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Post by Deleted on Nov 3, 2019 19:00:21 GMT -6
October 31st, 2019 Pellegrini House New Orleans, LA OFF-Camera
Wendy walks into the kitchen where she finds her mother, Agata, looking through the cupboards and fridge, writing down a grocery list. After she’s done, she sees Wendy looking nervous and rubs her shoulder.
Agata: What worry you?
Wendy shakes her head, trying to dismiss her mother, but Agata is unmoved. She sits at the island and lifts Wendy’s chin so that she can look into her eyes.
Agata: Is it wedding?
Wendy: Not entirely. Trust me, I want Saturday to come so badly. Seeing everyone there, sharing in the happiest of days, that doesn’t give me worry at all. It’s whatever’s or whoever’s fucking with Alex, Angel and Essentia. This is getting ridiculous.
Valerie Morielaz walks into the room, hearing Essie’s name and sits down with Agata.
Valerie: What’s going on with Essie?
Wendy: She not tell you? She was getting shook down at the hospital, day after Angel and Bullet got pulled over and harassed. Queenie and Tibs are looking into it. Nik Peltier and her wife Epsy are as well. I called Tony back in New York, haven’t heard back from him yet.
Valerie: She hadn’t, and now I want to slap somebody.
Wendy smirked and looked over at her, shaking her head.
Wendy: Probably why she didn’t tell you, didn’t want you getting hot about it. Neither do I, and neither will the Maidens. You’re 18, you don’t need to be getting into shit you can’t handle. You hear me?
Valerie: What if it were Lexa, hmm? Or J? Or any of us? Wouldn’t you be in my shoes?
Agata knew to walk away, back to her room to get herself ready for a market run. Wendy stands up and slams her hand on the table, startling Valerie in the process.
Wendy: The fuck do you think I’m doing, Val? You don’t think I want to walk into the station, demand these guys by badge number and put their own Glocks to their temples? We’re doing things the smart way, the legal way. We’ll find out who these officers are and handle things the right way. Go help Moma out, she’s probably getting her stuff together for dinner. We’re gonna have a house full for a day or so. Got a few from New York coming down for Saturday. Please don’t do anything stupid, ok?
Valerie clenched her teeth, inhaled deeply and exhaled through her nose before coming around the island and hugging Wendy.
Valerie: I won’t. Promise. For you and Essie, I won’t.
As Valerie walks away, Wendy heads to her room to unpack her dress and look it over. She tries it on and starts to cry happy tears with how nice it is and the reason she’s wearing it. She hears her phone ring in her purse. She runs over and sees the number.
Wendy: Tony, hold up, gonna put you on speaker. Just getting out of my dress.
Antonio “Tony” Scoletti, head of Zombie Inc NYC, trainer and mentor, was on the other end of the line. One of the few people outside of family she trusted completely, and yet, Tony was family. A second father, if you will.
Tony: Still hard t’believe you’re gettin’ married, kid. You were so against it.
Wendy: Well, like you always told me. My mind would change if I ever met the right one, and Alexandria is definitely the right one. You guys are still coming down, right? And no suits or tuxes required. It’s a tent ceremony on a biker compound. Rocco would fit right in.
Tony: Alright, I’ll pass that ‘long. So, I did some checking on those sfigatos you told me ‘bout, and they’re definitely on the take somewhere.
Wendy: How’d you figure that out?
Tony: Boys are notorious, even got them in the system up here not t’work with’em, though we do have someone inside who gets their shit from them. Want me t’check him out?
Wendy: Put a watch on him if you can, don’t want to spook him yet. I’ve got a couple of others running leads from down here. You’ll likely meet them Saturday. Hey, I know it’s last-minute but I have a big favor to ask.
Tony: Whatcha need, kid?
Wendy: A big arm to hold onto as I walk down the aisle?
The line goes quiet and Wendy bites her lip, thinking she might have crossed a line somewhere.
Tony: Ya know, think it’s time ya heard this. Ya father was a good man, tough as nails, and very smart. I see a lot of him in ya. Stevens, a good guy but there was somethin’ ya old man didn’t like about him, never told me what. Stewart had asked me t’watch over ya because he didn’t trust Stevens. It’s why I took the job with ya, why I train ya. You’re the kid I wish I had.
As Tony talked, Wendy sat down on the bed and cried. Lexa came into the room, hearing the conversation from the hallway originally after coming in from practicing her drums in the garage. She came and sat behind Wendy on the bed and pulled her back in a hug.
Tony: It was the reason I never called ya Stevens, you’re the Lancaster kid. Woulda been nice to hear the name Wendy Scoletti at least once in the years I’ve known you, but here we are. So you want me to walk you down, huh? Afraid you’ll get lost?
Wendy actually laughed out loud over that, a call-back to one of the first jobs they did. Wendy was using the GPS as Tony drove, and yet somehow they ended up about fourteen blocks in the wrong direction and their client getting away for another couple of weeks. Every once in awhile, Tony will drop subtle reminders of that day.
Wendy: Hey, you’ll be happy to know that after Saturday, it won’t be Stevens anymore. It’ll be Pellegrini. And shit, if you did walk me down, you’d be basically driving, not sure it’s a good idea now.
Lexa: Aww, you don’t mean that. Besides, Dad’s walking me down. Tony’s the right choice.
Wendy: Lex, careful. You’re gonna start stroking his ego, man’s got a weak heart.
Tony: You kiss your wife with that mouth?
Lexa laughs.
Lexa: Fuckin’ right she does!
Wendy: You heard her, Tony, you know how she is.
Tony: I’ll tell ya, ain’t no better image than the two of ya together, I mean that. All joking aside, I’d be honored t’walk ya, kid. Roc and I will be down early Saturday. Ya said it was noon right?
Wendy: Which means, knowing you and Rocco, you’ll be here and ready at like eight a.m. at the latest.
Tony: Make sure there’s coffee. How’s your mother?
Wendy: Moma’s great. She and Val live here with Lex and I. Moma’s even got a home business going on. Keeping busy, sober now. Am I going to have to keep you two separated? I’ve seen you flirt.
Tony: Hey, ain’t my fault they like the Stallion.
Wendy: Let’s not go there. Listen, keep me posted on what you find with our boys in blue and I’ll see you Saturday. Love you, Tony.
Tony: Love ya too, kid. See you Saturday.
Wendy hangs up and lays her head back on Lexa’s shoulder.
Wendy: Can we be married now?
Lexa: Yous wanna get up in front of everyone in just your panties?
Wendy realized she had removed the dress and put it away while talking to Tony and hadn’t got re-dressed during the conversation. Wendy turned to face Lexa, cocking an eyebrow.
Wendy: Only if you joined me, babe.
Sunday, November 3rd, 2019 Zombie Compound New Orleans, LA ON- Camera
A day removed from her wedding, Wendy and Lexa were back in the gym the next morning. Looking a bit stiff and ragged from the previous night’s activities, they set up at the bags and while Wendy tried to get into her routine, she couldn’t. Wendy decided she’d get some things off her chest ahead of schedule, leaving herself the rest of the day to be with her new wife. Lexa set up the camera as Wendy got herself as best she could into Zombie mode and faced the camera.
Well well well, much like last night the clocks went back an hour, it seems like for us, Tyke, those clocks went back all the way to June 2019. To say I’m happy to be standing here, having to give you ANY sort of attention, would be a lie. Sadly, the way this business works, I have to sell the match. I have to make you look good, but outside of the six fans in your fan club, everyone else knows how much you actually suck.
But NO you’ll say, you don’t suck. You won that fatal fourway some time back, and last show, you took the Phoenix championship from Skrabz so you MUST be this big shot because you have this big Ultimate Title match while I’m JUST the ThrowDown champion, right? I mean, look at what the fans see. At Black Magic, you’re fighting Skrabz for the Ultimate Championship, while I’m defending the ThrowDown Championship against Ricky Stanton.
Wendy slowly nods her head, her eyes practically burning through the screen in anger, before a smirk starts to rise on her face.
Did you ever stop to think that maybe, just maybe, I planned for this to happen? Funny thing, I’ve been working on this since the day I beat you at Spectacular. And, boy, are you completely oblivious. I had long debated telling you, but I figured the day would come when I’d be facing you again. Where I had hoped you’d be in this seemingly higher position so you can feel all high and mighty, sitting on your ivory throne atop the mountain, and I can be the storm under the supports to wash your kingdom away. I gambled and it paid off, and here we are, Black Magic just on the horizon, and you get to play the part of Old Yeller.
Kinda appropriate really. See, Old Yeller, despite being a stray nobody wanted, ends up showing signs of usefulness just enough to be kept around. Eventually, Old Yeller fights a wolf and becomes rabid, loses his shit, before eventually he has to be shot dead. Kinda like you. Somebody nobody wants around, with occasional sparks of talent. Fought a Wolf Like Skrabz and lost your shit. And now, myself as Tommy gets to put you out of your misery.
Wendy can see Lexa looking shocked that Wendy would use that parallel, but Wendy shrugs, the Zombie side of her in full control at the moment. Lexa mouths the words ‘I fuckin’ love you’ which makes Zombie smile before she shakes her arms and head and goes back to the promo.
So here’s the rub. This match at Black Magic you have against Skrabz was my doing. But NO you’ll say, you beat Cain to get that match, and you did. We ALL saw it and Cain isn’t around anymore to defend himself, but hear me out. I’ll even use words that you can understand.
This all started at Mile High Spectacular, when I buried you alive. You refused to go away afterwards, tried to convince anyone willing to listen... and even some who felt they were being held hostage... that I couldn’t beat you on my own. It was then that I decided to have some fun at your expense. What made things easier for me was when you surprised everyone and beat Bullet for the Phoenix Title, a title I’ll come back to shortly.
Spectacular 2, you were up against Skrabz who knocked the shit out of you and beat you to become the Ultimate Champion, thus retiring the Phoenix Championship. And then we all watched you descend into madness, having no memory of that match, that loss. At first, I thought it was funny, but then I started to see how sad you were, how sad the situation was, and then Robert Mack booked the fourway match, with the winner getting to face Skrabz for the Ultimate Championship.
As Wendy is talking, she raises an eyebrow and snaps her fingers, realizing she omitted a couple of things. She nods again as she formulates how she wants to say it.
Now, here’s where I should back up a little and explain something about that belt you’re carrying. It’s as worthless as you are. When Skrabz beat you for it, it was retired, effectively replaced by the title *I* hold, the ThrowDown Championship. While the Phoenix Title had a pretty decent run while Bullet held it, it lost its lustre when you held it. And now it’s not even worth the metal and leather it’s made of. Again, fitting you’re wearing it because you’re not worth the oxygen you consume and the carbon dioxide you exhale.
Hell, I’d even say the wrong guy overdosed.
Again, Wendy can see Lexa’s reaction after she said it. Wendy looks up at her, her eyes almost pleading, a look telling her she knows what she’s doing and where she’s taking it, and Lexa shakes her head. Wendy inhales deeply and exhales before focusing on the camera again.
However, much as I hate your guts, Tyke, I took pity on you when the fourway match came around. And, really, of the four of us in that match, there was only two people anybody would have put money on to win, and that was Solomon Cain, and me. Jansen? It was practically a given with her and I in the same ring, she wasn’t winning. And you? Yeah, anyways.
Here’s the thing. I was, and still am, the ThrowDown Champion. I already had a match at Black Magic. I was already on the poster. I mean, sure, I could kick Ricky’s ass on any show and decided to fight Skrabz at Black Magic, but I’m a proud champion. The title was elevated while I was its holder, so I made the choice to stay the ThrowDown Champion for now. So I had to think of what could be the potentially best outcome, and how could I pull it off in the ring without anyone in that match catching on to what I was doing. I wasn’t going to let Jansen win because we’d never hear the end of it. When I saw Cain the day of the match, he didn’t look good so I set it up for him to be the fall guy. And then I remembered how much you didn’t recall your last match with Skrabz, so… congratulations.
Wendy crosses her arms in front of her with a smile on her face, a job well done.
And then at the last show, you decide to steal the man’s gold. You are so gullible. Every time I lead you exactly where I want you, you go and do something stupid which ends up even more in my favor. You’re a gift that keeps on giving, Tyke, but even I know the day will come when you’ll overstay your welcome. Where perhaps you might even start catching on and decide you don’t want to play anymore. Above all of that, though, I decided to come clean with this plan because I felt there was something missing.
A thank you. From you.
You see, without ME, there’d be no Tyke Index in Mile High Wrestling. Without ME, you wouldn’t know what being so close to death feels like. What the weight of all that dirt on you feels like. Without ME, you would have never found that extra bit of fire to prove me and the Shieldmaidens wrong and beat Bullet for the Phoenix Title. Without ME, you would not have the opportunity to face Skrabz a second time.
You’re welcome, by the way. Never believe I never did anything for you.
I did all of this, Tyke, because I can. I did all of this to show you, and prove to Mile High, the power I and the Shieldmaidens have in this company. Think the Coven could have pulled something like that off? Hell, only one of them worth a damn is Leah and the day will come when she wakes up and realizes she’s fighting for the losing team. I broke you down and built you back up, only to feed you to the wolf again for my own amusement.
Thing is, I thought for a moment that you were starting to realize it. When you were telling people you needed to see me again. I thought perhaps it was starting to sink in. That maybe in a moment of clarity, you realized the only thing, the only person in this company, giving you any sort of value and worth in this company… is me. And then the moment passed and you went back to the Tyke Index of old. The idiot, the loser. That’s when I went looking for the shotgun.
Truth be told, Tyke, I don’t feel like I have to beat you this week because a win over you gives me nothing, and a loss to you really doesn’t matter. I’m already preparing for my match with Stanton, that’s how little I care about this match. Fact is, I practically own you already, and if I wanted the win, I’d have it. I might just take it anyways, crack you that much more before Skrabz gets his hands on you. I’ll leave you guessing what my decision will be until JUST before the final bell.
I’m in your head, Tyke, and it’s cold and lonely in here. Lovely in its chaos though, I can do so much with this.
See you at ThrowDown.
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Post by Deleted on Nov 6, 2019 8:14:50 GMT -6
1st November,
Tyke Index hotel room
Watermark Hotel, Baton Rouge, Louisiana
Day of the dead they say?
How hard could it be I thought? To just walk away from drugs, take some time to myself and get my life together. I had so many questions that had no answers, no way of getting answers; no way of ever knowing. Why did Zombie want me to die so much? What had I ever done to her, how could you ever annoy one single person so much that they would wish death upon you, not even a simple death but one where you lie six foot under the stars begging for a second chance, begging for someone to hear your screams, begging for someone to just…
Listen
That’s the thing; nobody was willing to listen to me. Not in May, not in June, not in July, not in August, barely in September, a little bit in October and as spook season went full throttle suddenly everyone had an ear, suddenly every single person wanted a piece of Tyke Index. I knew they would, I knew you would Wendy. Since the re inception of Mile High Wrestling, you’ve always been my long distance sparring partner, the Ebony to my Ivory, the milk to my chocolate, we’re intrinsically connected more than you will ever think or know.
I was lying there, lying buried and you, you were six foot above me laughing your head off wondering what was in my head when all along the real question should have been, just what is in your head? Why you were willing to torture me so badly, willing to see me flail flawlessly looking for a single ounce of oxygen to keep me alive, to keep this journey alive, too keep our dream alive and YOUR dream alive. See, Wendy, this isn’t just my dream, it was your dream, it was always YOUR dream and you almost gave it away, you almost woke up too soon and all this? All this might never have happened, so just be grateful, grateful we even have a chance to sit together at the table one more time, you don’t deserve to be sitting here with me, you really don’t, but you will, so bring some flowers in your memory.
This time, this time it’s you who gets left in a pool of hopeless memories, this time it is you who will be left for dead, left to be a foot note in the career of Tyke Index and served for seconds to ‘Pretty’ Ricky Stanton, it’s just meant to be, we’re just meant to be, we always were and the more I thought about it, the more it confused me as to why Wendy was still trying to fight this. I reached into my pocket and pulled out a picture of the graveyard she left me at, the part I was supposed to die, the part well…
I put the picture on the table, it was crinkled at the sides and imperfect in its medium and that was just fine, we would get by, I would get by, this whole situation would get by, I guess…
My picture, though, your picture, it was your picture Wendy. It shows you standing on top of the soil and me? I’m nowhere to be seen, I had long gone by that point, gone to places you will never understand and no matter how many times you asked me what was in my head, no matter how many times you repeat that question over and over and over and over and over and over again, you will never understand what’s in my head and that’s the beauty of this whole catastrophe.
I poured some devils dandruff from my pocket onto the photograph of Wendy before snapping my head back like my good friend, the ‘New Nightmare’ Reaper, I leaned down one more time and I shovelled that shit into my nose. Anyone who wants to judge me, judge me now, pour and reign down on me with your biggest disregards, go on, social justice and moral warriors, smash me with your blades, take every limb I’ve ever had, I’m yours for the taking, all yours, forever more, drink me whole.
I started to laugh and reminisce in this dark and dingy room thinking about the times Zombie and I had, all those times we were angry at each other, all those times we were sad at each other, all those times we were excited by each other and all those times we were just perfect for each other. Yet all this time, we were willing to pack up and join different forces, join different alliances, form a different conclusion on life, form different sentences and why? To prove who was more dominant between the Summit and the Shieldmaidens? What was even the point? Why were we here? Why now? Why now after all this time I thought, did it even matter what we had planned for Black Magic?
Wendy was right, she was so right; she was ecstatically accurate when she would mention our trajectories. See, I did take back my Phoenix Championship. I would take the Ultimate Championship in two week time and when I did? I would come back to save you one more time Wendy, I will come back to save you, even after everything that happened at the Spectacular and even after everything that is going to happen this Sunday night. You know why? Because our trajectory is supposed to be, you deserve to be with me, you deserve to legitimized, you deserve to be in this situation. You are not JUST the Throwdown Champion, you are the big deal of the Shieldmaidens, you are sole perpetrate and innovator of why the Throwdown Championship became as big a deal as ANYTHING going on in Mile High Wrestling, never forget that, please don’t, I’m begging you, please don’t. See I need you to have every single bit of self-worth walking this planet. That way when it all comes crashing down and your career is vindicated with a loss to Tyke Index this Sunday, it’s going to taste that bit sweeter.
Cause you Wendy; you genuinely think you are better than me. Wendy, you genuinely think your dance moves are more astute and that your flow is a touch above anything I could ever muster and that’s fine. I admire that, admire you, I admire what this has turned into and you should to because it has your finger prints all over it. Wendy, make no mistake, you caused this. Wendy, you have caused the perfect storm and now the wind is about to wash us both up in its wake. Don’t be scared, though; hold my hand and I’ll hold yours. Say these words slowly after me…
“On Sunday we breathe”
Amen.
I took two more lines, three more lines, four to get that succinct feeling of my beige eyeballs curling up and the wrinkles start to multiply on my frail handsome cheeks. I needed this, needed more, I was hungry, I was fucking starving, starving to start something that Wendy couldn’t finish, starving to start this journey towards Skrabz, my journey, not yours, get your own ticket…
Or don’t...
6th November 2019
Watermark Hotel,
Baton Rouge, Louisiana
I swear I had only been here for an hour or two, but there I was standing next to the door, peering through the peek hole butt naked with nothing but my birthday suit and a line of white stuff dripping from my nose.
I could hear a knock on the door, then another one, then another and another and another, all at peated out two minute intervals, SOMEONE was stalking me but who?
I could barely make the face out, so I gasped deeply before opening the door, it was the concierge, she was dressed in a lovely red suit with a matching red dress, she looked like a walking ace of spades, maybe she was? As I watched her lips squish together and push out some sexy syllables in a threatening and volatile manner, she would inform me that I had been staying the past two nights without paying, mentioning that my stay was supposed to have ended at this point last week. How come they never said, how come she never said?
I had missed the funeral of my Phoenix Championship and as I looked at it lying on the bed, I felt desperately upset, I wanted to make it up to it, wanted to make the championship whole against after Skrabz had corrupted it. I lay my head down next to the fragile solid gold and glazed at the ceiling, the women was still at the door though and she was staring right at me, staring at me almost naked on the bed sniffing cocaine and getting more fucking high by the hour.
And what? And what was she going to do? She should have just joined me in this beautiful moment staring at the stars but instead, instead she asked me to leave, people were always asking me to leave but never to arrive. How are you supposed to leave when you never arrive? I asked the less than concierge this very question and could she answer? Could her beautifully smitten lips deliver the answers I desired? No, no they couldn’t and no they wouldn’t, she had made her stance clear though and as of 1.15pm on Wednesday afternoon I was no longer welcome at this shitty hotel, my home for the past week.
After waving my hands about like some sort of conchairto coordinator, I was able to put some trousers on and throw a t-shirt over my head back to front. I always liked wearing things back to front, was my artistic take on being a rebel against absolutely nothing, I loved rebelling against nothing, it was completely worthwhile as you can imagine.
I would make one last request to our beautiful concierge, I would need one candle, one singular candle which would be LIT to remember the Phoenix Championship. I asked her like I asked Wendy to join me in saying a couple of words.
“Our Dear Phoenix Championship
You rose so well but fell to hell
I loved you the most when you were around my waist but Skrabz,
Skrabz turned you to toast and put it somewhere you didn't belong.
His Sunday roast. I loved how you looked on Bullet and even on me, though you never fitted my waist quite perfect”
I looked up and the concierge was no longer muttering along with me, she was merely standing next to the door and pointing to the exit, my exit.
Finally outside the hotel I tried to call Robert Mack to put me up, but well, he declined my call. I then looked at Skrabz number and laughed to myself, I’d be damned if I phoned Mr. Stanzas again, I still remember what he put me through last time, only time I would be calling that chump is on the Sunday of Black Magic kindly reminding him to glitter my Ultimate Championship up real nice for coming home. Maybe I could have a service for the Ultimate Championship as well, a serenade, though, a celebration not a funeral. Everyone likes to celebrate, don’t they? I like to celebrate to.
I forgot what I was doing, forgot where I was, but I was freezing my bollocks off holding my telephone in a shaky ropey hand, looking for someone to call, some who cared enough that I would find warmth one more time before meeting Wendy for our date on Sunday. AMV IV answered, he always did, I informed him I had no money on me but passed my card details, he spared my blushes and booked a room under his name, AMV IV was the best friend I ever had these days I just wish I knew him ten years ago, I would probably have been spared ten years in jail.
AMV IV told me to get some sleep, I was going to need it, he also reminded me not to take anymore substances before Sunday; I had my six month testing in Mile High on Monday morning. I didn’t want my incoming win over Wendy to be reversed due to having some good times the previous week, that wouldn’t happen, certainly not on the watch of AMV IV, he was so esteemed and right all the time, I loved it so I did.
I asked if AMV IV if Reaper was ready for Sunday, AMV laughed, he was always laughing, everything was hilarious, especially the thought of Reaper ripping Skrabz apart limb by limb until there would be nothing left. I asked the 4th generation lawyer, MY lawyer; if Reaper was planning on leaving any part of his supper for me. I did make it perfectly clear to AMV, well as clear as a high as fuck Tyke Index could, that if Reaper wanted to completely finish Skrabz on Sunday, that well, I was okay with that. I mean, the more I thought about it, I deserved the championship anyway. Why should I have to go through Wendy? Why should I have to waste an hour of my life with someone who stinks as much as Skrabz? I didn’t. I didn’t deserve any of this.
I told AMV IV that what I deserved was a celebration, a championship coronation, one with lots of bubbly and lots of bitches. I deserved an inauguration and I wanted no one other than that piece of nonsense Robert Mack to present me with the championship with his own grubby little paws. In fact, the more I thought about it, the more it made sense. Reaper was going to decimate Skrabz on Sunday, holy shit, holy fucking shit; our plan was coming together two weeks early.
It was beautiful, this was beautiful; everything was beautiful around here for a change. I ran out of things to say, finally, you’re probably thinking?
Not so fast…
Well, actually…
Maybe I had, for now anyway, I just had to sleep.
Fuck, I better get to this hotel before I fall asleep on the street. Maybe if I did fall asleep in the street there would actually be flowers brought to my feet this time, unlike the last time I was buried alive, but that’s on you Wendy, isn’t it?
Love you x
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