The scene opens up with a towel-clad Wendy Pellegrini walking into the master bedroom of their New Orleans home, her hair wrapped in a towel as well. The day’s workout session was lighter than usual, as she was also training two new employees at the Zombie Compound, the gym the Pellegrinis opened in town. Lexa Pellegrini is sitting at her office chair, checking out a few things online when she turns around, gets up from her chair and smiles at Wendy as she steps towards her to hug her.
“So, I think we needs a night out. Yous have been busy lately with the gym and your limited appearances. Mama has already offered to watch J. Val and Essie are off on one of their adventures, so wes can have the night to ourselves. What do you think?”
Wendy combs Lexa’s hair out of her face with her fingers, the purple-highlighted tresses flowing smoothly through Wendy’s hands. Wendy kisses her causing Lexa to shiver, a few beads of water from Wendy’s face falls into Lexa’s. Lexa slowly opens her eyes, her smile widening as she savored the moment. She wraps her arms around Wendy’s neck and shoulders, grazing her nails along Wendy’s spine.
“I think we’re overdue. Carla and Maurice are doing a hell of a job on the trainer side. Ronnie, we can agree has been a godsend in the office. The Compound is coming along nicely, we're starting to get into the black finally. We can finally step away for awhile.” “It’s been a challenge but I agree. And now with Mile High closing down soon, and your limited dates at New Frontier, we cans finally get back to promoting you more and maybe find you another place to wrestle. It’s been nice having yous home, but it’s time to go back to work. After tonight though.” “We can worry about work after ThrowDown. Tonight is ours. Where did you want to go?”
Lexa leans back a little to look her wife in the eyes, Wendy’s strength keeping Lexa against her.
“We can go to the Quarter. There’s always something going on down there. Or, we can drive around other unexplored areas and maybe find a cool little place.” “I like that second idea. Maybe we can find a new Jonesy’s.”
Lexa couldn’t help but smile when Wendy mentioned Jonesy’s. A place where Lexa spent many a night banging the drums with her sister Maxine, the members of the rock band American Murder Log, and other musical transients that came through town.
“And maybe if we find that place, with the band down here too, we can have our jam nights again. I do miss them.”
Wendy pulls Lexa closer and kisses her forehead.
“Well, then, I guess that’s our plan for tonight. Anything for you.” “I fucking love you.” “I love you more.” “Not a chance. Now get dressed.”
Wendy looks at Lexa mischievously, her hands on the small of Lexa’s back, having already untucked the t-shirt Lexa’s wearing and clipping her fingers to her belt loops of her jeans.
“That’s not what you said last night.”
Lexa steps back and crosses her arms in front of her, cocking an eyebrow with a smirk on her face.
“Not that you were complaining.” “Never said I was.” “Better not…”
Lexa grabbed the towel Wendy was wearing and pulled it off. Wendy, trying to unlock her fingers in time failed by a split second, as Lexa takes off running to the bathroom, laughing as the scene ends.
Later that evening, Wendy and Lexa were in the Gentilly neighborhood of New Orleans. After walking along Pontchartrain Park and seeing the sights, they were on the road getting lost in the city and just exploring when they found a dive bar called the Bartered Ram. As they walked in, Lexa fell in love with the place immediately. Dark wood, sawdust on the floor, authentic-feeling. The venue was not very large, but it felt open. On the far wall was the stage big enough for five to six with their instruments, and in the middle of the stage sat a black Pearl drum set. They found a table near the stage as a waitress came over.
“How are y’all doing tonight?” “Great, thank yous. We’ll start with a pitcher of beer while we check out the menu, please.” “Sure thing, chere. New York?” “Originally, yes. We moved here a few months ago. My sisters run an outfit in town, and it was a better option to come down and join them.”
The waitress notices the leather kutte on Wendy and nods. She looks back to Lexa then back to Wendy with a concerned look on her face.
“How did you get dragged into that mess?” “Excuse me?” “I’ve met and seen my share of bikers in town. Not a one has been anything but bad news.”
Wendy slides her chair back and to the side and crosses her arms, staring down the waitress.
“First of all, chere, you just haven’t met the right ones. Second, ain’t here for trouble, just a night out with my wife. Third, judging by the place, I can tell you’re hurting a little financially. Now, if I was bad news, this place would be shuttered within the week. Instead, I think we could help. Lexa, here, is an excellent drummer. Think Taylor Hawkins meets Keith Moon. I think we can help drum up some business for you, no pun intended.”
The waitress looks insulted at first, before sighing and nodding.
“Business has been slow, I can’t lie. Everyone wants the fancy modern joints, and we don’t have the money to upgrade.” “Don’t upgrade, this place has charm. It just needs bodies. Let me see what we can do for you. My name is Wendy Pellegrini, this is my wife Lexa. They also call me Zombie.” “Zombie? Like the Cranberries song?”
Wendy shook her head for a second, surprised before smiling wide. Lexa extends her hand to shake the waitress’ before Wendy does the same.
“Exactly for that reason.”
The waitress looks the two of them over again and tilts her head to the side, confused.
“Wait, you two look familiar, I’ve seen you guys on TV. You wrestle for a living if I’m not mistaken.” “I do, and Lexa manages. Depending on which promotion you saw me at, you’ve seen my Shieldmaiden sisters as well.” “My kids were watching video clips of past shows. You shaved that woman’s hair off.”
Wendy breaks out into laughter, slamming her hand on the table.
“I did. It was fun. That might very well end up being my legacy in Mile High. The one who sheared the head of Jansen Myrrh. I’m okay with that.” “Fair enough. I’ll be back with your beer and I’ll let you check out the menu. I’ll be back.” “Thank yous.”
After the waitress leaves, Lexa smiles and shakes her head.
“A cross between Taylor Hawkins and Keith Moon, huh?” “Babe, you make drum skins cry hitting them so hard, but you also have a mastery that’s not seen very often. You’re fucking amazing.”
Lexa blushes as she hides behind the menu, and the waitress is back with the pitcher and two mugs. As Wendy pours the mugs, she’s laughing at Lexa, while under the table, she rubbing Lexa’s leg with her foot.
“Are we ready to order? You two look like you’re already having a good night.” “We don’t get much time for dates, so we cherish them when we can.” “Um, let’s go with the bacon cheeseburger with fries. Lettuce, tomato and pickles. And some of this piquante sauce to dip?” “Make it two. I can cheat tonight.” “Excellent, I’ll get those going for you.”
Wendy holds her hand up to keep the waitress from leaving right away.
“Think anyone would mind if we let Lexa the Loon loose on the drum kit?” “I don’t see why not, especially if she’s as good as you say she is.” “Oh she’s very very good. At drums as well.”
Lexa shakes her head and swats Wendy’s arm. The waitress tries to keep a poker face through it all but even she was intrigued by the dynamic of the two sitting at her table. She smiles a knowing grin before she leaves. Lexa slides her chair back, still shaking her head.
“Yous bad.” “THAT you did say last night.”
Lexa chuckles and is about to say something but instead shrugs as she gets up from her chair, and kisses her wife. She leans in and whispers something in her ear. As Lexa goes up on the stage, she sees Wendy shiver and go red herself. Lexa chuckles again as she tunes up the drums to her angles, watching Wendy through the toms, and beaming as the scene comes to a close.
Seems we've come around full circle, have we? Funny how not so long ago, you were the big guy and respected and I was just cutting my teeth in this business. You laid out a challenge, a Buried Alive match daring anyone to step up and challenge you. What you may not be aware of was that Rob was working on getting a much different Shieldmaiden to face you. What a coup it would have been to get the biggest holdout back into the fold. A nice surprise for all the fans to show that bygones were bygones.
Didn't exactly happen that way, did it? Instead, you got me. A relative nobody, which threw you through a loop. How do you prepare for somebody you’ve never faced? Can they hang with the best? Will they stink up the joint? To your credit, you didn’t flinch. You stayed exactly how you always were. A wannabe ladies man who tried valiantly to get one of us into bed with you and failing miserably. You were becoming more Tyke Incel than Tyke Index. And yet you stayed true to you.
And then the match happened. You came into the Magness Arena full of yourself. You had the fans fooled, they booed you, they wanted to see you fail. When I walked out, the fans didn’t know how to take me. I was new. Some surely thought I was coming to be fed to the Tyke Index machine. Even with the Shieldmaiden kutte, I was not a Bullet or a Valkyrie, I was, and still am, Zombie. The fans didn’t know what they would get from me, but I knew what they were expecting. And I gave them everything I had, threw everything I could at you. Lance Mikes took my moment from me, but I felt confident at the time that I could beat you on my own.
History, however, suggests otherwise. Every opportunity since that match, you’ve had my number. Technically, you are two and one against me, though in one on one matches, we have a win apiece. I could have called out any opponent I wanted for this last show. I could have demanded a rematch with Stanton, left him with a receipt for what happened at Black Magic. Skrabz is busy being protected as the company’s golden boy. Truthfully, I fought Boner Tug Disharmony in my second match in and while he got the W, I wasn’t that impressed with him. Definitely not the champion he was marketed to be, but that’s my opinion and I could give a shit what he thinks of me. The Coven might end up going down in history as the group that took down The Shieldmaidens, and sadly they didn’t get their receipts either.
So, to say that Mile High is closing down is bittersweet is an understatement. There’s so much unresolved. However, with every opponent I’ve faced, there could only be one I needed to fight one more time. And that’s you, Tyke. You were the guy that pretty much got my Mile High career off the ground. That win against you launched me into the ThrowDown Championship, which my head is still spinning with how that championship evolved and de-evolved and… yeah I’ll stop there.
This Sunday, we come back to where it all began. Magness Arena, Denver Colorado. The same place you wished for death, and much as you WERE buried, you didn’t stay there. At ThrowDown, Tyke, I’m going to give you your wish. It won’t be a public burial, even then nobody would come pay their respects if it was. After our match, though, you and I are going to go take a drive out into the middle of nowhere. And nobody will even know you’re gone. You started this, and I’ll finish it. And on a crudely-etched stone, it’ll say.
Tyke Index. June 9th 2019 - February 16th 2020. No Rest. No Peace.
I had been here for a few hours now, getting nostalgic flashbacks to that time I got parked out of here for falling asleep drunk in the early hours after a Throwdown, awaking to ten missed calls from Robert Mack, a few from Katrina Mack and one from Harvey Goodfellows, my old business advisor, remember that guy? You’re probably one of the few. Sacking Harvey was the worst decision I ever made and boy did I make a lot of bad decisions over the past year or so.
Walking around this arena gave me the chills, for a few months it became home; then for a year it became a prison. See, people want to know why I broke ‘kayfabe’ last week, why I went in deep on a company who were desperate for me to bring back the ‘junkie’ Tyke Index, why I wasn’t fawning to a bunch of people who couldn’t care less about me anymore, why I stopped acting, stopped feeding them like withdrawal monkeys who just wanted another ‘dark’ Tyke moment. Yet, when I laid all my cards on the table, they couldn’t take it, people got upset, story of my life.
I’ll square up, I hate Tyke Index, I hate who I am and yet almost more importantly I hate what I became, someone constantly fawning and feigning for attention. I had heard it all, heard everything, heard the cheers and more effervescently the boos; I heard them all rain down on me and boy they rained hard.
Now as I sit around here looking at this empty arena, which in a few hours will be filled with people, lots of them, lots of adults, lots of kids and maybe even a few dogs, I see everything clearly.
I shouldn’t have climbed back out when Wendy ‘Zombie’ Stevens buried me six foot under, I was happy there, more than I probably even realized at the time. See, once the confusion subsided and the pillages of dirt and grime disintegrated away from my eyes I knew I had made a mistake coming back to wrestling. I wasn’t happy here anymore, see, last week I had more fun screaming the living shit out my soul when the impending last ever Mile High Ultimate Champion Reaper created a new Nightmare with my name on it, hell, I was even happy when Skrabz tuned up the band and blasted a Mic Check. Truth be told; defeating Snakebite done nothing for my career. I didn’t even want to come back in the first place, and that first place was last June, but I felt like I had an obligation to care, yet in reality, the only obligation I had was to my ego.
That ego had been exposed time and time again in Mile High Wrestling, none more so than when I underestimated Zombie and paid dearly. Zombie, you are right, I did expect to walk in here and destroy everything in my sight, you’re right; I did expect to be closing Mile High as Ultimate Champion; nothing went to plan here, absolutely nothing, except this…
Except getting to close this chapter of my life with you, except getting to look across that ring and see my past, present and most vitally the solution to my future. See, Zombie, you are closure. You are closure on everything, but it’s not going to be a grave I lay in this time, it’s going to be our grave. We’ll lay still for a bit, we’ll probably stare at the stars and when it is all said and done, one of us will rise, this time that person is me and not you.
I blame you for all this, Zombie, I could have already been at peace now, but your biggest mistake was pulling Tyke Index head first out that grave and not killing me when you had the chance. I resent still being here, I resent you, I resent that we are even here discussing this right now, so tonight we end the discussion, we end the debate, we end it all. I’m taking you to Coke Mountain and that’s where we lay our past down to be forgiven and judged, but you are not my maker, Wendy, you are just my passenger.
Catch up with Harvey Goodfellows
Backstage of the Magness Arena
I hadn’t seen Harvey in a long time, after those nostalgic flashbacks earlier, I decided to do something I hadn’t done since last May, give the fat man a call. Low and behold he answered on the first ring, he sounded almost astounded to hear from me, stuttering over his words left right and centre, I invited him to the Magness; I wanted him to be here tonight, he deserved to witness the conclusion of Mile High in the first person.
As Harvey entered my dressing room, he stood cautiously at the door, almost scared to approach me, he must have heard how I was a breaking kayfabe asshole these days, how I was desperate not to play a drug addict anymore, how I was desperate for redemption, but he shouldn’t have been scared, after all, Harvey knew me better than anyone else in this world. I would never attack Harvey, not today of all days.
I had some questions I needed answered, though, questions I had to know and questions that only Harvey would be able to answer truthfully. Harveys eyebrow was already noticeably perspiring pretty badly in anticipation of what lay ahead for him, for us, for this last moment together.
Tyke Index: “Harvey, do you remember what you said to me last May?”
Harvey looks anxious. I point to the couch suggesting he should rest his large and out of shape backside down on it. Harvey obliges and can barely look me in the eye. I had never seen him this nervous before like he was ready to break down…
Harvey Goodfellows: “Tyke, Tyke, Tyke, Tyke”
Tyke Index: “Yes, Harvey. That is my name”
Harvey Goodfellows: “Tyke, what I said last May doesn’t matter anymore, nothing that happened in the last year matters anymore. We are here in February 2020; today is all that matters now”
Tyke Index: “Tell me what you said, though, just tell me. I want to hear it. Harvey, I NEED to hear it”
Harvey Goodfellows: “Tyke, what good will it do though? Open some wounds that barely finished healing?”
Harvey had made a Freudian slip, one of the many.
Tyke Index: “What do you mean by barely finished healing?”
Harvey Goodfellows: “Tyke, I know it, you know it. Don’t make me spell it out for you, we don’t have to do that, do we?”
Tyke Index: “Go on, Harvey. Spit it”
Harvey Goodfellows: “You’ve become the one thing I warned you about last May, you have become bitter. You are upset, you hate yourself, I would dare to suggest that at this very moment some may even suggest you are suicidal.”
I stood up angrily, my face bright beet root red. I grabbed Harvey by the throat and started shaking him with all my might and strength. Harvey was beginning to go blue, when suddenly it hit me, it all hit me hard, I let go of Harvey and broke down crying. I had been dying to do this for months, I had never allowed myself the time to grieve my career, I was too busy in the fast lane, too busy being angry at everything and everyone. Somewhere I along the lines I forgot who I was in the first place, forgot what I was doing here, forgot what brought me to the dance. Harvey had scrambled back onto the couch and beneath a choking breath he would utter some delicately poised words.
Harvey Goodfellows: “Tyke, you let go of me and now you need to let go of this. You need to let go of everything, you need to stop blaming people, but most of all you need to stop blaming yourself. None of what happened the past year is at the feet of anyone, nobody is to blame, nobody except…”
Harvey began to snort and laugh at the same time, almost maniacally.
Harvey Goodfellows: “Wendy ‘Zombie’ Stevens.”
At that very moment, I looked up at Harvey with tears still rolling down my cheeks. I no longer felt angry, no longer felt sad, I just felt for the first time in almost two years…relieved. I stood up and approached Harvey, he was no longer scared of me, he seen Tyke Index standing there, the real Tyke, not the guy who had been playing the blame game for the past year and as we embraced, Harvey spoke softly in my ear
Harvey Goodfellows: “Tonight, Tyke, you go out there and you show everyone why you are exactly what you have always said you are. You go out there and you show everyone why you are Tyke Index, the greatest wrestler that ever lived. You see, Tyke, I never had a family. I never had a wife; I never had a brother, hell I never even had a dog to walk in the summer months. Tyke, I never had a son. Then you happened. Tonight, son, you go out there and you make me proud, you make YOU proud.”
No sooner Harvey was gone; I would probably never see him again. I had never been called “son” before, though, something about the word really struck me alluringly. Harvey was probably the closest thing I had to a father yet I done what I always done to those who cared about me, I put one foot in front of the other and I ran away. I would run as far away from my problems without ever addressing them as I could, and why? I’ll never really know I suppose; what I did know is that nothing had ever truly been solved, not till tonight.
In a few hours I would step through that curtain for the last time and this time I would not underestimate Wendy, I would not blame anyone for what was about to happen, everything was in my hands and it was those very hands that would need to make this work. No excuses, no false sense of securities, nothing, just a chance to make a few things right around here and please those that actually stuck by me.
This was a ride to Coke Mountain that maybe I wouldn’t survive this time, but then again, I’d survived worse the past year.
If there was anything to take from the past year, it was in fact, that I was a survivor. I was born to dance and tonight I would dance far harder and faster than I ever had before. Wendy, see you soon.
Admin: Note that the deadlines have changed. I made the change for the convenience of the other judges.
May 17, 2021 15:21:30 GMT -6
Admin: Hope everyone is enjoying their 4th of July weekend/week/day! 💪💯💯
Jul 4, 2021 14:22:58 GMT -6
Admin: Where do yall hist photos? I'm thinking about switching sites, because I'm paying a monthly subscription for Photobucket and they got watermarks back on my images. I'm guessing it's a glitch or something, but it's already been two days.
Aug 7, 2021 6:56:18 GMT -6
The Purge: I use Imgur - and I've never paid a cent for their services, and no water marks
Aug 7, 2021 8:48:13 GMT -6
Deleted: o.o Lord, Rob! Get away from Photobucket ASAP! I’m with Haircin — use Imgur. It’s way better and costs nothing.
Aug 8, 2021 16:28:35 GMT -6
Admin: I appreciate yall! ✊💯💯 Ima look into it this week. Apologies to everyone if some of the images for the show tonight have that Photobucket watermark. I didn't have the time today obviously to make any switches. But I will make time this week. 💯💯
Aug 8, 2021 17:43:04 GMT -6
Admin: Katrina will probably be happy too as she was just telling me I was crazy for paying monthly for a photo host. Lol.
Aug 8, 2021 17:44:00 GMT -6
Admin: ***NOTE*** I moved the deadline up 12 hours to give the judges an extra day to read over the rps.
Aug 10, 2021 15:29:37 GMT -6
Admin: Started messing with Imgur today and confirmed to myself that Imgur was the original photo host I was using for Season One and the beginning of Season Two of MHW. Something made me mad and thats when I switched to Photobucket. I don't remember what though.
Aug 12, 2021 16:08:47 GMT -6
Admin: Ima still switch back to it though, because the Photobucker watermarks are still showing up on some images.
Aug 12, 2021 16:09:19 GMT -6
Admin: ***Just A Reminder*** The new deadline is less than 24 hours away. 💪💯💯
Aug 20, 2021 9:45:58 GMT -6
cmosh: Marisol Vilaró is Spanish, she is from Spain
Sept 14, 2021 22:50:17 GMT -6
Admin: Noted 💪💯💯 So I can get Rrina to teach me how to pronounce her name.
Sept 15, 2021 15:35:32 GMT -6
cmosh: Don't worry I don't know how to pronounce it either. She is actually played by someone else, so it is sometimes hard to do RP's with them due to our work schelduce but I am alound to use the character over here
Sept 15, 2021 19:28:12 GMT -6
Admin: Trying something different with the match writing, based off of research and just to try something new. It's a hit or miss concept, so feedback would be appreciated. ThrowDown will also debut the new layout concept. AMMO will start with that new layout...
Sept 18, 2021 8:35:55 GMT -6
Admin: ...on the following AMMO. This AMMO will just have the new match writing idea.
Sept 18, 2021 8:36:32 GMT -6
cmosh: I want to apologize to everyone for not doing a rp this week. Just been a tough week at work and other things got in the way as well, again I'm really sorry for not rping this week
Sept 18, 2021 21:07:43 GMT -6
Admin: It happens, brudda!
Sept 19, 2021 19:49:09 GMT -6