna, who nearly drops it. The second one is ready to be tossed, and the camera moves in to get a better view.
This turns out to be a very, VERY bad idea
Salesman: OH MY GOD... Is that... we caught these this morning!
He stumbles away, choking, and gasping for breath, at the same moment the second fish is tossed... right at Pollaski and the camera.
Pollaski: Uh oh...
Flying fish fills the viewscreen, and suddenly, the camera (and presumably Pollaski) is on the ground, giving a very nice view of Arianna’s pink sneakers. There’s a long silence, save for the gasping and tittering of the crowd.
Wendy: Um... is there anyway we can get another one?
Fin
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