Tuesday September 18, 2012
Speed City Gymnasium
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:37 PM Local Time
“UNGH!”
With a grunt of pain and frustration, Wendy Briese slammed back-first into the mat, a recipient of a rather high-impact German suplex. For several seconds, she lay staring up at the ceiling, breathing through clenched teeth in a desperate attempt to regain all the air that had just been knocked out of her lungs.
“When the heck did she learn that?” the former No Surrender champion muttered under her breath, a fairly easy task considering she didn’t have any at the moment.
She supposed she oughtn’t had been surprised. It had been over a month since she had sparred with Glenda, one of several local development talents she had hired to work with her during training. The girl was a quick learner, Wendy knew. She’d only been in wrestling for maybe three months, and already she was gaining quite a reputation on the local circuit. Of course, it didn’t help that the girl was a natural born powerhouse- standing well over six feet and fairly north of two hundred pounds.
Wendy’s eyes went wide as a massive- yet feminine- leg suddenly appeared over her head. With no chance to roll out of the way, she threw her hands up, managing to deflect some of the impact from her, as the ring shook as the large rookie’s weight hit the mat. Even with some of it deflected, once again the wind was knocked out of her.
For crying out loud!
She took few more gulps of air, rolling onto her side. Heavens help her, but she was OFF today. Bad training sessions weren’t exactly common for her, but she’d had them before. But she couldn’t remember being this flat in a long, long time. Even taking account Glenda’s clear improvement, there was no excuse for her performance today.
It was about the worst time for this to be happening, too. She was just over a week from coming off a loss to Serafina, one that, from a statistical standpoint, was her worst in a long, long time. It never was good when six-year veterans dropped to rookies, and while she strongly suspected that Serafina was a lot better than the average rookie, having to tap out to her (and losing the title her careeer had been focused around for the last nine months), certainly was a blow to her pride. It didn’t help that she was following it up with this atrocity against and even less experienced rookie.
Especially considering that her first major PPV main event was just a little less than two weeks away. . She was facing five of the best wrestlers in the company, and in a match with enormous stakes. The last thing she needed to do was to embarass herself and let her teammates down.
She felt the back of her T-shirt being grabbed. Glenda was being smart, dragging her to her feet, and not letting her recover. Quickly, Wendy focused her thoughts, trying to shake away her distractions. First thing she needed to do was halt the big woman’s momentum. Maybe if she...
Her elbow flashed out, aiming for Glenda’s gut, but the big woman was expecting it, grabbing her arm, and swinging, reversing the blow’s momentum into an Irish whip. Wendy felt herself bouncing off the ropes, heading back twards the dirty-blonde haired girl, who bent down, waiting for her. Wendy’s mind flashed quickly. Glenda was going for a back body drop, but she was close enough to the ropes where she could... yes.
As Wendy hit the big girl, she threw her weight forward, almost jumping as Glenda stood up, lifting her to flip over. Of course, the intention was for Wendy to simply flip about two hundred seventy degrees, and land flat on her back behind her. So many wrestlers made the mistake of trying to fight the move, which often ended in awkward landings and injuries. But Wendy figured that if you threw momentum into the move, you stood a good chance at flipping a full rotation, landing on your feet.
That was the easy part, of course. The hard part was gauging your distance so that not only did you land on your feet, but your feet landed on the middle rope, setting yourself up for a myriad of counters off the springboard. But Wendy knew immediately she was right on target. Glenda would never see the dropkick coming...
*POP!*
As Wendy’s feet hit the middle rope, a searing pain shot up her right leg, causing her to cry out in agony. She bounced off the ropes at an angle, falling to the canvas on her stomach. Her face scrunched up in pain, her hand over her eyes, she seethed out a muffled scream of agony through clenched teeth.
Luckily for her, Glenda immediately realized something had gone wrong, and didn’t capitalize. “Are.. are you okay?” The sparring partner asked, looking down at the smaller woman, unsure of what to do.
Wendy didn’t respond, her breath coming in labored sobs as she tucked her legs in. Her ankle was screaming a symphony of agony, and the hand she pulled away from her eyes was wet with moisture. She heard three sharp blasts on a whistle- her manager’s unnecessary and belated signal to stop the sparring immediately.
“What happened? Are you okay?” she heard Pollaski demanding as he slid into the ring, kneeling down next to her. She could sense that Glenda still was standing over her too, looking down in concern.
“I... I landed wrong on my ankle... I think I twisted it.” Wendy replied, wincing. Biting the collar of her t-shirt to keep from crying out again, she rolled over onto her back, whimpering slightly as her ankle sent out another wave of pain.
“Stay down, don’t try to get up,” Pollaski ordered, misinterpreting her movements. He glanced around, noticing someone standing nearby at ringside. “Bob, yo! You got ice? We need ice out here!”
The owner of the gym shouted back an affirmative, and Wendy tilted her head to watch the man run off. She didn’t need ice. She needed to get back up and get to training. Wincing again, she worked herself into a sitting position. Pollaski wheeled around on her.
“I said stay down, dammit!”
“I’m fine!” Wendy shot back, although the tears of pain glistening in her eyes and her labored breathing certainly didn’t lend her words much credence. “I just rolled it. I need to walk it off.”
“Are you sure? I thought I heard a crack,” Glenda said, her voice still filled with uncertainty and concern.
Wendy let out a small growl of frustration. It was more of a popping sound than a crack, but she thought she’d heard something too. Glenda’s statement certainly was making it hard to pass off the sound as a figment of her imagination.
“I’m fine,” Wendy repeated again, her stubborness brushing away any concerns. “Just help me up”, she said, trying to rise to her feet. Ignoring Pollaski’s bark of protest, she pushed herself up, Glenda automatically offering her a hand. Wendy barely got off the mat, though, when another pain shot up her leg, and she fell back down to the mat with a gasp of pain.
“Dammit, Wendy! I told you to stay down!” Pollaski snapped, then took a deep breath, looking down at her. “I think you sprained it. Probably badly, if you can’t even put weight on it”
“Dont’ say that,” Wendy protested. “I’m fine. I just need a-”
“You’re going to the doctors,” Pollaski declared, turning to Glenda. “We’re done for the day.”
“No, we’re not...” Wendy protested, even as the gym’s owner handed a bag of ice through the ropes to Pollaski, and he passed it to her. “Give me a minute, I need to...”
“I think he’s right,” Glenda replied, looking nervous. “That doesn’t look so good. You might have broken it.”
“I didn’t break it!” Wendy exclaimed, more in desperation than out of any certainty.
“Well, only one way to be sure,” Pollaski intoned. “Come on, Glenda. Help me get her to my car. I’ll drive her.”
“That’s not really necess-” Wendy’s latest protest was cut off as Pollaski and Glenda grabbed her arms, and forcibly dragged her across the mat to the edge of the ring. Wendy’s eyes narrowed in irritation. It was bad enough that she was hurt, now she was being embarassed?
Pollaski noticed her less than amused reaction. “Have to get you out somehow,” he said with a shrug. Then he and Glenda rolled out of the ring, and dragged Wendy under the bottom rope.
“Don’t even think of carrying me...” Wendy objected
But her manager and sparring partner simply propped her up between them, and helped her towards the door, past several other gawking gymgoers as Wendy slowly hopped on her one good leg. It was slow going, and certainly not her most dignified moment.
But as Wendy hopped along, her weight supported on either side by her larger accompaniment, her mind kept racing. She couldn’t be hurt! Not now... not so close to such a huge match! What if it was broken? Please God please, let the ankle just be...
======================
Tuesday September 18, 2012
Methodist Hospital of Indianapolis
Indianapolis, Indiana
4:12 PM Local Time
“Sprained” Dr. Beverly Quinn firmly announced, looking up from Wendy’s foot.
Wendy breathed a sigh of relief at the news. Ever since Pollaski’d helped her to the car, and driven her to Methodist Hospital, she’d spent the last hour sitting in the waiting room, fretting over her condition. Even now, she could barely move the ankle, which was now so swollen nearly twice its size.
“How can you be sure?” Pollaski demanded. “Don’t you need to do an X-ray or something to be sure?”
Quinn shook her head, clearly annoyed at someone trying to tell her how to do her job. “The Ottawa Test is negative, and that means we don’t even need X-rays. It’s not broken, Mr. Pollaski. That much I’m certain of.”
“Well, that’s great.” Wendy smiled, feeling better than she had been all day. “If it’s just sprained, then I’m good to go for Sin & Sacrifice!”
The look Quinn gave her immediately deflated all the optimism that had just built up in her. “Not necessarily,” the doctor said. “From what I can tell, between the damage from the heel hook, and your fall today, the sprain is pretty severe. You may have ligament tearing, and if its severe enough... then no, you won’t be good to go for anything for a month. At least.”
Wendy’s plea of protest died in her throat, and she looked over helplessly at her manager, who was grimacing, but, didn’t seem all that shocked by the news. “How long until we can know?” he asked.
“We can have you in for an MRI shortly,” Quinn replied, “And the results will be back in about two days.”
“I need to be in this match, doctor,” Wendy said. “I’ve been lobbying to be in it for months, and I can’t let a simple ankle sprain...”
“There’s nothing simple about an ankle sprain, especially a severe one.” Quinn interrupted her. “You obviously reaggrivated it after your last match- you should have come and gotten it checked out with me first. Especially considering this ankle’s been injured before.”
“But that was years ago!” Wendy insisted. Ten to be exact, although she remembered the night like it was yesterday. She’d been placed in an ankle lock, and even after she had tapped out, her opponent had refused to let go until he’d broken it, knocking her out of action for months.
It was the last time someone had made her submit in a match before Serafina had done it, too.
“I know. But that was a severe injury, Wendy, and it nearly ruined your career. Even though it healed, it never was as strong as it was before. The risk of reinjuring was always there.”
Wendy groaned, cupping her hands over her face, and leaning back on the examination table. “I should have tapped out sooner,” she lamented. So much for playing things smart- and she STILL lost the damn match!
Part of her wanted to just ignore the doctor, no matter what. She couldn’t afford to miss this match, no matter what the risks were. Even if she had to CRAWL to the ring, she needed to be in War Games!
But such a course of action would be childish, short-sighted, and foolish, she knew. She wouldn’t be much good to anyone in such a state, and even with so much on the line, it wasn’t worth needlessly ending her career over. Quinn was the best athletic doctor in the state of Indiana, and besides having treated Wendy before, was also the physician of choice for many athletes at IUPUI, and even Indiana University forty miles away, because she knew how to get her patients back in the game at the healthiest they possibly could be. If she said Wendy wasn’t good to go... Wendy had no choice but to believe her.
Quinn was writing on a tablet. “I’m not going to prescribe you anything, but I do recommend taking ibuprofen, to help with the pain and inflammation. Give your ankle plenty of rest, put it in a brace, and keep it iced frequently. When the MRI comes back, and we see just how bad the ligaments are damaged, and know to proceed form there.”
She tore off the paper, and handed to to Wendy. On it, written in decisively un-doctor like neat handwriting, were the instructions she’d been given. Wendy read them over again, sighing.
“I’m sorry I can’t give you better news,” Quinn replied, her voice sympathetic. “I’ll go see if I can get you in for that MRI tonight before you go home.”
“Thanks,” Wendy replied glumly, as the doctor left the room. She looked down at the paper again.
“Well, shit,” Pollaski grumbled, sighing in dismay.
“Tell me about it.” Wendy agreed, taking another deep breath.
All she could do now was hope for the best.
Monday, February 4, 2013
EPISODE 200: Saving Silo
Thursday September 6, 2012
City Streets- Taxi Cab
Tampa, Florida
12:13 PM Local TIme
Wendy Briese looked out the window at the passing Tampa skyline, and took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in her stomach. She didn’t really know what had her so nervous. All she was doing was helping out Lyn at his school today, but she felt like a rookie about to undertake her first match in a brand new company.
It didn’t help that she was running late, either. She had hoped to have arrved at the Gym earlier in the morning, but a ‘slight mechanical malfunction’ had delayed her flight for nearly an hour, and it had taken longer than she had hoped to secure a cab from the airport.
She thought back to the previous week, when she had met with her psychologist after watching the play. She still hadn’t been sure about this entire psychologist thing, despite both Pollaski and Terrence’s insistence. But she was amazed at how much better she felt just being able to talk to somebody. What surprised her most of all, was just how perceptive Dr. Epstein turned out to be. He had honed in on her doubts about whether or not her being in wrestling was the right thing, and although he hadn’t completely removed them, she certainly felt a little more reassured.
But what had rung most with her from her visit was her lack of ‘giving back’ to the wrestling community. She’d done some things, but it hardly felt like enough. He was right- she just wasn’t going to get time to do it. She had to take initiative and MAKE it. So the next morning, she had called Lyn, and arranged to come down today. Tampa was hardly on the way to Phoenix, but Wendy didn’t really mind- the Florida Gulf was hardly the most taxing diversion out there.
She just hoped she was able to help, something, anything. She’d heard that a lot of the students were looking forward to meeting her, and she didn’t want to disappoint them.
“We’here,” the cab driver announced from the front seat, a thick Cuban accent making him slightly harder to understand. The cab came to a halt, and the driver turned around, tapping on his meter. “Forty dollars.”
Wendy handed a fifty to the cab driver, and grabbed her duffel bag, climbing out of the car, and looking up at the building in front of her. It was smaller than she thought it would be, but obviously well maintained, despite it’s obvious age. Hearing the cab pull away behind her, the flame-haired woman started towards the entrance doors, heading inside.
Her first impression upon entering was that appearances were quite deceiving. The gym seemed far bigger inside than it did from the exterior. The main room was very large, and full of exercise equipment, ranging from treadmills to ellipticals to free weights, all surrounding a full-size wrestling ring in the middle of the room. Already most of the students were at work on one machine or another, although Wendy paused to watch a dark haired girl running suicide sprints on the far end of the room.
Lyndon Dallins looked worse for wear quite frankly as he stared at the girl running suicides. There was a distinct look of contempt behind tired, very worn eyes. The students raised their heads on sight of Wendy and frenzied whispers took place. ‘It’s Wendy Briese. Holy crap.’ and ‘Think she’s gonna show us the Banshee?’ among other comments that were stated in quiet tones. Lyn offered Wendy a half-hearted smile and extended his hand. “Welcome to the gym, Wendy. Glad you could finally make it down.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dallins,” Wendy replied, taking the offered hand with both of hers in a clasp. She looked up at the gym’s owner, concern in her eyes. “How are you feeling?” she asked, lowering her voice so that the approaching students couldn’t hear.
“Like I’m being ran ragged but this too shall pass,” He replied softly, a more genuine smile crossing his features. “How about you?” Lyn inquired as he stole a glance at Caroline Dallins explaining to Stephanie Sanderson the advanced uses of proper rest hold techniques in another corner of the gym. Killer C looked up momentarily, shook her head at Lyn and continued on.
“Wish the flight hadn’t been so late.” Following Lyn’s gaze and giving the Power Trip member a short nod. She didn’t care much for “Killer C”, especially considering that she was less than a month away from meeting her in a War Games match, not to mention Dallins recently announcing her No Surrender belt as her target. But she respected the woman enough to be civil here, and not make a scene in front of the other students. She looked back to Lyn. “Is there a place where I can change? I probably shouldn’t be working out in this,” she muttered, gesturing to her jeans and buttoned blouse.
Lyn raised his head and pointed an index finger to the left. “Women’s locker room is that green door right there next to the punching bag.” Lyndon would have taken a moment to add a cute joke at the end but the old veteran lacked his usual humor. “Killer C” on the far corner returned Wendy’s nod but the moment after seemed... Unsure of why she did.
“Okay, give me ten minutes,” Wendy said, turning to walk away, then pausing. “Lyn,” she said suddenly, grabbing his arm. The King of Submissions turned to look at her. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t listen to what stupid people like Kyle or Robbyn are saying. We all support you and Steph, and Kane’s not going to get away with it.”
“No... No, Kane will not.” Lyndon muttered coldly before his eye fell on a particular corner of the gym, “Nor will The Power Trip when their time comes around. Of this I am most sure.” He patted Wendy twice on the shoulder as she began to head off to locker room. “Thank you.”
Wendy smiled her best attempt at reassurance, and turned and walked to the locker room.
Twelve minutes later, she emerged, dressed now in a black pair of tight-fitting sweats, and a dark blue Notre Dame t-shirt, gloves and boots on, her hair back in a ponytail. Over her shoulder sat the No Surrender championship, brought for the benefit of some of the curious students. She found Lyn playing spotter to a student on the weights, and stood patiently by, waiting until the set was finished before saying “Okay, I’m ready.”
Lyn nodded before he helped the student to stand up, a punk-looking boy with a blonde mohawk. The King of Submissions patted himself down for his whistle and blew three times in distinct succession. In a matter of moments, he was nearly stampeded by all the wrestlers in-training as they leapt and climbed onto the bleachers before sitting down. “Alright, so as you guys have already noticed and whispered about... We have ourselves a well traveled veteran of the ring and the No Surrender Champion of Femme Fatale Wrestling. Wendy Briese.” Well meaning applause and one or two ‘Woo woo woos!” echoed to the ceiling... And a single “Take it off!”
Lyn stared absolute death at Silo, who immediately seemed to shrink into his seat, a feat that would be likely impossible for a stocky Samoan.
Wendy blushed slightly at the attention and cheers of the students, then shot a glance over at Lyn. “I’m assuming this is the one you were telling me about,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.
A few scattered chuckles in the young crowd as Lyn responded. “That would be him. He has a lot of talent, he’s deceptively fast for a young man his size, and I’ve seen him do it all in the ring... If he’s facing a man.” He threw a glance at Silo once more, who attempted to look somewhere else. “If he’s facing a woman, he’ll be lucky to last two minutes. Tops.”
“Born twenty years too late, then?” Wendy asked lightly. “Shame somewhere along the lines it got figured out that women can compete on the same level as men, or he’d be aces. What’s the problem? I mean... I’m sure there’s a psychological block in there... although it doesn’t seem to be stemming from any sense of chivalry,” she added pointedly, looking straight at Silo and tugging on her shirt.
Silo himself gave it a few moments of thought, before he looked down with a growing sense of shame. Lydia, the tomboy-looking girl in the corner rose her hand. “Uhm, Ms. Briese? If I may? ...Silo’s never interacted with a girl whatsoever. In an intimate sense.” Silo gave Lydia a gruff look and muttered loudly. “I was always busy with school and football practice, okay? I just never thought about it until now. I was studying or playing football or doing high school and collegiate wrestling.”
Wendy thought for a second, chewing on her bottom lip. “I see. So, you sacrificed any hope you had at a romantic life to focus on your schooling and sports. Why has that changed now?”
All eyes were on Silo now. Even Lyndon seemed to have a morbid sense of curiosity, though he also looked as though he were dreading the answer. “It hasn’t really changed at all? I still take my college courses seriously, and I train here every day. It’s just when... Uh. Well... When I get in the ring with a girl my head kinda fogs over. I just stop remembering things. Like the time I got Lydia in a German Suplex position!” Another student with sandy hair and a similarly colored beard grimaced. “I remember that. Silo just stood there for five minutes while Lydia looked around and wondered when he was going to finally let go of her waist. He just went blank.”
Wendy chewed her lip for a long time, before glancing over at Lyn, then back over at Silo. Finally she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Alright, then. Silo, in the ring.”
The longest silence ever pervaded over the group as Lyn Dallins put his hands in his face and seemed to want to cry. The tiniest, “Oh dear God” echoed from him as quite a few students joined in the same action. Silo’s face told the tale of absolute dread as he sauntered over to the ring. He pulled up his gym shorts and rolled inside.
Wendy climbed up the ring steps, entering the ring herself. She shot the troubled Lyn a reassuring smile, then turned a more stern gaze upon Silo. “Okay. I’m just going to stand here. Hit me with a German Suplex.”
Silo swallowed and began to... Wrap his arms around her waist. On the positive, there was no ‘funny business’ going on under the belt in any way. On the other hand after Silo put his arms around the White Knight’s waist, the young Samoan just stood there. A blank stare appeared on his face moments later.
“Silo... do you know HOW to do a German Suplex?” Wendy asked in exasperation.
“...Yes. Uhm, your hair smells nice.” He responded.
Half the students on the bleachers sighed in frustration, A few shook their heads, Misty Whitmore frowned, Lydia rubbed the bridge of her nose and Lyndon took his clipboard and violently struck himself in the head with it.
To everyone’s surprise, Wendy smiled warmly. “Thank you, Silo. I just particularly LOVE this raspberry scented conditioner. However...” And she threw her head back, the back of her skull smashing right into Silo’s face. Silo bellowed, and let go, holding his hands up to his nose, as Wendy spun around, her legs flashing out in a flurry of kicks, one connecting hard on the back of his hamstring, bringing him to one knee. Wendy sped behind him, leaping towards the ropes, springboarding off with a dropkick to the back of his head, sending him face first to the mat. She grabbed both his arms, wrenching them behind him, and planting her foot on his back in a surfboard.
“I believe I asked you to give me a German suplex, not smell my hair,” Wendy responded calmly. “Now, before I let go, is there anything ELSE of mine you’d like to sniff, Silo?”
“No ma’am!” Silo wept in obvious pain from the agile combination of moves. From the bleachers, Lydia muttered, “Hope he listens. At this rate, we’ll need to ice him down.”
Wendy let go of the hold, stepping away as Silo rubbed his sore arms. “Now, about that German Suplex,” she intoned, again turning her back, and crossing her arms over her chest, waiting.
Silo breathed in and once again hooked his arms around Wendy’s waist. With an internal count to three, Silo hoisted his arms and fell backward with a beautiful German Suplex... Yet Wendy was still standing, arms crossed as Silo drove himself (and air) on his head and laid there for sometime. “Ow.” he murmured weakly. The bleacher full of students yelled out in frustration and agony. ‘You’re making us look bad!’, and ‘C’mon dude, you suplex me all the time!’
Wendy looked straight at Lyn, her jaw slack. Receiving only a shrug in reply, she turned back around, looking down at Silo. “Silo, I’m not even sure that what you just did is even physically possible.”
Silo rubbed the back of his head as he sat up. “I’m not even sure what just happened, Ms. Briese. I’m honestly trying.” Lyndon cleared his throat to interject. “Silo. You should have graduated from the school months ago. The only reason you’re still here is because of this tiny... Well not tiny but this problem. I know you’re trying son, but you’ll never make it if we can’t figure out what the issue here is. Even male wrestlers will be able to run you down if they have a female manager or tag partner or something just by keeping them at ringside.”
Wendy looked down at Silo, grimacing. “Do you believe there’s anything sexual in nature about wrestling a girl, Silo?”
After a brief pause, he shook his head with a grimace of his own. “No. Not at all.”
“You’re right. No more than if you were to wrestle a guy. At least there shouldn’t be... although some I’ve heard have tried to be exceptions,” she finished, shooting a dark glance over to where Sanderson was still training with Caroline. “So if there’s nothing sexual in nature about it, then what difference does it make if you’ve been intimate with a girl?”
“...I don’t know what difference it makes. It doesn’t make one I guess.” He stated offhandedly as Silo pulled himself up and grabbed onto the ring. He seemed to be completely focused on the question at hand as he began to walk around Wendy and talked to himself. “I mean, if I as a human being can’t understand the logical conclusion that this is not sexual in nature...” He continued speaking, wrapped his arms around Wendy’s waist before he lifted her upward and dropped her on her shoulders. “...Then it would be completely easy. I mean I should be able to do it in theory...” He continued talking as he sat up and leaned on the ropes. “There should be no ramifications to something like that really. We as human beings should always respect...” Seemingly lost in his own little world, unaware of what he just accomplished.
Wendy got up slowly, wincing as she massaged the back of her neck as she got to her feet. “Very good, Silo!” She said proudly. “You see? That wasn’t so bad! Now all you need to do is...” Her voice trailed off as she realized the student wasn’t listening, continuing to mutter to himself. “Silo?.... SILO!”
“Guh? Wha? Yes Ms. Briese?” He asked innocently.
“I’m trying to tell you that was very good,” Wendy responded, arching her eyebrows in exasperation.
“Uhm, what was very good?” Silo looked around haphazardly, as Lyn began to violently beat himself with his clipboard again.
“You just suplexed me. Now, do it again,” she said.
“I what? Uhm... Okay.” Silo responded before he began to make his way over to the No Surrender Champion. He locked his arms around Wendy’s waist and after what seemed like a very long... Long pause, Wendy was lifted off her feet and very... Very slowly deposited on the back of her shoulders, almost as though she was being laid on a bed and tucked in. Two steps forward and one step back.
“Silo?” Wendy asked as she forced his arms from around her waist, than began to stand up. “Are you by any chance a philosophy major?”
“Yes, I am actually. How did you guess?” The young Samoan smiled pleasantly after a pause.
“Lucky shot,” Wendy smiled. “Now do it one more time. Except, while you do it, I want you to tell me the basic fundamentals of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave.”
“Oh sure. In the Allegory of the Cave, the first fundamental is about what is real and...” As Silo continued to enjoy a light conversation with Wendy, he executed another perfect German Suplex. He stopped in the middle of his explanation and realized what he'd just done as his arms let go of her. “...No way.”
The response of the students on the bleachers was the same, shock and awe. Lyn’s jaw went slack, Kate Steele stopped her running and stared on in amazement and Caroline’s face froze as her eyes widened into headlights.
“Ah, you sure have a strong release,” Wendy replied, wincing as she used the ropes to help her back to her feet. “I think your problem is, you’re overthinking things. Just relax, and let your mind focus on what you know, not the uncertainty. Because when your mind was on philosophy... you were perfect.”
“Wow... Thank you Ms. Briese. Err, I’d hug you but I don’t want to think too hard about that either.” He said sheepishly with a smile. Lyn cracked his most joyous smile of the the day, and nodded at Wendy. “Never thought of that before. Neither did the teacher who’s spent the most time with him.” ...Over in the corner, Caroline Dallins violently slammed her head into the wall repeatedly as Sanderson watched and winced.
“Erm... I see..” Wendy said, glancing at Caroline, and cringing. “I guess the next step is to get him to more think than say it, so he does not drive everybody nuts by quoting Plato for the entire length of the match,” she finished with a grin. In truth, her heart was feeling a lot lighter, almost to the point that she could fly. She’d actually helped someone! She took a deep breath, looking over at the students. “Now, who wants to be put in the Banshee?”
Immediately, half a dozen students (mostly female, and including Misty) raised their hands eagerly, each clamoring to be first, to the point that a few were actually jostling with each other to be noticed and picked. Wendy shook her head, and glanced over at Lyn, sighing, despite the smile still on her face.
“They realize that this move’s not supposed to be *fun*, right?”
==================================
Saturday September 8, 2012
McDowell Mountain National Monument
Near Scottsdale, Arizona
10:38 AM Local Time
Located about twenty miles northeast of Phoenix, the McDowell Mountains tower 3,000 feet over the surrounding desert area, including the outlying city of Scottsdale. Just one of the many natural features that make the south-central area of the Arizona desert one of the most distinct places in the world.
Evidently, Wendy thinks its a pretty decent location for a promo, considering she’s standing in front of the camera. As could be expected for the middle of the desert in Arizona, it’s quite warm, and Wendy’s dressed accordingly, wearing a plain white sleeveless blouse, along with a tan knee-length skirt. Her long flame-colored hair is tied back into a pony tail, which blows behind her thanks to the decent wind that is coming down the scenic range behind her. She is turned towards the mountains, a faint smile on her face.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It seems like everywhere we go, there’s beauty to be found, whether its here in the southwest, or the northeast, or the midwest, or even abroad. Phoenix is no exception. I know at first glance, some might think the desert as simply vast and empty, and dry and hot. But you look at it, especially at sunset, when the entire landscape is painted into hues of orange, or at night when the sky is clear and cool, and you can see more stars than you could possibly imagine...”
“But as beautiful as the desert is, it’s deadly too. There’s the risk of exposure, either from the sweltering, triple digit heat, or from the nighttime, where temperatures can drop below freezing. Of course, there’s always the chance of dehydration, or even starvation, should you be in a desolate enough part. And of course, you have to be on the alert for animals, particularily poisonous snakes that could fell you with venom before you could even stand a hope of getting enough aid.”
“There are three keys to surviving a harsh climate like this... knowledge, experience, and discipline. You have to know where you’re going, of course. You have to know where to find water, or shelter, or how to spot danger. And of course, the more experience you have, the better chance you have of being prepared for a situation that may arise, and to keep your head when the pressure is on. And discipline... it’s such a necessity. What if you only have a canteen of water? You have to have the discipline to ration it, so that it could last for days, instead of guzzling it all at once, and dooming yourself to dehydration later. And when you’re at the breaking point, when you don’t feel you can go on any further, it’s discipline that keeps you going.”
Wendy vs. Wild. Now that would be an awesome television show. Although she'd probably not be one for drinking her own pee.
“In many ways, wrestling, particularily the No Surrender division, is like that too. Knowledge, of course, you have to know your skills, and how best to use them. Experience, of course, the more you do this, the more ingrained it becomes, until it becomes almost a second-nature. And discipline you have to maintain your focus. But more than that, in this division, you have to use that discipline and push yourself through the pain, and keep looking for a way out of the hold you might be in.”
“But at the same time, you have to know when enough is enough, when the situation is futile, and all you are doing is risking injury, and that it’s time to swallow your pride and tap that mat. It’s a fine line, that is. Tap out too soon, and you bring unnecessary defeat upon yourself, and even risk gaining a reputation for being soft. But wait too long to make that difficult decision, and you could be inviting disaster.”
“So, Serafina. Do you have all the pieces of the puzzle necessary to survive the No Surrender division, and emerge from Breaking Point tonight with the championship?”
Wendy smiles slightly. It’s evident in her mind the answer is ‘no’.
“I will give you this, Serafina. You have discipline, at least outside the ring. You are composed. You are calm. You are polite, save for where a particular fake nun might be concerned. You are proud of who you are. And you should be. Thanks to both your religion, ,and your martial arts training, you have obtained a level of discipline that most people in this business would be envious to have. Others, such as Trinity, and apparently my manager, may make fun of you, but I’m actually impressed.”
“But here’s the thing, Serafina. It’s one thing to have it all together in front of a microphone. But in that ring, when gameplans and strategies can unravel in the blink of an eye, and you have to improvise, and fight against circumstances you hadn’t forseen, when everything looks its bleakest, and your fighting on pure desperation, will your discipline hold then, Serafina? Will you be able to, as they say, ‘keep it together?’”
“You see, knowledge, discipline, and experience, they’re all connected. Through our experiences, we gain knowlege. We make a mistake, we learn not to do it again. We discover something that is effective, we tuck it away in our minds to use when it can be effective. And knowledge brings discipline, for the more we know, the more prepared we are for a situation. And through discipline, we can keep a clear head, so that we may gain more from our future experiences. All three, connected. You need a lot more than discipline to survive in FFW, Serafina. You need knowlege, and especially for you, experience.”
Wendy holds her hands up, forming a triangle, indicating the connectedness of all three points she’s saying.
“Serafina, you became an active member of the FFW roster on April 7, the day after the final of Season 6, when you beat Gabrielle Crimson to earn this opportunity. Since that day, in the five months hence, you’ve had all of two matches. You beat Trinity by disqualfication, because she lost her temper and struck an official, and then you beat Sarah Peek a month later. By comparison, Caroline Dallins, who entered at roughly the same time you did, has wrestled seven times since her contract was signed. But now, here you are. One win away from becoming the No Surrender Champion.”
Wendy pauses for just a second, biting her lip., She turns around, looking back at the mountain range, then takes a deep breath, turning back towards the camera.
“You know, Serafina... don’t take this personally, but I kind of have a problem with that.”
Wendy quickly walks towards the camera, going out of frame for just a second. When she walks back in, the No Surrender Championship is slung over her shoulder, the titanium belt glistening in the sunlight.
“I lost this belt to Starla McCloud just one week before your Future Shock final. I fought tooth and nail to get this back to my posession, and while I did, you stood in the back and watched. I faced Tara Thunder, title for title, in one of the toughest, and most emotional matches of my life, and you stood in the back, and watched. Two weeks ago, I went out in the Tokyodome, on our anniversary show, and avenged what I’ve felt was the most embarassing, shameful loss of my FFW career. And you stood in the back, and watched.”
“I understand that you had to wait for this. The prospect of Wendy Briese versus Tara Thunder was just too huge to pass up. It was a dream match to some, and to settle it at the biggest Pay-Per-View of the year, it had to be done. So you had to wait a long time. So long that the Season 7 Champion actually got to cash in her prize before the Season 6 Champion did! That’s not your fault.”
“But all along, Serafina, over those five months you couldn’t have faced somebody else. There’s over sixty women on this roster, and the vast majority of them could have given you a decent challenge as you prepared to face me. But that didn’t happen. You stood in the back, you gave the occasional interview, and you waited.”
“Maybe it’s not your fault, Serafina. Maybe it wasn’t your call to wrestle twice in the last five months. But it was somebody’s. Someone, somewhere decided that surviving Future Shock, beating Trinity by disqualification,, and pinning Sarah Peek gave you enough experience to challenge Wendy Briese for the No Surrender Championship, and I resent the HELL out of that!”
Wendy pauses, and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, before opening them again, and tapping her belt.
“I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that after everything I’ve gone through to obtain, reobtain, and retain this belt, that all anyone needs to do to rip this from me is five matches against rookies, and suddenly you have the experience and knowhow to make me tap. I refuse to believe that after everything I’ve done for this, someone who’s given three times as many backstage interviews as she’s had professional matches, is going to end my reign!”
“But, you earned a shot at this, Serafina. That was the prize, and I won’t deny you that. And if you can prove me wrong tonight, and defy all aspects of common sense, and rip this belt from my possession, then I will be the first to congratulate you. But it’s not going to be as easy as you think. And that’s saying something, because I know you know that you’re already in for the fight of your life tonight.”
“Back in June, you made a choice. You had the option of pursuing either my No Surrender Championship, or Cara’s Ultraviolence Championship. You chose me, and you chose this title. And I know you want to make good on your choice. This is your first title shot, and it’s coming FAR earlier in your career than it does for most others. And you want to make good on this. I get that. You’re going to be motivated. Even though you haven’t been in the ring, you’ve been training hard. You’re going to be ready for this.”
“But I’m going to be ready for this too, Serafina. You see, I made a choice too. Except I didn’t get to determine which belt I would pursue... I got to determine which belt I gave up. It’s a decision everyone in this company would kill to have to make. But that didn’t make it any easier. It killed me to stand in front of Mark Horton, hold that microphone up, and say ‘I relinquish the Evolution Championship.’”
Wendy pauses for a second, remembering that emotional night, before taking a deep breath, and tapping her belt.
“But that’s what I did, and it was because of this. I CHOSE this title, Serafina. I CHOSE to remain the representative of this division, because this division is who I am, and I have NEVER felt more in tune to the ideology behind a title in my entire career. I have been the embodiment of the No Surrender division from its inception, and I have no intention of having that taken from me- by you or anyone- easily, and ESPECIALLY in the first defense after making that choice.”
“Like I said in London, Serafina. This division started with me. This division IS with me, and will be for some time to come. But I know that this division will not end with me. It will happen, as it does for everyone in this sport. I know I will lose this championship one day, and when I do, I want it to be left in the best possible hands. I want to walk backstage that night, knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that the person who’s taken this belt from me is going to pick up right where I left off, and take the greatest division in wrestling today to new heights. Is that person you, Serafina?”
Wendy pauses, and then bites her lip, and shakes her head.
“No. At least not yet. You’re a talented wrestler. You’ve a bright road ahead of you, and you are truly one of the future stars in this business. But that time is not today. And I will not... I CANNOT do a disservice to this title, this division, and even you by being defeated until you are truly, honestly ready to carry this weight. Because as heavy as this belt is physically, the weight it carries in prestige and honor far exceeds it.”
“Consider tonight a lesson, Serafina. A lesson of what it truly is to face the top submissionist in the world today. A lesson of how far you may have come, but an even more telling lesson of how far you’ve yet to go. Because, Serafina Reynolds, this desert is a long, treacherous one. Don't be fooled by the mirage, your destination is not yet here. The path ahead of you is great indeed.”
“But I promise you this, Serafina. Win or lose tonight... you will certainly benefit from the experience.”
Wendy walks towards the camera, and the scene gets one final, glorious view of the McDowell Mountains before it fades to black.
City Streets- Taxi Cab
Tampa, Florida
12:13 PM Local TIme
Wendy Briese looked out the window at the passing Tampa skyline, and took a deep breath, trying to calm the fluttering in her stomach. She didn’t really know what had her so nervous. All she was doing was helping out Lyn at his school today, but she felt like a rookie about to undertake her first match in a brand new company.
It didn’t help that she was running late, either. She had hoped to have arrved at the Gym earlier in the morning, but a ‘slight mechanical malfunction’ had delayed her flight for nearly an hour, and it had taken longer than she had hoped to secure a cab from the airport.
She thought back to the previous week, when she had met with her psychologist after watching the play. She still hadn’t been sure about this entire psychologist thing, despite both Pollaski and Terrence’s insistence. But she was amazed at how much better she felt just being able to talk to somebody. What surprised her most of all, was just how perceptive Dr. Epstein turned out to be. He had honed in on her doubts about whether or not her being in wrestling was the right thing, and although he hadn’t completely removed them, she certainly felt a little more reassured.
But what had rung most with her from her visit was her lack of ‘giving back’ to the wrestling community. She’d done some things, but it hardly felt like enough. He was right- she just wasn’t going to get time to do it. She had to take initiative and MAKE it. So the next morning, she had called Lyn, and arranged to come down today. Tampa was hardly on the way to Phoenix, but Wendy didn’t really mind- the Florida Gulf was hardly the most taxing diversion out there.
She just hoped she was able to help, something, anything. She’d heard that a lot of the students were looking forward to meeting her, and she didn’t want to disappoint them.
“We’here,” the cab driver announced from the front seat, a thick Cuban accent making him slightly harder to understand. The cab came to a halt, and the driver turned around, tapping on his meter. “Forty dollars.”
Wendy handed a fifty to the cab driver, and grabbed her duffel bag, climbing out of the car, and looking up at the building in front of her. It was smaller than she thought it would be, but obviously well maintained, despite it’s obvious age. Hearing the cab pull away behind her, the flame-haired woman started towards the entrance doors, heading inside.
Her first impression upon entering was that appearances were quite deceiving. The gym seemed far bigger inside than it did from the exterior. The main room was very large, and full of exercise equipment, ranging from treadmills to ellipticals to free weights, all surrounding a full-size wrestling ring in the middle of the room. Already most of the students were at work on one machine or another, although Wendy paused to watch a dark haired girl running suicide sprints on the far end of the room.
Lyndon Dallins looked worse for wear quite frankly as he stared at the girl running suicides. There was a distinct look of contempt behind tired, very worn eyes. The students raised their heads on sight of Wendy and frenzied whispers took place. ‘It’s Wendy Briese. Holy crap.’ and ‘Think she’s gonna show us the Banshee?’ among other comments that were stated in quiet tones. Lyn offered Wendy a half-hearted smile and extended his hand. “Welcome to the gym, Wendy. Glad you could finally make it down.”
“Thank you, Mr. Dallins,” Wendy replied, taking the offered hand with both of hers in a clasp. She looked up at the gym’s owner, concern in her eyes. “How are you feeling?” she asked, lowering her voice so that the approaching students couldn’t hear.
“Like I’m being ran ragged but this too shall pass,” He replied softly, a more genuine smile crossing his features. “How about you?” Lyn inquired as he stole a glance at Caroline Dallins explaining to Stephanie Sanderson the advanced uses of proper rest hold techniques in another corner of the gym. Killer C looked up momentarily, shook her head at Lyn and continued on.
“Wish the flight hadn’t been so late.” Following Lyn’s gaze and giving the Power Trip member a short nod. She didn’t care much for “Killer C”, especially considering that she was less than a month away from meeting her in a War Games match, not to mention Dallins recently announcing her No Surrender belt as her target. But she respected the woman enough to be civil here, and not make a scene in front of the other students. She looked back to Lyn. “Is there a place where I can change? I probably shouldn’t be working out in this,” she muttered, gesturing to her jeans and buttoned blouse.
Lyn raised his head and pointed an index finger to the left. “Women’s locker room is that green door right there next to the punching bag.” Lyndon would have taken a moment to add a cute joke at the end but the old veteran lacked his usual humor. “Killer C” on the far corner returned Wendy’s nod but the moment after seemed... Unsure of why she did.
“Okay, give me ten minutes,” Wendy said, turning to walk away, then pausing. “Lyn,” she said suddenly, grabbing his arm. The King of Submissions turned to look at her. “It’s going to be okay. Don’t listen to what stupid people like Kyle or Robbyn are saying. We all support you and Steph, and Kane’s not going to get away with it.”
“No... No, Kane will not.” Lyndon muttered coldly before his eye fell on a particular corner of the gym, “Nor will The Power Trip when their time comes around. Of this I am most sure.” He patted Wendy twice on the shoulder as she began to head off to locker room. “Thank you.”
Wendy smiled her best attempt at reassurance, and turned and walked to the locker room.
Twelve minutes later, she emerged, dressed now in a black pair of tight-fitting sweats, and a dark blue Notre Dame t-shirt, gloves and boots on, her hair back in a ponytail. Over her shoulder sat the No Surrender championship, brought for the benefit of some of the curious students. She found Lyn playing spotter to a student on the weights, and stood patiently by, waiting until the set was finished before saying “Okay, I’m ready.”
Lyn nodded before he helped the student to stand up, a punk-looking boy with a blonde mohawk. The King of Submissions patted himself down for his whistle and blew three times in distinct succession. In a matter of moments, he was nearly stampeded by all the wrestlers in-training as they leapt and climbed onto the bleachers before sitting down. “Alright, so as you guys have already noticed and whispered about... We have ourselves a well traveled veteran of the ring and the No Surrender Champion of Femme Fatale Wrestling. Wendy Briese.” Well meaning applause and one or two ‘Woo woo woos!” echoed to the ceiling... And a single “Take it off!”
Lyn stared absolute death at Silo, who immediately seemed to shrink into his seat, a feat that would be likely impossible for a stocky Samoan.
Wendy blushed slightly at the attention and cheers of the students, then shot a glance over at Lyn. “I’m assuming this is the one you were telling me about,” she said, trying to keep her voice light.
A few scattered chuckles in the young crowd as Lyn responded. “That would be him. He has a lot of talent, he’s deceptively fast for a young man his size, and I’ve seen him do it all in the ring... If he’s facing a man.” He threw a glance at Silo once more, who attempted to look somewhere else. “If he’s facing a woman, he’ll be lucky to last two minutes. Tops.”
“Born twenty years too late, then?” Wendy asked lightly. “Shame somewhere along the lines it got figured out that women can compete on the same level as men, or he’d be aces. What’s the problem? I mean... I’m sure there’s a psychological block in there... although it doesn’t seem to be stemming from any sense of chivalry,” she added pointedly, looking straight at Silo and tugging on her shirt.
Silo himself gave it a few moments of thought, before he looked down with a growing sense of shame. Lydia, the tomboy-looking girl in the corner rose her hand. “Uhm, Ms. Briese? If I may? ...Silo’s never interacted with a girl whatsoever. In an intimate sense.” Silo gave Lydia a gruff look and muttered loudly. “I was always busy with school and football practice, okay? I just never thought about it until now. I was studying or playing football or doing high school and collegiate wrestling.”
Wendy thought for a second, chewing on her bottom lip. “I see. So, you sacrificed any hope you had at a romantic life to focus on your schooling and sports. Why has that changed now?”
All eyes were on Silo now. Even Lyndon seemed to have a morbid sense of curiosity, though he also looked as though he were dreading the answer. “It hasn’t really changed at all? I still take my college courses seriously, and I train here every day. It’s just when... Uh. Well... When I get in the ring with a girl my head kinda fogs over. I just stop remembering things. Like the time I got Lydia in a German Suplex position!” Another student with sandy hair and a similarly colored beard grimaced. “I remember that. Silo just stood there for five minutes while Lydia looked around and wondered when he was going to finally let go of her waist. He just went blank.”
Wendy chewed her lip for a long time, before glancing over at Lyn, then back over at Silo. Finally she jerked her thumb over her shoulder. “Alright, then. Silo, in the ring.”
The longest silence ever pervaded over the group as Lyn Dallins put his hands in his face and seemed to want to cry. The tiniest, “Oh dear God” echoed from him as quite a few students joined in the same action. Silo’s face told the tale of absolute dread as he sauntered over to the ring. He pulled up his gym shorts and rolled inside.
Wendy climbed up the ring steps, entering the ring herself. She shot the troubled Lyn a reassuring smile, then turned a more stern gaze upon Silo. “Okay. I’m just going to stand here. Hit me with a German Suplex.”
Silo swallowed and began to... Wrap his arms around her waist. On the positive, there was no ‘funny business’ going on under the belt in any way. On the other hand after Silo put his arms around the White Knight’s waist, the young Samoan just stood there. A blank stare appeared on his face moments later.
“Silo... do you know HOW to do a German Suplex?” Wendy asked in exasperation.
“...Yes. Uhm, your hair smells nice.” He responded.
Half the students on the bleachers sighed in frustration, A few shook their heads, Misty Whitmore frowned, Lydia rubbed the bridge of her nose and Lyndon took his clipboard and violently struck himself in the head with it.
To everyone’s surprise, Wendy smiled warmly. “Thank you, Silo. I just particularly LOVE this raspberry scented conditioner. However...” And she threw her head back, the back of her skull smashing right into Silo’s face. Silo bellowed, and let go, holding his hands up to his nose, as Wendy spun around, her legs flashing out in a flurry of kicks, one connecting hard on the back of his hamstring, bringing him to one knee. Wendy sped behind him, leaping towards the ropes, springboarding off with a dropkick to the back of his head, sending him face first to the mat. She grabbed both his arms, wrenching them behind him, and planting her foot on his back in a surfboard.
“I believe I asked you to give me a German suplex, not smell my hair,” Wendy responded calmly. “Now, before I let go, is there anything ELSE of mine you’d like to sniff, Silo?”
“No ma’am!” Silo wept in obvious pain from the agile combination of moves. From the bleachers, Lydia muttered, “Hope he listens. At this rate, we’ll need to ice him down.”
Wendy let go of the hold, stepping away as Silo rubbed his sore arms. “Now, about that German Suplex,” she intoned, again turning her back, and crossing her arms over her chest, waiting.
Silo breathed in and once again hooked his arms around Wendy’s waist. With an internal count to three, Silo hoisted his arms and fell backward with a beautiful German Suplex... Yet Wendy was still standing, arms crossed as Silo drove himself (and air) on his head and laid there for sometime. “Ow.” he murmured weakly. The bleacher full of students yelled out in frustration and agony. ‘You’re making us look bad!’, and ‘C’mon dude, you suplex me all the time!’
Wendy looked straight at Lyn, her jaw slack. Receiving only a shrug in reply, she turned back around, looking down at Silo. “Silo, I’m not even sure that what you just did is even physically possible.”
Silo rubbed the back of his head as he sat up. “I’m not even sure what just happened, Ms. Briese. I’m honestly trying.” Lyndon cleared his throat to interject. “Silo. You should have graduated from the school months ago. The only reason you’re still here is because of this tiny... Well not tiny but this problem. I know you’re trying son, but you’ll never make it if we can’t figure out what the issue here is. Even male wrestlers will be able to run you down if they have a female manager or tag partner or something just by keeping them at ringside.”
Wendy looked down at Silo, grimacing. “Do you believe there’s anything sexual in nature about wrestling a girl, Silo?”
After a brief pause, he shook his head with a grimace of his own. “No. Not at all.”
“You’re right. No more than if you were to wrestle a guy. At least there shouldn’t be... although some I’ve heard have tried to be exceptions,” she finished, shooting a dark glance over to where Sanderson was still training with Caroline. “So if there’s nothing sexual in nature about it, then what difference does it make if you’ve been intimate with a girl?”
“...I don’t know what difference it makes. It doesn’t make one I guess.” He stated offhandedly as Silo pulled himself up and grabbed onto the ring. He seemed to be completely focused on the question at hand as he began to walk around Wendy and talked to himself. “I mean, if I as a human being can’t understand the logical conclusion that this is not sexual in nature...” He continued speaking, wrapped his arms around Wendy’s waist before he lifted her upward and dropped her on her shoulders. “...Then it would be completely easy. I mean I should be able to do it in theory...” He continued talking as he sat up and leaned on the ropes. “There should be no ramifications to something like that really. We as human beings should always respect...” Seemingly lost in his own little world, unaware of what he just accomplished.
Wendy got up slowly, wincing as she massaged the back of her neck as she got to her feet. “Very good, Silo!” She said proudly. “You see? That wasn’t so bad! Now all you need to do is...” Her voice trailed off as she realized the student wasn’t listening, continuing to mutter to himself. “Silo?.... SILO!”
“Guh? Wha? Yes Ms. Briese?” He asked innocently.
“I’m trying to tell you that was very good,” Wendy responded, arching her eyebrows in exasperation.
“Uhm, what was very good?” Silo looked around haphazardly, as Lyn began to violently beat himself with his clipboard again.
“You just suplexed me. Now, do it again,” she said.
“I what? Uhm... Okay.” Silo responded before he began to make his way over to the No Surrender Champion. He locked his arms around Wendy’s waist and after what seemed like a very long... Long pause, Wendy was lifted off her feet and very... Very slowly deposited on the back of her shoulders, almost as though she was being laid on a bed and tucked in. Two steps forward and one step back.
“Silo?” Wendy asked as she forced his arms from around her waist, than began to stand up. “Are you by any chance a philosophy major?”
“Yes, I am actually. How did you guess?” The young Samoan smiled pleasantly after a pause.
“Lucky shot,” Wendy smiled. “Now do it one more time. Except, while you do it, I want you to tell me the basic fundamentals of Plato’s Allegory of the Cave.”
“Oh sure. In the Allegory of the Cave, the first fundamental is about what is real and...” As Silo continued to enjoy a light conversation with Wendy, he executed another perfect German Suplex. He stopped in the middle of his explanation and realized what he'd just done as his arms let go of her. “...No way.”
The response of the students on the bleachers was the same, shock and awe. Lyn’s jaw went slack, Kate Steele stopped her running and stared on in amazement and Caroline’s face froze as her eyes widened into headlights.
“Ah, you sure have a strong release,” Wendy replied, wincing as she used the ropes to help her back to her feet. “I think your problem is, you’re overthinking things. Just relax, and let your mind focus on what you know, not the uncertainty. Because when your mind was on philosophy... you were perfect.”
“Wow... Thank you Ms. Briese. Err, I’d hug you but I don’t want to think too hard about that either.” He said sheepishly with a smile. Lyn cracked his most joyous smile of the the day, and nodded at Wendy. “Never thought of that before. Neither did the teacher who’s spent the most time with him.” ...Over in the corner, Caroline Dallins violently slammed her head into the wall repeatedly as Sanderson watched and winced.
“Erm... I see..” Wendy said, glancing at Caroline, and cringing. “I guess the next step is to get him to more think than say it, so he does not drive everybody nuts by quoting Plato for the entire length of the match,” she finished with a grin. In truth, her heart was feeling a lot lighter, almost to the point that she could fly. She’d actually helped someone! She took a deep breath, looking over at the students. “Now, who wants to be put in the Banshee?”
Immediately, half a dozen students (mostly female, and including Misty) raised their hands eagerly, each clamoring to be first, to the point that a few were actually jostling with each other to be noticed and picked. Wendy shook her head, and glanced over at Lyn, sighing, despite the smile still on her face.
“They realize that this move’s not supposed to be *fun*, right?”
==================================
Saturday September 8, 2012
McDowell Mountain National Monument
Near Scottsdale, Arizona
10:38 AM Local Time
Located about twenty miles northeast of Phoenix, the McDowell Mountains tower 3,000 feet over the surrounding desert area, including the outlying city of Scottsdale. Just one of the many natural features that make the south-central area of the Arizona desert one of the most distinct places in the world.
Evidently, Wendy thinks its a pretty decent location for a promo, considering she’s standing in front of the camera. As could be expected for the middle of the desert in Arizona, it’s quite warm, and Wendy’s dressed accordingly, wearing a plain white sleeveless blouse, along with a tan knee-length skirt. Her long flame-colored hair is tied back into a pony tail, which blows behind her thanks to the decent wind that is coming down the scenic range behind her. She is turned towards the mountains, a faint smile on her face.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It seems like everywhere we go, there’s beauty to be found, whether its here in the southwest, or the northeast, or the midwest, or even abroad. Phoenix is no exception. I know at first glance, some might think the desert as simply vast and empty, and dry and hot. But you look at it, especially at sunset, when the entire landscape is painted into hues of orange, or at night when the sky is clear and cool, and you can see more stars than you could possibly imagine...”
“But as beautiful as the desert is, it’s deadly too. There’s the risk of exposure, either from the sweltering, triple digit heat, or from the nighttime, where temperatures can drop below freezing. Of course, there’s always the chance of dehydration, or even starvation, should you be in a desolate enough part. And of course, you have to be on the alert for animals, particularily poisonous snakes that could fell you with venom before you could even stand a hope of getting enough aid.”
“There are three keys to surviving a harsh climate like this... knowledge, experience, and discipline. You have to know where you’re going, of course. You have to know where to find water, or shelter, or how to spot danger. And of course, the more experience you have, the better chance you have of being prepared for a situation that may arise, and to keep your head when the pressure is on. And discipline... it’s such a necessity. What if you only have a canteen of water? You have to have the discipline to ration it, so that it could last for days, instead of guzzling it all at once, and dooming yourself to dehydration later. And when you’re at the breaking point, when you don’t feel you can go on any further, it’s discipline that keeps you going.”
Wendy vs. Wild. Now that would be an awesome television show. Although she'd probably not be one for drinking her own pee.
“In many ways, wrestling, particularily the No Surrender division, is like that too. Knowledge, of course, you have to know your skills, and how best to use them. Experience, of course, the more you do this, the more ingrained it becomes, until it becomes almost a second-nature. And discipline you have to maintain your focus. But more than that, in this division, you have to use that discipline and push yourself through the pain, and keep looking for a way out of the hold you might be in.”
“But at the same time, you have to know when enough is enough, when the situation is futile, and all you are doing is risking injury, and that it’s time to swallow your pride and tap that mat. It’s a fine line, that is. Tap out too soon, and you bring unnecessary defeat upon yourself, and even risk gaining a reputation for being soft. But wait too long to make that difficult decision, and you could be inviting disaster.”
“So, Serafina. Do you have all the pieces of the puzzle necessary to survive the No Surrender division, and emerge from Breaking Point tonight with the championship?”
Wendy smiles slightly. It’s evident in her mind the answer is ‘no’.
“I will give you this, Serafina. You have discipline, at least outside the ring. You are composed. You are calm. You are polite, save for where a particular fake nun might be concerned. You are proud of who you are. And you should be. Thanks to both your religion, ,and your martial arts training, you have obtained a level of discipline that most people in this business would be envious to have. Others, such as Trinity, and apparently my manager, may make fun of you, but I’m actually impressed.”
“But here’s the thing, Serafina. It’s one thing to have it all together in front of a microphone. But in that ring, when gameplans and strategies can unravel in the blink of an eye, and you have to improvise, and fight against circumstances you hadn’t forseen, when everything looks its bleakest, and your fighting on pure desperation, will your discipline hold then, Serafina? Will you be able to, as they say, ‘keep it together?’”
“You see, knowledge, discipline, and experience, they’re all connected. Through our experiences, we gain knowlege. We make a mistake, we learn not to do it again. We discover something that is effective, we tuck it away in our minds to use when it can be effective. And knowledge brings discipline, for the more we know, the more prepared we are for a situation. And through discipline, we can keep a clear head, so that we may gain more from our future experiences. All three, connected. You need a lot more than discipline to survive in FFW, Serafina. You need knowlege, and especially for you, experience.”
Wendy holds her hands up, forming a triangle, indicating the connectedness of all three points she’s saying.
“Serafina, you became an active member of the FFW roster on April 7, the day after the final of Season 6, when you beat Gabrielle Crimson to earn this opportunity. Since that day, in the five months hence, you’ve had all of two matches. You beat Trinity by disqualfication, because she lost her temper and struck an official, and then you beat Sarah Peek a month later. By comparison, Caroline Dallins, who entered at roughly the same time you did, has wrestled seven times since her contract was signed. But now, here you are. One win away from becoming the No Surrender Champion.”
Wendy pauses for just a second, biting her lip., She turns around, looking back at the mountain range, then takes a deep breath, turning back towards the camera.
“You know, Serafina... don’t take this personally, but I kind of have a problem with that.”
Wendy quickly walks towards the camera, going out of frame for just a second. When she walks back in, the No Surrender Championship is slung over her shoulder, the titanium belt glistening in the sunlight.
“I lost this belt to Starla McCloud just one week before your Future Shock final. I fought tooth and nail to get this back to my posession, and while I did, you stood in the back and watched. I faced Tara Thunder, title for title, in one of the toughest, and most emotional matches of my life, and you stood in the back, and watched. Two weeks ago, I went out in the Tokyodome, on our anniversary show, and avenged what I’ve felt was the most embarassing, shameful loss of my FFW career. And you stood in the back, and watched.”
“I understand that you had to wait for this. The prospect of Wendy Briese versus Tara Thunder was just too huge to pass up. It was a dream match to some, and to settle it at the biggest Pay-Per-View of the year, it had to be done. So you had to wait a long time. So long that the Season 7 Champion actually got to cash in her prize before the Season 6 Champion did! That’s not your fault.”
“But all along, Serafina, over those five months you couldn’t have faced somebody else. There’s over sixty women on this roster, and the vast majority of them could have given you a decent challenge as you prepared to face me. But that didn’t happen. You stood in the back, you gave the occasional interview, and you waited.”
“Maybe it’s not your fault, Serafina. Maybe it wasn’t your call to wrestle twice in the last five months. But it was somebody’s. Someone, somewhere decided that surviving Future Shock, beating Trinity by disqualification,, and pinning Sarah Peek gave you enough experience to challenge Wendy Briese for the No Surrender Championship, and I resent the HELL out of that!”
Wendy pauses, and takes a deep breath, closing her eyes, before opening them again, and tapping her belt.
“I refuse to believe that. I refuse to believe that after everything I’ve gone through to obtain, reobtain, and retain this belt, that all anyone needs to do to rip this from me is five matches against rookies, and suddenly you have the experience and knowhow to make me tap. I refuse to believe that after everything I’ve done for this, someone who’s given three times as many backstage interviews as she’s had professional matches, is going to end my reign!”
“But, you earned a shot at this, Serafina. That was the prize, and I won’t deny you that. And if you can prove me wrong tonight, and defy all aspects of common sense, and rip this belt from my possession, then I will be the first to congratulate you. But it’s not going to be as easy as you think. And that’s saying something, because I know you know that you’re already in for the fight of your life tonight.”
“Back in June, you made a choice. You had the option of pursuing either my No Surrender Championship, or Cara’s Ultraviolence Championship. You chose me, and you chose this title. And I know you want to make good on your choice. This is your first title shot, and it’s coming FAR earlier in your career than it does for most others. And you want to make good on this. I get that. You’re going to be motivated. Even though you haven’t been in the ring, you’ve been training hard. You’re going to be ready for this.”
“But I’m going to be ready for this too, Serafina. You see, I made a choice too. Except I didn’t get to determine which belt I would pursue... I got to determine which belt I gave up. It’s a decision everyone in this company would kill to have to make. But that didn’t make it any easier. It killed me to stand in front of Mark Horton, hold that microphone up, and say ‘I relinquish the Evolution Championship.’”
Wendy pauses for a second, remembering that emotional night, before taking a deep breath, and tapping her belt.
“But that’s what I did, and it was because of this. I CHOSE this title, Serafina. I CHOSE to remain the representative of this division, because this division is who I am, and I have NEVER felt more in tune to the ideology behind a title in my entire career. I have been the embodiment of the No Surrender division from its inception, and I have no intention of having that taken from me- by you or anyone- easily, and ESPECIALLY in the first defense after making that choice.”
“Like I said in London, Serafina. This division started with me. This division IS with me, and will be for some time to come. But I know that this division will not end with me. It will happen, as it does for everyone in this sport. I know I will lose this championship one day, and when I do, I want it to be left in the best possible hands. I want to walk backstage that night, knowing, without a shadow of a doubt, that the person who’s taken this belt from me is going to pick up right where I left off, and take the greatest division in wrestling today to new heights. Is that person you, Serafina?”
Wendy pauses, and then bites her lip, and shakes her head.
“No. At least not yet. You’re a talented wrestler. You’ve a bright road ahead of you, and you are truly one of the future stars in this business. But that time is not today. And I will not... I CANNOT do a disservice to this title, this division, and even you by being defeated until you are truly, honestly ready to carry this weight. Because as heavy as this belt is physically, the weight it carries in prestige and honor far exceeds it.”
“Consider tonight a lesson, Serafina. A lesson of what it truly is to face the top submissionist in the world today. A lesson of how far you may have come, but an even more telling lesson of how far you’ve yet to go. Because, Serafina Reynolds, this desert is a long, treacherous one. Don't be fooled by the mirage, your destination is not yet here. The path ahead of you is great indeed.”
“But I promise you this, Serafina. Win or lose tonight... you will certainly benefit from the experience.”
Wendy walks towards the camera, and the scene gets one final, glorious view of the McDowell Mountains before it fades to black.
EPISODE 199: What She Truly Loves
Tuesday August 28, 2012
Starbuck’s Coffee- Downtown Shop
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:21 PM Local Time
“They did a really good job,” Wendy Briese commented as she took a sip of her cappuccino, finding the drink a bit too hot for her taste. She tugged casually at her dress, a dark blue one that she’d bought just for tonight, her second session with Dr. Epstein. The psychologist had taken her to the Indianapolis Municipal Theater’s production of The Glass Menagerie, and now they sat in a Starbucks just a block from the theater, talking it over. “That girl who played Amanda did a phenomenal job.”
Dr. Epstein had dressed rather formally for the occasion, in a two piece suit now with the jacket unbuttoned as the wind gently blew it around him. Sitting on the table in front of him was a grape smoothie, which he stirred errantly with the tip of a straw. “I thought so too. I’ve seen a few incarnations of that play, film and live. And I’d say this one beat most of them. The last time I saw it was when I was in New York last year. They brought in a rather well known actor to do the directing, and he did an awesome job with it. Just goes to show that there is great talent in theater no matter where you go.”
“I know,” Wendy said, smiling. “I actually did some work with the IMT myself, years ago. I was in A Doll’s House, and Annie Get Your Gun. It was a lot of fun,” she said as she took another sip of her drink.
“I even saw a production of the Homer’s Odyssey. And if ever there were a story that didn’t really lend itself well to theater, that’s it.” Epstein shook his head as he finished the stirring before finally tasting his drink. “Wendy, I know you had told me about growing up around this. How old were you when you first performed in front of people? Tell me about how it felt. I imagine nerve wracking would be one adjective to describe it.”
“I was six, and it was a small independent theater in New York, my mom knew the director, and i was Gretl in the Sound of Music. And it was scary at first, and I was nervous, because I didn’t want to disappoint Mom and Dad... but then when everyone applauded, it was the greatest feeling in the world.” She paused, and sighed. “Of course, Dad said I was too wooden,” she finished, shrugging.
The doctor nodded his head as he listened to her, studying her facial expressions as she spoke. “Sound of Music is a bit difficult to start out with anyway. All the applause you heard made you feel on top of the world, and it can only take one person to pull all that away.” Shaking his head, he continued. “What do you feel was your best performance in theater? What play? How old were you?”
“I don’t know...” Wendy said, scratching her head. “I’m really proud of A Doll’s House. I was 25 then, right after I retired from wrestling for the first time. And especially some of the plays I produced when I ran the MCTT. I didn’t act in any of them, but just seeing everything come together and the looks on my kids faces was...” she sighed. “It’s the greatest feeling in the world.”
“I can imagine. As far as I can tell, you have had three great loves in your life. Your husband, of course. The theater and wrestling. You’ll have to pardon my ignorance as I don’t follow the sport terribly closely, but tell me. Is it a different feeling being in front of a crowd of fans in an arena as opposed to a theater? I’m going to assume there is a totally different kind of energy.” He added before enjoying a bit more of his smoothie.
“Its the same... and it’s different,” Wendy replied, laughing at her contradiction. “I mean, both, fans cheering you are the greatest feeling in the world. But in theater, you’re simply just trying to put on a good show. In wrestling, well, you need to put on a good show AND win while doing it, so I’d say it’s a bit more challenging. But yeah, the energy in wrestling’s a bit more intense, mainly because the suspense is that much more... unlike a play, nobody really truly knows the outcome of a match.”
“So in wrestling, it’s not just about how well you did during the match. If you lose, your skills are not appreciated as clearly?” Epstein was a bit of a novice when it came to the sport, taking a moment to process this before he continued. “So is it safe to say that the appreciation of the fans in arena can bring about more of a rush of excitement than say your typical theater crowd. Tell me about the best match of your career in wrestling. What made it so?”
“It was two out of three falls, for the world Cruiserweight Championship. Me against Misty Xiao. Misty... she kind of stole the title from me. Won it by cheating, and every time I tried to get it back, something would happen, and she’d get off scot free. She even got me disqualified once! So finally, I asked for one more shot... and if I lost, I’d have to get on the microphone, and declare her the better wrestler, and never challenge for that title again. And she threw EVERYTHING she had at me. All her tricks. And I manged to counter each and every single one of them, and get the win.” she finished, not quite able to keep the pride out of her voice.
That brought a bit of a smile to the doctor’s face as he gave her a little bit of light applause at her achievement. “Well good for you, I can tell how much it meant to you. Now I know you have given back to the theater by trying to do your own productions and whatnot. In what ways do you give back to the wrestling business?”
Wendy thought long and hard, and finally bowed her head. “Nothing, really, I guess. I mean, I guess you could say that I help by opposing those who I think degrade or disgrace the sport. But that really doesnt’ HELP anyone, per se. I don’t know. I’ve actually been thinking about that a bit, myself.”
“That kind of surprises me, Wendy. You strike me as someone who likes to return gratitude. And the wrestling business seems to have brought you great happiness overall. You don’t do anything? Do you train new students? Do you give feedback? I’m sure there is something.”
Wendy nodded guiltily. “I want to... but between me travelling, and Terry travelling, and watching Theresa, there never seems to be time. And I know the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I mean, I’ve agreed to help Lyn Dallins down at the All-Star Gym one day, but... I just never seem to be able to get down there.”
“Maybe now is the time to do that then. I mean if you really want to do it, make the time to do it. Even if it is just for a day, it will probably make a big impression on a bunch of students who may never get to meet you otherwise. Plus like we talked about, it’s a great way to give back to a business that you yourself admit has brought you many proud memories and moments.” He countered, glancing out the window for a moment after he spoke.
“Well, I suppose I could swing by to Tampa on my way to Phoenix next week,” Wendy mused. “You know... I think that would actually work!” she exclaimed.
“Of course. You know, Wendy, everytime you talk about this business, your face tends to just glow. And it does so with the theater too, but not in the same way. If you ask me, I don’t think you have anything to feel guilty about in no pleasing your father or heeding his wishes. Because as I told you before, it’s about finding what makes you happiest. And you’ve tried to leave the business, and ended up coming back to it. I think this...this is what you were born to do. What you were meant to do. And you have no reason to feel shame for following your own calling.”
Wendy blinked a couple of times, and broke into a small smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I always felt guilty about walking away from the MCCT, even after all that happened with it. But you’re right. Even with all the stresses and aggrivations that come with this business, I don’t think I’d be as happy doing anything else.”
“I’m positive. I don’t think you made a mistake. I think you are where you want to be, where you feel most fulfilled. Your father did not care for anyone’s wants but his own, that’s clear. What makes you happiest is what you are doing. You followed your dream, your true calling. And I can do nothing but admire you for that.” He responded, flashing a smile after he said it.
“Thank you,” Wendy said again, looking down, and checking her watch. “Oh, dear. It’s getting late, and I promised Theresa I’d be home to tuck her in. But you said something about wanting to come to one of my wrestling shows?”
“I do. I want to see you in your element, if that’s alright. I mean I can buy a DVD and watch it, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t exactly the same. So if you can arrange to get me a ticket or whatnot, I will repay you. I want to see you doing what you love most.” Epstein glanced down to his watch, noticing the time as well before regarding Wendy.
“Well, what would you prefer? Next week when I defend my title in Phoenix? Or New York City and the pay-per-view War Games match?”
“New York would be easiest, I have a full schedule next week, it’s easier for me to shuffle things further out.” He finished off the rest of his smoothie before tossing the cup in the nearest receptacle. “I want to see you in your element. And I look forward to it already.”
“Okay,” Wendy said, standing up, and shaking Dr. Epstein’s hand. “I’ll get you a ticket this week, and air travel to New York. I look forward to seeing you there!” With a nod and a smile from the psychologist,, Wendy walked out of the Starbucks.
=====
Tuesday September 4, 2012
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
5:48 PM Local Time
The scene opens up in the living room of The Nest, where Terrence Thompson is sitting on the couch, apparently watching ESPN, judging by the annoying sounds of four guys arguing over sports (Around the Horn, yo). By the vacant expression on his face, it’s evident that the Mechanical Mayhem has gone into full on couch potato mode. It’s also obvious that the usually tidy living room isn’t up to its usual snuff. A couple open bags of potato chips sit on the couch, along with several soda cans on the end table (a few not on coasters- the horror). From what little can be seen on the floor, several of Theresa’s toys are lying about, obviously not put away when she was finished.
Dude on Televison: “Tim Tebow is the answer to all the Jet’s problems!”
Other Dude on Television: “NO! TIM TEBOW IS THE ANTICHRIST AND WILL DEVOUR YOUR CHILDREN’S SOULS!”
In response to this spirited debate, Terrence simply digs his hand into the bag of potato chips, pulls out a handful, and starts munching, looking very much like a cow chewing its cud, instead of the highly successful auto racer/professional wrestler. Although, to be fair, the two aren’t exactly mutually exclusive. Anyways, at that moment, Wendy walks in, her head tilted to pin the cordless phone she’s on to her shoulder.
Wendy: “Terry, Ms. Savage wanted to know if you were going to be able to help with the field tri-...”
Her voice trails off as she comes to realize what a disaster area her living room has become. There’s a long pause, as Terrence looks at Wendy, clearly puzzled, but then shrugs and goes back to watching his show. There’s a short pause, before Wendy speaks back into the phone.
Wendy: “You know what, Ms. Savage? I’m going to have to call you back. I’m very sorr.. yes. Okay, bye.”
With that, Wendy hangs up the phone, then glares at her husband, her arms on her hips, her foot tapping.
Wendy: “Terry... what happened here?”
For his part, Terrence shrugs.
Terrence: “Pollaski and I were watching a movie, and well, Theresa was playing. And then Theresa went to Elizabeth’s, and Pollaski went home.”
Wendy: “Without cleaning up.”
Terrence: “The ice cream truck was coming by. I’ll have her do it when she gets home.”
Wendy sighs with exasperation.
Wendy: “Terry, what are the rules? Before she does anything else, she cleans up after herself. This is because...”
Terrence: “Criminy, Wendy. What do you want from me? I’ve told you she’ll clean it up when she gets back. Calm down...”
Yeah, *that’s* always a smart thing to say...
Wendy: “Look at this living room, Terrence! I don’t see how you’d think I wouldn’t be annoyed by this.”
Terrence: “Well, yeah. But I wasn’t expecting the Spanish Inquisition...”
*BAM!*
The sound would almost be the front door nearly being kicked off its hinges, and Wendy looks up, positively alarmed. Her expression of alarm doesn’t subside one bit as her manager, daugther, and nanny (who, as usual, doesn’t look like she wants to be anywhere near here) troop into the room. All of them are wearing long red robes, with a large cross around their necks. Pollaski’s wearing a wide-brimmed hat. There’s a slight pause, before Theresa steps forward, her arm pointed at her mother.
Theresa: “NO ONE EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!”
There’s a long pause. Terrence stares at his daughter with pride, while Theresa beams back. Wendy, for her part, stares at the incoming trio, then looks over and seems to realize the camera’s there for the first time. Facepalm.
Wendy: “Oh...my...God...”
Pollaski: “HERESY! Using the Lord’s name in vain! Theresa, administer the punishment.”
Pollaski hands Theresa a small Nerf bat, and she walks up to her mom, taking a quick swing before the No Surrender Champion can even react, and whacking her in the butt.
Wendy: “OW! Theresa!”
Theresa: “I’m in character, mom!”
Wendy: “Yeah, well one more, and your character is suddenly going to be a little girl who’s grounded until her eleventh birthday. Now, go run along, okay?”
With an “awww!”, Theresa slinks out of the room, nerf bat still in hand. Wendy sighs, and looks up to the sky, mouthing “why me?” before turning back to her compatriots.
Wendy: “Why are you guys even doing this?”
There’s a pause, as Pollaski turns to look expectantly at Cassie, who seemingly is the only one in the room (besides Wendy, of course) who’s lacking enthusiasm for this. Growing impatient at the lack of response, Pollaski elbows Cassie in the side. Shooting him a dirty look the pale blonde pulls out a scroll, and begins to read.
Cassie: (monotone level: 99) “You are hereby charged with the task of bringing the heretic Serafina Reynolds... aka ‘Cupcake’, to justice for crimes against the church, namely bearing witness to a false religion, and insulting and impugning ordained members of the clergy.”
There’s a very very long pause.
Wendy: “You cannot possibly mean Trinity, can you?”
Pollaski: “Hey, you may not like her, but if history has taught me anything, you gotta play for the team you’re on. She’s on Team Buddha, you both on are on Team Benedict.”
Wendy pauses, and glances at her husband, her mouth forming the words “Team Benedict?” Terrence shrugs in return. Wendy shakes her head, and looks back at her manager.
Wendy: “But Trinity’s such a horrible, despicable, rotten excuse for a...”
Pollaski: “Yeah, but so was this guy...”
He beckons to Cassie, who reluctantly holds up a picture of Cardinal Berard Law, the distaste on Wendy’s face is evident.
Pollaski: “And this guy...”
Ironically, Tomas de Torquemada, the most well-known Inquisitor
Pollaski: “And this guy!’
Terrence: “Tim Curry?”
Pollaski looks at the picture, shaking his head.
Pollaski: “No. Cardinal Richelieu. Tim Curry just played him in the movie.”
Terrence: “Oh yeah! I remember. He was *AWESOME*”
Cassie: “Oh, Tell me about it. I loved that movie.”
Pollaski: “Yeah. Especially when Rebbeca de Mornay was gettin it on with Chris O’Donnell, and she-”
Wendy: “WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH TRINITY?!”
Pollaski shrugs.
Pollaski: “The point is, she may be a jerk, but she’s YOUR jerk. You can’t hate on her.”
Wendy sighs, and runs her hand through her hair, clenching her teeth.
Wendy: “Okay, let me make this *VERY* clear. Trinity... is not... on my *anything.* She’s not a Catholic, she’s a charlatan false prophet who makes a *mockery* of what I believe in, and I am cannot *wait* until Sin and Sacrifice, when Serafina gets in there, and beats the ever-loving-heresy out of her. And if Trinity so much as *THINKS* about wrecking this match on Saturday, she’s going to be dealing with a *LOT* more than Serafina, because I myself will beat her so hard her entire ORDER will feel it.”
Pollaski: “So, what you’re saying is that you’re going to...”
Pollaski reaches into the folds of his robes, and puts on a pair of sunglasses.
Pollaski: “Break her of her habit?’
Theresa (from somewhere in the house) “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Terrence is nearly in tears with pride in his daughter. Wendy double-facepalms.
Wendy: “This isn’t even about any of that. It’s about me and Serafina, facing off for the No Surrender championship. Religion has NOTHING to do with it.”
Pollaski: “Actually, it kind of does. I mean, dear God. People might get annoyed by your moral high horse from time to time, but at least you don’t shove your religion down other people’s throats.”
Wendy glances at the camera, a pure “Is he serious?” expression on her face.
Wendy: “What the heck do you call this, then?”
Pollaski: “Delightfully high-brow parody and satire.”
Pollaski looks over at the camera and gives a cheesy grin and thumbs up, to the point that you, the viewer,, can almost hear a small “ding!”. For her part, Wendy merely crosses her arms over her chest, and glares at her manager.
Wendy: “Uh-hunh”
Pollaski: “The point is, most people know you’re a Catholic, but you don’t go around broadcasting it every single damned time you appear on camera. When you say stuff, it’s kind of because its common sense. ‘You shouldn’t beat someone over the head with a chair, because it’s just not a very nice thing to do.’ Not ‘You shouldn’t beat someone with a chair, because Mark 29:13 says-”
Wendy: “There’s only sixteen chapters in-”
Pollaski interreupts her with a wave of his hand.
Pollaski: “You’re missing the point. When Serafina talks, it’s like... ‘Oh, I don’t lie, because the fourth precinct tells me not to.’”
Wendy: “You mean precept?”
Pollaski: “Whatever. The point is, Serafina can’t got two damn sentences without trying to blatantly remind us that she’s Buddhist, and a GOOD Buddhist at that. It’s like she should just pop on a shirt that says “Lookee me, I’m Buddhist!”. Although that would violate the seventh precept, which says to refrain from unnecessary adornments. Incidentally, the seventh precept also says to refrain from attending shows and performances, which, I’m not sure what pro-wrestling is, but...”
There’s a long pause, as Wendy shoots a very annoyed look at her manager.
Wendy: “I thought you liked Serafina.”
Pollaski: “Oh, I do. I just think it’s kinda funny that after her being around for nearly eight months, her religion is still somehow her most defining characteristic.”
Wendy: “Well, she’s proud of her religion. She’s proud of her faith, and she’s devout in it. You can’t hold that against her. I sure as heck don’t. In fact, I find it admirable.”
Pollaski: “You know, she’s not even supposed to accept gold or silver.”
Wendy: “Lucky for her, the No Surrender belt is titanium then.”
Pollaski punches his fist into his palm, an ‘egads, foiled’ expression on his face.
Wendy: “I’m sorry.”
She’s really not.
Pollaski: “Well, there’s also one other matter to be worried about. You remember how a couple months ago, I alerted you to the problem of how merely facing you tends to turn normal human beings into seething pits of evil?”
Wendy: “I do. And to the best of my knowledge, Desirae Kain still hasn’t gone and eaten her children yet.”
Pollaski: “No, but she’s on a six match losing streak, and is out injured as a result, which probably means things are getting a little tight in the Sensation household. It’s only a matter of time before she Hansel and Gretl’s the kids, if you know what I mean."
Judging by the ludicrous expression on Wendy’s face, she probably doesn’t know what much means at the moment. At least where Pollaski’s concerned.
Wendy: “And what about Cara? I mean, yeah, she followed up that by setting Raven on fire, but other than that, she’s been as kind, sweet, and caring as she’s always been.”
Pollaski has to cover his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. Evidently, he’s found out about the events at the All-Star Gym the previous week, while Wendy’s still in the dark, judging by her alarmed and confused expression.
Wendy: “What?”
Pollaski: “Oh, oh, it’s nothing. A...anyways. So, we’re worried that Serafina might be heading down the same stretch. So... just to warn you what might happen to her afterwards...
Pollaski beckons to poor Cassie, who’s basically stood there all this time like a human easel. She adds the last picture. It’s Akuma from Street Fighter.
Wendy: “Who the heck is that?”
Terrence shrugs.
Terrence: “It’s the closest thing to a Buddhist demon we could find.”
Wendy gives another facepalm, clearly fighting the urge to scream.
Wendy: “I hope to GOD Serafina isn’t watching this. You’ve pretty much managed to say every offensive thing you could possibly think of about my opponent and her religion.”
Pollaski holds up a huge manilla envelope.
Pollaski: “Actually, I got plenty more! You wanna hear about the Buddhist who walked into a-”
Wendy: “And all you’re doing is giving Serafina extra motivation!”
Terrence: “Actually, if she needs extra motivation to fight this match, she’s got no business being anywhere near that title.”
Short pause.
Wendy: “Okay, you have a point there. But STILL... how do you think I’d feel if people came around and bash Catholocism over and over again?”
Pollaski: “Actually, um, that does happen quite a bit. You generally are remarkably calm about it. So if Serafina gets butthurt about this, it just means not only do we finally have someone who’s more zealous and fanatic about something than you... we’ve got someone who’s more easily offended than you. Hell, we might just have someone who’s more YOU than you!”
Wendy’s eyes narrow, and she again folds her arms across her chest.
Wendy: “I think we’re done here.”
Pollaski shrugs.
Pollaski: “Alright. But first... let’s DANCE! Hit it, Terrence!”
Terrence picks up a remote, and hits play, and the music immediately begins to play, with Pollaski starting to dance. It’s KC And the Sunshine Band.
Pollaski: “Shake shake shake! Shake shake shake! Shake your-”
Wendy immediately see’s what’s coming, and she dive’s for the remote to shut the music off.
Wendy: “I SAID WE’RE DONE!”
Luckily, she stops the music just in time, and Wendy ends up sprawled over her surprised husband’s lap, remote in hand while Pollaski (amused), and Cassie (clearly nonplussed) look on. It only takes a minute for her to realize all hope of her dignity's been lost for now.
Wendy: (weakly) "I think I'm going to go call back Theresa's teacher now..."
Terrence: "Yeah. Good idea, hon."
And with that, we fade.
Starbuck’s Coffee- Downtown Shop
Indianapolis, Indiana
9:21 PM Local Time
“They did a really good job,” Wendy Briese commented as she took a sip of her cappuccino, finding the drink a bit too hot for her taste. She tugged casually at her dress, a dark blue one that she’d bought just for tonight, her second session with Dr. Epstein. The psychologist had taken her to the Indianapolis Municipal Theater’s production of The Glass Menagerie, and now they sat in a Starbucks just a block from the theater, talking it over. “That girl who played Amanda did a phenomenal job.”
Dr. Epstein had dressed rather formally for the occasion, in a two piece suit now with the jacket unbuttoned as the wind gently blew it around him. Sitting on the table in front of him was a grape smoothie, which he stirred errantly with the tip of a straw. “I thought so too. I’ve seen a few incarnations of that play, film and live. And I’d say this one beat most of them. The last time I saw it was when I was in New York last year. They brought in a rather well known actor to do the directing, and he did an awesome job with it. Just goes to show that there is great talent in theater no matter where you go.”
“I know,” Wendy said, smiling. “I actually did some work with the IMT myself, years ago. I was in A Doll’s House, and Annie Get Your Gun. It was a lot of fun,” she said as she took another sip of her drink.
“I even saw a production of the Homer’s Odyssey. And if ever there were a story that didn’t really lend itself well to theater, that’s it.” Epstein shook his head as he finished the stirring before finally tasting his drink. “Wendy, I know you had told me about growing up around this. How old were you when you first performed in front of people? Tell me about how it felt. I imagine nerve wracking would be one adjective to describe it.”
“I was six, and it was a small independent theater in New York, my mom knew the director, and i was Gretl in the Sound of Music. And it was scary at first, and I was nervous, because I didn’t want to disappoint Mom and Dad... but then when everyone applauded, it was the greatest feeling in the world.” She paused, and sighed. “Of course, Dad said I was too wooden,” she finished, shrugging.
The doctor nodded his head as he listened to her, studying her facial expressions as she spoke. “Sound of Music is a bit difficult to start out with anyway. All the applause you heard made you feel on top of the world, and it can only take one person to pull all that away.” Shaking his head, he continued. “What do you feel was your best performance in theater? What play? How old were you?”
“I don’t know...” Wendy said, scratching her head. “I’m really proud of A Doll’s House. I was 25 then, right after I retired from wrestling for the first time. And especially some of the plays I produced when I ran the MCTT. I didn’t act in any of them, but just seeing everything come together and the looks on my kids faces was...” she sighed. “It’s the greatest feeling in the world.”
“I can imagine. As far as I can tell, you have had three great loves in your life. Your husband, of course. The theater and wrestling. You’ll have to pardon my ignorance as I don’t follow the sport terribly closely, but tell me. Is it a different feeling being in front of a crowd of fans in an arena as opposed to a theater? I’m going to assume there is a totally different kind of energy.” He added before enjoying a bit more of his smoothie.
“Its the same... and it’s different,” Wendy replied, laughing at her contradiction. “I mean, both, fans cheering you are the greatest feeling in the world. But in theater, you’re simply just trying to put on a good show. In wrestling, well, you need to put on a good show AND win while doing it, so I’d say it’s a bit more challenging. But yeah, the energy in wrestling’s a bit more intense, mainly because the suspense is that much more... unlike a play, nobody really truly knows the outcome of a match.”
“So in wrestling, it’s not just about how well you did during the match. If you lose, your skills are not appreciated as clearly?” Epstein was a bit of a novice when it came to the sport, taking a moment to process this before he continued. “So is it safe to say that the appreciation of the fans in arena can bring about more of a rush of excitement than say your typical theater crowd. Tell me about the best match of your career in wrestling. What made it so?”
“It was two out of three falls, for the world Cruiserweight Championship. Me against Misty Xiao. Misty... she kind of stole the title from me. Won it by cheating, and every time I tried to get it back, something would happen, and she’d get off scot free. She even got me disqualified once! So finally, I asked for one more shot... and if I lost, I’d have to get on the microphone, and declare her the better wrestler, and never challenge for that title again. And she threw EVERYTHING she had at me. All her tricks. And I manged to counter each and every single one of them, and get the win.” she finished, not quite able to keep the pride out of her voice.
That brought a bit of a smile to the doctor’s face as he gave her a little bit of light applause at her achievement. “Well good for you, I can tell how much it meant to you. Now I know you have given back to the theater by trying to do your own productions and whatnot. In what ways do you give back to the wrestling business?”
Wendy thought long and hard, and finally bowed her head. “Nothing, really, I guess. I mean, I guess you could say that I help by opposing those who I think degrade or disgrace the sport. But that really doesnt’ HELP anyone, per se. I don’t know. I’ve actually been thinking about that a bit, myself.”
“That kind of surprises me, Wendy. You strike me as someone who likes to return gratitude. And the wrestling business seems to have brought you great happiness overall. You don’t do anything? Do you train new students? Do you give feedback? I’m sure there is something.”
Wendy nodded guiltily. “I want to... but between me travelling, and Terry travelling, and watching Theresa, there never seems to be time. And I know the road to hell is paved with good intentions. I mean, I’ve agreed to help Lyn Dallins down at the All-Star Gym one day, but... I just never seem to be able to get down there.”
“Maybe now is the time to do that then. I mean if you really want to do it, make the time to do it. Even if it is just for a day, it will probably make a big impression on a bunch of students who may never get to meet you otherwise. Plus like we talked about, it’s a great way to give back to a business that you yourself admit has brought you many proud memories and moments.” He countered, glancing out the window for a moment after he spoke.
“Well, I suppose I could swing by to Tampa on my way to Phoenix next week,” Wendy mused. “You know... I think that would actually work!” she exclaimed.
“Of course. You know, Wendy, everytime you talk about this business, your face tends to just glow. And it does so with the theater too, but not in the same way. If you ask me, I don’t think you have anything to feel guilty about in no pleasing your father or heeding his wishes. Because as I told you before, it’s about finding what makes you happiest. And you’ve tried to leave the business, and ended up coming back to it. I think this...this is what you were born to do. What you were meant to do. And you have no reason to feel shame for following your own calling.”
Wendy blinked a couple of times, and broke into a small smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I always felt guilty about walking away from the MCCT, even after all that happened with it. But you’re right. Even with all the stresses and aggrivations that come with this business, I don’t think I’d be as happy doing anything else.”
“I’m positive. I don’t think you made a mistake. I think you are where you want to be, where you feel most fulfilled. Your father did not care for anyone’s wants but his own, that’s clear. What makes you happiest is what you are doing. You followed your dream, your true calling. And I can do nothing but admire you for that.” He responded, flashing a smile after he said it.
“Thank you,” Wendy said again, looking down, and checking her watch. “Oh, dear. It’s getting late, and I promised Theresa I’d be home to tuck her in. But you said something about wanting to come to one of my wrestling shows?”
“I do. I want to see you in your element, if that’s alright. I mean I can buy a DVD and watch it, but I’m pretty sure it isn’t exactly the same. So if you can arrange to get me a ticket or whatnot, I will repay you. I want to see you doing what you love most.” Epstein glanced down to his watch, noticing the time as well before regarding Wendy.
“Well, what would you prefer? Next week when I defend my title in Phoenix? Or New York City and the pay-per-view War Games match?”
“New York would be easiest, I have a full schedule next week, it’s easier for me to shuffle things further out.” He finished off the rest of his smoothie before tossing the cup in the nearest receptacle. “I want to see you in your element. And I look forward to it already.”
“Okay,” Wendy said, standing up, and shaking Dr. Epstein’s hand. “I’ll get you a ticket this week, and air travel to New York. I look forward to seeing you there!” With a nod and a smile from the psychologist,, Wendy walked out of the Starbucks.
=====
Tuesday September 4, 2012
The Nest- Living Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
5:48 PM Local Time
The scene opens up in the living room of The Nest, where Terrence Thompson is sitting on the couch, apparently watching ESPN, judging by the annoying sounds of four guys arguing over sports (Around the Horn, yo). By the vacant expression on his face, it’s evident that the Mechanical Mayhem has gone into full on couch potato mode. It’s also obvious that the usually tidy living room isn’t up to its usual snuff. A couple open bags of potato chips sit on the couch, along with several soda cans on the end table (a few not on coasters- the horror). From what little can be seen on the floor, several of Theresa’s toys are lying about, obviously not put away when she was finished.
Dude on Televison: “Tim Tebow is the answer to all the Jet’s problems!”
Other Dude on Television: “NO! TIM TEBOW IS THE ANTICHRIST AND WILL DEVOUR YOUR CHILDREN’S SOULS!”
In response to this spirited debate, Terrence simply digs his hand into the bag of potato chips, pulls out a handful, and starts munching, looking very much like a cow chewing its cud, instead of the highly successful auto racer/professional wrestler. Although, to be fair, the two aren’t exactly mutually exclusive. Anyways, at that moment, Wendy walks in, her head tilted to pin the cordless phone she’s on to her shoulder.
Wendy: “Terry, Ms. Savage wanted to know if you were going to be able to help with the field tri-...”
Her voice trails off as she comes to realize what a disaster area her living room has become. There’s a long pause, as Terrence looks at Wendy, clearly puzzled, but then shrugs and goes back to watching his show. There’s a short pause, before Wendy speaks back into the phone.
Wendy: “You know what, Ms. Savage? I’m going to have to call you back. I’m very sorr.. yes. Okay, bye.”
With that, Wendy hangs up the phone, then glares at her husband, her arms on her hips, her foot tapping.
Wendy: “Terry... what happened here?”
For his part, Terrence shrugs.
Terrence: “Pollaski and I were watching a movie, and well, Theresa was playing. And then Theresa went to Elizabeth’s, and Pollaski went home.”
Wendy: “Without cleaning up.”
Terrence: “The ice cream truck was coming by. I’ll have her do it when she gets home.”
Wendy sighs with exasperation.
Wendy: “Terry, what are the rules? Before she does anything else, she cleans up after herself. This is because...”
Terrence: “Criminy, Wendy. What do you want from me? I’ve told you she’ll clean it up when she gets back. Calm down...”
Yeah, *that’s* always a smart thing to say...
Wendy: “Look at this living room, Terrence! I don’t see how you’d think I wouldn’t be annoyed by this.”
Terrence: “Well, yeah. But I wasn’t expecting the Spanish Inquisition...”
*BAM!*
The sound would almost be the front door nearly being kicked off its hinges, and Wendy looks up, positively alarmed. Her expression of alarm doesn’t subside one bit as her manager, daugther, and nanny (who, as usual, doesn’t look like she wants to be anywhere near here) troop into the room. All of them are wearing long red robes, with a large cross around their necks. Pollaski’s wearing a wide-brimmed hat. There’s a slight pause, before Theresa steps forward, her arm pointed at her mother.
Theresa: “NO ONE EXPECTS THE SPANISH INQUISITION!”
There’s a long pause. Terrence stares at his daughter with pride, while Theresa beams back. Wendy, for her part, stares at the incoming trio, then looks over and seems to realize the camera’s there for the first time. Facepalm.
Wendy: “Oh...my...God...”
Pollaski: “HERESY! Using the Lord’s name in vain! Theresa, administer the punishment.”
Pollaski hands Theresa a small Nerf bat, and she walks up to her mom, taking a quick swing before the No Surrender Champion can even react, and whacking her in the butt.
Wendy: “OW! Theresa!”
Theresa: “I’m in character, mom!”
Wendy: “Yeah, well one more, and your character is suddenly going to be a little girl who’s grounded until her eleventh birthday. Now, go run along, okay?”
With an “awww!”, Theresa slinks out of the room, nerf bat still in hand. Wendy sighs, and looks up to the sky, mouthing “why me?” before turning back to her compatriots.
Wendy: “Why are you guys even doing this?”
There’s a pause, as Pollaski turns to look expectantly at Cassie, who seemingly is the only one in the room (besides Wendy, of course) who’s lacking enthusiasm for this. Growing impatient at the lack of response, Pollaski elbows Cassie in the side. Shooting him a dirty look the pale blonde pulls out a scroll, and begins to read.
Cassie: (monotone level: 99) “You are hereby charged with the task of bringing the heretic Serafina Reynolds... aka ‘Cupcake’, to justice for crimes against the church, namely bearing witness to a false religion, and insulting and impugning ordained members of the clergy.”
There’s a very very long pause.
Wendy: “You cannot possibly mean Trinity, can you?”
Pollaski: “Hey, you may not like her, but if history has taught me anything, you gotta play for the team you’re on. She’s on Team Buddha, you both on are on Team Benedict.”
Wendy pauses, and glances at her husband, her mouth forming the words “Team Benedict?” Terrence shrugs in return. Wendy shakes her head, and looks back at her manager.
Wendy: “But Trinity’s such a horrible, despicable, rotten excuse for a...”
Pollaski: “Yeah, but so was this guy...”
He beckons to Cassie, who reluctantly holds up a picture of Cardinal Berard Law, the distaste on Wendy’s face is evident.
Pollaski: “And this guy...”
Ironically, Tomas de Torquemada, the most well-known Inquisitor
Pollaski: “And this guy!’
Terrence: “Tim Curry?”
Pollaski looks at the picture, shaking his head.
Pollaski: “No. Cardinal Richelieu. Tim Curry just played him in the movie.”
Terrence: “Oh yeah! I remember. He was *AWESOME*”
Cassie: “Oh, Tell me about it. I loved that movie.”
Pollaski: “Yeah. Especially when Rebbeca de Mornay was gettin it on with Chris O’Donnell, and she-”
Wendy: “WHAT DOES ANY OF THIS HAVE TO DO WITH TRINITY?!”
Pollaski shrugs.
Pollaski: “The point is, she may be a jerk, but she’s YOUR jerk. You can’t hate on her.”
Wendy sighs, and runs her hand through her hair, clenching her teeth.
Wendy: “Okay, let me make this *VERY* clear. Trinity... is not... on my *anything.* She’s not a Catholic, she’s a charlatan false prophet who makes a *mockery* of what I believe in, and I am cannot *wait* until Sin and Sacrifice, when Serafina gets in there, and beats the ever-loving-heresy out of her. And if Trinity so much as *THINKS* about wrecking this match on Saturday, she’s going to be dealing with a *LOT* more than Serafina, because I myself will beat her so hard her entire ORDER will feel it.”
Pollaski: “So, what you’re saying is that you’re going to...”
Pollaski reaches into the folds of his robes, and puts on a pair of sunglasses.
Pollaski: “Break her of her habit?’
Theresa (from somewhere in the house) “YEAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
Terrence is nearly in tears with pride in his daughter. Wendy double-facepalms.
Wendy: “This isn’t even about any of that. It’s about me and Serafina, facing off for the No Surrender championship. Religion has NOTHING to do with it.”
Pollaski: “Actually, it kind of does. I mean, dear God. People might get annoyed by your moral high horse from time to time, but at least you don’t shove your religion down other people’s throats.”
Wendy glances at the camera, a pure “Is he serious?” expression on her face.
Wendy: “What the heck do you call this, then?”
Pollaski: “Delightfully high-brow parody and satire.”
Pollaski looks over at the camera and gives a cheesy grin and thumbs up, to the point that you, the viewer,, can almost hear a small “ding!”. For her part, Wendy merely crosses her arms over her chest, and glares at her manager.
Wendy: “Uh-hunh”
Pollaski: “The point is, most people know you’re a Catholic, but you don’t go around broadcasting it every single damned time you appear on camera. When you say stuff, it’s kind of because its common sense. ‘You shouldn’t beat someone over the head with a chair, because it’s just not a very nice thing to do.’ Not ‘You shouldn’t beat someone with a chair, because Mark 29:13 says-”
Wendy: “There’s only sixteen chapters in-”
Pollaski interreupts her with a wave of his hand.
Pollaski: “You’re missing the point. When Serafina talks, it’s like... ‘Oh, I don’t lie, because the fourth precinct tells me not to.’”
Wendy: “You mean precept?”
Pollaski: “Whatever. The point is, Serafina can’t got two damn sentences without trying to blatantly remind us that she’s Buddhist, and a GOOD Buddhist at that. It’s like she should just pop on a shirt that says “Lookee me, I’m Buddhist!”. Although that would violate the seventh precept, which says to refrain from unnecessary adornments. Incidentally, the seventh precept also says to refrain from attending shows and performances, which, I’m not sure what pro-wrestling is, but...”
There’s a long pause, as Wendy shoots a very annoyed look at her manager.
Wendy: “I thought you liked Serafina.”
Pollaski: “Oh, I do. I just think it’s kinda funny that after her being around for nearly eight months, her religion is still somehow her most defining characteristic.”
Wendy: “Well, she’s proud of her religion. She’s proud of her faith, and she’s devout in it. You can’t hold that against her. I sure as heck don’t. In fact, I find it admirable.”
Pollaski: “You know, she’s not even supposed to accept gold or silver.”
Wendy: “Lucky for her, the No Surrender belt is titanium then.”
Pollaski punches his fist into his palm, an ‘egads, foiled’ expression on his face.
Wendy: “I’m sorry.”
She’s really not.
Pollaski: “Well, there’s also one other matter to be worried about. You remember how a couple months ago, I alerted you to the problem of how merely facing you tends to turn normal human beings into seething pits of evil?”
Wendy: “I do. And to the best of my knowledge, Desirae Kain still hasn’t gone and eaten her children yet.”
Pollaski: “No, but she’s on a six match losing streak, and is out injured as a result, which probably means things are getting a little tight in the Sensation household. It’s only a matter of time before she Hansel and Gretl’s the kids, if you know what I mean."
Judging by the ludicrous expression on Wendy’s face, she probably doesn’t know what much means at the moment. At least where Pollaski’s concerned.
Wendy: “And what about Cara? I mean, yeah, she followed up that by setting Raven on fire, but other than that, she’s been as kind, sweet, and caring as she’s always been.”
Pollaski has to cover his mouth to keep from bursting out laughing. Evidently, he’s found out about the events at the All-Star Gym the previous week, while Wendy’s still in the dark, judging by her alarmed and confused expression.
Wendy: “What?”
Pollaski: “Oh, oh, it’s nothing. A...anyways. So, we’re worried that Serafina might be heading down the same stretch. So... just to warn you what might happen to her afterwards...
Pollaski beckons to poor Cassie, who’s basically stood there all this time like a human easel. She adds the last picture. It’s Akuma from Street Fighter.
Wendy: “Who the heck is that?”
Terrence shrugs.
Terrence: “It’s the closest thing to a Buddhist demon we could find.”
Wendy gives another facepalm, clearly fighting the urge to scream.
Wendy: “I hope to GOD Serafina isn’t watching this. You’ve pretty much managed to say every offensive thing you could possibly think of about my opponent and her religion.”
Pollaski holds up a huge manilla envelope.
Pollaski: “Actually, I got plenty more! You wanna hear about the Buddhist who walked into a-”
Wendy: “And all you’re doing is giving Serafina extra motivation!”
Terrence: “Actually, if she needs extra motivation to fight this match, she’s got no business being anywhere near that title.”
Short pause.
Wendy: “Okay, you have a point there. But STILL... how do you think I’d feel if people came around and bash Catholocism over and over again?”
Pollaski: “Actually, um, that does happen quite a bit. You generally are remarkably calm about it. So if Serafina gets butthurt about this, it just means not only do we finally have someone who’s more zealous and fanatic about something than you... we’ve got someone who’s more easily offended than you. Hell, we might just have someone who’s more YOU than you!”
Wendy’s eyes narrow, and she again folds her arms across her chest.
Wendy: “I think we’re done here.”
Pollaski shrugs.
Pollaski: “Alright. But first... let’s DANCE! Hit it, Terrence!”
Terrence picks up a remote, and hits play, and the music immediately begins to play, with Pollaski starting to dance. It’s KC And the Sunshine Band.
Pollaski: “Shake shake shake! Shake shake shake! Shake your-”
Wendy immediately see’s what’s coming, and she dive’s for the remote to shut the music off.
Wendy: “I SAID WE’RE DONE!”
Luckily, she stops the music just in time, and Wendy ends up sprawled over her surprised husband’s lap, remote in hand while Pollaski (amused), and Cassie (clearly nonplussed) look on. It only takes a minute for her to realize all hope of her dignity's been lost for now.
Wendy: (weakly) "I think I'm going to go call back Theresa's teacher now..."
Terrence: "Yeah. Good idea, hon."
And with that, we fade.
EPISODE 198: Book, Interrupted
Monday August 27, 2012
Northwest Airlines Flight 228- First Class
Somewhere Over Western British Columbia
11:13 AM Local Time
“Folks, we’ve reached the altitude where it is okay for you to turn on your approved electronic devices. However, until we climb up to are cruising altitude of 37,000 feet, I’m going to keep the seatbelt sign on. We’ve got a good tailwind right now, so we’re expecting to be in Chicago about twenty minutes early today. Please enjoy the rest of your flight, and thank you for flying Northwest Airlines.”
Already, Wendy could hear her fellow passengers rummaging through their carry-ons, pulling out phones (in airplane mode, of course), MP3 players, video game systems, and Kindles. To her left, Pollaski had already turned his phone on the moment the announcement had started, and was already immersed in a game of Angry Birds. Wendy reached into the front seat pocket, and pulled out her own Android phone, turning it on for some music.
As the melodious sounds of Sarah Brightman began to swim in through her headphones, Wendy grabbed her book from the seat pocket as well- Jane Auel’s The Land of Painted Caves, lowering her seat tray as she did. A folded up piece of paper sat marking her page, and Wendy took it out as she opened the book, only to pause, and on an impulse, open the paper instead.
It was what Yuri had given her the previous night, at the SVW PPV. She had been casually pouring herself a cup of coffee, when her brother had approached her. Without a word, he had handed her this note, then disappeared. She had sensed a level of agitation in the behemoth, although whether it had been stemming from his dislike of her, his inability to properly beat Nathan Thunder earlier in the night, or what else, she couldn’t guess.
She sighed as she looked down at the paper. It wasn’t the first time she had seen a one-day only SVW contract. She’d signed one a year before, when, at the invitation of Anthony Gambini, she had appeared for one night in the company in a match against Lucas Peek. Heck, she had just signed one a few days ago, to be a guest commentator for the Peek/Kincaid match.
This one was for wrestling, not commentating, though. One single match, Wendy Briese against Chernobyl, the ‘stipulation to be determined at a later date.’ Apparently the battle in that apartment back in Belfast hadn’t been enough to sate Yuri’s thirst. She supposed she couldn’t blame him- for all intents and purposes, he had lost.
She felt a pudgy finger tapping on her arm, and Wendy glanced over at her manager, sliding her headphones off as she did. Daniel Pollaski’s forehead had a large bandage on it, covering up a gash Robbyn Helmsley had opened up in their match together, and his eyes were red and puffy from the mace he had taken. Right now those red and puffy eyes were directed straight at the paper in her hands, and she silently cursed herself for not taking precautions. This wasn’t exactly something she wanted everybody else seeing.
“You gonna do it?” Pollaski asked, a mixture of trepidation and curiosity on his face.
“Don’t be silly,” Wendy snapped back at him, jamming the paper into the seat pocket with enough force to drive a protest from the person sitting in front of her. “Sorry,” she quickly uttered, then turned back to Pollaski. “I have enough matches in FFW to last me a lifetime. I have no desire to face Yuri.”
Pollaski shrugged. “I dunno. Think about it... brother against sister, settling the score. I mean, hell, the Sanders kids are gonna do it, from the looks of things and the history between you two is WAY more than-”
“That’s exactly why we won’t be doing it,” Wendy hissed, closing her eyes, and sighing in frustration. She was cursing herself for opening that stupid contract here, and now. Why didn’t she just throw it away the moment Yuri had walked away?
“Because you might make too much money off of it?”
“Because it’s an absolute certainty that this is going to get out of hand!” Wendy replied fiercely. “I mean, the last time he and I fought, I shot him!”
“True...” Pollaski began, “Although my thinking is that whatever the stipulations are for the match, there’s probably not going to be a gun at ringside. He tapered off into a sheepish grin as Wendy glared at him. “Although talk about your groundbreaking stipulations!”
“Not. EVER. Going. To. Happen.” Wendy seethed. “The only reason I didn’t throw the stupid thing away was that I needed a bookmark,” she insisted.
Pollaski arched his eyebrows and tapped the closed book sitting on the seat tray. “Fat lot of good it did you. You lost your place.”
The glare that Wendy transfixed on her manager would have likely immolated a normal human being, but it merely caused Pollaski to shrug, and pick up his phone again, going back to Angry Birds. Wendy glared at him for several more seconds, then slipped her headphones back on, opening her book. It didn’t take her long to find her spot- she was still in the early workings of the novel. However, she only managed to get through three more pages before she felt the same pudgy finger tapping her on her arm again.
“What?” Wendy half-whispered, half-snarled as she put the book down (face down, to keep her place this time), and turned back towards Pollaski.
While Pollaski’s dignity and grace were never really at high levels, she’d rarely seen them go this low either. He was was attempting a full on ‘sad little puppy dog face’, complete with doe-eyes and a quivering lip. It gave her the overall impression of the worlds most overgrown, fat, pug-basset hound crossbreed.
“What if you did it to avenge me?” Pollaski whined.
“... What?”
“Well, the guy did nearly kill me in a completely brutal, unprovoked attack,” Pollaski reminded her, somehow managing to keep his lip quivering even as he talked. “Don’t you remember?”
“Yes. I also remember that you’re a fully trained professional wrestler who just so happens to be in the same company as him... so there’s nothing stopping you from avenging yourself.” Wendy replied.
“Right... only an ill-tempered Ukranian who’s bigger than me,” Pollaski muttered.
“And yet, you have no issue with me going out there and taking him on,” Wendy replied, giving her manager a cool glare.
“Well, you’re better than me,” Pollaski confessed with a shrug. When Wendy didn’t respond with anything more than another glare, his shoulders slumped. “So that’s still a ‘no’?”
“You’re catching on,” Wendy deadpanned, turning away again and slipping her headphones back on, picking up her book, but not turning her attention back to it quite yet. She thought again about the contract sitting in the seat pocket. After all, she was always looking for a challenger, right? And what harm could come in a sanctioned match?
Plenty, she knew, as her minds eye flashed to some of the horrific results she’d seen from grudge matches gone wrong, the latest being a small crater in the Conviction stage where Jennifer Stryfe’s lifeless body lay. She wanted a challenge, but not one where failure could very well result in something catastrophic.
But what if...?
No, there was no what if’s. She didn’t care how much money it left on the table, or what damage it’d be to her pride. She wouldn’t fight her brother ten years ago. She wouldn’t fight her brother six months ago. And she wouldn’t fight her brother now. She forced herself back into the book, trying to focus on the story at hand, instead of the sirens call of the contract in the seat pocket.
At least she managed to go a full chapter this time before the pudgy finger prodded her arm again. “WHAT?!” She snarled as she wheeled on her manager, oblivious to the stares the other first-class passengers were giving her. “For the last time, I’m not going to-”
“Whoah! Calm down!” Pollaski pleaded, waving his hands defensively. “This isn’t about the damned epic sibling vs. sibling match you’re spurning. It’s just...” he snickered. “Crystal Hilton’s on twitter asking if you can put it all behind you, and just be friends.”
Wendy paused for just a second, glancing at her manager’s phone, and shaking her head with a scoff. “Obviously she didn’t watch my promo.” she muttered.
“Well, she’s changing. She promises.” Pollaski guffawed.
“In my experience, if someone’s more focused on letting you know that they’re ‘changing’ instead of actually changing, it’s a farce. She might not actually realize it’s a farce, but it’s still a farce.”
“I love that word,” Pollaski said, grinning. “Farce!”
“Yeah, it’s a fun word, isn’t it?” Wendy sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Being fake is just so much fun!”
“Yeesh, someone’s got a seat wedgie...” Pollaski muttered, making a show of attempting to edge away from his client, a gesture made somwhat futile due to the constraints of his seat and the plane’s fuselage.
“Look, I spent nearly a YEAR trying to live down that loss to her, okay? Every single time she melted down, or went on a weird psychotic binge, or did something, I couldn’t help but think ‘I can’t believe she beat me’. Beating her in that ring the other night... and PROVING myself right about her ‘spotmonkey’ baloney... you have no idea how much relief I felt to finally right that wrong.”
“Well, you’ve been doing a lot of righting haven’t you? Your failure as Evolution champion... extinguished. Your loss to Crystal... extinguished. You’ve avenged damn near every single loss you’ve had here, save a couple.” He paused, and burst out into a laughter. “Guess you better get some new setbacks to go about amending!”
To his surprise, instead of laughing, or rolling her eyes, like she normally did, Wendy looked away, looking somehow even more stressed than before. “That’s what I’m worried about.” Wendy finally said.
“Oh.” Pollaski paused. “Serafina?”
It took several seconds before Wendy nodded. “That, and War Games. I mean... Serafina, yeah, it’s obvious. The girl’s had a whopping two matches in FFW, and suddenly she’s getting a title shot. But that’s her prize for Future Shock, and I can’t begrudge her for taking it, I guess. But War Games...” she paused. “I begged to be on that team. And here I am. but... I’m the only one not in the Mackenzie Mafia. I’m the outside selection, the wildcard. It’s a huge honor, I got, but...”
“You’re afraid you’re gonna fuck it up, and prove that someone else should have had your spot.”
Wendy nodded. “I mean, it’s silly, right? I’m as good as anyone else on our team. As good as anyone else in this match. I know it. You know it. Everyone knows it. But...I mean, we *have* to win this. This is as big as when I stood against Team Danger, or Defiance, or the Cartel. It’s all the same thing.. we HAVE to stop these people from running roughshod over everyone else, just because some spoiled brat of a billionaire likes them.”
“Well, on the bright side, everything you’re worried about, you’re in a pretty damn good position to have a say in how it all plays out.” Pollaski grinned. “Serafina, yeah, we don’t have a very strong sample from her. But that’s never stopped you and i from coming up with a strategy before. We’ll beat her. And as far as the Power Trip goes... I guarantee you that Starla and Tara are dreading the thought of getting back into that ring with you. You so thoroughly wrecked Starla the last time you faced- made her tap twice, while all she had was Adonis *trying* to run interference,” He grinned, knowing that he was the main reason the meathead manager had failed. “There’s a reason why she didn’t take her own rematch clause, and ran off to the tag division to go annoy Pink, Inc. and Bounce & Pounce. Hell, you’ve beaten three members of the Power Trip. How many people out there can say they’ve done that?’
“Not many,” Wendy admitted. “I suppose that’s why I’m on the team...”
“Nah, you’re on the team because when you make a cause your own, you go all the damned way with it,” Pollaski replied. “The moment those girls ambushed Jennifer Stryfe and put her in the hospital, every single one of them had a bulls eye on them where you’re concerned. Ryan saw that, and he’d have been a fool to not make use of it. There was no way in hell he’d have turned you down.”
Wendy smiled softly. “Thanks Dan.”
“You’re a special woman, Wendy Briese. I’m a damned lucky man to have you for a client.” Pollaski said, then grinned. “Even if you do get a little angsty and stressed and irritable from time to time. How’s dealing with all that going, by the way?”
“You mean Doctor Epstein?” Wendy asked, shrugging, although she blushed slightly as she remembered her first session. She hadn’t even told Terrence about having to wear the clown shoes and nose. She had a feeling her coulrophobic husband wouldn’t be too keen on it. “Good, so far, although I’ve only been in one session with him. My next one’s tomorrow night. We’re going to see the Glass Menagerie. He thinks watching me watch a play is going to show him something.”
“Hunh,” Pollaski looked somewhat nonplussed, but he shrugged it away. “Well, keep going to him, okay? I’m normally not into all this shrinky-dinky psycho mumbo jumbo, but after what you’ve been through, it’s probably beneficial that you have someone to talk to.”
“I know.” Wendy replied. “There’s a lot up there, sometimes.” She smiled, softly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going back to my music and book.”
“Nah, not at all,” Pollaski replied waving his hand, and then broke into a grin. “Want me to let you know if any of your other former opponents desperately tries to start being one of your friends? Starla? Tara?”
Wendy couldn’t help but laugh. “No. I’m sure whatever it is can wait til after we land.” And with that, she slipped her headphones back on, turning her attention back to her book.
Northwest Airlines Flight 228- First Class
Somewhere Over Western British Columbia
11:13 AM Local Time
“Folks, we’ve reached the altitude where it is okay for you to turn on your approved electronic devices. However, until we climb up to are cruising altitude of 37,000 feet, I’m going to keep the seatbelt sign on. We’ve got a good tailwind right now, so we’re expecting to be in Chicago about twenty minutes early today. Please enjoy the rest of your flight, and thank you for flying Northwest Airlines.”
Already, Wendy could hear her fellow passengers rummaging through their carry-ons, pulling out phones (in airplane mode, of course), MP3 players, video game systems, and Kindles. To her left, Pollaski had already turned his phone on the moment the announcement had started, and was already immersed in a game of Angry Birds. Wendy reached into the front seat pocket, and pulled out her own Android phone, turning it on for some music.
As the melodious sounds of Sarah Brightman began to swim in through her headphones, Wendy grabbed her book from the seat pocket as well- Jane Auel’s The Land of Painted Caves, lowering her seat tray as she did. A folded up piece of paper sat marking her page, and Wendy took it out as she opened the book, only to pause, and on an impulse, open the paper instead.
It was what Yuri had given her the previous night, at the SVW PPV. She had been casually pouring herself a cup of coffee, when her brother had approached her. Without a word, he had handed her this note, then disappeared. She had sensed a level of agitation in the behemoth, although whether it had been stemming from his dislike of her, his inability to properly beat Nathan Thunder earlier in the night, or what else, she couldn’t guess.
She sighed as she looked down at the paper. It wasn’t the first time she had seen a one-day only SVW contract. She’d signed one a year before, when, at the invitation of Anthony Gambini, she had appeared for one night in the company in a match against Lucas Peek. Heck, she had just signed one a few days ago, to be a guest commentator for the Peek/Kincaid match.
This one was for wrestling, not commentating, though. One single match, Wendy Briese against Chernobyl, the ‘stipulation to be determined at a later date.’ Apparently the battle in that apartment back in Belfast hadn’t been enough to sate Yuri’s thirst. She supposed she couldn’t blame him- for all intents and purposes, he had lost.
She felt a pudgy finger tapping on her arm, and Wendy glanced over at her manager, sliding her headphones off as she did. Daniel Pollaski’s forehead had a large bandage on it, covering up a gash Robbyn Helmsley had opened up in their match together, and his eyes were red and puffy from the mace he had taken. Right now those red and puffy eyes were directed straight at the paper in her hands, and she silently cursed herself for not taking precautions. This wasn’t exactly something she wanted everybody else seeing.
“You gonna do it?” Pollaski asked, a mixture of trepidation and curiosity on his face.
“Don’t be silly,” Wendy snapped back at him, jamming the paper into the seat pocket with enough force to drive a protest from the person sitting in front of her. “Sorry,” she quickly uttered, then turned back to Pollaski. “I have enough matches in FFW to last me a lifetime. I have no desire to face Yuri.”
Pollaski shrugged. “I dunno. Think about it... brother against sister, settling the score. I mean, hell, the Sanders kids are gonna do it, from the looks of things and the history between you two is WAY more than-”
“That’s exactly why we won’t be doing it,” Wendy hissed, closing her eyes, and sighing in frustration. She was cursing herself for opening that stupid contract here, and now. Why didn’t she just throw it away the moment Yuri had walked away?
“Because you might make too much money off of it?”
“Because it’s an absolute certainty that this is going to get out of hand!” Wendy replied fiercely. “I mean, the last time he and I fought, I shot him!”
“True...” Pollaski began, “Although my thinking is that whatever the stipulations are for the match, there’s probably not going to be a gun at ringside. He tapered off into a sheepish grin as Wendy glared at him. “Although talk about your groundbreaking stipulations!”
“Not. EVER. Going. To. Happen.” Wendy seethed. “The only reason I didn’t throw the stupid thing away was that I needed a bookmark,” she insisted.
Pollaski arched his eyebrows and tapped the closed book sitting on the seat tray. “Fat lot of good it did you. You lost your place.”
The glare that Wendy transfixed on her manager would have likely immolated a normal human being, but it merely caused Pollaski to shrug, and pick up his phone again, going back to Angry Birds. Wendy glared at him for several more seconds, then slipped her headphones back on, opening her book. It didn’t take her long to find her spot- she was still in the early workings of the novel. However, she only managed to get through three more pages before she felt the same pudgy finger tapping her on her arm again.
“What?” Wendy half-whispered, half-snarled as she put the book down (face down, to keep her place this time), and turned back towards Pollaski.
While Pollaski’s dignity and grace were never really at high levels, she’d rarely seen them go this low either. He was was attempting a full on ‘sad little puppy dog face’, complete with doe-eyes and a quivering lip. It gave her the overall impression of the worlds most overgrown, fat, pug-basset hound crossbreed.
“What if you did it to avenge me?” Pollaski whined.
“... What?”
“Well, the guy did nearly kill me in a completely brutal, unprovoked attack,” Pollaski reminded her, somehow managing to keep his lip quivering even as he talked. “Don’t you remember?”
“Yes. I also remember that you’re a fully trained professional wrestler who just so happens to be in the same company as him... so there’s nothing stopping you from avenging yourself.” Wendy replied.
“Right... only an ill-tempered Ukranian who’s bigger than me,” Pollaski muttered.
“And yet, you have no issue with me going out there and taking him on,” Wendy replied, giving her manager a cool glare.
“Well, you’re better than me,” Pollaski confessed with a shrug. When Wendy didn’t respond with anything more than another glare, his shoulders slumped. “So that’s still a ‘no’?”
“You’re catching on,” Wendy deadpanned, turning away again and slipping her headphones back on, picking up her book, but not turning her attention back to it quite yet. She thought again about the contract sitting in the seat pocket. After all, she was always looking for a challenger, right? And what harm could come in a sanctioned match?
Plenty, she knew, as her minds eye flashed to some of the horrific results she’d seen from grudge matches gone wrong, the latest being a small crater in the Conviction stage where Jennifer Stryfe’s lifeless body lay. She wanted a challenge, but not one where failure could very well result in something catastrophic.
But what if...?
No, there was no what if’s. She didn’t care how much money it left on the table, or what damage it’d be to her pride. She wouldn’t fight her brother ten years ago. She wouldn’t fight her brother six months ago. And she wouldn’t fight her brother now. She forced herself back into the book, trying to focus on the story at hand, instead of the sirens call of the contract in the seat pocket.
At least she managed to go a full chapter this time before the pudgy finger prodded her arm again. “WHAT?!” She snarled as she wheeled on her manager, oblivious to the stares the other first-class passengers were giving her. “For the last time, I’m not going to-”
“Whoah! Calm down!” Pollaski pleaded, waving his hands defensively. “This isn’t about the damned epic sibling vs. sibling match you’re spurning. It’s just...” he snickered. “Crystal Hilton’s on twitter asking if you can put it all behind you, and just be friends.”
Wendy paused for just a second, glancing at her manager’s phone, and shaking her head with a scoff. “Obviously she didn’t watch my promo.” she muttered.
“Well, she’s changing. She promises.” Pollaski guffawed.
“In my experience, if someone’s more focused on letting you know that they’re ‘changing’ instead of actually changing, it’s a farce. She might not actually realize it’s a farce, but it’s still a farce.”
“I love that word,” Pollaski said, grinning. “Farce!”
“Yeah, it’s a fun word, isn’t it?” Wendy sighed, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Being fake is just so much fun!”
“Yeesh, someone’s got a seat wedgie...” Pollaski muttered, making a show of attempting to edge away from his client, a gesture made somwhat futile due to the constraints of his seat and the plane’s fuselage.
“Look, I spent nearly a YEAR trying to live down that loss to her, okay? Every single time she melted down, or went on a weird psychotic binge, or did something, I couldn’t help but think ‘I can’t believe she beat me’. Beating her in that ring the other night... and PROVING myself right about her ‘spotmonkey’ baloney... you have no idea how much relief I felt to finally right that wrong.”
“Well, you’ve been doing a lot of righting haven’t you? Your failure as Evolution champion... extinguished. Your loss to Crystal... extinguished. You’ve avenged damn near every single loss you’ve had here, save a couple.” He paused, and burst out into a laughter. “Guess you better get some new setbacks to go about amending!”
To his surprise, instead of laughing, or rolling her eyes, like she normally did, Wendy looked away, looking somehow even more stressed than before. “That’s what I’m worried about.” Wendy finally said.
“Oh.” Pollaski paused. “Serafina?”
It took several seconds before Wendy nodded. “That, and War Games. I mean... Serafina, yeah, it’s obvious. The girl’s had a whopping two matches in FFW, and suddenly she’s getting a title shot. But that’s her prize for Future Shock, and I can’t begrudge her for taking it, I guess. But War Games...” she paused. “I begged to be on that team. And here I am. but... I’m the only one not in the Mackenzie Mafia. I’m the outside selection, the wildcard. It’s a huge honor, I got, but...”
“You’re afraid you’re gonna fuck it up, and prove that someone else should have had your spot.”
Wendy nodded. “I mean, it’s silly, right? I’m as good as anyone else on our team. As good as anyone else in this match. I know it. You know it. Everyone knows it. But...I mean, we *have* to win this. This is as big as when I stood against Team Danger, or Defiance, or the Cartel. It’s all the same thing.. we HAVE to stop these people from running roughshod over everyone else, just because some spoiled brat of a billionaire likes them.”
“Well, on the bright side, everything you’re worried about, you’re in a pretty damn good position to have a say in how it all plays out.” Pollaski grinned. “Serafina, yeah, we don’t have a very strong sample from her. But that’s never stopped you and i from coming up with a strategy before. We’ll beat her. And as far as the Power Trip goes... I guarantee you that Starla and Tara are dreading the thought of getting back into that ring with you. You so thoroughly wrecked Starla the last time you faced- made her tap twice, while all she had was Adonis *trying* to run interference,” He grinned, knowing that he was the main reason the meathead manager had failed. “There’s a reason why she didn’t take her own rematch clause, and ran off to the tag division to go annoy Pink, Inc. and Bounce & Pounce. Hell, you’ve beaten three members of the Power Trip. How many people out there can say they’ve done that?’
“Not many,” Wendy admitted. “I suppose that’s why I’m on the team...”
“Nah, you’re on the team because when you make a cause your own, you go all the damned way with it,” Pollaski replied. “The moment those girls ambushed Jennifer Stryfe and put her in the hospital, every single one of them had a bulls eye on them where you’re concerned. Ryan saw that, and he’d have been a fool to not make use of it. There was no way in hell he’d have turned you down.”
Wendy smiled softly. “Thanks Dan.”
“You’re a special woman, Wendy Briese. I’m a damned lucky man to have you for a client.” Pollaski said, then grinned. “Even if you do get a little angsty and stressed and irritable from time to time. How’s dealing with all that going, by the way?”
“You mean Doctor Epstein?” Wendy asked, shrugging, although she blushed slightly as she remembered her first session. She hadn’t even told Terrence about having to wear the clown shoes and nose. She had a feeling her coulrophobic husband wouldn’t be too keen on it. “Good, so far, although I’ve only been in one session with him. My next one’s tomorrow night. We’re going to see the Glass Menagerie. He thinks watching me watch a play is going to show him something.”
“Hunh,” Pollaski looked somewhat nonplussed, but he shrugged it away. “Well, keep going to him, okay? I’m normally not into all this shrinky-dinky psycho mumbo jumbo, but after what you’ve been through, it’s probably beneficial that you have someone to talk to.”
“I know.” Wendy replied. “There’s a lot up there, sometimes.” She smiled, softly. “Now, if you don’t mind, I’m going back to my music and book.”
“Nah, not at all,” Pollaski replied waving his hand, and then broke into a grin. “Want me to let you know if any of your other former opponents desperately tries to start being one of your friends? Starla? Tara?”
Wendy couldn’t help but laugh. “No. I’m sure whatever it is can wait til after we land.” And with that, she slipped her headphones back on, turning her attention back to her book.
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