4.18.2010
PARKING LOT OF MEYERS FOODS
VALPARAISO, INDIANA
9:13 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
With a stretch, Terrence Thompson rose from his king-sized bed, and looked around the bedroom of his new motorhome. While small, the room was about as comfortable and luxurious as one could be in the back of a rolling abode.
Facing the front, the bed dominated the left hand wall, on one of the RV's four slideouts to maximize room. Behind the bed, on the RV's back wall, sat a closet with sliding mirrored doors, where the hanging clothes for all five of the RV's residents were kept. On the right wall, a window opened a view to the outside, while one of the RV's two televisions, this one a 42 inch LCD, hung above the portal. Tucked away in the back corner was a litterbox and small pet-bed, upon which slept Chaunticleer, the family cat.
Stretching lazily, Terrence walked to the bedroom door, flinging it open. On his left now sat the RV's bathroom, complete with a toilet, shower, and sink. Beyond the bathroom, the RV opened up into the main cabin. Both sides of the cabin slid out. On the right wall, a small endtable flanked a loveseat-style sofa, where Terrence's three year old daughter, Theresa remained asleep. Ahead of the sofa was the galley, with a sink, microwave, and small range and oven.
On the left side of the main cabin sat another sofa, this one larger, and a hide-a-bed. Normally it would be the sleeping area of Cassie DeSlair, but the young woman was already up, eating a bowl of Fruit Loops at the dinette table to the front of the hide-a-bed. On the other side of the dinette sat a full size refridgerator. The most dominant aspect of the cabin was the 52-inch LCD TV on the back wall.
At the front, of course, sat the cockpit, where Terrence had spent most of the last two days, sitting in the driver's seat as he wove his new toy through the Indians countryside. Wendy had perched herself in the copilots seat, sitting above and behind the driver's seat, but still near enough to where the two could converse.
All the furniture was made of the highest quality ultrasuede, and the overhead cabinets of cherrywood.
Terrence took the scene in with a monstrous grin on his face. It was unbecoming of him to be a snob... but he was the MAN.
"Mornin!" greeted Daniel Pollaski, sitting opposite Cassie at the dinette with his own bowl of Fruit Loops. After Pollaski's suggestion that he and Cassie share the hide-a-bed had been met with a slap to the face, the pudgy manager had agreed to a sleeping bag in front of the kitchen sink. So maybe they all weren't living in luxury.
"Mornin'" Terrence replied, looking around the cabin. Dan and Cassie were eating breakfast, and Theresa was still asleep, but of his wife, there was no sign.
"Where's Wendy?"
"Left about an hour ago," Pollaski mumbled, his mouth full of cereal. "Took that box... and your car."
"What?" Terrence barked, suddenly irritated. "Why would she take MY car?"
"Because you sold hers?" Cassie asked, arching her eyebrows.
Terrence shrugged. Even though Wendy had been cordial to him the past couple days, he could tell that she was still angry with him. She had been especially icy when Terrence had asked her what was in the box, telling him not to worry about it.
Some gut feeling was telling him maybe he should be worried.
"Ah, well" Pollaski broke into his thoughts. "Nationwide got rained out last night, so NASCAR doubleheader today!"
"No thanks," Terrence muttered. "Its Texas."
Pollaski opened his mouth to ask what was so bad about Texas, but caught himself as he remembered. Texas Motor Speedway- where just over two months ago, Terrence's preseason practice- and auto racing career- had been interrupted by the sale of his team.
Ah well, if not for that sale, Terrence probably wouldn't have returned to wrestling, so there was a silver lining. Even so, it was probably best if he changed the subject.
"So, ready for your match with Noah Hanson?"
"Nah," Terrence replied. "I was planning on walking into my singles debut match with absolutely no preparation whatsoever."
Pollaski snorted, and Cassie rolled her eyes at the sarcastic comment.
"Heh," Terrence chuckled. "I still can't believe the guy's actually heard of me."
Pollaski nodded in silence. It was a sentiment Terrence had repeated several times since the Hanson promo aired a couple days ago. Considering that most of the top echelon in the PWX had only heard of the WhirlyBirdz in passing, it was odd that Terrence's first opponent actually seemed to have some familiarity.
He wasn't sure if that was a curse, or blessing. Probably a curse, since he himself knew very little about Hanson.
Fortunately, Terrence had the fortune of employing the self-proclaimed 'greatest manager- EVER', and these were the moments Pollaski came in handy.
"Well, I did some digging around, and Noah was indeed in the WWA, about three years ago. He was in Hudson River Westling and one other region. Never really did too much, but he was considered a decent enough mid-level guy. For whatever reasons, he left. So either the CWC is a bit weak on the talent side to where this guy can win himself an alliance-wide title, or he's gotten better."
"I think I'll assume the latter." Terrence chuckled as.he poured his own bowl of Lucky Charms. "And besides, even if it is the former, its not like the WWA hasn't had its share of undeserving champions. Dragon Jones, Jake Devins, and, of course..."
"Kakuma!" Dan finshed, referring to the controversial figure Terrence won the World Championship from.
"But I think its interesting that you DID mention the CWC, because as far as I'm concerned, this match is more than about my place in the PWX rankings. Everyone knows that the PWX is technically a part of two alliances, the WWA, and the CWC. Now, I'm an Alliance guy, through and through. And I'm guessing that since Noah is a champion over there, he's a Council guy. "
"Ahhh..." Pollaski said, immediately catching on. "Alliance supremacy."
"Well, I don't know about that," Terrence laughed. "I doubt the whole reputation of two alliances will rely on this match. But if I knock off the CWC Hardcore Champion in my first match back, people are going to take note. Not to mention its gonna be some good news, for the WWA, and we could definitely use some."
Pollaski quietly nodded. With Wrestling Midwest announcing their pullout from the alliance, and the still impending takeover by Eric Dane, the WWA could use a bit of a morale boost. He wasn't sure how much of a boost Twister beating Noah Hanson would give, but hell, whatever worked.
"Besides," Terrence continued. "I know that PWX is scheduled for a WWA World Title shot in early May, and I would just LOVE to be the guy to bring the big, bad, Cobra down. But that's not a lot of time for me to prove that I'm the best man for the job, so I better take advantage of every opportunity I can get."
"As far as Noah Hanson goes, it seems we are going in different directions. I'm on a comeback trail. I'm fresh, my injuries are healed, and I've got my sights set on nothing short of the top. Hanson, he's been through the ringer. He's tired, beaten up, and jaded. I can emphathize- I was there five years ago. And I almost feel bad that this whole farewell tour of his is going to kick off with a loss."
Terrence gobbled down a couple of bites of Lucky Charms, then continued. "But I'm not back to give a eulogy. I didn't restart my training regime and buy a half-million dollar RV just to say goodbye. I came here to play. I came back to win. I'm here because I'm not about to let.that egomaniacal bastard Eric Dane tear the WWA down. I'm here because there is one last hole in my resume I need to fill, and that is to emerge from Summer Games as the winner. And I'm here, because twenty-five days as World Heavyweight Champion is way too short a reign for someone of my calibur, and I'm sure as heck not going to take three years to climb that mountain, either."
"All Noah Hanson's to me is a stepping stone. I'm sure that sounds arrogant and mean, but its true. I'm not here for Hanson. I'm here for Brian Hollywood, and that shiny belt he carries. I'm here for Josh Graves and Devon Poole, and their PWX tag belts. And I'm definitely here for Cobra, to cut off the final head of the Hydra and crush the Defiance onslaught. But that's all down the line, whether next week, next month, or even next year. But I'm not going to overlook Hanson. He's a mere speedbump on my road, but everyone knows that a speedbump can mess up your journey pretty bad if you don't pay attention, and my destination is way too far away to have a breakdown now."
"So yeah, Adrenaline 29," Terrence concluded. "Twister Thompson versus Noah Hanson. Will it be a good match? Probably. A little back and forth, probably some big moves on both our parts, and a lot of fans going home happy. But in the end, its going to be my hand getting raised. Because I'm fresher than Noah Hanson. I'm hungrier than Noah Hanson. And I'm just flat out better than Noah Hanson. Why?"
"Because No one can stop the Mechanical Mayhem?" Pollaski asked rhetorically. He then picked up his cereal bowl, drinking the remaining milk down.
"Exactly." Terrence finished with a smirk. "Now.. what the heck is taking Wendy so long?"
In response to that final question, a high pitched whine was heard, growing closer. The three awake occupants of the RV stared at each other in confusion. The whine sounded like an engine, but not the gutteral roar of Terrence's charger. This sounded more like... a weedeater.
Confused, Pollaski got up, and walked to the window over the kitchen sink, looking outside. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. "Ha! It's Wendy!"
"What?" Terrence rose from his seat as well, and ran to the window. "What the hell is that thing?" He muttered in disgust. "Where's my car?"
Terrence ran from the window, running to the cockpit, down the stairs, and out the door. Pollaski, laughing turned to Cassie.
"You coming?"
"What's going on?" Cassie asked, thoroughly confused.
"Let's just say there's about to be a pretty good row, as the British would say."
Cassie didn't move, but Pollaski was already running for the door.
Outside, Terrence stared in horror at his wife as she dismounted from her brand new, shiny, bright green motorcycle.
Actually, it was only a motorcycle in the sense that it had two wheels and an engine.
"What... the... hell?" Terrence demanded, as Wendy took off her helmet. Terrence recognized it as helmet Ulfric had given her for their "date" so many years ago. He realized that must have been the contents that mysterious box, and he felt his irritation grow.
Wendy, for her part, was smiling ear to ear as she hung the helmet on the bike's handlebars. "It's a motorbike, Terrence! A Vespa LXV 150, to be exact. I was thinking, and I realized you were right. I don't need my Focus anymore. With us traveling all the time, all its going to do is sit on our driveway. With this, we can take it with us!"
Terrence remained speechless as he stared at the scooter, which he felt was obviously MUCH worse than a compact car. Hadn't the woman ever heard of horsepower?
Behind him, Pollaski exited the RV, and burst out laughing. "Nice! How fast does that thing go?"
"I think they said the top speed was sixty," Wendy said. "But I don't intend to go that fast. I'm more concerned about maneuverability and portability."
"That... THING" Terrence sputtered, "Is not going anywhere NEAR my RV!"
"YOUR RV?" Wendy countered, her smile fading. "Last time I checked, it was OUR RV!"
"Last time I checked, you weren't trying to stick a crappy little sissy-scooter in it."
"What, Terrence?" Wendy fired back. "What are you so afraid of?"
"I'm not afraid of anything. I just don't want to have to drive around with that thing hanging off the back."
"Why not?!"
"Its a girl's bike!" Terrence blurted
"Well, fortunately," Wendy snapped back. "I'm a girl!"
"Yes, Wendy, but you're a championship quality wrestler. Wrestlers ride around in limos, or Camaro's, or Porsches, or monster trucks, or Harleys. They do NOT ride around in VESPAS!"
"Oh, I'm sorry!" Wendy fired back. "I didn't know there was a clause in my PWX contract dictating what I could or could not drive! And what about Dodge Chargers? Do wrestlers drive around in that?"
"Of course! Speaking of which, where the hell is my car?"
"Where do you think?" Wendy responded, breaking into a maniacal laughter that forced both Pollaski and Terrence to step back.
Terrence's face paled. "Y... you didn't..."
"How do you think I paid for the bike, HONEY?" Wendy taunted.
"Dude..." Dan whispered. This marriage was over...
"I... I... spent.... WEEKS on that car..." Terrence stammered. If Wendy had ripped out Chaunticleer's throat with her theeth, Terrence would not have stared at his wife with as much disgust as he did now.
"Its a shame I could only get a couple hundred for it," Wendy continued, smiling cruelly as Terrence gasped.
"A couple.... hundred?" Terrence gasped. "That was a custom built..."
"I believe the phrase 'shoddy workmanship' was used," Wendy laughed.
"BULLSHIT!" Terrence screamed. "Everything was PERFECT! That. Car. Was. PERFECT!"
"Well, now its going to be perfect 'spare parts', from what I heard," Wendy grinned evilly. "At least that's what I heard as I walked away."
"You... you...." Terrence stuttered. Finally, he went quiet. "I gotta get that car back. Where did you sell it?"
Wendy shrugged. "I don't remember. Wasn't really paying attention."
"Dan!" Terrence barked. "Prepare the RV for departure! We'll check every damned dealership in town if we have to. And YOU," Terrence snarled, pointing at Wendy, "better pray we save it!"
"Okay..." Pollaski said uncertainly, not really wanting to spend the day looking for Terrence's car.
"Oh, one problem, Terrence," Wendy said sweetly, pulling a set of keys out of her pocket. "How are you going anywhere?"
Terrence stopped in his tracks. "Give me the keys, Wendy," he said in a deadly tone.
"My Vespa?" Wendy asked, shaking the keys.
For a second, Terrence looked as if he was going to charge and try to wrestle the keys from her. "FINE!" he screamed. "Dan, load her stupid bike up... tie it to the rear ladder or something. I'll go get us ready."
"Thanks, hon!" Wendy laughed triumphantly as she tossed the keys to her husband. Terrence stormed off to move the sliders in, and get the RV ready to move.
Pollaski stared at Wendy after Terrence had gone. "I don't get this idea where you two have trust issues."
Wendy shrugged, and reached into her other pocket, pulling out another set of keys. "Valparaiso University, Guest parking lot, spot G7. I figure we'll let him sweat it for another hour before we tell him I didn't really sell the Charger."
Pollaski stared at Wendy in amazement. "For someone who's so damn nice, you sure have a bitchy side."
Wendy shrugged and smiled, blushing just a bit. "I hated to do it, but I guarantee you Terrence won't be selling ANYTHING of mine ever again."
"But you're serious about the bike?"
Wendy nodded. "I'm not going to rely on Terrence for a ride. Besides, I think its cool."
Pollaski was too amused by the scenario to inform Wendy that she was unlikely to ever be considered 'cool'. "Come on," Dan said, wheeling the bike to the RV, and grabbing some rope from an outside compartment. "Lets see if we can get this tied up."
Saturday, June 26, 2010
EPISODE 3: All Hail King Aire
4.16.2010
THE NEST
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
10:32 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
Wendy Briese-Thompson hated to lose.
Although the young woman often hid her ultra-competitive nature behind a quiet, reserved demeanor, the truth was, on the inside, Wendy was as every bit as fierce a competitor as anybody who ever graced the ring.
For her, losing meant just one thing.
Failure.
And Wendy feared failure more than anything else in the world.
Of course, this constant fear of failure hadn't led to Wendy abandoning her morals. This same fear stretched to her ideals- in particular, her stance that professional wrestling should be nothing more than an athletic competition, where one's ability to win, and win fairly, should count way more than any aspect of showmanship, particularily the ability to spill blood.
After all, if an athletic competition is to prove you're better than the other guy, wouldn't cheating to win simply prove that you weren't? And if you were truly good enough, you should be able to rely on your skills, not a baseball bat or a chair.
No, abandoning your ethics was every bit as much a failure, if not moreso, than losing was.
It was an interesting turmoil inside her, and, from an outside perspective, most people wondered how she could even function. After all, if all you cared about was winning, but then put yourself seemingly at a disadvantage with restrictions, weren't you just shooting yourself in the foot?
But for Wendy, it was the exact opposite. This belief, that one could still play by the rules and win, only fueled her. Her convictions gave her an inner stregnth that had turned her into one of the toughest competitors to ever grace the 'squared circle'. They had lent fuel to the fire that enabled her to defeat men twice... even three times her weight. As her late friend Rick had once told her, she was a warrior, a guardian of the ideal that goodness and sticking to one's morals did have positive effects. If losing was failure, then she couldn't. She wouldn't. She didn't.
Much.
So why was Wendy Briese, who had slain giants with her own two hands, losing to a thirteen pound CAT?
"Let... go... of... me!" Wendy growled through gritted teeth as she tried desperately to pry Chaunticleers claws from her arm. Truthfully, she was thankful she was wearing a black cashmere sweater, although she rued the damage the claws were causing.
"Bad Kittie!" Wendy snarled as she freed one paw, only for it to immediately latch itself back onto her sleeve. She sighed in frustration. This was going nowhere.
Changing strategies, with her free left hand she grabbed behind Chaunticleer's neck, and pulled, while simultaneously jerking her right arm away. The strategy worked, although the cats claws shredded her sleeves as they released.
Wendy felt a sharp pain in her arm, and realized those same claws had taken a small chunk of skin from her arm as well. Already she could feel blood trickling down her arm.
"AUGH! That does it!" Wendy hissed in frustration. "You... are... getting... DECLAWED!"
For Chant's part, he seemed to have realized that the redhead had him by the scruff of the neck, and further struggling was futile. So he changed tactics, going limp in her grasp and mewling pathetically.
"Oh, shut up!" Wendy snarled, and she threw the cat headfirst into its cage, slamming the wireframe door behind it.
"Are you okay, Mommy?"
Wendy looked up as her daughter ran into the room, her three year old face showing concern. Wendy looked down at her torn sleeve and bleeding arm, and nodded.
"Mommy's fine, Terr-Bear. I just had some problems putting Chaunticleer in his cage." She beckoned down to the cat-carrier, fighting down a tremendous urge to kick it.
"Where's daddy?"
"He went..." Wendy paused. She actually had no idea where her husband had gone. Terrence had left about an hour ago, telling Wendy he'd be right back and to finish getting packed.
Even weirder... he had taken HER Ford Focus, a car he absolutely despised.
A knock at the front door disrupted her thoughts. "Come in!" Wendy called.
The door opened, and in walked Cassie, holding a suitcase and a smaller overnight bag. "What happened to you?" she asked, eyeing Wendy's ruined sweater and bloody arm.
"Bad kitty" Wendy replied shortly, again fighting down the urge to kick the cat carrier. "In fact, since you're here, why don't you watch Theresa, and I'll go fix myself up?"
Cassie nodded, and dropped her bags next to the small pile of luggage that had been slowly growing in the Thompson family living room all morning. This road trip was going to be a longer one, she had been told, with the Birdz immediately departing from the PWX show for Pennsylvania, where they, as Terrence had darkly put it, "had business to take care of with an Appalachian newcomer." They could expect to be gone for nearly a week, she had been told.
In truth, Cassie was still wasn't quite why she had even agreed to this. Despite the WhirlyBirdz impressive win over The Fallen, the initial excursion to Valparaiso was nothing short of a disaster. Between Dan's navigational skills, a botched reservation that only allowed them all one hotel room, and five people being crammed into one car for four hours, it hadn't been the glamorous excursion she had imagined.
Apperently, it hadn't been for the Birdz either, because as soon as they had returned to Indianapolis, Terrence had promised her that the next trip would be better. Cassie had her own suggestion- kick out the fat one, but she knew better than to voice her opinion. For some reason, despite his annoying tendencies, both Terrence and Wendy seemed to value him. She could not see why.
As if on cue, the front door swung open, and in walked Daniel Pollaski. To further Cassie's irritation, little Theresa gave a yelp of joy, and ran to Pollaski, receiving a hair tousling for her efforts. Pollaski shrugged off his backpack, and dropped his duffel bag on the luggage pile.
"Where'd Wendy go?" Pollaski asked Cassie.
"Upstairs... she had a problem getting Chaunticleer in his cage."
Pollaski looked confused. "If she's upstairs... where's her car?"
"Terrence took it," Wendy answered as she bounded back down the stairs. She had changed into a short sleeved green blouse, and her arm had been cleaned, with a small band-aid placed over the cut. "No idea why, either. Nice haircut, by the way."
"Thanks," Pollaski grinned, running his hand through his now close-cropped hair. His hair hadn't been long, but it had definitely been getting shaggy, with his bangs falling into his eyes. "I woke up yesterday, and thought I looked positively emo. And not listen to My Chemical Romance emo, either. I'm talking Darin Zion, cut your arms and let the pain bleed out emo."
"Thanks, Dan" Wendy snapped irritably.
"What?" Pollaski asked innocently as both Wendy and Cassie glared at him. Deciding it was best to change the subject, Dan reverted back to the original topic of conversation. "So, when's Terrence supposed to be back?"
"No idea," Wendy replied with a sigh of exasperation. "And I have everything ready... at least I think I do. Not sure what else there is."
"Well, the question is- if you're ready for our trip... what about your match this week?"
"Sure am" Wendy smiled at her manager, albeit less than enthusiastically. "My first singles match since coming back. Should be interesting."
"Yeah, right." Pollaski scoffed. "Either PWX management is completely clueless about what to do with you, or someone up there really has it in for the Fallen. I mean, you and Terrence beat the ever-loving tar out of Silkk and Grayson, and now they feed you their valet?"
Wendy shrugged. "I admit, its not exactly the match I was hoping for. But at least I'm here. At least I'm competing. I'm just happy to be wrestling, and I know that if I keep winning, sooner or later I'll get a chance at Valerie, Danny, or Brian."
"Besides," Wendy continued, "Mercedes might just surprise you. I know her sister Lilith used to be a wrestler, and I'm sure Mercedes wouldn't be willing to step in the ring unless she knew a thing or two. I view her as serious an opponent as I would anyone else. Fortunes change dramatically in this sport, and all the momentum Terrence and I gained last week could be erased if we both lose here. Besides, regardless of how good Mercedes is, I would be insulting her if I gave anything than my absolute best."
"And god-forbid you EVER insult someone." Pollaski quipped sarcastically.
Cassie snorted, and even Wendy cracked a smile. "I just don't see the point of name calling," the redhead responded softly. "You have to respect the ability of anyone who gets in the ring with you. I just wish they didn't call it a 'vixen's match'".
Now it was Pollaski's turn to snort, while Cassie nodded. Considering how conservative Wendy tended to be in matters of sexuality, 'vixen' was generally not a word used to describe her.
"Daddy's home!" Theresa shrieked in glee from the front windows, where she had perched herself in an impromptu vigil while the three adults talked. "And he's driving a house!"
"A house?" Wendy, Dan, and Cassie all looked at each other, the three of them hurrying over to he window.
As one, all three stopped, and gasped.
"Oh..." exhaled Wendy
"My..." continued Cassie.
"God!" finished Pollaski.
"He... bought another RV?" Wendy asked, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.
For a couple of years, Terrence and Wendy had lived out of an RV as they toured the country. Figuring that it would be better if they took home with them, instead of returning to a seldom-used house or apartment. The arrangement had worked out well, even after Pollaski had joined the team. Only when the original RV had been destroyed in a tornado did the Birdz settle down and move into a proper house.
But as nice as their old RV was, it was NOTHING compared to the glistening, red and black, forty-five foot masterpiece now sitting curbside in front of their lawn.
"Wendy?" Dan panted, as if the very image had stolen the air from him. "That's not just any RV... that's a Newmar."
"A Newmar King Aire, to be exact!" said a masculine voice behind them, forcing Wendy, Dan, and Cassie to jump. Theresa ran towards her father, who picked her up with a kiss on the cheek. "The best of the best."
"Dude... those... like run half a mil..." Pollaski managed to stammer out.
"What?" Wendy squeaked out, her features suddenly pale. "How... how could we afford...."
"Its okay. I just used Theresa's college fund. I figured we got fifteen years to get it back."
"TERRENCE!!!!!!" Wendy screamed in horror.
"I'm KIDDING!" Terrence shot back, grinning. "I sold some of our stocks, and I got a great deal and a payment plan. We'll be fine."
"Still..." Wendy looked back out the window. "It seems... ostentatious."
"It seems we now have five people traveling around the country to wrestling shows. And I think my wife and daughter only deserve the best!"
"And the sitter just signed on to the best ride ever..." Cassie whispered. Next to her, Pollaski nodded in agreement.
"Now, enough talking!" Terrence proclaimed, setting Theresa down. "Wendy, you and Cassie start loading. Dan, you and I are gonna get my car on the trailer." Terrence beckoned to the now empty trailer hitched to the RV.
At this, Wendy stopped, again looking out the window. "Terrence... where's MY car?"
There was a long pause, as Terrence looked away from his wife. Wendy immediately began to sense something was wrong, and wheeled around.
"Cassie, you better take Theresa outside," Pollaski whispered. Cassie nodded, and, grabbing Theresa's hand, briskly walked to the front entryway and out the door.
"Terrence..." Wendy repeated. "Where. Is. MY. Car?"
Terrence seemed to be at a loss, but for just a second. He shrugged. "Well, technically... its not your car anymore..."
"YOU SOLD MY CAR?"
Terrence took a step back, and shrugged again. "Well, technically... I traded it in. For the trailer."
"Let me get this straight," Wendy began, her fists clenched at her side. "You took MY car, and traded it in for a trailer so we can tow YOUR car around?"
"Oh, good Lord, no." Terrence protested. "I also got six thousand dollars cash back."
"You had no right to do that!" Wendy protested.
"Technically, I did, cause my name was on the registration too. Don't worry, I'll let you have SOME of the cash. And its not like you'll need the car anymore. I can drive you around!"
Wendy glared at her husband, ignoring the pain as her nails dug into her palms.
"FINE!" Wendy finally snapped at her husband. "Just... FINE! We'll tow YOUR car around, and I'll be a good little wife and let you drive all the time. Would you also like me to do all the cooking and cleaning?"
"Of course not! You're a lousy cook. I figured Cassie can do that."
By now, Wendy's cheeks were nearly the color of her hair, her teeth bared in a snarl. With a snort, and a stamp of her foot, she stormed towards the stairs.
"Where you going?" Terrence asked.
"To pack some more things," she responded icily, not even bothering to stop. "Now that I know we'll be in a motorhome, I can bring more... stuff."
"Good thinking!" Terrence replied.
If Wendy gave a reply, it was too muffled by the walls to hear. Terrence turned to Pollaski, who had an expression of utter disbelief on his face.
"What... the... fuck... is... wrong... with... you?" Pollaski asked.
"You know," Terrence mused. "She just is so much cuter when she's angry, isn't she?"
"Oh, good." Pollaski said, sarcasm dripping. "So you do realize she's enormously pissed at you."
"Yeah," Terrence nodded. "I would be too if my spouse made a whole bunch of decisions unilaterally left me out to dry. Oh, wait..."
Pollaski's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Seriously? This is revenge for her not telling you about Mandrake?"
"Kinda," Terrence confessed. "I also REALLY hated that Focus. Now come on, lets load the Charger on the trailer. I want to get moving."
Pollaski looked after Terrence, his mouth still open in disbelief. "Dude... just... dude..." he muttered.
Upstairs, Wendy angrily tore through her closet, throwing aside shoes and accessories.
There it was.
Wendy grabbed the box, quickly making sure its contents were inside, a rare cruel smirk lighting her features.
She was going to teach her husband a lesson he would never...
EVER...
forget.
THE NEST
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
10:32 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
Wendy Briese-Thompson hated to lose.
Although the young woman often hid her ultra-competitive nature behind a quiet, reserved demeanor, the truth was, on the inside, Wendy was as every bit as fierce a competitor as anybody who ever graced the ring.
For her, losing meant just one thing.
Failure.
And Wendy feared failure more than anything else in the world.
Of course, this constant fear of failure hadn't led to Wendy abandoning her morals. This same fear stretched to her ideals- in particular, her stance that professional wrestling should be nothing more than an athletic competition, where one's ability to win, and win fairly, should count way more than any aspect of showmanship, particularily the ability to spill blood.
After all, if an athletic competition is to prove you're better than the other guy, wouldn't cheating to win simply prove that you weren't? And if you were truly good enough, you should be able to rely on your skills, not a baseball bat or a chair.
No, abandoning your ethics was every bit as much a failure, if not moreso, than losing was.
It was an interesting turmoil inside her, and, from an outside perspective, most people wondered how she could even function. After all, if all you cared about was winning, but then put yourself seemingly at a disadvantage with restrictions, weren't you just shooting yourself in the foot?
But for Wendy, it was the exact opposite. This belief, that one could still play by the rules and win, only fueled her. Her convictions gave her an inner stregnth that had turned her into one of the toughest competitors to ever grace the 'squared circle'. They had lent fuel to the fire that enabled her to defeat men twice... even three times her weight. As her late friend Rick had once told her, she was a warrior, a guardian of the ideal that goodness and sticking to one's morals did have positive effects. If losing was failure, then she couldn't. She wouldn't. She didn't.
Much.
So why was Wendy Briese, who had slain giants with her own two hands, losing to a thirteen pound CAT?
"Let... go... of... me!" Wendy growled through gritted teeth as she tried desperately to pry Chaunticleers claws from her arm. Truthfully, she was thankful she was wearing a black cashmere sweater, although she rued the damage the claws were causing.
"Bad Kittie!" Wendy snarled as she freed one paw, only for it to immediately latch itself back onto her sleeve. She sighed in frustration. This was going nowhere.
Changing strategies, with her free left hand she grabbed behind Chaunticleer's neck, and pulled, while simultaneously jerking her right arm away. The strategy worked, although the cats claws shredded her sleeves as they released.
Wendy felt a sharp pain in her arm, and realized those same claws had taken a small chunk of skin from her arm as well. Already she could feel blood trickling down her arm.
"AUGH! That does it!" Wendy hissed in frustration. "You... are... getting... DECLAWED!"
For Chant's part, he seemed to have realized that the redhead had him by the scruff of the neck, and further struggling was futile. So he changed tactics, going limp in her grasp and mewling pathetically.
"Oh, shut up!" Wendy snarled, and she threw the cat headfirst into its cage, slamming the wireframe door behind it.
"Are you okay, Mommy?"
Wendy looked up as her daughter ran into the room, her three year old face showing concern. Wendy looked down at her torn sleeve and bleeding arm, and nodded.
"Mommy's fine, Terr-Bear. I just had some problems putting Chaunticleer in his cage." She beckoned down to the cat-carrier, fighting down a tremendous urge to kick it.
"Where's daddy?"
"He went..." Wendy paused. She actually had no idea where her husband had gone. Terrence had left about an hour ago, telling Wendy he'd be right back and to finish getting packed.
Even weirder... he had taken HER Ford Focus, a car he absolutely despised.
A knock at the front door disrupted her thoughts. "Come in!" Wendy called.
The door opened, and in walked Cassie, holding a suitcase and a smaller overnight bag. "What happened to you?" she asked, eyeing Wendy's ruined sweater and bloody arm.
"Bad kitty" Wendy replied shortly, again fighting down the urge to kick the cat carrier. "In fact, since you're here, why don't you watch Theresa, and I'll go fix myself up?"
Cassie nodded, and dropped her bags next to the small pile of luggage that had been slowly growing in the Thompson family living room all morning. This road trip was going to be a longer one, she had been told, with the Birdz immediately departing from the PWX show for Pennsylvania, where they, as Terrence had darkly put it, "had business to take care of with an Appalachian newcomer." They could expect to be gone for nearly a week, she had been told.
In truth, Cassie was still wasn't quite why she had even agreed to this. Despite the WhirlyBirdz impressive win over The Fallen, the initial excursion to Valparaiso was nothing short of a disaster. Between Dan's navigational skills, a botched reservation that only allowed them all one hotel room, and five people being crammed into one car for four hours, it hadn't been the glamorous excursion she had imagined.
Apperently, it hadn't been for the Birdz either, because as soon as they had returned to Indianapolis, Terrence had promised her that the next trip would be better. Cassie had her own suggestion- kick out the fat one, but she knew better than to voice her opinion. For some reason, despite his annoying tendencies, both Terrence and Wendy seemed to value him. She could not see why.
As if on cue, the front door swung open, and in walked Daniel Pollaski. To further Cassie's irritation, little Theresa gave a yelp of joy, and ran to Pollaski, receiving a hair tousling for her efforts. Pollaski shrugged off his backpack, and dropped his duffel bag on the luggage pile.
"Where'd Wendy go?" Pollaski asked Cassie.
"Upstairs... she had a problem getting Chaunticleer in his cage."
Pollaski looked confused. "If she's upstairs... where's her car?"
"Terrence took it," Wendy answered as she bounded back down the stairs. She had changed into a short sleeved green blouse, and her arm had been cleaned, with a small band-aid placed over the cut. "No idea why, either. Nice haircut, by the way."
"Thanks," Pollaski grinned, running his hand through his now close-cropped hair. His hair hadn't been long, but it had definitely been getting shaggy, with his bangs falling into his eyes. "I woke up yesterday, and thought I looked positively emo. And not listen to My Chemical Romance emo, either. I'm talking Darin Zion, cut your arms and let the pain bleed out emo."
"Thanks, Dan" Wendy snapped irritably.
"What?" Pollaski asked innocently as both Wendy and Cassie glared at him. Deciding it was best to change the subject, Dan reverted back to the original topic of conversation. "So, when's Terrence supposed to be back?"
"No idea," Wendy replied with a sigh of exasperation. "And I have everything ready... at least I think I do. Not sure what else there is."
"Well, the question is- if you're ready for our trip... what about your match this week?"
"Sure am" Wendy smiled at her manager, albeit less than enthusiastically. "My first singles match since coming back. Should be interesting."
"Yeah, right." Pollaski scoffed. "Either PWX management is completely clueless about what to do with you, or someone up there really has it in for the Fallen. I mean, you and Terrence beat the ever-loving tar out of Silkk and Grayson, and now they feed you their valet?"
Wendy shrugged. "I admit, its not exactly the match I was hoping for. But at least I'm here. At least I'm competing. I'm just happy to be wrestling, and I know that if I keep winning, sooner or later I'll get a chance at Valerie, Danny, or Brian."
"Besides," Wendy continued, "Mercedes might just surprise you. I know her sister Lilith used to be a wrestler, and I'm sure Mercedes wouldn't be willing to step in the ring unless she knew a thing or two. I view her as serious an opponent as I would anyone else. Fortunes change dramatically in this sport, and all the momentum Terrence and I gained last week could be erased if we both lose here. Besides, regardless of how good Mercedes is, I would be insulting her if I gave anything than my absolute best."
"And god-forbid you EVER insult someone." Pollaski quipped sarcastically.
Cassie snorted, and even Wendy cracked a smile. "I just don't see the point of name calling," the redhead responded softly. "You have to respect the ability of anyone who gets in the ring with you. I just wish they didn't call it a 'vixen's match'".
Now it was Pollaski's turn to snort, while Cassie nodded. Considering how conservative Wendy tended to be in matters of sexuality, 'vixen' was generally not a word used to describe her.
"Daddy's home!" Theresa shrieked in glee from the front windows, where she had perched herself in an impromptu vigil while the three adults talked. "And he's driving a house!"
"A house?" Wendy, Dan, and Cassie all looked at each other, the three of them hurrying over to he window.
As one, all three stopped, and gasped.
"Oh..." exhaled Wendy
"My..." continued Cassie.
"God!" finished Pollaski.
"He... bought another RV?" Wendy asked, her mouth hanging open in disbelief.
For a couple of years, Terrence and Wendy had lived out of an RV as they toured the country. Figuring that it would be better if they took home with them, instead of returning to a seldom-used house or apartment. The arrangement had worked out well, even after Pollaski had joined the team. Only when the original RV had been destroyed in a tornado did the Birdz settle down and move into a proper house.
But as nice as their old RV was, it was NOTHING compared to the glistening, red and black, forty-five foot masterpiece now sitting curbside in front of their lawn.
"Wendy?" Dan panted, as if the very image had stolen the air from him. "That's not just any RV... that's a Newmar."
"A Newmar King Aire, to be exact!" said a masculine voice behind them, forcing Wendy, Dan, and Cassie to jump. Theresa ran towards her father, who picked her up with a kiss on the cheek. "The best of the best."
"Dude... those... like run half a mil..." Pollaski managed to stammer out.
"What?" Wendy squeaked out, her features suddenly pale. "How... how could we afford...."
"Its okay. I just used Theresa's college fund. I figured we got fifteen years to get it back."
"TERRENCE!!!!!!" Wendy screamed in horror.
"I'm KIDDING!" Terrence shot back, grinning. "I sold some of our stocks, and I got a great deal and a payment plan. We'll be fine."
"Still..." Wendy looked back out the window. "It seems... ostentatious."
"It seems we now have five people traveling around the country to wrestling shows. And I think my wife and daughter only deserve the best!"
"And the sitter just signed on to the best ride ever..." Cassie whispered. Next to her, Pollaski nodded in agreement.
"Now, enough talking!" Terrence proclaimed, setting Theresa down. "Wendy, you and Cassie start loading. Dan, you and I are gonna get my car on the trailer." Terrence beckoned to the now empty trailer hitched to the RV.
At this, Wendy stopped, again looking out the window. "Terrence... where's MY car?"
There was a long pause, as Terrence looked away from his wife. Wendy immediately began to sense something was wrong, and wheeled around.
"Cassie, you better take Theresa outside," Pollaski whispered. Cassie nodded, and, grabbing Theresa's hand, briskly walked to the front entryway and out the door.
"Terrence..." Wendy repeated. "Where. Is. MY. Car?"
Terrence seemed to be at a loss, but for just a second. He shrugged. "Well, technically... its not your car anymore..."
"YOU SOLD MY CAR?"
Terrence took a step back, and shrugged again. "Well, technically... I traded it in. For the trailer."
"Let me get this straight," Wendy began, her fists clenched at her side. "You took MY car, and traded it in for a trailer so we can tow YOUR car around?"
"Oh, good Lord, no." Terrence protested. "I also got six thousand dollars cash back."
"You had no right to do that!" Wendy protested.
"Technically, I did, cause my name was on the registration too. Don't worry, I'll let you have SOME of the cash. And its not like you'll need the car anymore. I can drive you around!"
Wendy glared at her husband, ignoring the pain as her nails dug into her palms.
"FINE!" Wendy finally snapped at her husband. "Just... FINE! We'll tow YOUR car around, and I'll be a good little wife and let you drive all the time. Would you also like me to do all the cooking and cleaning?"
"Of course not! You're a lousy cook. I figured Cassie can do that."
By now, Wendy's cheeks were nearly the color of her hair, her teeth bared in a snarl. With a snort, and a stamp of her foot, she stormed towards the stairs.
"Where you going?" Terrence asked.
"To pack some more things," she responded icily, not even bothering to stop. "Now that I know we'll be in a motorhome, I can bring more... stuff."
"Good thinking!" Terrence replied.
If Wendy gave a reply, it was too muffled by the walls to hear. Terrence turned to Pollaski, who had an expression of utter disbelief on his face.
"What... the... fuck... is... wrong... with... you?" Pollaski asked.
"You know," Terrence mused. "She just is so much cuter when she's angry, isn't she?"
"Oh, good." Pollaski said, sarcasm dripping. "So you do realize she's enormously pissed at you."
"Yeah," Terrence nodded. "I would be too if my spouse made a whole bunch of decisions unilaterally left me out to dry. Oh, wait..."
Pollaski's jaw nearly hit the floor. "Seriously? This is revenge for her not telling you about Mandrake?"
"Kinda," Terrence confessed. "I also REALLY hated that Focus. Now come on, lets load the Charger on the trailer. I want to get moving."
Pollaski looked after Terrence, his mouth still open in disbelief. "Dude... just... dude..." he muttered.
Upstairs, Wendy angrily tore through her closet, throwing aside shoes and accessories.
There it was.
Wendy grabbed the box, quickly making sure its contents were inside, a rare cruel smirk lighting her features.
She was going to teach her husband a lesson he would never...
EVER...
forget.
EPISODE 2: From Three to Five
4.10.2010
WEST 84TH STREET
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
2:58 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
Finally, Wendy Briese-Thompson thought to herself as she ran down the sidewalk. Spring has arrived!
It had been a long time coming.
The eastern United States was coming out of one of the worst winters on record. Blizzards, frigid temperatures, and high winds had battered the countryside all the way from the Rocky Mountains to the Atlantic Coast, leaving the residents pining for July and Triple-digit temperatures.
But now, as late as it was, the icy tendrils of winter had finally broken their grasp on the region. Flowers had began to bloom, and migratory birds slowly but surely had begun to return from their southern winter getaways.
And then today came. Sunny, highs in the mid sixties, 40% humidity with a light wind coming from the south. The very epitome of what an April Saturday ought to be.
For Wendy, it was perfect running weather.
Of all the exercises and regimens she and Terrence used to keep themselves in competitive condition, Wendy liked running the best. Unfortunately, when she had been director of the MCCT, between her job and her family, she hadn't been able to run as nearly as much as she liked.
Now that staying in peak physical condition was more or less her job, she could do it as often as she wanted to.
She supposed she felt the same way when she was running as Terrence did while he was driving- it was an excellent time to contemplate her life while she was doing something she loved.
And right now, she had a lot to contemplate about.
Her biggest concern, she figured, was her new tag-team partner. She had not seen, nor heard from Victor Mandrake since last Wednesday, when he had held a gun to Megan Cerotta's head until Wendy had agreed to align herself with him. No doubt he was holed up in his castle on the Florida Panhandle with his half of the World Tag Team Championships, plotting his next move.
At least he had decided to sign with Appalachian Wrestling. She had been worried that as soon as the Birdz had announced their contract signing with PWX, Victor Mandrake was going to stroll down the aisle, a freshly inked contract in his massive hands, ready to torment her on a weekly basis. Even with Mandrake competing over in Pennsylvania, she had a feeling that she would be seeing her more than enough of her diabolic tag partner.
Annoyed, she gritted her teeth, and received a dull throbbing pain in return- a harsh reminder that Mandrske hadn't been the only person she had been an idiot about.
She supposed she was lucky that Valora Salinas had settled for merely punching her instead of trying to cave in her skull with that omnipresent lead pipe. In hindsight, she probably shouldn't have brought the belt with her. She had forgotten that Valora had won and lost the titles without even being able to so much as touch the belts. Dangling such a juicy prize in front of her was like pouring au jus all over oneself, walking into a lions den, and praying one didn't get bit.
Still, she felt a stab of irritation over the whole ordeal. She had respected Valora enough to take her entire family to Cleveland, walk into a likely hostile arena, and try to smooth thngs over. And Valora had responded with insults, threats, and suckerpunches. A small part of her wished that she hadn't pushed Terrence away.
But she was dwelling on things she couldn't control. Whether or not Mandrake wrestled in Indiana, Pennsylvania, or Antarctica, she was still oath-bound to him for the time being. And she could no more control Valora's feelings about her than Valora could have wrestled the belt away from her Thursday night.
But there was one thing she COULD control. Less than forty-eight hours away. Monday night.
The WhirlyBirdz make their PWX debut against the Fallen.
Wendy normally got nervous before her matches, but she doubted she had this many butterflies since she faced Mike Bell for the Bayou Heavyweight Championship. The Fallen had already secured themselves the Number One Contenders to the PWX Tag Championships, and, from the looks of things, would receive their shot at High Stakes, win or lose. But even so, to knock off the top contenders for the belts in a debut match- that's making an impact!
She had been both annoyed and elated by James Silkk's casual dismissal of her and Terrence. Annoyed? Well, that was a given. Nobody liked to be disrespected and viewed as stepping stones. The elation was- well, how many times had people overlooked at the WhirlyBirdz with nary a second glance, and then found themselves leaving the arena in defeat?
If she had her way, there'd be two more names gracing THAT list come Tuesday morning.
Still, there was more riding on this match than position-jostling in the PWX Tag Team Division. In a way, her relationship with Terrence was at stake as well.
Ever since their fight in the car two weeks ago, a rift had opened between her and her husband. They had begun to mend the schism, but her unwilling betrayal of Terrence merely days later had widened the rift until it had nearly swallowed their relationship whole.
The gap had been bridged almost immediately, but Wendy knew the chasm was still there. Its not as if there was an awful tension in their relationship, she and Terrence laughed, played with Theresa, made love, trained, every aspect of their lives the same as it had always been.
But Wendy saw the bitterness on Terrence's face everytime he looked at her title belt. That another man... a hated enemy, no less, had inserted himself between him and his wife was eating him inside, and Wendy knew that he had come to view the Tag Titles as the symbolic embodyment of that horrible obstacle. Wendy knew it was a mark of how much he loved her that he had ran Valora off, because she doubted he'd mind if he never saw that cursed belt again.
But here in the PWX, there was nothing to come between them. Here, it was the WhirlyBirdz, the way it had been intended all along.
If the World Tag Team titles had widened that gap, maybe, just maybe the PWX tag titles would close it. At the very least, she owed it to her husband to pay him back for all the support he had given her.
She slowed her pace to a walk as she approached an intersection, the glowing red hand across the way forbidding further progress. Wendy began to jog in place, waiting for the walk signal that would allow her to cross the street, towards the apartments on the other side.
The Crooked Creek Apartments.
Cassie DeSlair lived in there.
Wendy stopped her jogging, as she wrestled with the idea that was emerging in her head. She needed to talk to her former nanny, in fact, she had planned on calling her tonight. But maybe a personal visit would be a better idea.
Or not, she mused, as she looked at her attire. Her sweat-stained dark gray t-shirt and black warmup pants were ill-suited for calling.
But then again, Cassie had seen her looking less dignified than this.
The light turned green, and Wendy started across the street. By the time she reached the yellow meridian line, she had made her decision.
Now just to figure out which building was hers.
In truth, Wendy had not seen Cassie since the morning after she had gotten fired from the theater. Then, Cassie had simply handed in her resignation, and walked away. Even though she had watched Theresa a couple of times at her apartment since, Terrence had handled everything. She supposed it wasn't by design- Terrence had simply been available when the time came to pick Theresa up.
But she remembered all to well her treatment of Cassie that day, and she knew it was yet another bridge she needed to mend.
If only she could remember what apartment it was.
With a sudden inspiration, Wendy whipped out her phone, looking for Cassie in her contacts. She was sure she had put her address in... Success!
Apartment H-6
It didn't take Wendy long to find building H and knock on the door of Unit 6, hoping that Cassie would be home. Just seconds later, the sound of a lock clicking and the door opening rewarded her.
A woman of twenty-three with pale blonde hair and icy blue eyes opened the door. "Wendy!" Cassie DeSlair muttered in surprise.
"Hi..." Wendy smiled nervously. "I was in the area, so I thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing."
It sounded so lame, even to her. She could tell Cassie was looking at her funny, and had a distinct feeling she was searching her mind for an excuse to shut the door.
"May I come in?" Wendy asked abruptly.
Cassie started, shocked at the boldness of Wendy's request. Finally, she acquiesced, albeit with a lack of enthusiasm. "Sure..."
Cassie lead Wendy inside, and Wendy was surprised to see that the apartment was slightly on the messy side. It wasn't squalid, but the Cassie she remembered was fastidious in the extreme- it had been one of the reasons she'd been hired.
"Sorry about the mess," Cassie said, as if reading Wendy's mind. She beckoned to a chair, which the redhead took. "I haven't been feeling like... just not too well lately."
Wendy noticed the change in Cassie's direction, and stared at her former nanny hard. Cassie's eyes, while still a vibrant blue, had dulled somewhat, and there were definite bags under her eyes. Her face was tight with worry, losing so much of the youthful glow it once had. She debated whether she should ask Cassie if everything was alright.
Cassie broke the silence first, however, with her own attempt at small talk.
"So, how's Ther-"
"Cassie, I'm sorry!"
Wendy's blurt had surprised even her, and had cowed Cassie, who stared at the redhead in confusion. "What are you talking about?" the blonde woman asked.
"I should have listened to you, and told Terrence." Wendy confessed. "Keeping it from him only made things worse. And I didn't mean to be so horrible to you either. I was just upset and..."
"Stop it.." Cassie snapped. "Wendy, you had just been fired. You were upset. As far as Mandrake goes... Terrence knows now?"
Wendy nodded. "He was furious when he found out."
Cassie nodded, unsurprised. "Then the important thing is you and your family are safe. That's all I cared about..."
"Not really," Wendy said bitterly. "He's forced me to be his tag partner."
"What?" Cassie was stunned. "I heard you were back in wrestling, but I didn't... how were you FORCED?"
"He held a gun to one of my student's head until I agreed."
"Oh my God!" Cassie gasped. "What... what kind of monster is this man?"
"Evil Incarnate," Wendy said softly. She could sense she was on the verge of tears again. "Its my fault. Had I said something sooner, maybe this wouldn't have happened."
"Don't blame yourself, Wendy" Cassie fired back. "You can't control what he does."
Wendy merely nodded, and the two women sat in silence for some time. Finally, Wendy broke the silence. "If you weren't mad at me, why did you resign?"
"Because I knew you and Terrence didn't need me anymore. But I didn't think you could bring yourselves to let me go. I didn't want to cling to some token position you kept out of charity, so I quit." There was a pause. "I wish I hadn't."
"Cassie, is everything alright?"
"Yeah, its fine." Cassie nodded, but Wendy could hear a catch in her voice. "Its just that I figured I would be hired by another family... or even a day-care center. I didn't expect to end up working at Wendy's."
Wendy noted the irony of that, but she had a distinct feeling Cassie wouldn't be amused. She stared at the other woman for a while.
"Would you consider coming back?" Wendy asked quietly.
For a second, she saw Cassie's eyes light up, but then narrow skeptically. "Wendy, no. I already told you I don't want charity. I'd be more than happy to watch her while you and Terrence are at shows. But what could you possibly need me full time for?"
Wendy paused, and tried to gather her thoughts. "You know how I was raised, Cassie. My parent's cared more about their Broadway careers and hobnobbing with the "elite" than they did about raising me. My dad only cared about the acting legacy I would give the family, and my mom... she didn't have her priorities straight until... until the end."
Cassie nodded understandingly, so Wendy went on. "When Theresa was born, I vowed that I would never do that. But then, the opportunity to run the MCCT was handed to me, and... well, Terry suggested we hire a sitter... just to see how it worked. You were so amazing, Cassie, I knew that my daughter would be safe, and I made sure to always have time for her when I got home."
"But Terrence and I... I think we underestimated how much time we would be needing to travel. We could be gone for days... even weeks at a time. I don't want to be away from my little girl for that long"
"So take her with you," Cassie reasoned.
Wendy nodded. "But who would watch her during our matches or promotional events? That would be where you came in."
"Wait..." Cassie was dumbfounded. "You want me to TRAVEL with you?"
Wendy nodded. "You would travel with us. We'd pay you what you made before, plus lodging and meals. You would help us with Theresa, and watch her while Terry and I competed. We would also work out so you could have personal time, as well. You'd probably need to quit your job at Wendy's, though" she finished with a wink.
Cassie chuckled, but shook her head. "I don't know... its so sudden."
"It'll be an adventure," Wendy coaxed, then paused. "Although... it may be dangerous. I should warn you."
"Dangerous?" Cassie was alarmed. "How?"
Wendy paused. "Most wrestlers are normal, albeit hyper-competitive people... but there are some utterly despicable people in this industry, who wrestle because they love to cause pain. Sometimes they... try to make things personal."
"Like what Mandrake did?"
Wendy nodded. "He's not the only one. And I don't want to scare you from this, Cassie. But I need to be honest. The possibility is there. There are depraved people in this business. But I'm only telling you this as a caution. I don't think it'll actually happen."
There was a long pause, and Wendy could see Cassie milling things over. Finally- "Can I think about it?"
Wendy nodded. "Consider our door open," she said with a smile, standing up. "But we leave Monday morning for this week's show, so let us know soon if you want to start this week." She smiled. "I really hope you say yes, Cassie."
"I'll think about it," Cassie promised, although Wendy could see the sudden rush of excitement in her eyes.
"That's all I'm asking," Wendy said with a smile. "I better be going, though. Got a run to finish!"
Cassie followed Wendy to the door, and promised one last time to consider the offer, before Wendy left to resume her run. As the door closed, Wendy smirked in triumph.
She had seen the excitement in Cassie's eyes.
She would be making the trip alongside them come Monday morning.
WEST 84TH STREET
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
2:58 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
Finally, Wendy Briese-Thompson thought to herself as she ran down the sidewalk. Spring has arrived!
It had been a long time coming.
The eastern United States was coming out of one of the worst winters on record. Blizzards, frigid temperatures, and high winds had battered the countryside all the way from the Rocky Mountains to the Atlantic Coast, leaving the residents pining for July and Triple-digit temperatures.
But now, as late as it was, the icy tendrils of winter had finally broken their grasp on the region. Flowers had began to bloom, and migratory birds slowly but surely had begun to return from their southern winter getaways.
And then today came. Sunny, highs in the mid sixties, 40% humidity with a light wind coming from the south. The very epitome of what an April Saturday ought to be.
For Wendy, it was perfect running weather.
Of all the exercises and regimens she and Terrence used to keep themselves in competitive condition, Wendy liked running the best. Unfortunately, when she had been director of the MCCT, between her job and her family, she hadn't been able to run as nearly as much as she liked.
Now that staying in peak physical condition was more or less her job, she could do it as often as she wanted to.
She supposed she felt the same way when she was running as Terrence did while he was driving- it was an excellent time to contemplate her life while she was doing something she loved.
And right now, she had a lot to contemplate about.
Her biggest concern, she figured, was her new tag-team partner. She had not seen, nor heard from Victor Mandrake since last Wednesday, when he had held a gun to Megan Cerotta's head until Wendy had agreed to align herself with him. No doubt he was holed up in his castle on the Florida Panhandle with his half of the World Tag Team Championships, plotting his next move.
At least he had decided to sign with Appalachian Wrestling. She had been worried that as soon as the Birdz had announced their contract signing with PWX, Victor Mandrake was going to stroll down the aisle, a freshly inked contract in his massive hands, ready to torment her on a weekly basis. Even with Mandrake competing over in Pennsylvania, she had a feeling that she would be seeing her more than enough of her diabolic tag partner.
Annoyed, she gritted her teeth, and received a dull throbbing pain in return- a harsh reminder that Mandrske hadn't been the only person she had been an idiot about.
She supposed she was lucky that Valora Salinas had settled for merely punching her instead of trying to cave in her skull with that omnipresent lead pipe. In hindsight, she probably shouldn't have brought the belt with her. She had forgotten that Valora had won and lost the titles without even being able to so much as touch the belts. Dangling such a juicy prize in front of her was like pouring au jus all over oneself, walking into a lions den, and praying one didn't get bit.
Still, she felt a stab of irritation over the whole ordeal. She had respected Valora enough to take her entire family to Cleveland, walk into a likely hostile arena, and try to smooth thngs over. And Valora had responded with insults, threats, and suckerpunches. A small part of her wished that she hadn't pushed Terrence away.
But she was dwelling on things she couldn't control. Whether or not Mandrake wrestled in Indiana, Pennsylvania, or Antarctica, she was still oath-bound to him for the time being. And she could no more control Valora's feelings about her than Valora could have wrestled the belt away from her Thursday night.
But there was one thing she COULD control. Less than forty-eight hours away. Monday night.
The WhirlyBirdz make their PWX debut against the Fallen.
Wendy normally got nervous before her matches, but she doubted she had this many butterflies since she faced Mike Bell for the Bayou Heavyweight Championship. The Fallen had already secured themselves the Number One Contenders to the PWX Tag Championships, and, from the looks of things, would receive their shot at High Stakes, win or lose. But even so, to knock off the top contenders for the belts in a debut match- that's making an impact!
She had been both annoyed and elated by James Silkk's casual dismissal of her and Terrence. Annoyed? Well, that was a given. Nobody liked to be disrespected and viewed as stepping stones. The elation was- well, how many times had people overlooked at the WhirlyBirdz with nary a second glance, and then found themselves leaving the arena in defeat?
If she had her way, there'd be two more names gracing THAT list come Tuesday morning.
Still, there was more riding on this match than position-jostling in the PWX Tag Team Division. In a way, her relationship with Terrence was at stake as well.
Ever since their fight in the car two weeks ago, a rift had opened between her and her husband. They had begun to mend the schism, but her unwilling betrayal of Terrence merely days later had widened the rift until it had nearly swallowed their relationship whole.
The gap had been bridged almost immediately, but Wendy knew the chasm was still there. Its not as if there was an awful tension in their relationship, she and Terrence laughed, played with Theresa, made love, trained, every aspect of their lives the same as it had always been.
But Wendy saw the bitterness on Terrence's face everytime he looked at her title belt. That another man... a hated enemy, no less, had inserted himself between him and his wife was eating him inside, and Wendy knew that he had come to view the Tag Titles as the symbolic embodyment of that horrible obstacle. Wendy knew it was a mark of how much he loved her that he had ran Valora off, because she doubted he'd mind if he never saw that cursed belt again.
But here in the PWX, there was nothing to come between them. Here, it was the WhirlyBirdz, the way it had been intended all along.
If the World Tag Team titles had widened that gap, maybe, just maybe the PWX tag titles would close it. At the very least, she owed it to her husband to pay him back for all the support he had given her.
She slowed her pace to a walk as she approached an intersection, the glowing red hand across the way forbidding further progress. Wendy began to jog in place, waiting for the walk signal that would allow her to cross the street, towards the apartments on the other side.
The Crooked Creek Apartments.
Cassie DeSlair lived in there.
Wendy stopped her jogging, as she wrestled with the idea that was emerging in her head. She needed to talk to her former nanny, in fact, she had planned on calling her tonight. But maybe a personal visit would be a better idea.
Or not, she mused, as she looked at her attire. Her sweat-stained dark gray t-shirt and black warmup pants were ill-suited for calling.
But then again, Cassie had seen her looking less dignified than this.
The light turned green, and Wendy started across the street. By the time she reached the yellow meridian line, she had made her decision.
Now just to figure out which building was hers.
In truth, Wendy had not seen Cassie since the morning after she had gotten fired from the theater. Then, Cassie had simply handed in her resignation, and walked away. Even though she had watched Theresa a couple of times at her apartment since, Terrence had handled everything. She supposed it wasn't by design- Terrence had simply been available when the time came to pick Theresa up.
But she remembered all to well her treatment of Cassie that day, and she knew it was yet another bridge she needed to mend.
If only she could remember what apartment it was.
With a sudden inspiration, Wendy whipped out her phone, looking for Cassie in her contacts. She was sure she had put her address in... Success!
Apartment H-6
It didn't take Wendy long to find building H and knock on the door of Unit 6, hoping that Cassie would be home. Just seconds later, the sound of a lock clicking and the door opening rewarded her.
A woman of twenty-three with pale blonde hair and icy blue eyes opened the door. "Wendy!" Cassie DeSlair muttered in surprise.
"Hi..." Wendy smiled nervously. "I was in the area, so I thought I'd drop by and see how you were doing."
It sounded so lame, even to her. She could tell Cassie was looking at her funny, and had a distinct feeling she was searching her mind for an excuse to shut the door.
"May I come in?" Wendy asked abruptly.
Cassie started, shocked at the boldness of Wendy's request. Finally, she acquiesced, albeit with a lack of enthusiasm. "Sure..."
Cassie lead Wendy inside, and Wendy was surprised to see that the apartment was slightly on the messy side. It wasn't squalid, but the Cassie she remembered was fastidious in the extreme- it had been one of the reasons she'd been hired.
"Sorry about the mess," Cassie said, as if reading Wendy's mind. She beckoned to a chair, which the redhead took. "I haven't been feeling like... just not too well lately."
Wendy noticed the change in Cassie's direction, and stared at her former nanny hard. Cassie's eyes, while still a vibrant blue, had dulled somewhat, and there were definite bags under her eyes. Her face was tight with worry, losing so much of the youthful glow it once had. She debated whether she should ask Cassie if everything was alright.
Cassie broke the silence first, however, with her own attempt at small talk.
"So, how's Ther-"
"Cassie, I'm sorry!"
Wendy's blurt had surprised even her, and had cowed Cassie, who stared at the redhead in confusion. "What are you talking about?" the blonde woman asked.
"I should have listened to you, and told Terrence." Wendy confessed. "Keeping it from him only made things worse. And I didn't mean to be so horrible to you either. I was just upset and..."
"Stop it.." Cassie snapped. "Wendy, you had just been fired. You were upset. As far as Mandrake goes... Terrence knows now?"
Wendy nodded. "He was furious when he found out."
Cassie nodded, unsurprised. "Then the important thing is you and your family are safe. That's all I cared about..."
"Not really," Wendy said bitterly. "He's forced me to be his tag partner."
"What?" Cassie was stunned. "I heard you were back in wrestling, but I didn't... how were you FORCED?"
"He held a gun to one of my student's head until I agreed."
"Oh my God!" Cassie gasped. "What... what kind of monster is this man?"
"Evil Incarnate," Wendy said softly. She could sense she was on the verge of tears again. "Its my fault. Had I said something sooner, maybe this wouldn't have happened."
"Don't blame yourself, Wendy" Cassie fired back. "You can't control what he does."
Wendy merely nodded, and the two women sat in silence for some time. Finally, Wendy broke the silence. "If you weren't mad at me, why did you resign?"
"Because I knew you and Terrence didn't need me anymore. But I didn't think you could bring yourselves to let me go. I didn't want to cling to some token position you kept out of charity, so I quit." There was a pause. "I wish I hadn't."
"Cassie, is everything alright?"
"Yeah, its fine." Cassie nodded, but Wendy could hear a catch in her voice. "Its just that I figured I would be hired by another family... or even a day-care center. I didn't expect to end up working at Wendy's."
Wendy noted the irony of that, but she had a distinct feeling Cassie wouldn't be amused. She stared at the other woman for a while.
"Would you consider coming back?" Wendy asked quietly.
For a second, she saw Cassie's eyes light up, but then narrow skeptically. "Wendy, no. I already told you I don't want charity. I'd be more than happy to watch her while you and Terrence are at shows. But what could you possibly need me full time for?"
Wendy paused, and tried to gather her thoughts. "You know how I was raised, Cassie. My parent's cared more about their Broadway careers and hobnobbing with the "elite" than they did about raising me. My dad only cared about the acting legacy I would give the family, and my mom... she didn't have her priorities straight until... until the end."
Cassie nodded understandingly, so Wendy went on. "When Theresa was born, I vowed that I would never do that. But then, the opportunity to run the MCCT was handed to me, and... well, Terry suggested we hire a sitter... just to see how it worked. You were so amazing, Cassie, I knew that my daughter would be safe, and I made sure to always have time for her when I got home."
"But Terrence and I... I think we underestimated how much time we would be needing to travel. We could be gone for days... even weeks at a time. I don't want to be away from my little girl for that long"
"So take her with you," Cassie reasoned.
Wendy nodded. "But who would watch her during our matches or promotional events? That would be where you came in."
"Wait..." Cassie was dumbfounded. "You want me to TRAVEL with you?"
Wendy nodded. "You would travel with us. We'd pay you what you made before, plus lodging and meals. You would help us with Theresa, and watch her while Terry and I competed. We would also work out so you could have personal time, as well. You'd probably need to quit your job at Wendy's, though" she finished with a wink.
Cassie chuckled, but shook her head. "I don't know... its so sudden."
"It'll be an adventure," Wendy coaxed, then paused. "Although... it may be dangerous. I should warn you."
"Dangerous?" Cassie was alarmed. "How?"
Wendy paused. "Most wrestlers are normal, albeit hyper-competitive people... but there are some utterly despicable people in this industry, who wrestle because they love to cause pain. Sometimes they... try to make things personal."
"Like what Mandrake did?"
Wendy nodded. "He's not the only one. And I don't want to scare you from this, Cassie. But I need to be honest. The possibility is there. There are depraved people in this business. But I'm only telling you this as a caution. I don't think it'll actually happen."
There was a long pause, and Wendy could see Cassie milling things over. Finally- "Can I think about it?"
Wendy nodded. "Consider our door open," she said with a smile, standing up. "But we leave Monday morning for this week's show, so let us know soon if you want to start this week." She smiled. "I really hope you say yes, Cassie."
"I'll think about it," Cassie promised, although Wendy could see the sudden rush of excitement in her eyes.
"That's all I'm asking," Wendy said with a smile. "I better be going, though. Got a run to finish!"
Cassie followed Wendy to the door, and promised one last time to consider the offer, before Wendy left to resume her run. As the door closed, Wendy smirked in triumph.
She had seen the excitement in Cassie's eyes.
She would be making the trip alongside them come Monday morning.
EPISODE 1: Primal Scene
To all of our opponents
Its time to hide or run
Because the Prelude is now over
And the Mayhem has begun
4.7.2010
THE NEST
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
5:51 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
Even though the household of Mr. & Mrs. Terrence Thompson lay within the city limits of Indianapolis, their neighborhood, wedged in the northwesternmost corner of the city, had a distinctly suburban feel to it. Wide streets wound through standard suburban two-story dwellings, often ending in cul-de-sacs that during hot summer days would each see a dozen children playing pickup baseball or basketball games.
But on this early April morning, the streets lay silent, save for the occasional bleary eyed commuter heading off to work. Even if the vast majority of the neighborhoods children weren't still curled up in their bedrooms, the near-freezing temperatures, unusual for even this early in April, would have kept them indoors.
Still, there was a sense of tranquility about the area, an ideal picture of one element of the American dream. It was, in short, an optimal neighborhood for a young family, which is why the Thompson family had moved in four years ago, shortly after their marriage.
Unfortunately for the Thompsons, when someone was sneaking in your front door at six in the morning, tranquility rarely followed.
Daniel Pollaski silently closed the front door with his feet, as the two enormous McDonald's bags he was carrying had his hands occupied. Finally getting the latch closed, he carried the bags into the kitchen, trying desperately to avoid yielding to the temptation to devour the breakfast immediately.
He had business to take care of first.
Pollaski looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disgust as the lack of creaking floorboards indicated neither Terrence nor Wendy had woken up. Normally Pollaski felt the day was a waste if he didn't sleep in until at least 9, but today was important.
Today, the WhirlyBirdz would begin training for their first PWX match against the Fallen
Ah well, better go wake the kids up.
Pollaski crept out of the kitchen, and up the staircase, a huge smile on his face. It was like those Hell's Kitchen episodes when Gordon had his assistants run into the bedrooms, screaming at the poor chefs to get up.
Pollaski paused outside the master bedroom, took a deep breath and swung open the door... "Good morning, Birdies! Wakey wakey, eggs and... AUGH!"
"WHAT THE FUCK?" a male voice demanded, coupled with a piercing female shriek.
"Sorry, guys..." Pollaski stammered, backing away from the door. He suddenly broke into a leer. "By the way, interesting take on the..."
"GET OUT!" both the male and female voices screamed in unison.
"Fine! Okay!" Pollaski said, throwing up his hands. "See you in thirty seconds, Terrence!"
Suddenly bug-eyed, Pollaski hastily grabbed the door and slammed it shut, just before a large, heavy, and fragile object smashed into the other side.
Dammit, they were going to make him pay for that lamp.
"Some people..." Pollaski muttered, turning and heading back towards the stairs...
... and nearly tripping over Theresa. The three year old had obviously been woken by the commotion, and had slipped out of bed into the hallway.
"Why mommy and daddy scweam'?" the little girl asked.
Pollaski looked at Theresa, not entirely sure how to answer her question. Finally, he decided to chance an attempt. "Because I walked in on them... uh... while they were busy."
"What they doing?"
Pollaski gulped. He had absolutely no idea what to say to that. Finally, after searching his brain, he went for the most logical answer he could think of.
"Mommy and daddy were just wrestling, kid."
Even in the dark hallway, Pollaski could see the little girl pale in fear.
"But mommy said she and daddy bwoke up the last time they wessled each other!"
A deep chuckle escaped Pollaski's throat, although not at the memories. He still felt guilty about the fallout from booking that match, especially considering the schism had ended up costing the Birdz their World Tag Team Championship. Still, there was some humor in Theresa's misconceptions.
"Trust me, Theresa. What's going on in there will NOT be leading to them breaking up." He smiled reassuringly. "Now come on... I got McDonalds... you like HotCakes?"
Theresa nodded her head vigorously, and took off runnng for the stairs. Pollaski followed her down and into the kitchen, where the two began attacking the McDonalds bags, each taking a platter of hotcakes and bacon and digging in.
Within a couple of minutes, a man and woman entered the kitchen, both squinting as their eyes tried to adjust to the comparatively brightly lit kitchen. Given that both were squinting at Pollaski with fairly sour expressions, it was obvious this was the couple he had interrupted merely minutes ago
Terrence Thompson, patriarch of the family, was a well-built man in his early thirties with short, light-brown hair, brown eyes, and a five o'clock shadow that no amount of shaving ever seemed to completely eliminate. Although he had spent most of his professional wrestling career competing as a cruiserweight, the Twister, as he was called (a nickname Terrence had carried since his days as a demolition derby driver) was now a full-blown heavyweight. Although his physique would never win any bodybuilding awards, it was obvious Terrence had some power in his side, especially now that he was returning to his peak physical condition.
Right now, that physique was covered by a white tee-shirt, and a pair of red knee length basketball shorts that had the interlocking I-U often associated with Indiana University athletic teams.
Next to him, looking even more annoyed than her husband, stood Wendy Briese-Thompson. Wendy would never be mistaken for a supermodel, but her heart-shaped face, flaming-red shoulder legnth hair, and vivid green eyes made her attractive in more of a girl-next-door sort of fashion. She was small and slender, especially for a professional wrestler, but, as anyone she had ever faced could attest, was much more powerful than her size seemed to indicate.
As usual, Wendy had dressed herself with modesty in mind (probably even more so than usual, considering the morning's events), and had wrapped a jade-green bathrobe tightly around herself.
Noticing the glares both Birdz were giving him, Pollaski found himself concentrating more and more on getting a syrup packet open, hoping his transgressions for the morning would be ignored.
No such luck with Theresa around.
"Who won de wessling match?" the little girl asked brightly.
Pollaski began choking on a piece of hotcake, though whether from laughter, shock, or both nobody could tell. Both Birdz stared at Daniel in disbelief, a bit of a blush coming to Wendy's cheeks.
Finally, Terrence found his voice. "It was a no-contest, Theresa. Broken up by OUTSIDE INTERFERENCE." With that, he swung his hand open palmed, connecting firmly with the back of Pollaski's hed.
"Ow!" Pollaski protested, although he was secretly glad the slap had dislodged the food, and sweet, sweet oxygen could now reach his lungs again.
Pollaski looked up, and saw Wendy still glowering at him. "Don't look at me! You woke her up and I had to tell her SOMETHING!"
"Why would you even walk in on us like that in the first place?" Wendy demanded. "That is NOT why we gave you a key to the house!"
"Its six o'clock in the morning!" Pollaski retorted. "I didn't know you two were gonna be..." Pollaski stoped as Terrence abruptly cleared his throat, reminding him of Theresa's presence.
"Sorry," Pollaski muttered. "Maybe you should hang up a Do Not Disturb sign."
"Or maybe you could just KNOCK," Wendy snapped, finally taking her seat and catching a sausage McMuffin that Terrence tossed her. "Why were you even barging in on us anyways?"
"Well, considering in just five days time you both will be making your in-ring PWX debuts, i figured we oughta get an early start in the gym today."
"Ah, that's right!" Terrence grinned. "So, who we facing again?"
"The Fallen," Wendy replied, before taking another bite out of her biscuit.
Terrence snorted. "Well, if they've already Fallen, pinning them shouldn't be too hard, then."
Pollaski chuckled at Terrence's joke, but Wendy merely rolled her eyes. Wendy had a code of ethics a mile long, and near the top of the list was her disapproval of mocking opponents.
Which was especially aggrivating considering it was one of Dan's and Terrence's favorite pastimes.
"No, seriously, where did they come up with such a stupid name?" Terrence asked.
There was a awkward pause. Any tag team who called themselves the WhirlyBirdz had a lot of gall making fun of someone else's name.
"I've been reading up on that." Wendy broke the silence. "Apparently, John Pariah used them as pawns, and when they had outlasted their usefulness, he cast them away. The name implies that while they may have fallen in Pariah's eyes, they are not gone."
It was a situation she herself could sympathize with, considering that the events of the previous week had placed her more or less indentured to the sinister Victor Mandrake, and she dreaded the moment Mandrake felt HER usefulness was at an end.
"So they're basing their whole careers on getting revenge on a guy who kicked them out of his little club?" Terrence scoffed. "Let me guess... G.D.E.F.C.s?"
Again, Wendy rolled her eyes, knowing full well that the acronym stood for 'God Damned Emo Fruit Cakes.' "Terrence..." she sighed in exasperation.
"You tell me, dude." Pollaski had whipped out his Droid, and was quickly bringing something up. Finally, he slid the phone across the table.
Terrence looked up, and saw Silkk and Willis' pictures staring back at him. "Ha!" he crowed. "Big time!"
"Yeah, if we're lucky, they'll slit their wrists and save you the trouble of-"
"I would like to REMIND you that there's a three year old in the room," Wendy interrupted in a deadly tone, beckoning to Theresa. In truth, the little girl was more concerned with drawing pictures in the syrup on her styrofoam platter with her plastic knife than the conversation, but Wendy's words were still heeded well enough.
"Sorry... this is gonna take some time getting used to with a kid around," Dan muttered.
"Or maybe it'll just make you start acting your age," Wendy retorted with a humorless smile.
"Well, either way," Terrence proclaimed, drawing Wendy's and Pollaski's attention away from each other. "I'm not entirely sure how beating us can help The Fallen get revenge on Pariah, and looking at these two fruitbaskets, I doubt I'm going to be finding out. As for us..."
Terrence shot a grin at Wendy. "Its nice to know that at least here in the PWX, I can still team with my wife. And if the Fallen think they're breaking out the Welcome Wagon for a couple of rookies, they are going to be in for one heck of a surprise. Sure, its been half a decade, and I know there's going to be a bit of ring rust, but Wendy and I are two and a half time World Tag Team champions for a reason. We've won the Crockett Cup, and we've bested such tandems as Shaken Not Stirred, Manifest Destiny, and The Dark Angels. I know most of the PWX has never heard if these guys, but they really oughta look them up. Won't be too hard, either. All you've got to do is look in the WWA Hall of Fame to find them. Come to think of it, we're in there too." Terrence finished with a smirk.
"Yes, Terrence," the ever-modest Wendy argued. "But that WAS five years ago."
"So?" Terrence shrugged. "How much have you and I changed in five years? Yeah, we're a little older, and supposedly wiser. But its not like we sat on the couch and ate potato chips during our long hiatus. We're in still in great shape. And we've been training hard ever since we decided to come back. Ability wise, I think we're more than a match for any team."
"And besides," Terrence continued, "It sounds like the Fallen here are united by hate. At the risk of sounding corny here, you and I are united by the exact opposite. We have a special connection, a bond, that those two just do not, and probably will never, have. At least, I HOPE they don't, because..."
"TERRENCE!"
Despite his wife now glaring daggers at him, Terrence couldn't help but grin. "I'm just saying, romantic couples share a chemistry that can be almost impossible to overcome."
Wendy suddenly shivered, remembering the previous week when twice she and Terrence had gotten into a fight that left her fearing for their relationship. "But, Terry... you yourself said we have some trust issues we need to work through," she said quietly.
"I did, and we do," Terrence responded in a suddenly serious tone, looking at his wife. "But, hon, during that... I never stopped loving you, and you never stopped loving me. I think it was because of that we both caused each other so much pain."
"Besides," he continued, breaking into another grin. "What better way for us to rebuild our trust in each other than having each other's backs in a wrestling match? Anyways, the Fallen can have their cute little vendetta against Pariah, it doesn't affect me any. Right now, I've got three goals of my own." Terrence held up three fingers. Win the World Heavyweght Championship (he dropped one finger), Win the PWX title (dropped a second) and win some Tag gold with my wife."
Terrence dropped the final finger, then lowered his hand, grabbing his now empty sandwich wrapper and crinkling it into a ball. "This match is an important first step towards that last goal, if not all three of them. And it should be noted, that when I set my sights on something, whether its a title, the demise of a rival, or the hand of a beautiful woman (at this Wendy turned beet red), sooner or later, I get it. Some might say I'm lucky. Some might chalk it up to tenacity. I just credit it to one simple truth in this unverse-"
Terrence paused, and glanced at his manager and wife. "Should I even say it?"
Pollaski shrugged. "Up to you, dude. Its your catch-phrase."
Terrence glanced at Wendy, who shrugged. "I've never been a fan of using them, but..."
"Ah, she's just jealous her 'Perpare to Be Blown Away' bombed so badly." Pollaski snickered, uttering the forgettable slogan the redhead had used during her early days of competing.
"That was YOUR idea!" Wendy indignantly protested to her manager.
"What do you think, Terr?" Terrence looked at his daughter. "Should daddy use his catch-phrase?"
Despite having absolutely no idea what a 'catch-phrase' was, the three-year old vigorously nodded her brown haired head.
"NO ONE CAN STOP THE MECHANICAL MAYHEM!" Terrence boasted, launching his breakfast wrapper at the kitchen garbage can. Unfortunately, the wrapper drifted about two feet to the right, landing unimpressively on the floor.
"Nice," Pollaski guffawed. "Way to demonstrate your superior athletic ability.
"Zip it" Terrence snarled back, although he was still smiling. "I better go get changed for the gym," he announced, quickly heading out of the kitchen for the stairs.
Wendy watched him go, an exasperated smile on her face. "He's still as cocky about this as he's always been."
Pollaski smirked. He knew that despite Terrence's casual dismissal of The Fallen while at the breakfast table, there was no way Terrence was going to take his debut match lightly. "You still love him," he remarked to Wendy.
The young woman chuckled fondly. "That I do," she admitted, standing up. "I better go change too. You got clean-up?"
Pollaski reluctantly nodded, and Wendy walked out of the room to go prepare for the day's workout.
Its time to hide or run
Because the Prelude is now over
And the Mayhem has begun
4.7.2010
THE NEST
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
5:51 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
Even though the household of Mr. & Mrs. Terrence Thompson lay within the city limits of Indianapolis, their neighborhood, wedged in the northwesternmost corner of the city, had a distinctly suburban feel to it. Wide streets wound through standard suburban two-story dwellings, often ending in cul-de-sacs that during hot summer days would each see a dozen children playing pickup baseball or basketball games.
But on this early April morning, the streets lay silent, save for the occasional bleary eyed commuter heading off to work. Even if the vast majority of the neighborhoods children weren't still curled up in their bedrooms, the near-freezing temperatures, unusual for even this early in April, would have kept them indoors.
Still, there was a sense of tranquility about the area, an ideal picture of one element of the American dream. It was, in short, an optimal neighborhood for a young family, which is why the Thompson family had moved in four years ago, shortly after their marriage.
Unfortunately for the Thompsons, when someone was sneaking in your front door at six in the morning, tranquility rarely followed.
Daniel Pollaski silently closed the front door with his feet, as the two enormous McDonald's bags he was carrying had his hands occupied. Finally getting the latch closed, he carried the bags into the kitchen, trying desperately to avoid yielding to the temptation to devour the breakfast immediately.
He had business to take care of first.
Pollaski looked up at the ceiling, shaking his head in disgust as the lack of creaking floorboards indicated neither Terrence nor Wendy had woken up. Normally Pollaski felt the day was a waste if he didn't sleep in until at least 9, but today was important.
Today, the WhirlyBirdz would begin training for their first PWX match against the Fallen
Ah well, better go wake the kids up.
Pollaski crept out of the kitchen, and up the staircase, a huge smile on his face. It was like those Hell's Kitchen episodes when Gordon had his assistants run into the bedrooms, screaming at the poor chefs to get up.
Pollaski paused outside the master bedroom, took a deep breath and swung open the door... "Good morning, Birdies! Wakey wakey, eggs and... AUGH!"
"WHAT THE FUCK?" a male voice demanded, coupled with a piercing female shriek.
"Sorry, guys..." Pollaski stammered, backing away from the door. He suddenly broke into a leer. "By the way, interesting take on the..."
"GET OUT!" both the male and female voices screamed in unison.
"Fine! Okay!" Pollaski said, throwing up his hands. "See you in thirty seconds, Terrence!"
Suddenly bug-eyed, Pollaski hastily grabbed the door and slammed it shut, just before a large, heavy, and fragile object smashed into the other side.
Dammit, they were going to make him pay for that lamp.
"Some people..." Pollaski muttered, turning and heading back towards the stairs...
... and nearly tripping over Theresa. The three year old had obviously been woken by the commotion, and had slipped out of bed into the hallway.
"Why mommy and daddy scweam'?" the little girl asked.
Pollaski looked at Theresa, not entirely sure how to answer her question. Finally, he decided to chance an attempt. "Because I walked in on them... uh... while they were busy."
"What they doing?"
Pollaski gulped. He had absolutely no idea what to say to that. Finally, after searching his brain, he went for the most logical answer he could think of.
"Mommy and daddy were just wrestling, kid."
Even in the dark hallway, Pollaski could see the little girl pale in fear.
"But mommy said she and daddy bwoke up the last time they wessled each other!"
A deep chuckle escaped Pollaski's throat, although not at the memories. He still felt guilty about the fallout from booking that match, especially considering the schism had ended up costing the Birdz their World Tag Team Championship. Still, there was some humor in Theresa's misconceptions.
"Trust me, Theresa. What's going on in there will NOT be leading to them breaking up." He smiled reassuringly. "Now come on... I got McDonalds... you like HotCakes?"
Theresa nodded her head vigorously, and took off runnng for the stairs. Pollaski followed her down and into the kitchen, where the two began attacking the McDonalds bags, each taking a platter of hotcakes and bacon and digging in.
Within a couple of minutes, a man and woman entered the kitchen, both squinting as their eyes tried to adjust to the comparatively brightly lit kitchen. Given that both were squinting at Pollaski with fairly sour expressions, it was obvious this was the couple he had interrupted merely minutes ago
Terrence Thompson, patriarch of the family, was a well-built man in his early thirties with short, light-brown hair, brown eyes, and a five o'clock shadow that no amount of shaving ever seemed to completely eliminate. Although he had spent most of his professional wrestling career competing as a cruiserweight, the Twister, as he was called (a nickname Terrence had carried since his days as a demolition derby driver) was now a full-blown heavyweight. Although his physique would never win any bodybuilding awards, it was obvious Terrence had some power in his side, especially now that he was returning to his peak physical condition.
Right now, that physique was covered by a white tee-shirt, and a pair of red knee length basketball shorts that had the interlocking I-U often associated with Indiana University athletic teams.
Next to him, looking even more annoyed than her husband, stood Wendy Briese-Thompson. Wendy would never be mistaken for a supermodel, but her heart-shaped face, flaming-red shoulder legnth hair, and vivid green eyes made her attractive in more of a girl-next-door sort of fashion. She was small and slender, especially for a professional wrestler, but, as anyone she had ever faced could attest, was much more powerful than her size seemed to indicate.
As usual, Wendy had dressed herself with modesty in mind (probably even more so than usual, considering the morning's events), and had wrapped a jade-green bathrobe tightly around herself.
Noticing the glares both Birdz were giving him, Pollaski found himself concentrating more and more on getting a syrup packet open, hoping his transgressions for the morning would be ignored.
No such luck with Theresa around.
"Who won de wessling match?" the little girl asked brightly.
Pollaski began choking on a piece of hotcake, though whether from laughter, shock, or both nobody could tell. Both Birdz stared at Daniel in disbelief, a bit of a blush coming to Wendy's cheeks.
Finally, Terrence found his voice. "It was a no-contest, Theresa. Broken up by OUTSIDE INTERFERENCE." With that, he swung his hand open palmed, connecting firmly with the back of Pollaski's hed.
"Ow!" Pollaski protested, although he was secretly glad the slap had dislodged the food, and sweet, sweet oxygen could now reach his lungs again.
Pollaski looked up, and saw Wendy still glowering at him. "Don't look at me! You woke her up and I had to tell her SOMETHING!"
"Why would you even walk in on us like that in the first place?" Wendy demanded. "That is NOT why we gave you a key to the house!"
"Its six o'clock in the morning!" Pollaski retorted. "I didn't know you two were gonna be..." Pollaski stoped as Terrence abruptly cleared his throat, reminding him of Theresa's presence.
"Sorry," Pollaski muttered. "Maybe you should hang up a Do Not Disturb sign."
"Or maybe you could just KNOCK," Wendy snapped, finally taking her seat and catching a sausage McMuffin that Terrence tossed her. "Why were you even barging in on us anyways?"
"Well, considering in just five days time you both will be making your in-ring PWX debuts, i figured we oughta get an early start in the gym today."
"Ah, that's right!" Terrence grinned. "So, who we facing again?"
"The Fallen," Wendy replied, before taking another bite out of her biscuit.
Terrence snorted. "Well, if they've already Fallen, pinning them shouldn't be too hard, then."
Pollaski chuckled at Terrence's joke, but Wendy merely rolled her eyes. Wendy had a code of ethics a mile long, and near the top of the list was her disapproval of mocking opponents.
Which was especially aggrivating considering it was one of Dan's and Terrence's favorite pastimes.
"No, seriously, where did they come up with such a stupid name?" Terrence asked.
There was a awkward pause. Any tag team who called themselves the WhirlyBirdz had a lot of gall making fun of someone else's name.
"I've been reading up on that." Wendy broke the silence. "Apparently, John Pariah used them as pawns, and when they had outlasted their usefulness, he cast them away. The name implies that while they may have fallen in Pariah's eyes, they are not gone."
It was a situation she herself could sympathize with, considering that the events of the previous week had placed her more or less indentured to the sinister Victor Mandrake, and she dreaded the moment Mandrake felt HER usefulness was at an end.
"So they're basing their whole careers on getting revenge on a guy who kicked them out of his little club?" Terrence scoffed. "Let me guess... G.D.E.F.C.s?"
Again, Wendy rolled her eyes, knowing full well that the acronym stood for 'God Damned Emo Fruit Cakes.' "Terrence..." she sighed in exasperation.
"You tell me, dude." Pollaski had whipped out his Droid, and was quickly bringing something up. Finally, he slid the phone across the table.
Terrence looked up, and saw Silkk and Willis' pictures staring back at him. "Ha!" he crowed. "Big time!"
"Yeah, if we're lucky, they'll slit their wrists and save you the trouble of-"
"I would like to REMIND you that there's a three year old in the room," Wendy interrupted in a deadly tone, beckoning to Theresa. In truth, the little girl was more concerned with drawing pictures in the syrup on her styrofoam platter with her plastic knife than the conversation, but Wendy's words were still heeded well enough.
"Sorry... this is gonna take some time getting used to with a kid around," Dan muttered.
"Or maybe it'll just make you start acting your age," Wendy retorted with a humorless smile.
"Well, either way," Terrence proclaimed, drawing Wendy's and Pollaski's attention away from each other. "I'm not entirely sure how beating us can help The Fallen get revenge on Pariah, and looking at these two fruitbaskets, I doubt I'm going to be finding out. As for us..."
Terrence shot a grin at Wendy. "Its nice to know that at least here in the PWX, I can still team with my wife. And if the Fallen think they're breaking out the Welcome Wagon for a couple of rookies, they are going to be in for one heck of a surprise. Sure, its been half a decade, and I know there's going to be a bit of ring rust, but Wendy and I are two and a half time World Tag Team champions for a reason. We've won the Crockett Cup, and we've bested such tandems as Shaken Not Stirred, Manifest Destiny, and The Dark Angels. I know most of the PWX has never heard if these guys, but they really oughta look them up. Won't be too hard, either. All you've got to do is look in the WWA Hall of Fame to find them. Come to think of it, we're in there too." Terrence finished with a smirk.
"Yes, Terrence," the ever-modest Wendy argued. "But that WAS five years ago."
"So?" Terrence shrugged. "How much have you and I changed in five years? Yeah, we're a little older, and supposedly wiser. But its not like we sat on the couch and ate potato chips during our long hiatus. We're in still in great shape. And we've been training hard ever since we decided to come back. Ability wise, I think we're more than a match for any team."
"And besides," Terrence continued, "It sounds like the Fallen here are united by hate. At the risk of sounding corny here, you and I are united by the exact opposite. We have a special connection, a bond, that those two just do not, and probably will never, have. At least, I HOPE they don't, because..."
"TERRENCE!"
Despite his wife now glaring daggers at him, Terrence couldn't help but grin. "I'm just saying, romantic couples share a chemistry that can be almost impossible to overcome."
Wendy suddenly shivered, remembering the previous week when twice she and Terrence had gotten into a fight that left her fearing for their relationship. "But, Terry... you yourself said we have some trust issues we need to work through," she said quietly.
"I did, and we do," Terrence responded in a suddenly serious tone, looking at his wife. "But, hon, during that... I never stopped loving you, and you never stopped loving me. I think it was because of that we both caused each other so much pain."
"Besides," he continued, breaking into another grin. "What better way for us to rebuild our trust in each other than having each other's backs in a wrestling match? Anyways, the Fallen can have their cute little vendetta against Pariah, it doesn't affect me any. Right now, I've got three goals of my own." Terrence held up three fingers. Win the World Heavyweght Championship (he dropped one finger), Win the PWX title (dropped a second) and win some Tag gold with my wife."
Terrence dropped the final finger, then lowered his hand, grabbing his now empty sandwich wrapper and crinkling it into a ball. "This match is an important first step towards that last goal, if not all three of them. And it should be noted, that when I set my sights on something, whether its a title, the demise of a rival, or the hand of a beautiful woman (at this Wendy turned beet red), sooner or later, I get it. Some might say I'm lucky. Some might chalk it up to tenacity. I just credit it to one simple truth in this unverse-"
Terrence paused, and glanced at his manager and wife. "Should I even say it?"
Pollaski shrugged. "Up to you, dude. Its your catch-phrase."
Terrence glanced at Wendy, who shrugged. "I've never been a fan of using them, but..."
"Ah, she's just jealous her 'Perpare to Be Blown Away' bombed so badly." Pollaski snickered, uttering the forgettable slogan the redhead had used during her early days of competing.
"That was YOUR idea!" Wendy indignantly protested to her manager.
"What do you think, Terr?" Terrence looked at his daughter. "Should daddy use his catch-phrase?"
Despite having absolutely no idea what a 'catch-phrase' was, the three-year old vigorously nodded her brown haired head.
"NO ONE CAN STOP THE MECHANICAL MAYHEM!" Terrence boasted, launching his breakfast wrapper at the kitchen garbage can. Unfortunately, the wrapper drifted about two feet to the right, landing unimpressively on the floor.
"Nice," Pollaski guffawed. "Way to demonstrate your superior athletic ability.
"Zip it" Terrence snarled back, although he was still smiling. "I better go get changed for the gym," he announced, quickly heading out of the kitchen for the stairs.
Wendy watched him go, an exasperated smile on her face. "He's still as cocky about this as he's always been."
Pollaski smirked. He knew that despite Terrence's casual dismissal of The Fallen while at the breakfast table, there was no way Terrence was going to take his debut match lightly. "You still love him," he remarked to Wendy.
The young woman chuckled fondly. "That I do," she admitted, standing up. "I better go change too. You got clean-up?"
Pollaski reluctantly nodded, and Wendy walked out of the room to go prepare for the day's workout.
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Prelude to Mayhem, Part XII: ... of the Beginning
3.31.2010
THE NEST
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
12:49 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
"Go wash your hands, Theresa, lunch is almost ready."
Terrence Thompson watched as his daughter bounded out of the room, then turned back to mixing the powdered cheese in with the macaroni. His daughter was hungry, and she needed to be fed.
Right now, he felt like that was the only certainty left in his life.
Everything else was just too much of a jumble. Ever since Wendy had stunned the world by announcing Victor Mandrake as her tag team partner, he had felt like he had been on autopilot. All he had known was that he had to get out of there. Just get away from the woman who had stabbed him in the back.
Wendy had begged him to stay, to listen, but what was there to listen to? What excuse could she possibly give for betraying her husband... in the middle of a natonwide press conference no less?
Especially after that brilliant facade of reconcilliation she had given Sunday Morning after their fight Saturday night.
And how long had this been planned? Was the real reason she hadn't told him about Victor because she had been planning this betrayal all along?
There were too many questions. And he wasn't sure he ever really wanted to know the answers.
As he had driven, he had wondered what he should do. Leave with Theresa? Kick Wendy out? File for divorce? Stay here? What?
He didn't know, so he made macaroni and cheese for his daughter.
Sooner or later, he was going to have to make a decision. With any luck, Wendy was halfway to Florida to be with her new partner, and his choice would be an easy one.
The sound of the front door being swung open told him luck wasn't on his side today.
Terrence put down the pot of macaroni and quickly walked into the hallway... and came face to face with his wife. He noticed her eyes were red, and the green satin dress she had worn to the press conference had become remarkably dirty. Behind her was Daniel Pollaski, the car keys still in his hand a dead giveaway of how she had ended up getting home. Terrence didn't even acknowledge his manager, so intent was his gaze on his wife.
Behind him, Theresa came running to greet her mother, but stopped as Terrence blocked the hallway, preventing her from getting through.
Wendy's green eyes stared back at him, and Terrence saw the determination in her eyes. If she came for a fight, she was going to get one, he decided.
Instead, she spoke quietly. "You left me behind."
The words were stated more as a fact than an accusation, but still he felt himself bristling. He forced himself to remain calm. "So did you." He finally said.
Wendy nodded her head, accepting the blow stoically.
"Hey, Theresa, what say you and I go get some McDonalds?" Pollaski asked. He had noticed Theresa, and saw that the girl was confused by the sudden tension in the room.
"But daddy made mack cheese!" Theresa protested.
"Yeah, well, mommy and daddy need to yell at each other, and you shouldn't have to hear it." Pollaski replied candidly.
"Go on, Theresa," Terrence said softly, moving aside so his daughter could get through. Theresa ran forward, and Dan took her hand in his, nodding at both Birdz in turn.
"Thank you," Wendy whispered. Dan nodded, and opened the door, he and Theresa leaving.
Terrence retreated back into the kitchen, sitting down at the table. Wendy followed him into the room.
"I almost didn't expect you to be here," she said, sitting down across from him.
Terrence shrugged. "I didn't actually expect to still be here myself."
The two stared at each other again for a long time. Wendy was the first to look away. "Go ahead," she finally said.
"What?" Terrence demanded.
"Go ahead, yell at me. Scream. Call me a horrible person. An awful mother. I can see that you want to."
Terrence scoffed. "And you honestly think that's going to solve anything?"
"I don't know." Wendy admitted. "But one of us needs to say something."
"Well, why don't you start by explaining to me why the fuck you just threw me under the bus? And don't tell me you're sorry, dammit."
Wendy paused. "I'm not going to apologize for that, because I'm not sorry for what I did. I'm only sorry that in my foolishness, I allowed myself to be placed in a situation where I had no choice. A girl's life is more important than your pride."
That caught Terrence completely off guard. "What in the hell are you talking about?"
For an answer, Wendy reached into her purse, and pulled out her phone. She quickly dialed her voicemail, then set the phone on speaker, so Terrence could hear the message.
"Wendy! Its Megan! Please... I have no one else... I... I'm at the theater... and he... oh God... Wendy, please... no... no... oh God... HELP ME!"
"Megan?" Terrence was stunned. "The girl from your theater?"
Wendy nodded. "She left that message for me at six o'clock this morning. As soon as I heard it, I drove to the theater. She was on stage, chained up."
Wendy looked her husband dead in the eye. "Victor somehow got ahold of her, and he used her as bait in a trap. To get me."
Terrence looked as if he was about to say something, bit Wendy cut him off. "He held a gun to her head, Terrence. I had no choice."
So it was blackmail, Terrence realized, adding another line to the list of crimes he would make Mandrake pay for when he finally got the chance. "Why didn't you tell me this before the conference?"
"It was part of the deal." Wendy replied. "I couldn't tell you or Pollaski beforehand. I think Victor wanted to see the expression on your face. He made me swear an oath, I couldn't go back on it."
Terrence stared long and hard at his wife. His initial temptation was to call her a liar. She'd been doing more lying in the past month than she probably had the entire rest of her life. But deep down, some gut feeling told him she was being honest with him. But he was still irked to holy hell that his wife would keep her word to a monster after lying point blank to her husband.
Wendy seemed to read Terrence's mind. "You know how Mandrake works, Terrence. If I reneged, he would have known somehow. And gone after Megan. Or me. Or you. Or Ther-"
"Don't say it!" Terrence snapped, unable to even bear the thought of Theresa in Mandrake's clutches. "Goddammit, Wendy! Had you told me all this earlier, we could have taken measures to prevent something like this! And now you're joined to this bastard at the hip!"
There was a pause. "And you know what really gets me, Wendy? The fact that you told me Saturday night the reason you hid all this from me is that you didn't have enough faith in me to handle the situation correctly."
Wendy bowed her head in shame. She had absolutely nothing to say in her defense there.
"Now before we figure out how to proceed from here, any other fun little tidbits of info you're keeping from me?"
Wendy nodded, and Terrence rolled his eyes. "Well, go on."
"First... the donation check didn't bounce. I was fired from the theater because I punched Simon after hearing Mandrake was the donor."
"Okay, that's fairly inconsequential now," Terrence said, although the realization of how far Mandrake was going to torture Wendy alarmed him.
"Second... Cassie knew all along, and didn't tell you on my orders. She wanted to though."
"She fucking should have..." Terrence muttered. "Okay, anything else?"
Wendy paused for just a second. "Mandrake says I'm the reason Rick committed suicide."
"And you believe that bullshit?" Terrence demanded, suddenly realizing why Wendy had that nightmare a month ago.
Wendy nodded. "To an extent. I think I was one of the stabilizing forces in his life, and when we left wrestling, its like a part of the foundation was kicked away."
"And Victor blames you? Look, hon. Its not your fault Rick was a co-dependant paranoid schizo nutbask..."
"Have a care how you talk, Terry," Wendy snapped, showing anger for the first time all afternoon. "He was still a friend."
Terrence looked at his wife, then nodded. "Sorry, I went too far there. But I don't care what Mandrake says, Rick's death was NOT your fault, and until you realize that, you're NEVER going to get from under his thumb."
Wendy nodded uncertainly. Silence reigned over the kitchen for some time.
"So, where do we go from here?" Wendy finally asked.
"You tell me. You're the one who's gotten herself attached to a homicidal maniac who wants to kill you."
"I know," Wendy admitted, and for the first time all afternoon, her resolution began to waver. "I... I'm scared Terrence. Victor needs me... he needs me to do something. I just keep thinking about what's going to happen when he decides he no longer needs me."
"Christ..." Terrence had a sudden horrid vision of his wife and Mandrake in a match, with Victor telling Wendy to climb a turnbuckle, then catching her in mid air and breaking her neck with the Killing Fields.
"Fuck it, Wendy... get out of it. We have enough problems in our lives to worry about your own tag partner murdering you. We can get protection for Megan. We can protect ourselves and Theresa. He won't..."
"No." Wendy stated firmly. "I gave my word."
"Oh, so you'll keep your word to him, but not to me?" Terrence felt his anger returning.
"No!" Wendy replied fiercely. "I didn't keep my word to you, and look where its gotten me! I nearly lost my husband today. What will I lose by breaking my oath to Victor?"
Terrence slowly nodded, his anger subsiding as he saw his wife's logic. "What goes around comes around."
"I know that all too well, now." Wendy said bitterly. "But I also know I can't back away anymore. I let Victor take my job away from me. I let him take my pride and my freedom. I almost lost you and Megan because I kept running away. I don't know if I'm able to fight back against Victor yet, but I need to stand firm."
Terrence nodded, and stared at his wife for a long time. There was still a part of him that was furious with her, and likely would be for a long time. But she had meant well, and was trying to survive a situation no one should have been put in. He had no choice but to forgive her. Finally, he smiled. "Well, when you have to... I'll be standing right by your side."
"Thank you, Terry." Wendy said, returning the smile. "As will I when you have to stand firm. And that is one oath I will NEVER go back on."
Terrence chuckled, but then suddenly turned serious again. "This isn't over between us Wendy. I forgive you for what happened today, but there is obviously some serious trust issues between us now. Mine's still shaken, even though I know you were trying to do the right thing. And I can tell you don't have complete faith in me either. Wrestling nearly broke us up twice, because we didn't trust each other enough. We can't let that happen again."
Wendy nodded, then got up from her chair. "We'll make it through this." She smiled, as Terrence got up as well. "I'm sorry... for everything" she said, embracing him.
"Its okay, hon," Terrence returning the embrace.
They were still holding each other when Pollaski and Theresa returned home, which, considering Dan's appetite, was a very, very long time.
THE NEST
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
12:49 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
"Go wash your hands, Theresa, lunch is almost ready."
Terrence Thompson watched as his daughter bounded out of the room, then turned back to mixing the powdered cheese in with the macaroni. His daughter was hungry, and she needed to be fed.
Right now, he felt like that was the only certainty left in his life.
Everything else was just too much of a jumble. Ever since Wendy had stunned the world by announcing Victor Mandrake as her tag team partner, he had felt like he had been on autopilot. All he had known was that he had to get out of there. Just get away from the woman who had stabbed him in the back.
Wendy had begged him to stay, to listen, but what was there to listen to? What excuse could she possibly give for betraying her husband... in the middle of a natonwide press conference no less?
Especially after that brilliant facade of reconcilliation she had given Sunday Morning after their fight Saturday night.
And how long had this been planned? Was the real reason she hadn't told him about Victor because she had been planning this betrayal all along?
There were too many questions. And he wasn't sure he ever really wanted to know the answers.
As he had driven, he had wondered what he should do. Leave with Theresa? Kick Wendy out? File for divorce? Stay here? What?
He didn't know, so he made macaroni and cheese for his daughter.
Sooner or later, he was going to have to make a decision. With any luck, Wendy was halfway to Florida to be with her new partner, and his choice would be an easy one.
The sound of the front door being swung open told him luck wasn't on his side today.
Terrence put down the pot of macaroni and quickly walked into the hallway... and came face to face with his wife. He noticed her eyes were red, and the green satin dress she had worn to the press conference had become remarkably dirty. Behind her was Daniel Pollaski, the car keys still in his hand a dead giveaway of how she had ended up getting home. Terrence didn't even acknowledge his manager, so intent was his gaze on his wife.
Behind him, Theresa came running to greet her mother, but stopped as Terrence blocked the hallway, preventing her from getting through.
Wendy's green eyes stared back at him, and Terrence saw the determination in her eyes. If she came for a fight, she was going to get one, he decided.
Instead, she spoke quietly. "You left me behind."
The words were stated more as a fact than an accusation, but still he felt himself bristling. He forced himself to remain calm. "So did you." He finally said.
Wendy nodded her head, accepting the blow stoically.
"Hey, Theresa, what say you and I go get some McDonalds?" Pollaski asked. He had noticed Theresa, and saw that the girl was confused by the sudden tension in the room.
"But daddy made mack cheese!" Theresa protested.
"Yeah, well, mommy and daddy need to yell at each other, and you shouldn't have to hear it." Pollaski replied candidly.
"Go on, Theresa," Terrence said softly, moving aside so his daughter could get through. Theresa ran forward, and Dan took her hand in his, nodding at both Birdz in turn.
"Thank you," Wendy whispered. Dan nodded, and opened the door, he and Theresa leaving.
Terrence retreated back into the kitchen, sitting down at the table. Wendy followed him into the room.
"I almost didn't expect you to be here," she said, sitting down across from him.
Terrence shrugged. "I didn't actually expect to still be here myself."
The two stared at each other again for a long time. Wendy was the first to look away. "Go ahead," she finally said.
"What?" Terrence demanded.
"Go ahead, yell at me. Scream. Call me a horrible person. An awful mother. I can see that you want to."
Terrence scoffed. "And you honestly think that's going to solve anything?"
"I don't know." Wendy admitted. "But one of us needs to say something."
"Well, why don't you start by explaining to me why the fuck you just threw me under the bus? And don't tell me you're sorry, dammit."
Wendy paused. "I'm not going to apologize for that, because I'm not sorry for what I did. I'm only sorry that in my foolishness, I allowed myself to be placed in a situation where I had no choice. A girl's life is more important than your pride."
That caught Terrence completely off guard. "What in the hell are you talking about?"
For an answer, Wendy reached into her purse, and pulled out her phone. She quickly dialed her voicemail, then set the phone on speaker, so Terrence could hear the message.
"Wendy! Its Megan! Please... I have no one else... I... I'm at the theater... and he... oh God... Wendy, please... no... no... oh God... HELP ME!"
"Megan?" Terrence was stunned. "The girl from your theater?"
Wendy nodded. "She left that message for me at six o'clock this morning. As soon as I heard it, I drove to the theater. She was on stage, chained up."
Wendy looked her husband dead in the eye. "Victor somehow got ahold of her, and he used her as bait in a trap. To get me."
Terrence looked as if he was about to say something, bit Wendy cut him off. "He held a gun to her head, Terrence. I had no choice."
So it was blackmail, Terrence realized, adding another line to the list of crimes he would make Mandrake pay for when he finally got the chance. "Why didn't you tell me this before the conference?"
"It was part of the deal." Wendy replied. "I couldn't tell you or Pollaski beforehand. I think Victor wanted to see the expression on your face. He made me swear an oath, I couldn't go back on it."
Terrence stared long and hard at his wife. His initial temptation was to call her a liar. She'd been doing more lying in the past month than she probably had the entire rest of her life. But deep down, some gut feeling told him she was being honest with him. But he was still irked to holy hell that his wife would keep her word to a monster after lying point blank to her husband.
Wendy seemed to read Terrence's mind. "You know how Mandrake works, Terrence. If I reneged, he would have known somehow. And gone after Megan. Or me. Or you. Or Ther-"
"Don't say it!" Terrence snapped, unable to even bear the thought of Theresa in Mandrake's clutches. "Goddammit, Wendy! Had you told me all this earlier, we could have taken measures to prevent something like this! And now you're joined to this bastard at the hip!"
There was a pause. "And you know what really gets me, Wendy? The fact that you told me Saturday night the reason you hid all this from me is that you didn't have enough faith in me to handle the situation correctly."
Wendy bowed her head in shame. She had absolutely nothing to say in her defense there.
"Now before we figure out how to proceed from here, any other fun little tidbits of info you're keeping from me?"
Wendy nodded, and Terrence rolled his eyes. "Well, go on."
"First... the donation check didn't bounce. I was fired from the theater because I punched Simon after hearing Mandrake was the donor."
"Okay, that's fairly inconsequential now," Terrence said, although the realization of how far Mandrake was going to torture Wendy alarmed him.
"Second... Cassie knew all along, and didn't tell you on my orders. She wanted to though."
"She fucking should have..." Terrence muttered. "Okay, anything else?"
Wendy paused for just a second. "Mandrake says I'm the reason Rick committed suicide."
"And you believe that bullshit?" Terrence demanded, suddenly realizing why Wendy had that nightmare a month ago.
Wendy nodded. "To an extent. I think I was one of the stabilizing forces in his life, and when we left wrestling, its like a part of the foundation was kicked away."
"And Victor blames you? Look, hon. Its not your fault Rick was a co-dependant paranoid schizo nutbask..."
"Have a care how you talk, Terry," Wendy snapped, showing anger for the first time all afternoon. "He was still a friend."
Terrence looked at his wife, then nodded. "Sorry, I went too far there. But I don't care what Mandrake says, Rick's death was NOT your fault, and until you realize that, you're NEVER going to get from under his thumb."
Wendy nodded uncertainly. Silence reigned over the kitchen for some time.
"So, where do we go from here?" Wendy finally asked.
"You tell me. You're the one who's gotten herself attached to a homicidal maniac who wants to kill you."
"I know," Wendy admitted, and for the first time all afternoon, her resolution began to waver. "I... I'm scared Terrence. Victor needs me... he needs me to do something. I just keep thinking about what's going to happen when he decides he no longer needs me."
"Christ..." Terrence had a sudden horrid vision of his wife and Mandrake in a match, with Victor telling Wendy to climb a turnbuckle, then catching her in mid air and breaking her neck with the Killing Fields.
"Fuck it, Wendy... get out of it. We have enough problems in our lives to worry about your own tag partner murdering you. We can get protection for Megan. We can protect ourselves and Theresa. He won't..."
"No." Wendy stated firmly. "I gave my word."
"Oh, so you'll keep your word to him, but not to me?" Terrence felt his anger returning.
"No!" Wendy replied fiercely. "I didn't keep my word to you, and look where its gotten me! I nearly lost my husband today. What will I lose by breaking my oath to Victor?"
Terrence slowly nodded, his anger subsiding as he saw his wife's logic. "What goes around comes around."
"I know that all too well, now." Wendy said bitterly. "But I also know I can't back away anymore. I let Victor take my job away from me. I let him take my pride and my freedom. I almost lost you and Megan because I kept running away. I don't know if I'm able to fight back against Victor yet, but I need to stand firm."
Terrence nodded, and stared at his wife for a long time. There was still a part of him that was furious with her, and likely would be for a long time. But she had meant well, and was trying to survive a situation no one should have been put in. He had no choice but to forgive her. Finally, he smiled. "Well, when you have to... I'll be standing right by your side."
"Thank you, Terry." Wendy said, returning the smile. "As will I when you have to stand firm. And that is one oath I will NEVER go back on."
Terrence chuckled, but then suddenly turned serious again. "This isn't over between us Wendy. I forgive you for what happened today, but there is obviously some serious trust issues between us now. Mine's still shaken, even though I know you were trying to do the right thing. And I can tell you don't have complete faith in me either. Wrestling nearly broke us up twice, because we didn't trust each other enough. We can't let that happen again."
Wendy nodded, then got up from her chair. "We'll make it through this." She smiled, as Terrence got up as well. "I'm sorry... for everything" she said, embracing him.
"Its okay, hon," Terrence returning the embrace.
They were still holding each other when Pollaski and Theresa returned home, which, considering Dan's appetite, was a very, very long time.
Prelude to Mayhem, Part XI: The End...
3.31.2010
DOWNTOWN MARRIOTT HOTEL
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
11:39 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
"Terry! Wait! I'm sorry!"
"I just bet you are," Terrence Thompson muttered under his breath as he slammed the door to his 1971 blood-red Dodge Charger. He looked over at the ed-haired woman running across the parking lot. She wasn't his wife... couldn't be.
His wife would never have stabbed him in the back in the middle of a public press conference.
He immediately started the car, and peeled out in reverse, nearly hitting three other cars in the lot. The flame-haired imposter was almost upon him, but he shifted into drive, peeling out as he rammed his foot on the gas pedal. Quickly, he moved to the exit of the parking lot, turned into the street, and was gone.
"TERRY!!!! STOP!!!!" Wendy Briese screamed impotently, as the Charger sped away.
It was no use, and Wendy collapsed to the asphalt, once again breaking into sobs. It was something she was just too accustomed to doing these days.
Everytime she had tried to do the right thing, it had backfired. What was wrong with her?
And now Terrence was gone. Unlikely he would ever forgive her. And it was all her fault. For the second time in a week, she had betrayed her husband.
Could today ever possibly get any worse?
3.31.2010
THE NEST
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
6:47 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
Wendy Briese-Thompson slowly opened her eyes as the first rays of sunlight shone in through the window. At first, the temptation to close her eyes and return to the blissfull void of slumber was almost overwhelming. But something was nagging her at the back of her mind. Something big was happening today...
The press conference, that was it. Today, the world would finally get the answers to all the questions that had been burning since the WhirlyBirdz made their triumphant return Saturday night.
Today, the world would hear the new World Tag Team Champions speak.
Wendy flung the blankets off her as she rose from the bed, looking at her husband, who remained oblivious to the conscious world.
After the fight Saturday night, Wendy had cried herself to sleep, alone in her hotel room, as Terrence had steamed and raged in another room on the other end of the Motel 6. It had been one of the most miserable, lonliest nights of her life.
The next morning, Wendy had woken in a panic, fearing that her husband had abandoned her (and forgetting that Pollaski had kept Terrence's car keys to keep that very thing from happening). She had ran out in desperation, then sighed in relief as she saw the 1971 Charger was still there. Realizing her hunger had caught up with her, she had walked over to the greasy spoon adjacent to the hotel,, hoping to catch a quick bite before looking for her husband and manager.
Inside, however, eating a Denver omlette and looking like the hadn't slept all night, sat her husband.
Wendy had cautiously approached, and was relieved when Terrence hadn't turned her away. So it was over breakfast that she and her husband reconciled. Terrence had apologized for losing his temper, Wendy apologized for keeping secrets from him. After fifteen minutes, Pollaski had joined them, and after another round of apologies, the three of them were in a much sunnier mood, celebrating their previous nights victory over Eric Dane and his minions.
She was glad... the pressures of the Tag Team Championships had led to their breakup before, and she would face the entire Defiance roster in a cage match before she would ever let it happen again.
Bending over, and kissing her slumbering husband on the cheek, Wendy retreated into the master bathroom, exchanging her nightgown for a gray t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Time to get a good run in before breakfast.
Wendy slipped out of her bedroom, into the hallway. Silently, she moved towards the stairs, pausing only to look in through the open door of her daughter's bedroom, smiling at the brown haired angel all curled up in slumber, her thumb in her mouth.
Down the stairs, and into the kitchen Wendy went. She opened up the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and set it on the counter next to a pair of ear buds. Now all she needed was her phone/MP3 player, and she'd be all set.
As she grabbed the Droid Eris her husband had gotten her for Christmas from its charger, she paused, stunned.
One missed call? Who would have called her this early? She checked the call log.
MISSED: CEROTTA, MEGAN 5:58 AM
Wendy was stunned. She hadn't talked to Megan since the day she got fired, nearly two months ago. Why had the girl called her at six o'clock?
Curious, Wendy dialed, but hung up as the call went straight through to voicemail. Seeing that Megan had left a message, she checked her own voicemail... and was horrified to hear Megan crying on the line.
"Wendy! Its Megan! Please... I have no one else... I... I'm at the theater... and he... oh God... Wendy, please... no... no... oh God... HELP ME!"
Wendy felt her innards churn as the call shut off at the last bloodcurdling scream. Megan's father had longtime been an alcoholic, and while Megan had refused Wendy's assistance, Wendy had made it clear she was a phone call away.
But what had Megan's dad done to her? Wendy filled with indignation. If he hurt that girl, she would...
No... now was not the time for thoughts of retribution. She had to help Megan, first and foremost.
"I'll be there in ten minutes," she whispered to the air.
Then grabbed the keys to her Focus and ran out of the house.
3.31.2010
DOWNTOWN MARIOTT HOTEL
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
11:43 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
Wendy Briese-Thompson heard the heavy falls of running footsteps on the concrete behind her, but didn't look up.
"Motherfucker!" she heard a familiar voice exclaim. He's gone!"
There was a pause, and then Pollaski's voice came at her again, this time from right on top of her. "Well, at least one of you's still here. Get up... you're the goddamn tag champion, you can't freakin' cry this much."
"Stop it!" Wendy tearfully snapped. "I don't care anymore!"
"Well, at least get up, you're going to get dirty, dammit."
Wendy looked up, and saw Pollaski holding an outstretched hand to her. Resignedly, she took it, and lifted herself up off the asphalt.
"Thanks" she sniffled, trying to wipe away her tears.
"Don't mention it. However, I'd REALLY fucking appreciate it if you DID mention just what the hell is going on here!"
"I... I think I just wrecked my marriage." Wendy croaked.
"Yeah, well, you did just betray your husband in front of every major pro-wrestling newsource in the nation."
"I know..." Wendy said, gulping down another fresh wave of sobs. "I didn't want to but... I..."
"Forgot April Fools isn't until tomorrow?" Pollaski demanded.
Wendy shook her head. "I had to... do it... to save... Megan"
"What... the girl from your theater?" When Wendy nodded, Pollaski continued, "save her from what?"
Wendy's emerald eyes met Dan's hazel one's. "Him"
"Him?" Pollaski asked, confused. Then it hit him "You don't mean..."
Wendy nodded miserably, and a single tear rolled a new track down her cheek.
Dan's voice filled with concern. "What happened, Wendy?"
3.31.2010
VICTOR MANDRAKE COMMUNITY THEATER
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
7:06 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
The sight of the new sign in front of Wendy's old workplace sickened her as she pulled into the parking lot. But she couldn't worry about that now.
Megan needed her help.
Surprisingly, Megan's car was nowhere to be seen as Wendy parked the car, and got out. Nor was there any sign of the girl. Wendy paused, a flash of anger hitting her... if this was Megan's idea of a joke...
Then she saw the entry doors, propped wide open, inviting her in.
Megan didn't have a key... what was going on?
Wendy slowly approached the doors, wary for any sign of danger. Through the doors she walked into the lobby, which was as dark and silent as it was when she left here every night.
"Hello? Megan?" Wendy called. "Anybody?"
Nothing but silence.
Then she saw that one of the doors to the theater was opened, as if beckoning her in.
Again, slowly and cautiously she creeped into the theater. The room was dark, but the stage lights were on, and there... on the stage...
Leaned up against a piece of background scenery, unconscious, was Megan.
"Megan!" Wendy called, running down the aisle, and bounding onto the stage. She knelt by the unconscious girl, and noticed that she had been fastened to the scenery with chains, and a rag had been placed in her mouth as a gag.
"Who did this to you?" Wendy asked quietly, as she unsuccessfully tried to remove the chains from Megan's wrists. Failing that, she tried to disconnect the chains from the scenery, but they too were fastened to the stone wall.
A stone wall?
Wendy looked at the set piece carefully. She didn't remember ever having this piece of scenery for ANY of her plays...
And then she saw the barred window, high up on the set piece... it was scenery for a dungeon.
A dungeon she had come to know all too well.
Wendy froze as the pieces clicked into place... and cursed herself for her stupidity.
All Megan Cerotta had ever wanted to do was become an actress, and today, she had gotten her wish. She was playing the title role in this play, a story based in actual events from six years ago.
The Imprisonment of Wendy Briese.
Megan woke up, and looked at Wendy. Suddenly, she began thrashing around in her chains, the gag muffling her terror filled screams.
With a growing sense of dread, Wendy realized the director of this sick production was standing right behind her.
"Hello, my dear," Victor Mandrake sneered.
Wendy gulped, cursing herself for walking into this trap. She looked at Megan, trying to tell her to settle down, then slowly turned around, making sure to keep herself directly between Megan and Mandrake.
"Hello, Victor," she said coldly.
"Do you like the set design?" Victor asked. "I thought it might have some sentimental value to you."
"Impressive," Wendy said flatly. "Did you make it all by yourself?"
"Aw, after all this time you can still recognize my handiwork. I'm touched."
Megan continued to sob.
"That's quite enough out of you," Mandrake hissed.
"Leave her out of this!" Wendy snapped. "She's just a child!"
Victor laughed.
"Child?! Hardly. She's probably experienced more life than you ever have, O Holy One. At least she knows pain and suffering. Why don't you ask her what happens when her father picks up a bottle of Jack?"
"That's none of your business, Victor." Wendy spat. "This is between you and me anyways, so leave her out of this!"
"Down to brass tacks then, is it?" Mandrake asked. "Fine. There seems to be a bit of an unresolved issue between you, me, and the World Tag Team belts that we need to discuss."
"What issue?" Wendy demanded. "I won the match, Terrence is my partner. If the executive committee holds up the match, we're the champions. Nothing to resolve."
"Wrong," Victor pointed out. "You seem to forget who it was that saved you from the clutches of Dane's servants, who won the match for you, and who, instead of taking you straight back to the castle again, delivered you into the safe arms of that idiot you call a manager. I am your partner, and we will be the tag champions. Together. Good and evil. Angel and demon. Heaven and hell."
"I don't recall it being your choice, Victor." Wendy remarked. "I suppose I should thank you for saving me, but I'm not entirely sure I prefer being indebted to you over what those four were going to do."
"Well then it should be a great consolation to you to know that you are neither indebted to them, nor I," he responded. "I'm not here to call upon debts owed to me. I'm here to call upon debts owed to another."
"What are you talking about?" Wendy demanded, her eyes narrowing in confusion.
"Stop being so naive," Victor growled. "The letter, this theater, everything I've done to you has been part of your atonement for what you did to Rick."
"You have no right to judge me." Wendy replied softly, and Mandrake smiled, knowing he had hit a nerve. "I never meant for any of that to happen. Had I known..."
"What?" he asked, cutting her off. "What would you have done, hmm? Gone to the hospital to finish the job?"
"SHUT UP!" Wendy screamed, her voice echoing through the empty theater. "I didn't want Rick dead! And I am NOT Rick's murderer! It... was... a... SUICIDE!"
"Suicides are never without cause, never without reason," Victor replied sternly, unmoved by the outburst.
"And you think I'm the reason?" Wendy asked incredulously. "I'll admit, I should have been there for him more, but he did not shoot himself because of me!"
"Stop. Fucking. LYING!!" Victor roared. "Your meddling slowly ate him away from the inside out! Did you even see what you did to him?! Of course you didn't! You couldn't get off of your pedestal long enough to look him in the eye and accept him for who he was! Instead, you wanted to change him, you wanted to try to make him into a saint. You wanted to 'save' him. For all of your determination to redeem him, for all of your tenacity to make him into the man you wished he could've been and get him away from me, the big bad wolf, you couldn't even see him through to the end! And don't even try to tell me that you didn't know. You knew he shot himself, you knew he died, but you made no effort to even attend his funeral! Have you even visited his grave?"
Wendy opened her mouth to retort, but no words could come out. She had absolutely no defense.
"That's what I thought," Victor said, seething. "So, let me make this easy for you, dear..."
Victor charged at Megan, shoving Wendy aside as she tried to stop him. Reaching behind him and producing a black tarnished .45 revolver, he placed it firmly on the back of Megan's head. She immediately started shrieking and sobbing hysterically.
"BE QUIET!!" Victor bellowed. He then looked up at Wendy. "Well?"
"NO!" Wendy screamed, regaining her balance. "She's innocent!"
"She's nothing," Victor said through clenched teeth. "It makes no difference to me if she lives or if I decorate the stage with her skull. I imagine that it makes a difference to you, though, so let me tell you what's going to happen: You're going to call a press conference, you're going to announce that we are a tag team, and that if the titles are granted to you, I will be your partner. And you're not going to tell Terrence about it until you tell everyone else at the conference."
"I..." Wendy stammered. She thought back to the last Sunday morning, when she and Terrence had reconciled their differences. "I can't just betray Terrence..."
Victor cocked the hammer of the gun with an audible click that reverberated around the theater.
"NO!" Wendy screamed again, falling to her knees. "Why are you doing this? Why do you want me?"
*KABOOM!!*
A single shot erupted from the gun as Victor shot just to the right of Megan's head. Both women shrieked as Victor put the burning barrel back on Megan's head.
"One more foolish question and the next one goes through her head."
"Stop... I'll do it..." Wendy half-sobbed. "Please don't hurt her."
"Swear it," Victor commanded. "Swear it on her life. Swear it on your child's. I want your word."
"I swear..." Wendy gulped. "On... on the life of M...Megan Cerotta... that I will name you... my tag team partner... today."
Victor's eyes narrowed.
"Good," he said. He let go of the hammer that clicked simultaneously with an audible sigh of relief from both Wendy and Megan, and put away the gun. He dug into his pocket and produced a pair of keys, tossing them to Wendy. "She's all yours."
Victor began to walk out.
"I'll see you soon, partner."
Wendy ran to Megan, immediately removing the gag from the girls mouth, and going to work on the shackles. The manacles fell away, and Wendy put her arms around Megan, trying desperately to calm the girl.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Wendy murmured repetitively to the sobbing girl. Megan said nothing, just continued to cry into Wendy's shoulder. Wendy narrowed her eyes as the man she had just promised her career to slowly swaggered up the aisle.
As if on cue, Victor turned back around.
"Oh, and Megan my dear, do be so kind as to keep this little incident between the three of us, because if it isn't, I can pretty much guarantee that by the time I get done with you, you will wish I put that bullet through your brain. Ask Wendy, she knows. Now, keep up the good work on stage, and congratulations about getting into Stanford."
After Mandrake had finally left, Megan turned to Wendy.
"Is... is he serious?"
Wendy's emerald eyes bore into Megan's as she nodded. "I wouldn't have agreed if he wasn't"
"Now, come on," Wendy said, helping the still trembling girl to her feet. "I know you have questions, but I'd much rather answer them over breakfast right now. I'll buy."
With Wendy helping Megan, the two women worked their way up the aisle, at the top, Wendy looked back at the stage, at the sick setup Victor had arranged for her.
She would end this, one day.
One day, the world would not have to live in fear of Victor Mandrake.
3.31.2010
DOWNTOWN MARIOTT HOTEL
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
12:01 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
"Mother-FUCKER..." Dan whispered. "You gotta tell Terrence!"
Wendy nodded sadly. "I know... but will he listen?"
"Not if we're standing out here talking amongst ourselves..Come on, my rental's across the lot."
To Wendy's utter shock, Dan took off running for his car. If anything ever spoke to an urgency of a situation, Pollaski breaking into a run would be it.
Wendy followed after him. She had a marriage to save.
DOWNTOWN MARRIOTT HOTEL
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
11:39 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
"Terry! Wait! I'm sorry!"
"I just bet you are," Terrence Thompson muttered under his breath as he slammed the door to his 1971 blood-red Dodge Charger. He looked over at the ed-haired woman running across the parking lot. She wasn't his wife... couldn't be.
His wife would never have stabbed him in the back in the middle of a public press conference.
He immediately started the car, and peeled out in reverse, nearly hitting three other cars in the lot. The flame-haired imposter was almost upon him, but he shifted into drive, peeling out as he rammed his foot on the gas pedal. Quickly, he moved to the exit of the parking lot, turned into the street, and was gone.
"TERRY!!!! STOP!!!!" Wendy Briese screamed impotently, as the Charger sped away.
It was no use, and Wendy collapsed to the asphalt, once again breaking into sobs. It was something she was just too accustomed to doing these days.
Everytime she had tried to do the right thing, it had backfired. What was wrong with her?
And now Terrence was gone. Unlikely he would ever forgive her. And it was all her fault. For the second time in a week, she had betrayed her husband.
Could today ever possibly get any worse?
3.31.2010
THE NEST
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
6:47 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
Wendy Briese-Thompson slowly opened her eyes as the first rays of sunlight shone in through the window. At first, the temptation to close her eyes and return to the blissfull void of slumber was almost overwhelming. But something was nagging her at the back of her mind. Something big was happening today...
The press conference, that was it. Today, the world would finally get the answers to all the questions that had been burning since the WhirlyBirdz made their triumphant return Saturday night.
Today, the world would hear the new World Tag Team Champions speak.
Wendy flung the blankets off her as she rose from the bed, looking at her husband, who remained oblivious to the conscious world.
After the fight Saturday night, Wendy had cried herself to sleep, alone in her hotel room, as Terrence had steamed and raged in another room on the other end of the Motel 6. It had been one of the most miserable, lonliest nights of her life.
The next morning, Wendy had woken in a panic, fearing that her husband had abandoned her (and forgetting that Pollaski had kept Terrence's car keys to keep that very thing from happening). She had ran out in desperation, then sighed in relief as she saw the 1971 Charger was still there. Realizing her hunger had caught up with her, she had walked over to the greasy spoon adjacent to the hotel,, hoping to catch a quick bite before looking for her husband and manager.
Inside, however, eating a Denver omlette and looking like the hadn't slept all night, sat her husband.
Wendy had cautiously approached, and was relieved when Terrence hadn't turned her away. So it was over breakfast that she and her husband reconciled. Terrence had apologized for losing his temper, Wendy apologized for keeping secrets from him. After fifteen minutes, Pollaski had joined them, and after another round of apologies, the three of them were in a much sunnier mood, celebrating their previous nights victory over Eric Dane and his minions.
She was glad... the pressures of the Tag Team Championships had led to their breakup before, and she would face the entire Defiance roster in a cage match before she would ever let it happen again.
Bending over, and kissing her slumbering husband on the cheek, Wendy retreated into the master bathroom, exchanging her nightgown for a gray t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants. Time to get a good run in before breakfast.
Wendy slipped out of her bedroom, into the hallway. Silently, she moved towards the stairs, pausing only to look in through the open door of her daughter's bedroom, smiling at the brown haired angel all curled up in slumber, her thumb in her mouth.
Down the stairs, and into the kitchen Wendy went. She opened up the fridge, grabbed a bottle of water, and set it on the counter next to a pair of ear buds. Now all she needed was her phone/MP3 player, and she'd be all set.
As she grabbed the Droid Eris her husband had gotten her for Christmas from its charger, she paused, stunned.
One missed call? Who would have called her this early? She checked the call log.
MISSED: CEROTTA, MEGAN 5:58 AM
Wendy was stunned. She hadn't talked to Megan since the day she got fired, nearly two months ago. Why had the girl called her at six o'clock?
Curious, Wendy dialed, but hung up as the call went straight through to voicemail. Seeing that Megan had left a message, she checked her own voicemail... and was horrified to hear Megan crying on the line.
"Wendy! Its Megan! Please... I have no one else... I... I'm at the theater... and he... oh God... Wendy, please... no... no... oh God... HELP ME!"
Wendy felt her innards churn as the call shut off at the last bloodcurdling scream. Megan's father had longtime been an alcoholic, and while Megan had refused Wendy's assistance, Wendy had made it clear she was a phone call away.
But what had Megan's dad done to her? Wendy filled with indignation. If he hurt that girl, she would...
No... now was not the time for thoughts of retribution. She had to help Megan, first and foremost.
"I'll be there in ten minutes," she whispered to the air.
Then grabbed the keys to her Focus and ran out of the house.
3.31.2010
DOWNTOWN MARIOTT HOTEL
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
11:43 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
Wendy Briese-Thompson heard the heavy falls of running footsteps on the concrete behind her, but didn't look up.
"Motherfucker!" she heard a familiar voice exclaim. He's gone!"
There was a pause, and then Pollaski's voice came at her again, this time from right on top of her. "Well, at least one of you's still here. Get up... you're the goddamn tag champion, you can't freakin' cry this much."
"Stop it!" Wendy tearfully snapped. "I don't care anymore!"
"Well, at least get up, you're going to get dirty, dammit."
Wendy looked up, and saw Pollaski holding an outstretched hand to her. Resignedly, she took it, and lifted herself up off the asphalt.
"Thanks" she sniffled, trying to wipe away her tears.
"Don't mention it. However, I'd REALLY fucking appreciate it if you DID mention just what the hell is going on here!"
"I... I think I just wrecked my marriage." Wendy croaked.
"Yeah, well, you did just betray your husband in front of every major pro-wrestling newsource in the nation."
"I know..." Wendy said, gulping down another fresh wave of sobs. "I didn't want to but... I..."
"Forgot April Fools isn't until tomorrow?" Pollaski demanded.
Wendy shook her head. "I had to... do it... to save... Megan"
"What... the girl from your theater?" When Wendy nodded, Pollaski continued, "save her from what?"
Wendy's emerald eyes met Dan's hazel one's. "Him"
"Him?" Pollaski asked, confused. Then it hit him "You don't mean..."
Wendy nodded miserably, and a single tear rolled a new track down her cheek.
Dan's voice filled with concern. "What happened, Wendy?"
3.31.2010
VICTOR MANDRAKE COMMUNITY THEATER
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
7:06 AM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
The sight of the new sign in front of Wendy's old workplace sickened her as she pulled into the parking lot. But she couldn't worry about that now.
Megan needed her help.
Surprisingly, Megan's car was nowhere to be seen as Wendy parked the car, and got out. Nor was there any sign of the girl. Wendy paused, a flash of anger hitting her... if this was Megan's idea of a joke...
Then she saw the entry doors, propped wide open, inviting her in.
Megan didn't have a key... what was going on?
Wendy slowly approached the doors, wary for any sign of danger. Through the doors she walked into the lobby, which was as dark and silent as it was when she left here every night.
"Hello? Megan?" Wendy called. "Anybody?"
Nothing but silence.
Then she saw that one of the doors to the theater was opened, as if beckoning her in.
Again, slowly and cautiously she creeped into the theater. The room was dark, but the stage lights were on, and there... on the stage...
Leaned up against a piece of background scenery, unconscious, was Megan.
"Megan!" Wendy called, running down the aisle, and bounding onto the stage. She knelt by the unconscious girl, and noticed that she had been fastened to the scenery with chains, and a rag had been placed in her mouth as a gag.
"Who did this to you?" Wendy asked quietly, as she unsuccessfully tried to remove the chains from Megan's wrists. Failing that, she tried to disconnect the chains from the scenery, but they too were fastened to the stone wall.
A stone wall?
Wendy looked at the set piece carefully. She didn't remember ever having this piece of scenery for ANY of her plays...
And then she saw the barred window, high up on the set piece... it was scenery for a dungeon.
A dungeon she had come to know all too well.
Wendy froze as the pieces clicked into place... and cursed herself for her stupidity.
All Megan Cerotta had ever wanted to do was become an actress, and today, she had gotten her wish. She was playing the title role in this play, a story based in actual events from six years ago.
The Imprisonment of Wendy Briese.
Megan woke up, and looked at Wendy. Suddenly, she began thrashing around in her chains, the gag muffling her terror filled screams.
With a growing sense of dread, Wendy realized the director of this sick production was standing right behind her.
"Hello, my dear," Victor Mandrake sneered.
Wendy gulped, cursing herself for walking into this trap. She looked at Megan, trying to tell her to settle down, then slowly turned around, making sure to keep herself directly between Megan and Mandrake.
"Hello, Victor," she said coldly.
"Do you like the set design?" Victor asked. "I thought it might have some sentimental value to you."
"Impressive," Wendy said flatly. "Did you make it all by yourself?"
"Aw, after all this time you can still recognize my handiwork. I'm touched."
Megan continued to sob.
"That's quite enough out of you," Mandrake hissed.
"Leave her out of this!" Wendy snapped. "She's just a child!"
Victor laughed.
"Child?! Hardly. She's probably experienced more life than you ever have, O Holy One. At least she knows pain and suffering. Why don't you ask her what happens when her father picks up a bottle of Jack?"
"That's none of your business, Victor." Wendy spat. "This is between you and me anyways, so leave her out of this!"
"Down to brass tacks then, is it?" Mandrake asked. "Fine. There seems to be a bit of an unresolved issue between you, me, and the World Tag Team belts that we need to discuss."
"What issue?" Wendy demanded. "I won the match, Terrence is my partner. If the executive committee holds up the match, we're the champions. Nothing to resolve."
"Wrong," Victor pointed out. "You seem to forget who it was that saved you from the clutches of Dane's servants, who won the match for you, and who, instead of taking you straight back to the castle again, delivered you into the safe arms of that idiot you call a manager. I am your partner, and we will be the tag champions. Together. Good and evil. Angel and demon. Heaven and hell."
"I don't recall it being your choice, Victor." Wendy remarked. "I suppose I should thank you for saving me, but I'm not entirely sure I prefer being indebted to you over what those four were going to do."
"Well then it should be a great consolation to you to know that you are neither indebted to them, nor I," he responded. "I'm not here to call upon debts owed to me. I'm here to call upon debts owed to another."
"What are you talking about?" Wendy demanded, her eyes narrowing in confusion.
"Stop being so naive," Victor growled. "The letter, this theater, everything I've done to you has been part of your atonement for what you did to Rick."
"You have no right to judge me." Wendy replied softly, and Mandrake smiled, knowing he had hit a nerve. "I never meant for any of that to happen. Had I known..."
"What?" he asked, cutting her off. "What would you have done, hmm? Gone to the hospital to finish the job?"
"SHUT UP!" Wendy screamed, her voice echoing through the empty theater. "I didn't want Rick dead! And I am NOT Rick's murderer! It... was... a... SUICIDE!"
"Suicides are never without cause, never without reason," Victor replied sternly, unmoved by the outburst.
"And you think I'm the reason?" Wendy asked incredulously. "I'll admit, I should have been there for him more, but he did not shoot himself because of me!"
"Stop. Fucking. LYING!!" Victor roared. "Your meddling slowly ate him away from the inside out! Did you even see what you did to him?! Of course you didn't! You couldn't get off of your pedestal long enough to look him in the eye and accept him for who he was! Instead, you wanted to change him, you wanted to try to make him into a saint. You wanted to 'save' him. For all of your determination to redeem him, for all of your tenacity to make him into the man you wished he could've been and get him away from me, the big bad wolf, you couldn't even see him through to the end! And don't even try to tell me that you didn't know. You knew he shot himself, you knew he died, but you made no effort to even attend his funeral! Have you even visited his grave?"
Wendy opened her mouth to retort, but no words could come out. She had absolutely no defense.
"That's what I thought," Victor said, seething. "So, let me make this easy for you, dear..."
Victor charged at Megan, shoving Wendy aside as she tried to stop him. Reaching behind him and producing a black tarnished .45 revolver, he placed it firmly on the back of Megan's head. She immediately started shrieking and sobbing hysterically.
"BE QUIET!!" Victor bellowed. He then looked up at Wendy. "Well?"
"NO!" Wendy screamed, regaining her balance. "She's innocent!"
"She's nothing," Victor said through clenched teeth. "It makes no difference to me if she lives or if I decorate the stage with her skull. I imagine that it makes a difference to you, though, so let me tell you what's going to happen: You're going to call a press conference, you're going to announce that we are a tag team, and that if the titles are granted to you, I will be your partner. And you're not going to tell Terrence about it until you tell everyone else at the conference."
"I..." Wendy stammered. She thought back to the last Sunday morning, when she and Terrence had reconciled their differences. "I can't just betray Terrence..."
Victor cocked the hammer of the gun with an audible click that reverberated around the theater.
"NO!" Wendy screamed again, falling to her knees. "Why are you doing this? Why do you want me?"
*KABOOM!!*
A single shot erupted from the gun as Victor shot just to the right of Megan's head. Both women shrieked as Victor put the burning barrel back on Megan's head.
"One more foolish question and the next one goes through her head."
"Stop... I'll do it..." Wendy half-sobbed. "Please don't hurt her."
"Swear it," Victor commanded. "Swear it on her life. Swear it on your child's. I want your word."
"I swear..." Wendy gulped. "On... on the life of M...Megan Cerotta... that I will name you... my tag team partner... today."
Victor's eyes narrowed.
"Good," he said. He let go of the hammer that clicked simultaneously with an audible sigh of relief from both Wendy and Megan, and put away the gun. He dug into his pocket and produced a pair of keys, tossing them to Wendy. "She's all yours."
Victor began to walk out.
"I'll see you soon, partner."
Wendy ran to Megan, immediately removing the gag from the girls mouth, and going to work on the shackles. The manacles fell away, and Wendy put her arms around Megan, trying desperately to calm the girl.
"I'm sorry... I'm sorry..." Wendy murmured repetitively to the sobbing girl. Megan said nothing, just continued to cry into Wendy's shoulder. Wendy narrowed her eyes as the man she had just promised her career to slowly swaggered up the aisle.
As if on cue, Victor turned back around.
"Oh, and Megan my dear, do be so kind as to keep this little incident between the three of us, because if it isn't, I can pretty much guarantee that by the time I get done with you, you will wish I put that bullet through your brain. Ask Wendy, she knows. Now, keep up the good work on stage, and congratulations about getting into Stanford."
After Mandrake had finally left, Megan turned to Wendy.
"Is... is he serious?"
Wendy's emerald eyes bore into Megan's as she nodded. "I wouldn't have agreed if he wasn't"
"Now, come on," Wendy said, helping the still trembling girl to her feet. "I know you have questions, but I'd much rather answer them over breakfast right now. I'll buy."
With Wendy helping Megan, the two women worked their way up the aisle, at the top, Wendy looked back at the stage, at the sick setup Victor had arranged for her.
She would end this, one day.
One day, the world would not have to live in fear of Victor Mandrake.
3.31.2010
DOWNTOWN MARIOTT HOTEL
INDIANAPOLIS, INDIANA
12:01 PM CENTRAL DAYLIGHT TIME
"Mother-FUCKER..." Dan whispered. "You gotta tell Terrence!"
Wendy nodded sadly. "I know... but will he listen?"
"Not if we're standing out here talking amongst ourselves..Come on, my rental's across the lot."
To Wendy's utter shock, Dan took off running for his car. If anything ever spoke to an urgency of a situation, Pollaski breaking into a run would be it.
Wendy followed after him. She had a marriage to save.
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