Monday July 29, 2013ed.
Golden Nugget- Main Gaming Floor
Atlantic City, New Jersey
1:18 PM Local Time
“Oh, excuse me!” Wendy Briese exclaimed as she narrowly avoided tripping a cocktail waitress carrying a tray full of drinks. She winced as the tray began to tilt to the side, reaching her hand out to help steady it if need be, but the woman had impeccable balance, and managed to right everything without spilling a single drop.
“No problem, ma’am!” the woman said in a cheery voice that Wendy could easily sense was somewhat forced. “No harm done!” And with that, the girl was briskly walking away, soon disappearing behind a row of slot machines.
Wendy sighed, looking around in dismay. Casino’s were hardly her favorite place in the world. It wasn’t that she hated gambling- it was surprisingly one of the few vices in the world she didn’t detest (so long as it was done in moderation, of course!). But casino’s were just so loud and bright and headache inducing with all the flashing lights, and the Golden Nugget was no exception. And of course, she had absolutely no idea where she was supposed to go.
Why in St. Patrick’s Sheleileigh did Pollaski drag her here, anyways?
So far, this entire trip to New Jersey had been a giant waste of time. After her surprisingly pleasant conversationw with Isabella, she had gotten to the gate only to discover that her flight had been delayed. By the time the flight landed in Philadelphia, and the cab that had been designated to take her to the track arrived in Millville, the race had already started, and was in it’s third lap.
Terrence hadn’t even made it that far, and Wendy sat down just in time to watch his car get pulled out of a ditch off of Turn 6.
Although he was unharmed, finishing dead last hadn’t done much for her husband’s disposition, especially since the horrendous result dropped him from second to sixth in the ARCA points standings. It had been a quiet, uncomfortable night in the WhirlyBirdz’ RV- all celebration over Wendy’s victory muted by the lousy crash in New Jersey. And the east to spend a day on the coast hadn’t been much more enjoyable, with the sudden flat tire and Terrence throwing a childish tantrum over discovering that they were going to spend a few days with her Aunt on the way back to Indianapolis.
And now instead of playing on the beach with her daughter, she was here in a casino because Pollaski had insisted she come here to the Poker Room on ‘urgent business’.
He better not need money or something, Wendy thought irritably. Her manager had received a CONSIDERABLE bonus for Untoppable, and if he had blown it all here...
She was tempted to turn around and march right back out the door, but instead she stopped another passing waitress, and received directions to her destination.
For several long minutes, she scanned the room, idly tapping her foot in frustration. Her manager was nowhere to be seen. If he had stood her up...
There was one man her eye kept going back to though- an overweight man wearing a Hawaiian shirt, a large panama hat, and sunglasses, with an unlit cigar clenched between his teeth. She could have sworn she saw Pollaski wearing that shirt a couple weeks ago, and the man was certainly bulky enough to...
Then the man dove forward, cradling a small pile of chips in his arms, and dragged them to him, laughing triumphantly as he did so.
Yup, it was Daniel Pollaski, alright.
Shaking her head in bemusement, she picked her way through the crowds surrounding the other tables, strolling up to the one her manager sat up. “Hey,” she said quietly, tapping him on the shoulder. Pollaski answered her by holding up his index finger, indicating she wait a moment. He then reached down, and tilted his hand up towards him. He barked in sarcastic laughter, and slid the cards forward, standing up. “Looks like all those Diet Cokes are getting to me, finally,” he said, stretching. He reached forward, picking up a red chip from his surprisingly sizeable stack, and tossing it to the dealer. “Guard my spot and my chips, will ya?”
“What’s with the getup?” Wendy asked, arching her eyebrows as Pollaski led her away from the table and out of the bustling room.
“You like it?” Pollaski asked, the cigar still in his teeth. “Saw the hat in the hotel souvenier shop.”
“And the cigar?” As far as Wendy knew, Pollaski had never smoked in his life, nor had he any plans to- he liked to joke that he’d done enough bad things to his heart without adding another.
“For show,” Pollaski said, grinning. “I couldn’t smoke it even if I really wanted to, though,” he said, pointing to a nearby NO SMOKING sign. “But it completes the ensemble,” he said, turning around and spreading his arms wide.
Wendy arched her eyebrows, her lip twitching. “You look like the worst Miami Vice villian ever. Please tell me you didn’t call me here just so I could admire your outfit.”
“Of course not!” Pollaski protested, scoffing in the process. “I called you here for training purposes.”
“Training, in a casino?” Wendy asked, scowling as her mind put two and two together. “Pollaski, No. I’m not going to rough someone up because you have gambling debts...”
“Seriously?” Pollaski scoffed again. “DId you SEE the pile of chips I just raked in? I’m ahead today, and that’s where I plan to end. No, no... today’s training is going to be a bit more of a... mental exercise.”
Wendy blinked, evidently a bit confused, and Pollaski interpreted that as a signal to continue.
“I’ve been doing some thinking about what you and I talked about on the flight up here yesterday,” Pollaski said, leaning against a nearby column. “You know, how you want to make a challenge for the FFW Championship, but don’t know the best way to do it without coming off like a Kat Stryfe.”
“Something along those lines,” Wendy assented, folding her arms over her chest.
“So we’re going to be doing a little experiment. An experiment in how to get what you want offered, and then to take it home.” He reached into his pocket, and pulled out a blue chip. “And this is what it is you’re after.”
Quick as lightning, Wendy reached out and snatched the chip out of Pollaski’s hand. “Oh, look. I win,” she dedpanned.
“Har har,” Pollaski said, grabbing Wendy’s arm and leading her back to the entrance to the Poker Room. He pointed at the table he had been sitting at, where a well dressed gentleman in a mustard colored suit sat. What was lacking for hair on his head was more than made up for by the brilliant walrus mustache under his nose, and Wendy’s eyebrows raised as she realized the man actually had a monocle. “See Colonel Mustard right there?”
“That’s his real name?”
It was evident that Pollaski was resisting the sudden urge to smack her. “No, his real name is Foster DePeeple. He’s the owner of the largest Diamond Mine in South Africa. Worth billions of dollars.”
“Why’s he playing at such a small table?” Wendy asked. It was mostly a guess- she doubted her manager had the resources to play a truly high stakes game, the kind she figured billionaires would play. Pollaski’s answer confirmed she was right.
“Because he’s a predator.” Pollaski said simply. “He likes to play for the massive ego stroke winning the little people’s money gives him.”
“How do you know that?” Wendy hissed.
“I’ve seen the type before,” Pollaski said. “The fact of the matter is, he’s the only decent fish at the table right now. None of the others have a clue what they’re doing. I’m the only other decent one, and even I’m not that good. So he just sits there, a fat cat eating each little mouse that comes along.”
“So what do you want me to do about it?”
“For as cocky and arrogant as he is... he’s one superstitious son of a bitch,” Pollaski responded. “Since I’ve started playing, he’s held a single $500 chip in his right hand. He’s tossed it in the pot from time to time, but always gets it back, and he makes sure it’s the exact same chip he picks up again. A good luck charm or something.”
Wendy couldn’t see the connection. “...And?”
“And you’re going to win it. That chip. Specifically”
Wendy laughed sardonically, rolling her eyes.“And how do you expect me to do that? I’ve barely ever played Texas Hold-Em. Everything I know is from listening to you and Terrence talk about it while watching TV. And you want me to skin your little shark out of his good-luck charm?”
“You know the basics, and you’re a smart girl.” Pollaski replied with a shrug. “You’ll be fine. And besides-” he grinned. “Now we’ll see if there is such a thing as beginner’s luck.”
“Alright,” Wendy said starting forward. With any luck, she’d either win the chip or go bust quickly, and then get out of here. At least Pollaski had built up a nice little stack for her to start with...
“You may want to hit the ATM first,” Pollaski said from behind her. “I’d say a couple grand would be a good buy in.”
“A couple gra-” Wendy choked, wheeling around. “Why can’t I use your chips!”
Pollaski burst out laughing as if Wendy had just said the dumbest thing possible. “Because those are MINE. I put my bonus money to good use. Your green ass isn’t going to wreck it.”
“So you expect me to shell out thousands of dollars trying to win a stupid poker chip worth a fraction of that?! Why dont’ I just offer him the money for the stupid chip instead!?”
“Because you have more pride than that. Now hurry along. I ain’t gonna be able to keep that seat open forever.”
Mumbling imprecations under her breath, she found an ATM, and put in her debit card, withdrawing pretty much her entire Unstoppable paycheck in one go. It was a colossal waste of money, especially considering the family was trying to fix the race track that was going to be plenty of times this amount. She should have just told her manager to bugger off, and left the casino. But some more adventerous, curious part of her was just dying to know what Pollaski was trying to prove with all this.
Sometimes she hated that side of her.
Pollaski had gathered up his own chips by the time she returned, and was explaining to the table that she was going to fill in for him. Wendy blushed slightly as she sat down, her throat tightening as she handed two thousand dollars to the dealer to buy in. She had a feeling that a couple of the players recognized her, although the South African man only licked his lips, and for a second, Wendy had the distinct feeling of a mouse about to be pounced on.
Predator, indeed.
Wendy’s mind raced as she tried to remember everything she ever learned about Texas Hold ‘Em poker as the cards were dealed out. The big blind of $100 was just to her right, so she was the first one to bet. Craning, she took a peek at her cards.
“OOH! A pair of Aces! ALL IN!” Wendy exclaimed, shoving her chips in. She was immediately greeted by groans and eight people immediately folding her hands. Behind her, she heard a smack that was evidently Pollaski trying to push his palm through his skull.
“Win to the... excited young lady in green.” The dealer said, staring at her as if she had just flatuated.
“I did it! I won!” Wendy exclaimed.
“Yeah... a whopping $150.” Pollaski groaned. “On the best deal in the game. And nowhere near what you’re trying to get.”
Wendy blushed crimson. “I shouldn’t have said what I had, should I have...”
Pollaski’s only response was a sigh. Wendy turned back ot the table, and cringed a little, as pretty much all her fellow players suddenly had facial expressions akin to the same ones the Power Trip would give her. “Sorry,” she whispered, as the cards were dealt.
This time she was on the big blind, so she went last, and she watched as everyone else either folded or matched her bet. She looked at her cards, and as soon as the man on the right folded, she smirked, and said again. “All-In.”
Pollaski groaned, and she watched as everyone folded- except one. DePeeple glared at her for just a second, then tossed the chip he was holding in, muttering “Call” in an accented voice. He then added enough chips to match her bet, and Wendy turned to flash a grin at Pollaski. This was going to be easy!
Pollaski, for his part, was refusing to so much as look at her.
“Flip your cards over, please.” The dealer said, and she gleefully turned hers face up, grinning.
“What the FUCK are you DOING?” Pollaski groaned, sounding on the verge of tears.
“Thirty-Eight!” Wendy protested. “Terrence’s number! That means it’s lucky! I’ll w-”
“Win to Mr. DePeeple with a pair of Kings.”
Wendy wheeled back around, and saw the billionaire taking all her chips away, making sure to pick up his lucky chip and put it back into his hand. She looked down at the table in front of her, where nothing remained. “Oh...” she said quietly.
“Excuse me a second,” Pollaski said quickly, grabbing Wendy’s arm, and jerking her away from the table. Wendy squawked in protest, as he dragged her halfway across the room, then spun her around to face him.
“You can NOT drag me like that!” Wendy hissed, color creeping up into her face. “I am NOT some-”
Pollaski sighed in resignation. “This is for your own good,” he said.
*SMACK!*
Wendy recoiled as his hand slammed into her left cheek, gingerly holding up her own hand to where the sting was. Her eye’s watered slightly. “What the FU-”
“SIR!” A steward came running over, looking apalled. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave!”
“Dude,” Pollaski replied, matter-of-factly. “She went all-in on three-eight off-suited on the big blind.”
There was a small pause, as the steward recoiled, then turned to Wendy-
*SMACK!*
-backhanding her across the other cheek.
“He’s right, that WAS for her own good,” the steward said, walking away.
“WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE!” Wendy cried, blinking her eyes rapidly as she rubbed her other cheek.
“A three and an eight of a different suit is like the second worst starting hand in hold ‘em,” Pollaski said, rubbing his eyes. “Never play it. Never ever ever ever ever ever ever! And NEVER go all in on it!”
“Oh...” Wendy said. But then her indignation returned. “You couldn’t have just TOLD me that?”
“Corporal punishment sends a MUCH better message,” Pollaski said, walking away. “Now go get some more money. Let’s try this again.”
ANOTHER two thousand dollars? Wendy balked, ready to just run out of the casino, but again, she found herself walking towards the ATM, albeit all the while imagining things she would do to Pollaski that she’d NEVER attempt during a sanctioned wrestling match.
It was going to be a long afternoon.
Monday, August 12, 2013
EPISODE 220: All-In, Part 1
From the private journal of Wendy Briese
7-30-13
Saturday night was weird.
It was obvious that however Isabella wanted to go out, it was going to be after she got every single violent, cheating impulse she posessed out of her system. I had never been in a match where the cheating was that blatant, that frequent, from the opening bell to the final one. It left me a bloody wreck... a victorious bloody wreck to be sure, but a bloody wreck nonetheless.
And yet, when it was all said and done, there she stood in the middle of the ring, waving to the fans as they chanted “Thank You Bella.” Here’s this woman, one of the most hated wrestlers in FFW history, going out like a hero despite wrestling her final match with the same disregard for the rules or any sense of human decency she’s always displayed.
And the weirdest thing of all... it seemed so fitting. For two years I was incensed every time she hit someone else with that stupid bell hammer of hers, but at Unstoppable, when my turn came, and the match was over... I found myself strangely unbothered. It was just Isabella Pazzini being Isabella Pazzini, for one last time. How can I be upset about that, when it was so ultimately... fitting?
And so another chapter in the FFW history books is closed, and I hope that her epilogue is a happy one. Isabella’s never struck me as someone who’s lived a very joyful life, and I hope now that she has her husband, she finds what she’s been looking for all these years.
But for me, my place in wrestling history is still being written. I have much more to write before my own story is told, and it’s time for me proverbially break out the pen. Isabella Pazzini is gone. The Power Trip is dissolved. Samantha Star has become strangely... amiable since her return.
And my next goal is clear.
The Femme For All is coming up, and already I’m hearing the speculation. Of course my name is being tossed into the prospective brackets, and a lot of them are even tipping me as the favorite. And yet, hearing that talk, I almost get upset about it. It’s strange, I know.
I just beat Isabella Pazzini. I beat Katherine Stryfe in my second match back. I helped my team beat Scarlett Kincaid at the Anniversary show (by count-out, I know). And if I get my way, I’ll be beating Emma MacNamara in Portugal. Four former Champions defeated in less than four months.
If that doesn’t merit me getting an FFW title shot, I don’t know what does!
But how do I do it? How do I go about telling the world that I deserve to be ONE match away from the FFW Championship, not four? How do I show that if Shane Sanders and Desirae Kain can get a shot, why not me? Because demanding title shots rarely goes over well in any company in any capacity. In FFW? For the best title in the land? It’s a bad mistake.
But I refuse to meekly accept my fate anymore. To sit on the sideline and smile and shrug every time I’m passed over. I did that in PWX, and it cost me. I did that in CCW, and it cost me. I did that in NGWA, and it cost me. I’m not going to be pushy, or a bully, but I will be assertive. There’s a happy medium in there somewhere, and I need to find it, and fast.
This past week has made me more than aware of my own mortality and age, and the fact that my own time remaining is far less than the others in this company. I need to make my move now. I can’t afford to wait any longer.
But ultimately, I can only control what I can control. And I can’t control the minds of Mr. Kincaid and Ms. Star, only influence them through my ring work. And if I haven’t influenced them enough to merit an outright shot, and must go through the Femme For All again, then so be it. But that also means the focus I have to have for Emma needs to be greater than ever. Yes, this is the woman who betrayed me and my friends nearly a year ago. Yes, this is the woman who battered me with a tire iron repeatedly and left me for dead in that ring. Yes, this is the woman who, when she found out I was seriously injured, bemoaned that it wasn’t worse. But this is also one of the best wrestlers in this company, and a former FFW Champion in her own right.
Which is why my showdown with her is more than a rivalry.
More than a grudge match.
More than payback.
It’s an Audition.
Sunday July 28, 2013
George Bush Intercontinental Airport- Lefty’s Lone Star Grille
Houston, Texas
10:13 AM Local Time
“So, how does it feel?” Wendy Briese asked as she took a sip of her orange juice, looking across the table at the woman she had been fighting in the ring only ten hours prior. She hadn’t truly expected Isabella to return the message she had left on her locker room door after the event, and couldn’t believe she was here eating with her. But there was no time like the present to iron things out now that...
She couldn’t believe it was all over for the woman who had been her biggest foil in the two years she had spent in FFW.
“Calm... quiet I suppose. Today was the first time I got up, and realized I didn’t have to train. It... it felt nice I suppose. But last night... last night was special. The reaction of the fans... it made me know that, for everything I’ve done, the last seven years were not a waste.” Isabella’s demeanour was difficult to read, but she seemed cheerful and friendly enough. In some ways, it was almost hard to believe she was the same woman who had terrorized FFW for so long.
“If you felt it was a waste, then why did you do it?” Wendy asked quietly.
“Ha!” Isabella chuckled. “All I ever wanted was to be remembered. Way back in the day, I never guaged myself on how many titles I won or how many matches I won. I cared about how my matches were recieved. I wanted to be an entertainer. Somewhere... somewhere I think I lost sight of that goal. But then I realized it last night. The stunts I pulled... the things I did... it probably did more for me than thousands of great matches. I was the one everyone wanted to see lose. People would sell out arenas for the chance to see me get embarrassed and humiliated. So as selfish as I was... I guess maybe I worked towards my original goal all along.” She smiled. “Funny how that works out in the long run.”
“It is. I honestly still don’t understand why after all that, the fan’s cheered you...” Wendy said bluntly. “But I suppose, in the end, I don’t have to. I just hope that when my time comes, my send off is just as grand. Or at least better than the one I got the first time I retired,” she grinned.
“You’ll do fine, I’m sure. You’ve done as much in your career as I have.” Isabella smiled at her. “You know, I used to be like you. Perhaps not quite as stuffy...” She laughed. “But essentially a good person. Violetta Flaherty & I used to be part of a tag team called the Respect Revolution, you know. Pioneering for more respect in wrestling, for an end to the incessant name calling and bullying that goes on. But a certain individual got in my ear, rubbed my ego... and from that point onwards I pretty much became what you see to this day. It makes me wonder. If it wasn’t for that individual... what would have happened to me? What would have happened to the last three years of my career?”
“You had a chance to find out,” Wendy reminded her, not quite able to keep the bitterness from her voice.
“I did. But things were different by that point. By that point, Samantha was running the show. And you saw what happened to me. I was a nobody for those six to eight months.” Isabella shook her head. “Samantha’s not a bad person you know, Wendy. She looks out for those she cares about. The trouble is... she holds grudges. And is ruthless. She’ll step on anyone’s head to get what she wants. And believe me, it’s a lot more pleasant stepping on heads than being stepped on.” She sighs. “I don’t really have much of a moral compass, I know. I understand I’ve hurt a lot of people in this business. But now... I’m not in the business anymore. It means I’ll be able to devote a lot more time to the Foundation, and maybe start rebalancing my karmic debt after all these years.”
“I know. I know what it feels like to be stepped on. And believe me, I’ve heard the siren’s call too, from time to time. But I...” Wendy stopped herself. It wasn’t going to do her any good to preach and berate now. She took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “I hope whatever you do, Isabella, you’re happy. Truly happy.”
“I am. For now. It’s like a weight has been lifted. ...Thank you, Wendy.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Wendy asked, breaking into a smile. “Now that you suddenly have so much free time.”
“The foundation will be a priority. As well as investing more time in my label; Samantha got me a great new opportunity in Los Angeles, so I can get my name out there. I’ll have plenty to do, don’t worry about that. This isn’t one of these three month retirements. It’s over.” There was perhaps a tinge of sadness in her voice as she said that, but she smiled regardless.
“Three months, maybe not. But five years... you never know..” Wendy grinned self-deprecatingly. “A label... like a record label? All you’ll need is a movie studio, and you’ll rival Crystal Hil-”
“Fashion label. Believe me, nobody wants to hear me sing.” Isabella laughed. “Then again, no-one wants to hear Crystal sing, so maybe I do rival her in that respect!!!”
Wendy laughed, and shook her head. “Well, I’ll suppose I’ll stick to singing. I tried designing a costume once for a play... my seamstress fell off her chair laughing.” She grinned. “Well, whatever I can do to help your Foundation, let me know. It’s a worthy cause to be sure.”
“Of course. Some things are bigger than wrestling rivalries.” She nods. “For what it’s worth... I don’t hate you, Wendy. I admire you in many ways for having principles. We may be polar opposites in the ring, but... well, that doesn’t matter anymore. I really hope you achieve everything you set your heart to.”
“Thanks,” Wendy said quietly. “And for what it’s worth... when you’re not cheating or completely trying to beat in skulls or end careers or playing Power Trip Games... you’re actually a pretty good person yourself.”
“Thank you.” Isabella took the compliment for what it was.
Wendy checked her watch, grimacing. “Shoot, I better go,” she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her wallet. “My flight to Jersey is boarding in fifteen minutes. My treat today,” she said, stopping as Isabella was going for her own purse.
“Okay. Thank you again.” Isabella smiled. “I enjoyed our little chat.” She stood up, and gave Wendy a warm handshake.
“I enjoyed it too,” Wendy said. “It’s nice to smooth some things over once in a while. I’d hate to think we’ll all end up bitter sixty year olds because of what we did to each other during our careers.”
“Life’s too short. I don’t want to leave this business with enemies.” She smiled at her once more. “Goodbye Wendy. Have a nice flight.”
“Thanks, Bella. And thanks for talking to me. You have a good flight too.” And picking up her purse, she took a deep breath, and headed towards her gate.
Nothing lasts forever.
Even hatred.
No, especially hatred.
7-30-13
Saturday night was weird.
It was obvious that however Isabella wanted to go out, it was going to be after she got every single violent, cheating impulse she posessed out of her system. I had never been in a match where the cheating was that blatant, that frequent, from the opening bell to the final one. It left me a bloody wreck... a victorious bloody wreck to be sure, but a bloody wreck nonetheless.
And yet, when it was all said and done, there she stood in the middle of the ring, waving to the fans as they chanted “Thank You Bella.” Here’s this woman, one of the most hated wrestlers in FFW history, going out like a hero despite wrestling her final match with the same disregard for the rules or any sense of human decency she’s always displayed.
And the weirdest thing of all... it seemed so fitting. For two years I was incensed every time she hit someone else with that stupid bell hammer of hers, but at Unstoppable, when my turn came, and the match was over... I found myself strangely unbothered. It was just Isabella Pazzini being Isabella Pazzini, for one last time. How can I be upset about that, when it was so ultimately... fitting?
And so another chapter in the FFW history books is closed, and I hope that her epilogue is a happy one. Isabella’s never struck me as someone who’s lived a very joyful life, and I hope now that she has her husband, she finds what she’s been looking for all these years.
But for me, my place in wrestling history is still being written. I have much more to write before my own story is told, and it’s time for me proverbially break out the pen. Isabella Pazzini is gone. The Power Trip is dissolved. Samantha Star has become strangely... amiable since her return.
And my next goal is clear.
The Femme For All is coming up, and already I’m hearing the speculation. Of course my name is being tossed into the prospective brackets, and a lot of them are even tipping me as the favorite. And yet, hearing that talk, I almost get upset about it. It’s strange, I know.
I just beat Isabella Pazzini. I beat Katherine Stryfe in my second match back. I helped my team beat Scarlett Kincaid at the Anniversary show (by count-out, I know). And if I get my way, I’ll be beating Emma MacNamara in Portugal. Four former Champions defeated in less than four months.
If that doesn’t merit me getting an FFW title shot, I don’t know what does!
But how do I do it? How do I go about telling the world that I deserve to be ONE match away from the FFW Championship, not four? How do I show that if Shane Sanders and Desirae Kain can get a shot, why not me? Because demanding title shots rarely goes over well in any company in any capacity. In FFW? For the best title in the land? It’s a bad mistake.
But I refuse to meekly accept my fate anymore. To sit on the sideline and smile and shrug every time I’m passed over. I did that in PWX, and it cost me. I did that in CCW, and it cost me. I did that in NGWA, and it cost me. I’m not going to be pushy, or a bully, but I will be assertive. There’s a happy medium in there somewhere, and I need to find it, and fast.
This past week has made me more than aware of my own mortality and age, and the fact that my own time remaining is far less than the others in this company. I need to make my move now. I can’t afford to wait any longer.
But ultimately, I can only control what I can control. And I can’t control the minds of Mr. Kincaid and Ms. Star, only influence them through my ring work. And if I haven’t influenced them enough to merit an outright shot, and must go through the Femme For All again, then so be it. But that also means the focus I have to have for Emma needs to be greater than ever. Yes, this is the woman who betrayed me and my friends nearly a year ago. Yes, this is the woman who battered me with a tire iron repeatedly and left me for dead in that ring. Yes, this is the woman who, when she found out I was seriously injured, bemoaned that it wasn’t worse. But this is also one of the best wrestlers in this company, and a former FFW Champion in her own right.
Which is why my showdown with her is more than a rivalry.
More than a grudge match.
More than payback.
It’s an Audition.
Sunday July 28, 2013
George Bush Intercontinental Airport- Lefty’s Lone Star Grille
Houston, Texas
10:13 AM Local Time
“So, how does it feel?” Wendy Briese asked as she took a sip of her orange juice, looking across the table at the woman she had been fighting in the ring only ten hours prior. She hadn’t truly expected Isabella to return the message she had left on her locker room door after the event, and couldn’t believe she was here eating with her. But there was no time like the present to iron things out now that...
She couldn’t believe it was all over for the woman who had been her biggest foil in the two years she had spent in FFW.
“Calm... quiet I suppose. Today was the first time I got up, and realized I didn’t have to train. It... it felt nice I suppose. But last night... last night was special. The reaction of the fans... it made me know that, for everything I’ve done, the last seven years were not a waste.” Isabella’s demeanour was difficult to read, but she seemed cheerful and friendly enough. In some ways, it was almost hard to believe she was the same woman who had terrorized FFW for so long.
“If you felt it was a waste, then why did you do it?” Wendy asked quietly.
“Ha!” Isabella chuckled. “All I ever wanted was to be remembered. Way back in the day, I never guaged myself on how many titles I won or how many matches I won. I cared about how my matches were recieved. I wanted to be an entertainer. Somewhere... somewhere I think I lost sight of that goal. But then I realized it last night. The stunts I pulled... the things I did... it probably did more for me than thousands of great matches. I was the one everyone wanted to see lose. People would sell out arenas for the chance to see me get embarrassed and humiliated. So as selfish as I was... I guess maybe I worked towards my original goal all along.” She smiled. “Funny how that works out in the long run.”
“It is. I honestly still don’t understand why after all that, the fan’s cheered you...” Wendy said bluntly. “But I suppose, in the end, I don’t have to. I just hope that when my time comes, my send off is just as grand. Or at least better than the one I got the first time I retired,” she grinned.
“You’ll do fine, I’m sure. You’ve done as much in your career as I have.” Isabella smiled at her. “You know, I used to be like you. Perhaps not quite as stuffy...” She laughed. “But essentially a good person. Violetta Flaherty & I used to be part of a tag team called the Respect Revolution, you know. Pioneering for more respect in wrestling, for an end to the incessant name calling and bullying that goes on. But a certain individual got in my ear, rubbed my ego... and from that point onwards I pretty much became what you see to this day. It makes me wonder. If it wasn’t for that individual... what would have happened to me? What would have happened to the last three years of my career?”
“You had a chance to find out,” Wendy reminded her, not quite able to keep the bitterness from her voice.
“I did. But things were different by that point. By that point, Samantha was running the show. And you saw what happened to me. I was a nobody for those six to eight months.” Isabella shook her head. “Samantha’s not a bad person you know, Wendy. She looks out for those she cares about. The trouble is... she holds grudges. And is ruthless. She’ll step on anyone’s head to get what she wants. And believe me, it’s a lot more pleasant stepping on heads than being stepped on.” She sighs. “I don’t really have much of a moral compass, I know. I understand I’ve hurt a lot of people in this business. But now... I’m not in the business anymore. It means I’ll be able to devote a lot more time to the Foundation, and maybe start rebalancing my karmic debt after all these years.”
“I know. I know what it feels like to be stepped on. And believe me, I’ve heard the siren’s call too, from time to time. But I...” Wendy stopped herself. It wasn’t going to do her any good to preach and berate now. She took a deep breath, and forced a smile. “I hope whatever you do, Isabella, you’re happy. Truly happy.”
“I am. For now. It’s like a weight has been lifted. ...Thank you, Wendy.”
“So what are you going to do now?” Wendy asked, breaking into a smile. “Now that you suddenly have so much free time.”
“The foundation will be a priority. As well as investing more time in my label; Samantha got me a great new opportunity in Los Angeles, so I can get my name out there. I’ll have plenty to do, don’t worry about that. This isn’t one of these three month retirements. It’s over.” There was perhaps a tinge of sadness in her voice as she said that, but she smiled regardless.
“Three months, maybe not. But five years... you never know..” Wendy grinned self-deprecatingly. “A label... like a record label? All you’ll need is a movie studio, and you’ll rival Crystal Hil-”
“Fashion label. Believe me, nobody wants to hear me sing.” Isabella laughed. “Then again, no-one wants to hear Crystal sing, so maybe I do rival her in that respect!!!”
Wendy laughed, and shook her head. “Well, I’ll suppose I’ll stick to singing. I tried designing a costume once for a play... my seamstress fell off her chair laughing.” She grinned. “Well, whatever I can do to help your Foundation, let me know. It’s a worthy cause to be sure.”
“Of course. Some things are bigger than wrestling rivalries.” She nods. “For what it’s worth... I don’t hate you, Wendy. I admire you in many ways for having principles. We may be polar opposites in the ring, but... well, that doesn’t matter anymore. I really hope you achieve everything you set your heart to.”
“Thanks,” Wendy said quietly. “And for what it’s worth... when you’re not cheating or completely trying to beat in skulls or end careers or playing Power Trip Games... you’re actually a pretty good person yourself.”
“Thank you.” Isabella took the compliment for what it was.
Wendy checked her watch, grimacing. “Shoot, I better go,” she said, reaching into her pocket and pulling out her wallet. “My flight to Jersey is boarding in fifteen minutes. My treat today,” she said, stopping as Isabella was going for her own purse.
“Okay. Thank you again.” Isabella smiled. “I enjoyed our little chat.” She stood up, and gave Wendy a warm handshake.
“I enjoyed it too,” Wendy said. “It’s nice to smooth some things over once in a while. I’d hate to think we’ll all end up bitter sixty year olds because of what we did to each other during our careers.”
“Life’s too short. I don’t want to leave this business with enemies.” She smiled at her once more. “Goodbye Wendy. Have a nice flight.”
“Thanks, Bella. And thanks for talking to me. You have a good flight too.” And picking up her purse, she took a deep breath, and headed towards her gate.
Nothing lasts forever.
Even hatred.
No, especially hatred.
Thursday, August 1, 2013
EPISODE 219: The Solution, Part 3
Tuesday July 23, 2013
North Marion Speedway- Storage Shed
Indianapolis, Indiana
1:56 PM Local time.
Wendy grimaced as she felt her opponents thighs constrict, tightening the body scissors she was currently in. Leaning back, she focused on her breathing and pain management, as her mind raced through an array of possible escape tactics. Jasmine- her hired sparring partner for the day- was a tough cookie. Only wrestling for six months, she’d become quite the force in the local Circle City Wrestling company, and she was even giving Wendy a bit of a tough time. If she kept this up, she resolved, Wendy would have to recommend her to take part of an upcoming Future Shock.
Wendy looked up at the ceiling, and squinted a little at the large halogen lamp hanging directly overhead. Oddly, her thoughts drifted away to the renovation of her gym, and all the work that needed to be done. That would include completely changing the lighting, making it brighter in here than the lone lamp that sat in the middle. And maybe cooler bulbs? That one lamp alone was making it sweltering in here. Although it was summer... maybe in winter, she’d need all the heat she could get.
Decisons, decisions
To be fair, the renovations were coming along nicely, albeit a bit slow. She had her ring, which was a good start, and had already ordered a wide array of exercise equipment, to be delivered once she had escaped her Beautiful People membership. True, a lot of the renovations required that the ring be removed, but she had already made arrangements for the work to be done while she was abroad on the world tour.
Yes, things were coming a long nicely. She had even come up with a name for the place: The Storm Shelter.
Wendy’s focus snapped back to the present, and her sparring partner still continuing trying to squeeze the life out of her. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed at Jasmine’s legs, trying to pry them apart. She succeeded just enough to slide herself mostly free, and Jasmine, realizing the inevitablity, released the hold, and lunged at her, trying to wrestle her down. But Wendy ducked her shoulder, and Jasmine went flying over her to crash backfirst on the mat. Jasimine sat up, then proceeded to stand up, her back facing Wendy all the while- a huge rookie mistake that Wendy took no hesitation in capitalizing on. Soon, Jasmine was in a dragon sleeper, Wendy’s legs locked around her abdomen to prevent escape. It wasn’t too long before Wendy felt a frustrated tap on her leg, and she let her opponent go.
She was surprised to hear applause, and turned to see Terrence and Cassie had walked in. Terrence was acting like business was usual, but Cassie was enthusiastic as if she had just watched Frank Gotch himself compete. Wendy grinned, slightly embarassed, and she told Jasmine to take a fifteen minute break.
“How are you guys?” Wendy asked, sliding out of the ring, and approaching her husband and his new track manager. Even though Cassie’s trip to St. Louis was almost two weeks away, the young woman was still hard at work evaluating the facility and doing what she could with her limited knowldge. Wendy admired her work ethic.
“Oh, not too bad.” Terrence said. “Was just showing Cassie around the place, and she came up with the most brilliant idea!
“Terrence said that with all your appraisals and estimates, it was probably going to be about a million dollars to make the facility workable, right?
“On the low end, I think,” Wendy said. “Realistically, probably twice that once you factor in the parking lot and pit area, and maintenance buildings.” She glanced at Terrence for confirmation, and her husband nodded.
“Are you able to muster up that kind of money?”
Wendy pursed her lips. SHe hated talking about financial situations. “Probably, if we had to. But it’d involve taking huge risks I don’t think we’re prepared to take. I don’t want to lose our house, or Theresa’s college fund, or anything like that.”
“That’s pretty much what Terrence said. So I suggested to him that we find a way to use the facility to raise the money.”
“Pretty tough to do when it’s not even functional,” Wendy pointed out.
“I know. But all you would need to do is fix the grandstands, and clear out the infield. Maybe bring in a few portable seats, too.”
“For what?” Wendy asked.
“A wrestling show.” Cassie simply replied.
Wendy snorted. “There’d be no way we’d be able to get FFW to come to a race track, Cassie.”
“We’re not talking about FFW, hon.” Terrence said. “An independent event. Something special, like a huge battle royal, that would make people want to watch it. We could even get it on Pay-Per-View. Give a big enough purse to make even some of the biggest names want in, and use the rest of the proceeds to fund the track development.”
Wendy pursed her lips. It was certainly a risky venture as well, but not nearly as much as spending the money outright. If it failed, they probably weren’t out on the streets, and if it succeeded...
“I’ll have to talk with Mr. Kincaid first,” Wendy said. “I don’t want to tick off the company I work for, even if I’m legally allowed to do it And who knows? Maybe we could get FFW to partner with us.”
“That would help,” Terrence agreed, raising his eyebrows in admiration. “I figure we’ll ask Pollaski about it too. See what ideas he has. Funding aside, this could get us massive exposure too. We could become bigger than Eldora!”
“It’s a great idea, Cassie,” Wendy said, giving her friend a hug. “If we can pull this off... I think it will be a good thing for us. And I love that you’re not waiting til you go to St. Louis to start brainstorming. You’re making it obvious that we made the correct decision.
The pale girl turned a bright red, and Wendy laughed. “I just thought it’d be a interesting concept. Anyways, lets not get too excited until we get the details hammered out.”
“Not excited?” Wendy said, grinning, glancing over her shoulder as Jasmine came back in the room, ready to resume the training session. She headed back towards the ring, turning back around to Cassie.
“It’s wrestling, Cass. There’s no such thing as ‘not excited’.”
=====================
Friday July 26, 2013
Pier 17
Bayside, Texas
11:30 AM Local Time
“It’s funny, the way things work out sometimes.”
Across the bay from Houston is the town of Bayside, a decently sized shipping center for the southeastern Texas area. Most of the piers are used for cargo, but one- Pier 17, is open to the general public for tourism. It is here that we fade in to Wendy, leaning against the railing looking out over Mitchell bay, a massive oil tanker passing behind her.
“It doesn’t matter who you are, or what company you work for, or how successful you’ve been elsewhere. Whenever you enter a company, you can’t help start to daydream about the first time you’ll be main eventing a pay-per-view. You always think about how long, the place, who’s it going to be against, what the announcers will say, and of course, how awesome you will look standing there victorious at the end of the night.”
“When I think back to my first days in this company, I don’t think I ever thought in my wildest dreams that it would take over two years for me to make it here. I came into this company a little overconfident, having had so much success in my previous companies. I thought this one would be the same- going so much as even directly telling Kaitlynn Stryfe that I wanted her spot in the Elimination Chamber match way back at Unstoppable 2.”
Wendy snorts, remembering how badly that got misinterpreted, and what a disaster that whole week ended up being.
“Well, I didn’t get that spot, of course. I’ve yet to have any spot in any FFW Championship match. It’s not me complaining- I’ve had than my fair share of chances to get there with the Femme For All. Each time I fell short... sometimes catastrophically so. It’s all the proof I’ve ever needed to say that FFW is by far the toughest company I’ve ever worked for. I know how good I am, and for me to take this long to get up there... it says more about the women I’ve wrestled with than me.”
“So it may have taken longer than I expected, and it might not be for the title I’ve dreamed of competing for, but somehow, from day one, I always knew that when I made it up here... it’d be Isabella Pazzini standing there to greet me.”
A small crooked smile.
“You saw it in that video last week. My first day in this company, I was taking Isabella to task for what she did to Rori, and two weeks later, she was trying to intimidate me in my own locker room. We’re just so opposite of each other, it’s a natural rivalry. So yeah, it’s been a long time coming, and I think we’ve both known that sooner or later, it was going to happen, and it was going to be huge when it did.”
“But I don’t think it’d ever happen under THIS scenario.”
“Wrestlers retire all the time in this business. Like any professional athlete, we’re inherently expendable. Lose someone on the roster, and there’s twenty more eager to take their place. Lose a main-eventer, and half the roster is fighting to fill that spot. Injuries, company closures, unceremonious terminations, burnout, all of them make the turnover in this sport pretty high, and no one bats an eye at all the comings and goings. And we wrestlers are a stubborn lot too. There’s many a wrestler who’s slogged on, taking beating after beating and looking worse and worse in the fan’s eyes because they just don’t know when to hang it up, and they kill their legacy in the process. So when you have an icon like Isabella saying that’s it, and she hangs it up- the night after her Hall of Fame induction, no less, it’s a pretty big deal.”
Wendy adjusts her position against the railing, and glances aside for just a second, watching a circling seagull.
“There’s a nasty truth in sports that no one ever openly admits, and that’s sometimes the storylines are a bit one-sided. Even though it takes at least two people to compete in a match, often times the match is about one far more than it is about the other. When I faced Kat, it was about me, because it was my first televised match back since my injury, and it took place in my hometown. When I faced Jodie, the narrative was again mostly about me, because it was my first PPV match back, and I was the one who had called out the Power Trip. It’s just the way things are sometimes.. it doesn’t determine who wins and who loses. ”
“Unstoppable, however, win or lose, it’s Isabella’s night. You could take me out of this match, and stick in any other woman, and it’d still be just as big as a deal. So I’m pretty honored that it’s me. That even if it’s just one time, I get Isabella one-on-one, although that certainly ramps up the pressure on me to deliver.”
“Isabella’s legacy... it’s secure. She’s a three-time FFW Champion. She’s beaten dang near every top name on this roster, and a heck of a lot more too boot. She’s now in the Hall of Fame, she’ll be remembered for so much. I could whip her from post to post, not let her get a single move in, beat her in four minutes, and I wouldn’t tarnish that even the slightest.”
Another small shrug. Wendy speaks matter-of-factly about this, although it’s clear she’s not the most pleased.
“I’m not that fortunate. I’m not without accomplishment in this company, but you stack it alongside Isabella’s, and it pales in comparison. I’ve never held the FFW Championship. This is my first ever FFW Pay Per View main event. I’m nowhere near Hall of Fame Credentials yet, and I’m almost remembered as much for supposedly choking away big matches as much as I am for winning them. I’m still building my legacy, and no matter what happens here in Houston...I’ve a long way to go to even come close.”
“So the opportunity to beat another Former FFW Champion and Hall of Famer... well, that’s definitely one I’d like to capitalize on. And this is my one shot at this one. No rematches. Sunday morning, Isabella wakes up no longer a wrestler, and anything I haven’t done before that time is lost to me forever.”
Another glance out into the bay, and a deep sigh.
“And forever is something I certainly don’t have, and there’s nothing like a match like this to remind me of that. Isabella’s hanging it up, and she’s a year younger than me! Granted, I did have a five year mini-retirement, and havent’ been in matches nearly as brutal as Isabella has, but it still makes me wonder- how long do I have left? Three years? Five years? Ten years? Does anyone really see me doing this at the age of forty-two... or thirty-seven?”
“Well, whenever my time is, it’s not now. I’m healthy, I’m strong, I honestly feel like I’m performing at the highest level of my life, and I have way more left to do before I ride of into the sunset. So while the pay-per-view, the night, heck the entire weekend might belong to Isabella Pazzini, I intend to take the one thing that’s fully in my right to do so, and that’s the match.”
Wendy’s voice, already calm, goes quiet, as she takes a couple of minutes to compose her thoughts.
“So that’s the professional aspect of this match. But of course, there’s a far deeper, more personal one to this too. Everyone saw how much it’s been brewing for me and her over the past year or so...”
“Isabella, do you remember that day in Baltimore? It was almost two years ago. We met on the waterfront, much like this one. You had just been jumped by the A-List, and removed from Samantha’s good graces. And you told me that you wanted to stop being the monster. You told me that you wanted to do some good, and stop the unfairness that was plaguing the company, and not let Ms. Star run rampant on the world.”
“And even though our tag team was a miserable failure, I still stood by you, and you me. You saved me when Crystal Hilton tried to ruin my career. And then little by little, you drifted away. I invited you to the Super Bowl in Indianapolis... you never even responded. I invited you to dinner, or to a sight seeing trip. And you flat out ignored me. And then... in May, when you attacked Stacey after her match with Shane... and told me to get lost when I asked you what was going on. I couldn’t believe you were slipping”
Another great sigh, as Wendy looks sadly at the camera.
“And then at Conviction, it was over. You became the monster again. You threw Jennifer Stryfe off the video screen. And you joined the very thing you had gone out and RECRUITED me to fight! You turned your back on me, you turned your back on the fans, you turned your back on everything you said that day in Baltimore!”
“Was any of it ever even real, Isabella? Or was everything you said on the waterfront a lie? You were going to fight the monster, instead you embraced it. You were going to take on Ms. Star’s treachery, instead you joined it. And you begged me to join in... for what? Your own sick sense of a joke?”
Wendy shakes her head, grimacing.
“I expected to be far more angry going into this match than I turned out to be. This is a woman I’ve wanted at for the better part of two years now. This is a woman who’s come to embody everything wrong with our sport today. This is a woman who destroyed nearly everything just so she could steal a title belt from a woman she hated.”
“But I guess, in the end, it doesn’t really matter. Once Unstoppable goes off the air, you’re done. You’re out of here, and you’re not mine, or anyone else’s problem anymore. I could stand here and read you the riot act until I’m blue in the face, and it’d be energy wasted. So I’m just going to ask one question.”
“How do you want to go out?”
WEndy chuckles softly, at the simplicity of her question, and the obvious answer to it.
“Obviously with a win, of course. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I already said, and no one can deny, that your wrestling legacy is secure. The fans will always remember you as one of the greatest FFW wrestlers of all time... if not THE greatest. But that’s Isabella Pazzini the wrestler. What about Isabella Pazzini the person?”
“You hear so much about important first impressions are, but last impressions are even more. It might take a lot of time and energy, but you can always overcome a bad first impression. Last impressions, however, that’s it. There’s no going back to redeem yourself. Whatever impression you make is the one people will remember.”
“And what will that be? Are you going to go out Isabella the monster? Trying to end my career on the same night you end yours? Go out cheating, biting, clawing, in the most hateable way possible? Disdain everything, leave one final black mark on your reputation? Disappear backstage, and send the fans home happy with the fact that they’re never going to see you again?”
Wendy’s emerald eyes bore directly into the camera, and even though her voice is quiet, she is clearly passionate.
“Or are you going to go out on a more positive note? The Isabella Pazzini the fans had always so desperately wanted you to be? The Isabella Pazzini you could have been, and once were, for oh so brief a time?”
“I’m prepared either way. The choice is yours, and yours alone. Because Sunday morning, all you will be to Femme Fatale Wrestling is a memory, a vivid one that will last a long time, but a memory nonetheless.”
Wendy pushes herself away from the railing, and gives the camera one final, small smile.
“It’s up to you how fond that memory is going to be.”
THe scene fades, and a quote appears on the screen in elegantly crafted scrpit, before also fading to dark.
“For when the One Great Scorer comes
To mark against your name
He marks- Not that you won or lost
But how you played the game.”
- Grantland Rice.
North Marion Speedway- Storage Shed
Indianapolis, Indiana
1:56 PM Local time.
Wendy grimaced as she felt her opponents thighs constrict, tightening the body scissors she was currently in. Leaning back, she focused on her breathing and pain management, as her mind raced through an array of possible escape tactics. Jasmine- her hired sparring partner for the day- was a tough cookie. Only wrestling for six months, she’d become quite the force in the local Circle City Wrestling company, and she was even giving Wendy a bit of a tough time. If she kept this up, she resolved, Wendy would have to recommend her to take part of an upcoming Future Shock.
Wendy looked up at the ceiling, and squinted a little at the large halogen lamp hanging directly overhead. Oddly, her thoughts drifted away to the renovation of her gym, and all the work that needed to be done. That would include completely changing the lighting, making it brighter in here than the lone lamp that sat in the middle. And maybe cooler bulbs? That one lamp alone was making it sweltering in here. Although it was summer... maybe in winter, she’d need all the heat she could get.
Decisons, decisions
To be fair, the renovations were coming along nicely, albeit a bit slow. She had her ring, which was a good start, and had already ordered a wide array of exercise equipment, to be delivered once she had escaped her Beautiful People membership. True, a lot of the renovations required that the ring be removed, but she had already made arrangements for the work to be done while she was abroad on the world tour.
Yes, things were coming a long nicely. She had even come up with a name for the place: The Storm Shelter.
Wendy’s focus snapped back to the present, and her sparring partner still continuing trying to squeeze the life out of her. Gritting her teeth, she grabbed at Jasmine’s legs, trying to pry them apart. She succeeded just enough to slide herself mostly free, and Jasmine, realizing the inevitablity, released the hold, and lunged at her, trying to wrestle her down. But Wendy ducked her shoulder, and Jasmine went flying over her to crash backfirst on the mat. Jasimine sat up, then proceeded to stand up, her back facing Wendy all the while- a huge rookie mistake that Wendy took no hesitation in capitalizing on. Soon, Jasmine was in a dragon sleeper, Wendy’s legs locked around her abdomen to prevent escape. It wasn’t too long before Wendy felt a frustrated tap on her leg, and she let her opponent go.
She was surprised to hear applause, and turned to see Terrence and Cassie had walked in. Terrence was acting like business was usual, but Cassie was enthusiastic as if she had just watched Frank Gotch himself compete. Wendy grinned, slightly embarassed, and she told Jasmine to take a fifteen minute break.
“How are you guys?” Wendy asked, sliding out of the ring, and approaching her husband and his new track manager. Even though Cassie’s trip to St. Louis was almost two weeks away, the young woman was still hard at work evaluating the facility and doing what she could with her limited knowldge. Wendy admired her work ethic.
“Oh, not too bad.” Terrence said. “Was just showing Cassie around the place, and she came up with the most brilliant idea!
“Terrence said that with all your appraisals and estimates, it was probably going to be about a million dollars to make the facility workable, right?
“On the low end, I think,” Wendy said. “Realistically, probably twice that once you factor in the parking lot and pit area, and maintenance buildings.” She glanced at Terrence for confirmation, and her husband nodded.
“Are you able to muster up that kind of money?”
Wendy pursed her lips. SHe hated talking about financial situations. “Probably, if we had to. But it’d involve taking huge risks I don’t think we’re prepared to take. I don’t want to lose our house, or Theresa’s college fund, or anything like that.”
“That’s pretty much what Terrence said. So I suggested to him that we find a way to use the facility to raise the money.”
“Pretty tough to do when it’s not even functional,” Wendy pointed out.
“I know. But all you would need to do is fix the grandstands, and clear out the infield. Maybe bring in a few portable seats, too.”
“For what?” Wendy asked.
“A wrestling show.” Cassie simply replied.
Wendy snorted. “There’d be no way we’d be able to get FFW to come to a race track, Cassie.”
“We’re not talking about FFW, hon.” Terrence said. “An independent event. Something special, like a huge battle royal, that would make people want to watch it. We could even get it on Pay-Per-View. Give a big enough purse to make even some of the biggest names want in, and use the rest of the proceeds to fund the track development.”
Wendy pursed her lips. It was certainly a risky venture as well, but not nearly as much as spending the money outright. If it failed, they probably weren’t out on the streets, and if it succeeded...
“I’ll have to talk with Mr. Kincaid first,” Wendy said. “I don’t want to tick off the company I work for, even if I’m legally allowed to do it And who knows? Maybe we could get FFW to partner with us.”
“That would help,” Terrence agreed, raising his eyebrows in admiration. “I figure we’ll ask Pollaski about it too. See what ideas he has. Funding aside, this could get us massive exposure too. We could become bigger than Eldora!”
“It’s a great idea, Cassie,” Wendy said, giving her friend a hug. “If we can pull this off... I think it will be a good thing for us. And I love that you’re not waiting til you go to St. Louis to start brainstorming. You’re making it obvious that we made the correct decision.
The pale girl turned a bright red, and Wendy laughed. “I just thought it’d be a interesting concept. Anyways, lets not get too excited until we get the details hammered out.”
“Not excited?” Wendy said, grinning, glancing over her shoulder as Jasmine came back in the room, ready to resume the training session. She headed back towards the ring, turning back around to Cassie.
“It’s wrestling, Cass. There’s no such thing as ‘not excited’.”
=====================
Friday July 26, 2013
Pier 17
Bayside, Texas
11:30 AM Local Time
“It’s funny, the way things work out sometimes.”
Across the bay from Houston is the town of Bayside, a decently sized shipping center for the southeastern Texas area. Most of the piers are used for cargo, but one- Pier 17, is open to the general public for tourism. It is here that we fade in to Wendy, leaning against the railing looking out over Mitchell bay, a massive oil tanker passing behind her.
“It doesn’t matter who you are, or what company you work for, or how successful you’ve been elsewhere. Whenever you enter a company, you can’t help start to daydream about the first time you’ll be main eventing a pay-per-view. You always think about how long, the place, who’s it going to be against, what the announcers will say, and of course, how awesome you will look standing there victorious at the end of the night.”
“When I think back to my first days in this company, I don’t think I ever thought in my wildest dreams that it would take over two years for me to make it here. I came into this company a little overconfident, having had so much success in my previous companies. I thought this one would be the same- going so much as even directly telling Kaitlynn Stryfe that I wanted her spot in the Elimination Chamber match way back at Unstoppable 2.”
Wendy snorts, remembering how badly that got misinterpreted, and what a disaster that whole week ended up being.
“Well, I didn’t get that spot, of course. I’ve yet to have any spot in any FFW Championship match. It’s not me complaining- I’ve had than my fair share of chances to get there with the Femme For All. Each time I fell short... sometimes catastrophically so. It’s all the proof I’ve ever needed to say that FFW is by far the toughest company I’ve ever worked for. I know how good I am, and for me to take this long to get up there... it says more about the women I’ve wrestled with than me.”
“So it may have taken longer than I expected, and it might not be for the title I’ve dreamed of competing for, but somehow, from day one, I always knew that when I made it up here... it’d be Isabella Pazzini standing there to greet me.”
A small crooked smile.
“You saw it in that video last week. My first day in this company, I was taking Isabella to task for what she did to Rori, and two weeks later, she was trying to intimidate me in my own locker room. We’re just so opposite of each other, it’s a natural rivalry. So yeah, it’s been a long time coming, and I think we’ve both known that sooner or later, it was going to happen, and it was going to be huge when it did.”
“But I don’t think it’d ever happen under THIS scenario.”
“Wrestlers retire all the time in this business. Like any professional athlete, we’re inherently expendable. Lose someone on the roster, and there’s twenty more eager to take their place. Lose a main-eventer, and half the roster is fighting to fill that spot. Injuries, company closures, unceremonious terminations, burnout, all of them make the turnover in this sport pretty high, and no one bats an eye at all the comings and goings. And we wrestlers are a stubborn lot too. There’s many a wrestler who’s slogged on, taking beating after beating and looking worse and worse in the fan’s eyes because they just don’t know when to hang it up, and they kill their legacy in the process. So when you have an icon like Isabella saying that’s it, and she hangs it up- the night after her Hall of Fame induction, no less, it’s a pretty big deal.”
Wendy adjusts her position against the railing, and glances aside for just a second, watching a circling seagull.
“There’s a nasty truth in sports that no one ever openly admits, and that’s sometimes the storylines are a bit one-sided. Even though it takes at least two people to compete in a match, often times the match is about one far more than it is about the other. When I faced Kat, it was about me, because it was my first televised match back since my injury, and it took place in my hometown. When I faced Jodie, the narrative was again mostly about me, because it was my first PPV match back, and I was the one who had called out the Power Trip. It’s just the way things are sometimes.. it doesn’t determine who wins and who loses. ”
“Unstoppable, however, win or lose, it’s Isabella’s night. You could take me out of this match, and stick in any other woman, and it’d still be just as big as a deal. So I’m pretty honored that it’s me. That even if it’s just one time, I get Isabella one-on-one, although that certainly ramps up the pressure on me to deliver.”
“Isabella’s legacy... it’s secure. She’s a three-time FFW Champion. She’s beaten dang near every top name on this roster, and a heck of a lot more too boot. She’s now in the Hall of Fame, she’ll be remembered for so much. I could whip her from post to post, not let her get a single move in, beat her in four minutes, and I wouldn’t tarnish that even the slightest.”
Another small shrug. Wendy speaks matter-of-factly about this, although it’s clear she’s not the most pleased.
“I’m not that fortunate. I’m not without accomplishment in this company, but you stack it alongside Isabella’s, and it pales in comparison. I’ve never held the FFW Championship. This is my first ever FFW Pay Per View main event. I’m nowhere near Hall of Fame Credentials yet, and I’m almost remembered as much for supposedly choking away big matches as much as I am for winning them. I’m still building my legacy, and no matter what happens here in Houston...I’ve a long way to go to even come close.”
“So the opportunity to beat another Former FFW Champion and Hall of Famer... well, that’s definitely one I’d like to capitalize on. And this is my one shot at this one. No rematches. Sunday morning, Isabella wakes up no longer a wrestler, and anything I haven’t done before that time is lost to me forever.”
Another glance out into the bay, and a deep sigh.
“And forever is something I certainly don’t have, and there’s nothing like a match like this to remind me of that. Isabella’s hanging it up, and she’s a year younger than me! Granted, I did have a five year mini-retirement, and havent’ been in matches nearly as brutal as Isabella has, but it still makes me wonder- how long do I have left? Three years? Five years? Ten years? Does anyone really see me doing this at the age of forty-two... or thirty-seven?”
“Well, whenever my time is, it’s not now. I’m healthy, I’m strong, I honestly feel like I’m performing at the highest level of my life, and I have way more left to do before I ride of into the sunset. So while the pay-per-view, the night, heck the entire weekend might belong to Isabella Pazzini, I intend to take the one thing that’s fully in my right to do so, and that’s the match.”
Wendy’s voice, already calm, goes quiet, as she takes a couple of minutes to compose her thoughts.
“So that’s the professional aspect of this match. But of course, there’s a far deeper, more personal one to this too. Everyone saw how much it’s been brewing for me and her over the past year or so...”
“Isabella, do you remember that day in Baltimore? It was almost two years ago. We met on the waterfront, much like this one. You had just been jumped by the A-List, and removed from Samantha’s good graces. And you told me that you wanted to stop being the monster. You told me that you wanted to do some good, and stop the unfairness that was plaguing the company, and not let Ms. Star run rampant on the world.”
“And even though our tag team was a miserable failure, I still stood by you, and you me. You saved me when Crystal Hilton tried to ruin my career. And then little by little, you drifted away. I invited you to the Super Bowl in Indianapolis... you never even responded. I invited you to dinner, or to a sight seeing trip. And you flat out ignored me. And then... in May, when you attacked Stacey after her match with Shane... and told me to get lost when I asked you what was going on. I couldn’t believe you were slipping”
Another great sigh, as Wendy looks sadly at the camera.
“And then at Conviction, it was over. You became the monster again. You threw Jennifer Stryfe off the video screen. And you joined the very thing you had gone out and RECRUITED me to fight! You turned your back on me, you turned your back on the fans, you turned your back on everything you said that day in Baltimore!”
“Was any of it ever even real, Isabella? Or was everything you said on the waterfront a lie? You were going to fight the monster, instead you embraced it. You were going to take on Ms. Star’s treachery, instead you joined it. And you begged me to join in... for what? Your own sick sense of a joke?”
Wendy shakes her head, grimacing.
“I expected to be far more angry going into this match than I turned out to be. This is a woman I’ve wanted at for the better part of two years now. This is a woman who’s come to embody everything wrong with our sport today. This is a woman who destroyed nearly everything just so she could steal a title belt from a woman she hated.”
“But I guess, in the end, it doesn’t really matter. Once Unstoppable goes off the air, you’re done. You’re out of here, and you’re not mine, or anyone else’s problem anymore. I could stand here and read you the riot act until I’m blue in the face, and it’d be energy wasted. So I’m just going to ask one question.”
“How do you want to go out?”
WEndy chuckles softly, at the simplicity of her question, and the obvious answer to it.
“Obviously with a win, of course. But that’s not what I’m talking about. I already said, and no one can deny, that your wrestling legacy is secure. The fans will always remember you as one of the greatest FFW wrestlers of all time... if not THE greatest. But that’s Isabella Pazzini the wrestler. What about Isabella Pazzini the person?”
“You hear so much about important first impressions are, but last impressions are even more. It might take a lot of time and energy, but you can always overcome a bad first impression. Last impressions, however, that’s it. There’s no going back to redeem yourself. Whatever impression you make is the one people will remember.”
“And what will that be? Are you going to go out Isabella the monster? Trying to end my career on the same night you end yours? Go out cheating, biting, clawing, in the most hateable way possible? Disdain everything, leave one final black mark on your reputation? Disappear backstage, and send the fans home happy with the fact that they’re never going to see you again?”
Wendy’s emerald eyes bore directly into the camera, and even though her voice is quiet, she is clearly passionate.
“Or are you going to go out on a more positive note? The Isabella Pazzini the fans had always so desperately wanted you to be? The Isabella Pazzini you could have been, and once were, for oh so brief a time?”
“I’m prepared either way. The choice is yours, and yours alone. Because Sunday morning, all you will be to Femme Fatale Wrestling is a memory, a vivid one that will last a long time, but a memory nonetheless.”
Wendy pushes herself away from the railing, and gives the camera one final, small smile.
“It’s up to you how fond that memory is going to be.”
THe scene fades, and a quote appears on the screen in elegantly crafted scrpit, before also fading to dark.
“For when the One Great Scorer comes
To mark against your name
He marks- Not that you won or lost
But how you played the game.”
- Grantland Rice.
EPISODE 218: The Solution, Part 2
Tuesday July 16, 2013
The Nest- Dining Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:02 PM Local Time
“Thank you for meeting with us, Cassie.” Wendy Briese said amiably as she sat down at the table, smiling across at the blonde haired woman on the other side.
“Thanks for having me meet with you,” Cassie replied shyly. “I’m surprised you guys called me in honestly. I turned my resume a month ago, and I figured you guys didn’t think I’d be right for the job.”
“Well, we were pretty busy, and honestly, somehow we didn’t even see your resume until last week. Why didn’t you tell us you had applied?”
Cassie looked down at the table, shrugging. “I didn’t want to be a nag about it, and I didn’t really want you giving me preferential treatment.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” Terrence Thompson growled from beside his wife, patting the FFW Racing pin he had above his breast pocket. “How are you even qualified for this position?”
“Well, I have a bachelors degree in business managemen-”
“LIES!” Terrence thundered standing up, grabbing his chair and throwing it. “Your resume had NO higher education when you applied to be Theresa’s babysitter-”
“Four years ago?” Cassie finished mildly. “I’ve been taking online courses since then. You’ve SEEN me doing it...”
“I’ve only seen you staring at a computer screen night after night after night. Probably talking with CHRISTIAN KINCAID” Terrence growled, grabbing Cassie’s coffee cup and dumping it on the floor (Wendy’s mouth opening in horror at the willful destruction of her carpet, much less the absolute horrific treatment of her guest.) Terrence leaned in as close as he could to Cassie, and snarled in her ear. “If you’ve got a degree, prove it.”
“It’s at home,” Cassie replied, looking at Terrence and not even blinking. “Wendy’s seen it, though.”
“I have. Terry what the heck are you doing? Cassie’s a friend of ours and-”
“Pollaski suggested to him that you guys play good cop/bad cop for this.” Cassie replied with a great sigh. “Evidently he’s elected to be the bad cop.”
“Apparently,” Wendy said, glancing sideways at her husband in a most disapproving fashion.
“And how do you know that?” Terrence protested as he glared at Cassie hard enough to burn a hole through her.
“Because I heard you and him talking about it in the garage when I got here,” Cassie said quietly.
“YOU WERE EAVESDROPPING?!” Terrence roared, rearing up to full height.
“The garage door was wide open, and you two were talking at full volume. Honestly, it was almost impossible to NOT hear you. Seriously, if you’re going to do this maybe I should-”
“No, Cassie please stay.” Wendy said quickly standing up and walking over to her husband. She had a sneaking suspicion about that FFW Racing pin he was wearing, and kept adjusting. “Terry, drop the good cop/bad cop act. Cassie may be running your race track, and even if we decide she’s not the one for the job, she’s still a family friend, and we don’t want to ruin that by doing something**STUPID!**”
She screamed the last word as loud and shrill as she possibly could, and was rewarded with both her husband wincing and a loud *THUMP* from upstairs as something large and heavy fell, possibly off the bed in the guest bedroom. She could hear Pollaski’s muffled sobs of agony, and smiled inwardly, realizing she had been right. The ‘pin’ had been disguising a hidden microphone upon which her manager had been listening upstairs with headphones.
Hopefully with the volume turned up as high as possible.
As Cassie watched on in amusement, Wendy held out her hand, and Terrence sheepishly took out his own earpiece and placed it in her hand. “So, now shall we PROPERLY interview the woman who might be running YOUR racetrack?”
“Right,” Terrence said meekly, then sighed. “Here’s the thing, Cas. We know you have a bachelors degree, and you’re a smart woman, and apparently quite good under pressure.” He smiled chagrined. “But the problem is, we don’t have any idea what we’re doing. Neither do you, for that matter. You have less experience with racing than I do.”
Cassie grimaced, seeing the writing on the wall. “I could learn. I’m a fast learner. But I understand if you don’t have the time to...”
Wendy cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Cass, hang on a second. See, the other thing is, we’re looking for someone we can TRUST. We’ve read stories about track manager’s screwing over their owners with awful decisions, or flat out dishonesty and theft. We were able to trust you with our daughter for four years, and never ONCE did we ever regret that decision. If we could trust you where Theresa was concerned, we most certainly could trust you with a race track.”
Cassie looked confused. “But you just said...”
“The question for you, Cassie, is how do you feel about St. Louis?” Terrence asked.
“St... Louis? You mean the city?” Cassie scratched her chin. “It’s a nice place... I guess.”
“I know the owner of the I-55 Speedway out there,” Terrence said. “We’re pretty good friends from when we ran in the ASA a few years ago. And he’s got a great track manager who’s been at the place longer than he’s owned it, and she’d be more than willing to take you on for a couple weeks as an apprentice to teach you some day to day aspects. If we payed for your hotel and food, would you be willing to do that?”
“Y...yes.” Cassie said, flustered. “Does this mean you’re offering me the job?”
“It does,” Wendy smiled. “Provided you honestly feel you can handle it after I-55.”
“Oh, I know I can!” Cassie said, leaping up and giving WEndy a big hug. “Thank you so much. When would I leave for St. Louis?”
“The last weekend of July,” Terrence said. “Then you’ll be there for World of OUtlaws week. If you can’t learn anything from Susan during THAT, then we’ll have a problem.” He grinned to let Cassie know he was kidding- kind of.
“Thank you for this opportunity.” Cassie was on the verge of tears. “I promise you’ll be happy with this decision.”
“We trust that we will too,” Wendy said, returning her nanny- and friend- and now new track manager’s embrace.
The celebration was briefly interrupted by her now seven-year old daughter, who came running into the room. “Mom. Pollaski’s bleeding from his ears!”
“Better not be on my carpet!” Wendy snapped, looking over at her child. Her voice softened with sigh. “Tell him to wait in the bathroom. I’ll be up with some cotton balls.”
“I’ll do it,” Cassie volunteered as Theresa bounded off. “I can handle it.”
“If you want...” Wendy said, not liking the suddenly sinister gleam in the girl’s eye. “Do you know where the cotton balls are?”
“Of course!” Cassie said, then grinned. “I also know where the rubbing alcohol is. After all, we don’t want a bleeding ear to get INFECTED, do we?”
Cassie bounded off, humming happily to herself, leaving Wendy and Terrence behind.
“Oh, I LIKE her!” Terrence said jovially, more than satisfied with his decision. He reached over and picked up his earbud, putting it back in. “You want one?”
“No thanks,” Wendy sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sure I’ll be able to hear it just fine from down here.”
The Nest- Dining Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
2:02 PM Local Time
“Thank you for meeting with us, Cassie.” Wendy Briese said amiably as she sat down at the table, smiling across at the blonde haired woman on the other side.
“Thanks for having me meet with you,” Cassie replied shyly. “I’m surprised you guys called me in honestly. I turned my resume a month ago, and I figured you guys didn’t think I’d be right for the job.”
“Well, we were pretty busy, and honestly, somehow we didn’t even see your resume until last week. Why didn’t you tell us you had applied?”
Cassie looked down at the table, shrugging. “I didn’t want to be a nag about it, and I didn’t really want you giving me preferential treatment.”
“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that.” Terrence Thompson growled from beside his wife, patting the FFW Racing pin he had above his breast pocket. “How are you even qualified for this position?”
“Well, I have a bachelors degree in business managemen-”
“LIES!” Terrence thundered standing up, grabbing his chair and throwing it. “Your resume had NO higher education when you applied to be Theresa’s babysitter-”
“Four years ago?” Cassie finished mildly. “I’ve been taking online courses since then. You’ve SEEN me doing it...”
“I’ve only seen you staring at a computer screen night after night after night. Probably talking with CHRISTIAN KINCAID” Terrence growled, grabbing Cassie’s coffee cup and dumping it on the floor (Wendy’s mouth opening in horror at the willful destruction of her carpet, much less the absolute horrific treatment of her guest.) Terrence leaned in as close as he could to Cassie, and snarled in her ear. “If you’ve got a degree, prove it.”
“It’s at home,” Cassie replied, looking at Terrence and not even blinking. “Wendy’s seen it, though.”
“I have. Terry what the heck are you doing? Cassie’s a friend of ours and-”
“Pollaski suggested to him that you guys play good cop/bad cop for this.” Cassie replied with a great sigh. “Evidently he’s elected to be the bad cop.”
“Apparently,” Wendy said, glancing sideways at her husband in a most disapproving fashion.
“And how do you know that?” Terrence protested as he glared at Cassie hard enough to burn a hole through her.
“Because I heard you and him talking about it in the garage when I got here,” Cassie said quietly.
“YOU WERE EAVESDROPPING?!” Terrence roared, rearing up to full height.
“The garage door was wide open, and you two were talking at full volume. Honestly, it was almost impossible to NOT hear you. Seriously, if you’re going to do this maybe I should-”
“No, Cassie please stay.” Wendy said quickly standing up and walking over to her husband. She had a sneaking suspicion about that FFW Racing pin he was wearing, and kept adjusting. “Terry, drop the good cop/bad cop act. Cassie may be running your race track, and even if we decide she’s not the one for the job, she’s still a family friend, and we don’t want to ruin that by doing something**STUPID!**”
She screamed the last word as loud and shrill as she possibly could, and was rewarded with both her husband wincing and a loud *THUMP* from upstairs as something large and heavy fell, possibly off the bed in the guest bedroom. She could hear Pollaski’s muffled sobs of agony, and smiled inwardly, realizing she had been right. The ‘pin’ had been disguising a hidden microphone upon which her manager had been listening upstairs with headphones.
Hopefully with the volume turned up as high as possible.
As Cassie watched on in amusement, Wendy held out her hand, and Terrence sheepishly took out his own earpiece and placed it in her hand. “So, now shall we PROPERLY interview the woman who might be running YOUR racetrack?”
“Right,” Terrence said meekly, then sighed. “Here’s the thing, Cas. We know you have a bachelors degree, and you’re a smart woman, and apparently quite good under pressure.” He smiled chagrined. “But the problem is, we don’t have any idea what we’re doing. Neither do you, for that matter. You have less experience with racing than I do.”
Cassie grimaced, seeing the writing on the wall. “I could learn. I’m a fast learner. But I understand if you don’t have the time to...”
Wendy cut her off with a wave of her hand. “Cass, hang on a second. See, the other thing is, we’re looking for someone we can TRUST. We’ve read stories about track manager’s screwing over their owners with awful decisions, or flat out dishonesty and theft. We were able to trust you with our daughter for four years, and never ONCE did we ever regret that decision. If we could trust you where Theresa was concerned, we most certainly could trust you with a race track.”
Cassie looked confused. “But you just said...”
“The question for you, Cassie, is how do you feel about St. Louis?” Terrence asked.
“St... Louis? You mean the city?” Cassie scratched her chin. “It’s a nice place... I guess.”
“I know the owner of the I-55 Speedway out there,” Terrence said. “We’re pretty good friends from when we ran in the ASA a few years ago. And he’s got a great track manager who’s been at the place longer than he’s owned it, and she’d be more than willing to take you on for a couple weeks as an apprentice to teach you some day to day aspects. If we payed for your hotel and food, would you be willing to do that?”
“Y...yes.” Cassie said, flustered. “Does this mean you’re offering me the job?”
“It does,” Wendy smiled. “Provided you honestly feel you can handle it after I-55.”
“Oh, I know I can!” Cassie said, leaping up and giving WEndy a big hug. “Thank you so much. When would I leave for St. Louis?”
“The last weekend of July,” Terrence said. “Then you’ll be there for World of OUtlaws week. If you can’t learn anything from Susan during THAT, then we’ll have a problem.” He grinned to let Cassie know he was kidding- kind of.
“Thank you for this opportunity.” Cassie was on the verge of tears. “I promise you’ll be happy with this decision.”
“We trust that we will too,” Wendy said, returning her nanny- and friend- and now new track manager’s embrace.
The celebration was briefly interrupted by her now seven-year old daughter, who came running into the room. “Mom. Pollaski’s bleeding from his ears!”
“Better not be on my carpet!” Wendy snapped, looking over at her child. Her voice softened with sigh. “Tell him to wait in the bathroom. I’ll be up with some cotton balls.”
“I’ll do it,” Cassie volunteered as Theresa bounded off. “I can handle it.”
“If you want...” Wendy said, not liking the suddenly sinister gleam in the girl’s eye. “Do you know where the cotton balls are?”
“Of course!” Cassie said, then grinned. “I also know where the rubbing alcohol is. After all, we don’t want a bleeding ear to get INFECTED, do we?”
Cassie bounded off, humming happily to herself, leaving Wendy and Terrence behind.
“Oh, I LIKE her!” Terrence said jovially, more than satisfied with his decision. He reached over and picked up his earbud, putting it back in. “You want one?”
“No thanks,” Wendy sighed, shaking her head. “I’m sure I’ll be able to hear it just fine from down here.”
EPISODE 217: The Solution, Part 1
From the private journal of Wendy Briese
7-9-13
Well, that didn’t go so well.
For the first time since coming back from my injury, I’ve been on the losing side of a match, as my teaming with Spectral Fantasia ended in a defeat to the Power Trip. I know conventional wrestling logic says that I should at least take solace in the fact that I wasn’t the one who took the fall. But I hardly find it to be any more of a consolation that I was stunned on the outside of the ring, unable to help Val as she lay helpless. A loss is a loss, and while some sting more than others, they all invariably stink.
What stinks even more is that I think it was Spectra Fantasia’s first loss as a tag team ever, at least where FFW is concerned. Undefeated as a unit, until they team with Wendy Briese. Then they lose. I was teaming with Pink, Inc. when they took their first ever loss too. I’m 3-5 in tag matches since joining FFW! And the only times I ever won were with CRYSTAL HILTON!
At least no one’s calling me a mere tag team specialist anymore. Now everyone’s just wondering how I won eight tag titles in the first place. Why can’t I do with another partner what I did with Terrence?
Well, at least I don’t have to face that question for a little while. Unstoppable is next for me, and Isabella Pazzini. A match that’s been brewing for quite some time, since at least before I threw Isabella’s phone in the hallway last year after she jumped Stacey Mackenzie. I knew sooner or later we were going to face, and I’ve actually been looking forward to it, because there’s a lot of things I need to say to her, both on a verbal and physical level.
But this is her last match ever. After Unstoppable, Isabella takes her Hall of Fame induction, and steps away from wrestling forever. Which means that I have one chance at this. That only ups the ante a little bit more, because there’s absolutely no thought of a rematch. Its Saturday night in Houston, and then that’s it. Anything I do, it will be remembered forever. And anything I don’t... will be gone forever.
No pressure, eh?
It’s going to be a busy month. July normally is, with Theresa’s birthday next Monday, and the PPV, and of course Terrence’s month long break in ARCA comes to an end. And of course getting ready for my own training facility to fully open in late September when I’m finally done with that idiotic health club. And of course that infernal race track. That thing is becoming a bigger problem than it’s worth.
But then, what would life be without a few of those?
=====================
Thursday July 10, 2013
The Nest- Dining Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:28 PM Local Time
“I don’t get it,” Wendy Briese sighed as she stared at the stacks of paper strewn about the table. “The economy is terrible, unemployment is nearly eight percent, and we don’t have a single qualified applicant.”
“Well, what about this guy,” Terrence said, holding up a sheet of paper and showing it to her. “He says he has facility management experience.”
“Of a lemonade stand when he was six.” Wendy replied, her eyes narrowed as she read the paper. “I’m not sure that and being an assistant manager at Taco Bell makes you qualified to run a race track, Terrence.”
“WEll, we gotta take a chance on someone.”
“No! No chances!” Wendy shot back fervently. “Terry, if we’re not careful with this, this track could completely DRAIN us of everything we’ve worked for, and everything we’ve set up for Theresa. I’m not taking that risk. Whoever we get, they have to be competent, reliable, and most of all, trustworthy!”
“But that could take years,” Terrence grumbled, gesturing at all the papers stacked on the table.
“Yes, it could.” Wendy said simply. On the tip of her tongue was the reprimand that he should have thought of that BEFORE he had shelled out a hundred grand on a completely unusable tract of land, but she didn’t feel like getting into another argument about it. Terrence was already well aware of her displeasure of the situation.
“And you’re sure you can’t get that Paige girl?”
“No,” Wendy sighed. “Jenny made it perfectly clear that wasn’t going to be happening, and after that little hissyfit she threw, I’d rather not go through any of that again. And Paige herself pretty much said she wasn’t qualified. Kind of makes it hard to take her now over all these who say they are.”
No matter how far from the truth that seemed to be. She grabbed another resume, her eyes brightening as she began to read it. “Hey, here’s one who might...” but her voice trailed off as it flat out said the man had left his last company for refusing to let a woman boss him around. “Never mind,” she sighed, setting the resume aside, and turning to the next one.
In the front hall, she heard the door banging open, but didn’t look up. She knew it was her manager- he had long been given permission to come and go from the nest as he pleased, such as they trusted the obese Washingtonian- despite his ever growing incendiary temper.
Sure enough, Pollaski came strutting into the room, clapping Terrence hard on the back as he did, causing the stock car driver to lurch forward. “Hey-o.” The portly manager said, his usual customary greeting. He looked around at the two glum faces in front of him, and winced. “How goes the hunt?”
“Not well.” Wendy sighed, looking up. “Terry thinks my standards are too high, but...”
“Work that out with yourselves,” Pollaski said tersely, definitely not wanting to get into the middle of a debate. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Not bad,” Wendy said, although she winced and rubbed it as Pollaski’s words triggered a pang. “I’ve been taking it easy, icing it at night. I’ll be good to go. You have the video I asked for?”
“Of course,” Pollaski said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a couple of freshly burned DVDs. “Every Isabella Pazzini match in the past two years,” he said, sliding them onto the table. “I’d pay special attention to the one she had against Colleen at Cold Blooded. Col and you are pretty similar style wise, and she practically lay out a blueprint for bringing Bella down. Just don’t punch the damn ref.”
“I’ll try not to,” Wendy replied, smiling softly. “And thanks.” She looked to say something else, but ultimately decided not to, and sat quietly, looking down at the jewel,cases in her hands.
“Nervous?” Terrence asked, looking up from another resume- one extremely crinkled that had actually been handed in that way.
“No... well, maybe a little,” Wendy said, and she shrugged. “I was just thinking. When Isabella had her Hall of Fame induction ceremony, watching her accept it, and announce her retirement, I got choked up. She seemed genuinely grateful and touched for the honor, and I couldn’t help but think that this was a woman that wrestling was going to miss. Then she pulls the stunts she did against Serafina and Val, and now I can’t wait to get this over with, and have that dreadful woman out of our hair for good.”
Pollaski chuckled. “Isabella seems to inspire things like that. Respect and detestability. You have to admire her paradox.”
“Perhaps,” Wendy sighed. “But right now I’m just trying to think of what I’m going to say, and what I’m going to do once I get into the ring with her.” She grinned as she held up the DVD’s. “This will certainly help on the latter part.”
“And who knows?” Pollaski replied with a shrug. “Maybe it’ll give you some things to say for your promo too. You never know.”
“Maybe,” Wendy said again, with a small smile. She gestured over at the table again. “At the very least, this gives me something to look at besides waves upon waves of resumes.”
“Well, how about these?” Pollaski said brightly, reaching into his other pocket, and pulling out a small stack of glossy pamphlets. “Here’s the brochures on the places you were thinking about for Theresa’s birthday party next week.”
“Lifesaver, dude,” Terrence said, taking the brochures and thumbing through them.
“We should probably do those first,” Wendy added. “Theresa’s Birthday’s less than a week away, and we should have sent those details out ages ago.” She looked around at the papers. “Come on, let’s get this cleaned up and put in the office, and then we can figure it out.”
“Where is Theresa, anyways?” Pollaski asked. “Shouldn’t she be in on this?”
“Nah,” Terrence said. “She’s upstairs watching TV. But we’re trying to kinda surprise her with this. She thinks we’re spending her birthday in Pennylvania with Wendy’s Aunt Margaret.”
“Ooh,” Pollaski groaned sympathetically. “She hates your right now, doesn’t she?”
Terrence grinned. “You have NO idea... oops.” He looked down in dismay as the papers he was gathering up slipped from his hand to scatter onto the floor.”
WEndy sighed, glaring at Terrence. “Seriously? No, no, leave it. I’ll get it. I want to keep it somewhat organized. Just let me-” She set her own stack of papers down on the table, and knelt down, gathering the papers up and trying to look far less annoyed than she really was.
Terrence obediently made no move to help her, instead glancing down and wincing. “Sorry, hon,” he offered with an apologetic grimace.
“I know, I know,” Wendy said testily. “Just I don’t want to mix up the stacks we’ve gone through with the....” her voice trailed off as she looked down at the paper in her hand.
“What, what is it?” Terrence asked, concerned.
“I think I found someone.” WEndy said queitly, handing up the paper to Terrence. Terrence took one look and burst out laughing.
“No... no way. Are you serious, hon? HER?!”
“And why not?” Wendy protested.
Pollaski leaned in and glanced at the paper as well. “Hunh. I... wow. Not a bad idea actually. I’d say at least interview her.”
Terrence still looked incredulous, but Wendy simply grinned , quickly gathering up the rest of the papers, apparently no longer concerned about keeping them organized. “We’ll set something up for just after Theresa’s birthday!” She shot Pollaski a wink- a silent thank you for taking her side in the matter. And with that, she was scurrying away, to get rid of the papers in her hands.
Terrence looked back at his best friend and sighed. “This is going to end badly, dude.”
7-9-13
Well, that didn’t go so well.
For the first time since coming back from my injury, I’ve been on the losing side of a match, as my teaming with Spectral Fantasia ended in a defeat to the Power Trip. I know conventional wrestling logic says that I should at least take solace in the fact that I wasn’t the one who took the fall. But I hardly find it to be any more of a consolation that I was stunned on the outside of the ring, unable to help Val as she lay helpless. A loss is a loss, and while some sting more than others, they all invariably stink.
What stinks even more is that I think it was Spectra Fantasia’s first loss as a tag team ever, at least where FFW is concerned. Undefeated as a unit, until they team with Wendy Briese. Then they lose. I was teaming with Pink, Inc. when they took their first ever loss too. I’m 3-5 in tag matches since joining FFW! And the only times I ever won were with CRYSTAL HILTON!
At least no one’s calling me a mere tag team specialist anymore. Now everyone’s just wondering how I won eight tag titles in the first place. Why can’t I do with another partner what I did with Terrence?
Well, at least I don’t have to face that question for a little while. Unstoppable is next for me, and Isabella Pazzini. A match that’s been brewing for quite some time, since at least before I threw Isabella’s phone in the hallway last year after she jumped Stacey Mackenzie. I knew sooner or later we were going to face, and I’ve actually been looking forward to it, because there’s a lot of things I need to say to her, both on a verbal and physical level.
But this is her last match ever. After Unstoppable, Isabella takes her Hall of Fame induction, and steps away from wrestling forever. Which means that I have one chance at this. That only ups the ante a little bit more, because there’s absolutely no thought of a rematch. Its Saturday night in Houston, and then that’s it. Anything I do, it will be remembered forever. And anything I don’t... will be gone forever.
No pressure, eh?
It’s going to be a busy month. July normally is, with Theresa’s birthday next Monday, and the PPV, and of course Terrence’s month long break in ARCA comes to an end. And of course getting ready for my own training facility to fully open in late September when I’m finally done with that idiotic health club. And of course that infernal race track. That thing is becoming a bigger problem than it’s worth.
But then, what would life be without a few of those?
=====================
Thursday July 10, 2013
The Nest- Dining Room
Indianapolis, Indiana
3:28 PM Local Time
“I don’t get it,” Wendy Briese sighed as she stared at the stacks of paper strewn about the table. “The economy is terrible, unemployment is nearly eight percent, and we don’t have a single qualified applicant.”
“Well, what about this guy,” Terrence said, holding up a sheet of paper and showing it to her. “He says he has facility management experience.”
“Of a lemonade stand when he was six.” Wendy replied, her eyes narrowed as she read the paper. “I’m not sure that and being an assistant manager at Taco Bell makes you qualified to run a race track, Terrence.”
“WEll, we gotta take a chance on someone.”
“No! No chances!” Wendy shot back fervently. “Terry, if we’re not careful with this, this track could completely DRAIN us of everything we’ve worked for, and everything we’ve set up for Theresa. I’m not taking that risk. Whoever we get, they have to be competent, reliable, and most of all, trustworthy!”
“But that could take years,” Terrence grumbled, gesturing at all the papers stacked on the table.
“Yes, it could.” Wendy said simply. On the tip of her tongue was the reprimand that he should have thought of that BEFORE he had shelled out a hundred grand on a completely unusable tract of land, but she didn’t feel like getting into another argument about it. Terrence was already well aware of her displeasure of the situation.
“And you’re sure you can’t get that Paige girl?”
“No,” Wendy sighed. “Jenny made it perfectly clear that wasn’t going to be happening, and after that little hissyfit she threw, I’d rather not go through any of that again. And Paige herself pretty much said she wasn’t qualified. Kind of makes it hard to take her now over all these who say they are.”
No matter how far from the truth that seemed to be. She grabbed another resume, her eyes brightening as she began to read it. “Hey, here’s one who might...” but her voice trailed off as it flat out said the man had left his last company for refusing to let a woman boss him around. “Never mind,” she sighed, setting the resume aside, and turning to the next one.
In the front hall, she heard the door banging open, but didn’t look up. She knew it was her manager- he had long been given permission to come and go from the nest as he pleased, such as they trusted the obese Washingtonian- despite his ever growing incendiary temper.
Sure enough, Pollaski came strutting into the room, clapping Terrence hard on the back as he did, causing the stock car driver to lurch forward. “Hey-o.” The portly manager said, his usual customary greeting. He looked around at the two glum faces in front of him, and winced. “How goes the hunt?”
“Not well.” Wendy sighed, looking up. “Terry thinks my standards are too high, but...”
“Work that out with yourselves,” Pollaski said tersely, definitely not wanting to get into the middle of a debate. “How’s your shoulder?”
“Not bad,” Wendy said, although she winced and rubbed it as Pollaski’s words triggered a pang. “I’ve been taking it easy, icing it at night. I’ll be good to go. You have the video I asked for?”
“Of course,” Pollaski said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a couple of freshly burned DVDs. “Every Isabella Pazzini match in the past two years,” he said, sliding them onto the table. “I’d pay special attention to the one she had against Colleen at Cold Blooded. Col and you are pretty similar style wise, and she practically lay out a blueprint for bringing Bella down. Just don’t punch the damn ref.”
“I’ll try not to,” Wendy replied, smiling softly. “And thanks.” She looked to say something else, but ultimately decided not to, and sat quietly, looking down at the jewel,cases in her hands.
“Nervous?” Terrence asked, looking up from another resume- one extremely crinkled that had actually been handed in that way.
“No... well, maybe a little,” Wendy said, and she shrugged. “I was just thinking. When Isabella had her Hall of Fame induction ceremony, watching her accept it, and announce her retirement, I got choked up. She seemed genuinely grateful and touched for the honor, and I couldn’t help but think that this was a woman that wrestling was going to miss. Then she pulls the stunts she did against Serafina and Val, and now I can’t wait to get this over with, and have that dreadful woman out of our hair for good.”
Pollaski chuckled. “Isabella seems to inspire things like that. Respect and detestability. You have to admire her paradox.”
“Perhaps,” Wendy sighed. “But right now I’m just trying to think of what I’m going to say, and what I’m going to do once I get into the ring with her.” She grinned as she held up the DVD’s. “This will certainly help on the latter part.”
“And who knows?” Pollaski replied with a shrug. “Maybe it’ll give you some things to say for your promo too. You never know.”
“Maybe,” Wendy said again, with a small smile. She gestured over at the table again. “At the very least, this gives me something to look at besides waves upon waves of resumes.”
“Well, how about these?” Pollaski said brightly, reaching into his other pocket, and pulling out a small stack of glossy pamphlets. “Here’s the brochures on the places you were thinking about for Theresa’s birthday party next week.”
“Lifesaver, dude,” Terrence said, taking the brochures and thumbing through them.
“We should probably do those first,” Wendy added. “Theresa’s Birthday’s less than a week away, and we should have sent those details out ages ago.” She looked around at the papers. “Come on, let’s get this cleaned up and put in the office, and then we can figure it out.”
“Where is Theresa, anyways?” Pollaski asked. “Shouldn’t she be in on this?”
“Nah,” Terrence said. “She’s upstairs watching TV. But we’re trying to kinda surprise her with this. She thinks we’re spending her birthday in Pennylvania with Wendy’s Aunt Margaret.”
“Ooh,” Pollaski groaned sympathetically. “She hates your right now, doesn’t she?”
Terrence grinned. “You have NO idea... oops.” He looked down in dismay as the papers he was gathering up slipped from his hand to scatter onto the floor.”
WEndy sighed, glaring at Terrence. “Seriously? No, no, leave it. I’ll get it. I want to keep it somewhat organized. Just let me-” She set her own stack of papers down on the table, and knelt down, gathering the papers up and trying to look far less annoyed than she really was.
Terrence obediently made no move to help her, instead glancing down and wincing. “Sorry, hon,” he offered with an apologetic grimace.
“I know, I know,” Wendy said testily. “Just I don’t want to mix up the stacks we’ve gone through with the....” her voice trailed off as she looked down at the paper in her hand.
“What, what is it?” Terrence asked, concerned.
“I think I found someone.” WEndy said queitly, handing up the paper to Terrence. Terrence took one look and burst out laughing.
“No... no way. Are you serious, hon? HER?!”
“And why not?” Wendy protested.
Pollaski leaned in and glanced at the paper as well. “Hunh. I... wow. Not a bad idea actually. I’d say at least interview her.”
Terrence still looked incredulous, but Wendy simply grinned , quickly gathering up the rest of the papers, apparently no longer concerned about keeping them organized. “We’ll set something up for just after Theresa’s birthday!” She shot Pollaski a wink- a silent thank you for taking her side in the matter. And with that, she was scurrying away, to get rid of the papers in her hands.
Terrence looked back at his best friend and sighed. “This is going to end badly, dude.”
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