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Post by Deleted on Jul 16, 2019 8:38:42 GMT -6
Sitting in an Ann Arbor hotel room on a Saturday morning, Wendy Stevens was poring over her laptop. From the sound coming from the speakers, you can tell Wendy is watching wrestling matches. The look of disgust on her face, and hearing Problem, she was watching Azurine Vebbins matches. Lexa Pellegrini was out doing managerial stuff like securing gym time or setting up time slots for interviews and press gatherings ahead of Wendy’s match Monday night for EWC. Wendy shook her head and closed the laptop and tossed it on the bed, and starting pacing the room. About five minutes later, Lexa returned, her hair tied up in a bun with a pencil in it. “Okay. We have the gym tonight from 7:30 pm to 9 pm. You have a palm presser Sunday morning with the rest of the EWC roster. We have reservations for 5:30 pm tonight at Knight’s Steakhouse. And there was something else… oh yes, I love you. You okay though, you look like you’re ready to hit something already.”Wendy chuckled as she pulled Lexa in for a hug, and took the pencil out of her hair. “I kinda like the sexy librarian look on you. I’ve been watching Dizzy matches and listening to her promos, and I don’t get the appeal. She tries to be the babyface, what’s her moniker again?”“The Adorkable Angel.”“Right. And yet, for all the talk of being fan-friendly, bitch throws a lot of shade. Did you know she doesn’t even care about the championship she holds?”“You sure about that?”“She’s called it the Toss-Away Championship. Hang on, I’ll show you.”Wendy picked up the laptop again and opened the lid, tapping away quickly on the keyboard to bring up a flow chart filled with notes.. “She’s never defended the title since she’s won it. She’s even said she’d use the title to get to either the Phoenix or World Titles. She even tried doing just that at Spectacular, when originally there was supposed to be a contenders match for it. It blew up in her face running into a Bullet, but she tried. She’s scheming the system, and Mack was fucking oblivious to this. Hear, just listen to this. This was from the podcast she put out August 22nd, 2018, just before she technically beat Sam for the title.”Wendy clicked on a link, and we hear Azurine Vebbins’ voice coming out of the speakers. “My only reasons for affixin’ dat sorry strap onto my waist would be twofold. A. It would be a point of personal accomplishment. Wouldn’t be pride given dat comes after a fall. Bein’ ahead in da win-loss column means more ’cause deyr would be an impetus to increase ratin’s, sell more merchandise, and most importantly not be just anoder name added to da “Toss-Away” List of Unsuccessful Challengers. Dat’s what I dread most...bein’ compared wid dose perpetually mired in midcard muck. I’ve proven I’m capable of competin’ at a main event level. Your bottom ladder rung steppin’, extra time at security schleppin’ championship just feels secondary compared to dis bein’ our epic “Rubber Match” encounter. Believe you’ll reference glue in your second promotional material.2. I would vacate it purely to go after da Phoenix or Mile High Championship again. Said it yourself. I have lost every sin’le chance to become a more credible champion. You may consider dis clash as anoder bone bein’ tossed my way. I, however, view it as a boomerang back to prominence.”Wendy slammed her laptop shut, and tossed it again. Lexa can see the anger rising in her. “She never even beat Sam. Tammara Crockett interfered, went to attack Dizzy, ended up spearing Sam through an electrical box, then took that opportunity to pin Sam and won the title. Since then, she’s had all of six matches with Mile High, ZERO title defenses, and outside of her match with Bullet, she’s had stat-filling matches so she can pad her wins and losses just like she’s wanted. I really have to wonder, being the submissive one she is, if Mack has been hiding her under his desk for favors during all this time. There is absolutely no way nobody is that lucky for that long.”“I don’t know, Wendy, but I don’t think your theory is right. Nor does it need to gain traction. You are better than going for the low-hanging fruit. Azurine is her own woman who follows her own set of rules.”“I wasn’t referencing it as a shameful thing. Trust me, I’ve seen enough freaks to numb me for life. It’s just, she’s exactly somebody mired in the midcard, holding a title she doesn’t deserve or even want. And the stupid thing is, she’ll fight me with everything she has to keep it, just so she doesn’t lose to yet another Maiden. She may have fought all of us, but she has never beaten any of us on her own. Not Bandit, not RJ, not Sam, nor Bullet. And that quote-unquote win over Bullet, she pinned Anya. Her wins over Sam were not of her own talent. And her win over me in Galactic was not of her own talent either.”Wendy got up and paced the room, as Lexa sat on the edge of the bed watching her. “Then why does she fluster you?”Wendy stopped pacing, and grabbed her phone off the table, and sent a text to her Shieldmaiden sister, Sam Hamilton. ‘Sam, when you get this, call me. I need to make sure you’re okay with my match with Azzy. I know you two have history.’ “She pisses me off because women like that don’t belong in this business. And I’m sick and tired of people pandering to her. I’m making it my mission to destroy the Deplorable Devil, and hang her from the rafters from her damn collar.”“A bit extreme, no?”“Extreme times call for extreme measures. Ever since I walked into Mile High, I’ve been that chick who isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty. My very first match with the company, I buried Tyke Index. A match I ASKED for. Mack could have easily said booked Tyke against anyone else, and has even gone on record and said he had somebody else in mind. But he saw me, saw who I aligned with, and started salivating at the possibility of seeing Tyke eat his words and eat dirt, and he did exactly that. HOW he ended up getting a Phoenix Title shot and a bigger marquee match than I since then, I don’t know, and I don’t care. Mack threw me against four others for a shot at the ThrowDown Championship, and the others never stood a chance.And then came the Boy, Skrabz. I said it then, I’ll say it again, he doesn’t impress me. Did he beat me? Sure, Boy got lucky. Will he beat Bullet? Nah, Ale’s got his number. At the end of Rise Again, the Shieldmaidens will have the Tag Team Championship, the World Championship, and when I drop Dizzy on her stupid face, I will be the ThrowDown Champion.Wait, you said steakhouse earlier, right?”Lexa, after listening to Wendy’s rant, shook her head briefly at the random question out of the blue, before smiling. “I wondered when you’d catch that.”“You do love me.”---------- Upon returning to New York Tuesday morning, Lexa had got a call from her roommate, Loti, about a young woman who had come over repeatedly to Wendy’s apartment before the weekend and had been camping out in front of her door. Building security had taken her away a couple of times, but she had always returned. Sometimes only stepping off the elevator briefly to see if they had returned, or camping out in the stairwell. “Lexa, what is going on?”“I think it was the same girl who came to Ann Arbor to confront Wendy. It’s complicated.”Wendy, visibly angry at this point, taps the phone’s speakerphone button. “Has she done anything hostile or aggressive?”“Actually, no. She’s actually been very nice. J is safe, Mrs. Taylor had security check on her, but nothing disturbing other than she’s constantly here. It’s just weird.”“For fuck’s sake, I don’t need this right now. I’m tired, I’m sore, I have that Vebbins match to prepare for.”Lexa puts her hand on Wendy’s arm to console her. “She sounds scared. I know you just left one match, and have another one to prep for, but maybe actually talk to her. It couldn’t hurt.”“Maybe she’ll drop that secret she hinted to.”“You’ve done enough negotiating to know she’s using that as a bargaining trip. A way to get something out of you. Like perhaps a conversation.”“I know you’re right, just pisses me off.”When Lexa and Wendy get to their apartment, she sees the same young woman she saw in Ann Arbor, watching the hallway. “Mallory?”The young woman walks over and shakes Wendy’s hand. “It’s Valerie actually, you must have misheard with everyone around. I really need to talk to you.”“So I heard. Listen, I have a match with Azzy Vebbins and it’s not a good time right now. Can we do this another time?”Valerie clutches herself, intimidated by Wendy and trying to find the courage she thought she had. Wendy is reading her body language and can feel the gravity of the situation. “You… you did great in that tournament by the way. Saw it on TV.”“I lost to a fucking idiot with a Michael Cera mustache in the first round. I got tired of being their whipping girl so I quit the place. Fuck EWC, but thank you. Okay, you know what, why don’t you come in? Azzy can wait, she can use another fluff match to pad her stats or sell her aprons or whatever. I haven’t had dinner yet so we can order in, and we can talk.”“Alright. Just…”She looks over at Lexa. Wendy can sense the fear in Valerie, the same twitching the girl’s father used to do. “What does she know about my father?”Wendy looks from Lexa back to Valerie, a look of confusion on her face. “Considering how strongly you defend him, I’m going to guess much more than you do. I’m not sure how much I can tell you. How much has his lawyer explained to you?”“He’s shown me the case file. I know the allegations against him. I still think it’s bullshit.”“You’re his daughter, your position is understandable.”Wendy unlocks the door to her place, and opens the door, letting Valerie and Lexa in before her. “Don’t mind the mess, we have an eight-year-old son. He’s really sweet, just a bit slow on picking his stuff up, which is normal I guess. You can have a seat over there. Want anything to drink?”“Considering the heaviness we’re about to get into, anything strong.”Wendy looks at Lexa, unsure if she has anything, but Lexa nods and heads over to the fridge. Valerie watches her, before looking at Wendy. “She’s not just your manager, is she?”“Manager, fiance, advisor. We’ve been dating since December of last year.”“Oh! Congrats I guess.”“I’m guessing you don’t know many same-sex couples.”“Can’t say I do. I haven’t really been thinking of or doing the dating thing. I’ve been more focused on helping Dad out.”Lexa comes back with a pitcher of margaritas and sets it down on the table. Wendy sits on the couch adjacent to Valere in the armchair, as Lexa sits beside Wendy. Lexa pulls out the bottle of tequila and puts it between Wendy and Valerie. “Just in case you need an extra kick.”Valerie smiles for the first time, and Wendy nods and pats Valerie on the knee. “Alright, why don’t you tell me what you know, and I’ll see if I can fill in the blanks for you.”“Shit, I thought this would be easier than I thought. Um, can we discuss other stuff first before we get to the big stuff? I kinda want to know more about you. Just, well, trying to get a feel for who you are.”“Right, sure. What do you want to know?”“Well, I know you’re a wrestler, and you run that Zombie compound I guess you can call it. I had a chance to check the place out. Some guy named Rocko threatened to break my knees for asking too many questions.”Wendy couldn’t help but chuckle. “He’s protective of Lexa and I. Calls us his sisters. His was a victim of a drive-by a couple of years ago. I gave him his first legit job since then, got him off the streets. He’s good people.”“You an only child?”“I am. Mom had tried a couple of times after me to have children, but couldn’t. She was a saint before Dad died. After that, it was like the world ended for her. And you know, it did for the both of us for a while. Stopped the world entirely for a little while, but while most of us found ways to get back to our lives, Mom couldn’t. She bottomed out and didn’t come up for air often since.”“What was Mo… she like before your father passed?”Wendy’s eyebrow twitches at Valerie’s slip of the tongue but says nothing about it. “My mother was a very strong woman, she’s the one who instilled my work ethic in me. She used to say it’s a man’s world and if you want to be successful, you have to work at least twice as hard. Then depression and drugs took hold of her.”“She’s clean now though… um, right?”“There’s something you’re avoiding telling me.”Valerie leans forward in the chair and sighs. The hand holding the drink starts to shake. “I’ve known about you for years. I’ve heard about all your accomplishments, all your promotions. I’ve followed your wrestling career. Even been to a few of the house shows you wrestled at. And I know you can beat Azzy Vebbins. I’ve seen her Twitter, she’s special.”Wendy realizes she’s avoiding saying what she wants to and decides not to pressure her. She’s pieced it together but knows Valerie has to be the one to say it, to get that weight off her chest. The resemblances are there, the tugging of the ear when she’s stressed like she, herself, and her mother do. Wendy finds herself reaching for the tequila bottle and taking a shot, and unconsciously tugs her own ear. “Sad part about it, I wish I can say it was a gimmick, and that she was this nice well-adjusted girl. Unfortunately, she’s not. I don’t know if she had a stroke from too many headshots or what, but the whatever accent she has aside, just the… everything is way beyond normal. I met her back in Galactic…”“When you were Wicked Wendy and had the blonde hair. That look didn’t suit you.”Lexa can’t help but laugh. “When I first met you, you had that look too. Still hot though I prefer this look better.”Wendy slowly turns her head towards Lexa and gives her a mocking glare, before winking at her. She turns back to Valerie. “It was a phase, I was trying out a gimmick of my own then, and didn’t like it. Anyways, Azzy and I had a match, might have been one of my first big matches with a fairly big company, and she beat me that night. Since then, every time I see her, I cringe. She just makes my skin crawl, and when she opens her mouth and tries talking, I just want to shove a traffic cone in her mouth. She was tied up, literally, with some chick who called herself Pet. That might have been wife number two or three I think. Then she ended up with Nidia, I think her name is and married her within weeks. And still acts exactly the same.”“How did she become a champion though? I mean, I’ve seen some of her matches, and she’s really sloppy.”“Right place, right time. Announcer’s wife got involved, hit Sam who was the champ at the time, Azzy pinned her and took the title. How I don’t know, but I’ve heard stories about how Mile High was back then. Pretty skewed stories, mostly from RJ. However, I plan on rectifying that problem.”“I hope you do win. It’ll be nice for someone in the family to have something good happen to them. Your f…”“You’re my sister, aren’t you?”Valerie falls back into the chair like she’d been shot. She starts shaking again, and breaks down into tears, nodding her head. Wendy gets up and kneels in front of the chair and holds her hand. “The ear tug gave it away. Mom used to do it when she was stressed. I think we need to have the talk you really wanted.” |
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Post by azurinevebbins on Jul 16, 2019 21:47:48 GMT -6
Celebratory Correlations or What Makes July 11 So Foxtrottin’ Special
This particular promotional material takes place inside a local Los Angeles 7-Eleven. There’s nothing strange at hand or afoot at this location. It’s not like thirty-one years ago at the Circle K roughly thirty minutes northeast. Nope. It’s a typical “Thirsty Thursday” for “Mrs. Most Marketable” Azurine Vebbins. She just happens to be discussing why the Hill Valley Bulldogs would rule the San Dimas Saints in football. “The Adorkable Angel” does have to crane her neck when debating, though. Standing 6 feet, 3 inches tall and weighing 231 pounds, the man discussing this tangent is Vebbin’s step-brother and fellow Phloriphornia native “‘Da Original Vanilla Shilla” Slamsley Addergoole McBody, Junior. Out of a K-Mart Layaway Line-up, you definitely couldn’t miss this honey ham-’n’-scrambled egger. He’s sporting a yellow KANGORA Plain Baseball cap backwards, one buttoned-up green TONSEE Short-Sleeve Beach Shirt, and red TONSEE Summer Leisure Beach Shorts. Vebbins, meanwhile, appears to be teetering the line of sun-sensible and modest. Security camera footage shows the siblings milling around various aisles with intent to purchase, but unsure of which merchandise.
Azurine Vebbins: It’s heavy hy-po-det-i-cal, Slams. A model mental exercise. Some-din’ to ponder while politely polishin’ da Mile High Wrestlin’ DrowDown Championship I’m designated to defend. Ideal year for da exhibition would be 1985. Stand out players on Defense and Offense would be Biff Tannen, Junior and Goldie Wilson da Second, respectively. Final score would be 35-28 Bulldogs.
Slamsley McBody: One touchdown, Az? If you’re wantin’ a year when Hill Valley would, like, wicked dominate...dude, it’d have to be 1955. School spirit’s at an all-time high. Also, dat season dey faced Clayton High, Pine City, and Calahan High.
Azurine Vebbins: I initially imagined 1955. However, Gray’s Sports Almanac in our timeline doesn’t have record of deyr November 11 game against da Calahan High Indians. Plus, San Dimas didn’t become an established high school ’til da 1970’s. Of course, deyr’s anoder reason why dis scenario popped into my mind like a ripe Rainier cherry. Stems from da history report assembly I re-watched on Amazon Prime yesterday.
Slamsley McBody: Talkin’ ’bout da jock who presented before da Wyld Stallyns, aren’t you? Ox Robbins is da reason I reckon da Saints would rule. Apart from dat passionate plea, he’s preachin’ to a couldn’t-care-less choir.
Azurine Vebbins: He’s drummin’ support wid drop dead-eye drivel. Same can be said of my Rise Again rival Wendy “Zombie” Stevens. She views me as a pariah of da profession. Paraphrasin’ since verbiage Stevens utilizes isn’t venerated for general chanter audiences. Spare change to blueberry muffins I notion she’ll mention who I’m munchin’. Reminds me dat I should get a couple for today since it’s National Blueberry Muffin Day. One for myself and one for da missus. Complements da Blueberry Lemonade Slushee I’ve been eyein’ to pour since we waltzed in da door. After all, dat is da number one answer on da Family Feud scoreboard for why so many people frequent 7-Eleven on July 11.
Slamsley McBody: But what’s da connection between dose and your Last Dame Dancin’ Match on July 21?
Azurine Vebbins: Sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia.
Slamsley McBody: She no pal a time...Gangly oh neural gee, uh?
Azurine Vebbins: No, bro. Sphenopalatine ganglioneuralgia. Slamsley, it’s da scientific term for brain freeze. Da subtle sensation of becomin’ tense wid four stakes in da ground. In ten days’ time dat will be da Hell hauntin’ Zombie’s head. Den again, she’s a Shieldmaiden and if Hell truly is empty...I expect to view a tattoo on Wendy’s forehead readin’ “No Vacancy.” Yes, when we’re booked to dance one anoder, she’s dat close-minded.
Vebbins and McBody each grab a 12-ounce cup from a nearby display. Both pour the requisite portion offered prior to schlepping themselves over to a cash register. Azurine purchases two blueberry muffins while Slamsley buys small bottles of white rum, soda water, lime juice, orange juice, and vodka. As they leave, “Da Original Vanilla Shilla” dangles two bags from his left shirt pocket. One bags contains green leaves while the second bag contains a white, powdery substance.
Azurine Vebbins: Slams, I can’t believe I’m askin’ a straight-laced square like you dis, but are dose drugs?
Slamsley McBody: Dey may look suspect, but it’s mint and sugar, Az. And square? Please. “Da Original Vanilla Shilla’s” too odd of a “heptagon to be a square.” Couldn’t contemplate a more convenient store to stock on supplies for mojitos and screwdrivers. Last I checked neider are illegal in da state of California or Colorado where your hootenanny’s happenin’.
Azurine Vebbins: Quite right. Dough dat was an Octopus Stretch for a Huey Lewis & Da News pun. Yeah, I’m just abstainin’ from liquored libations ‘til after my dance. Still, Happy National Mojito Day to you. Don’t want to provide dat snail shuffler of syllables Stevens any excuses. Dame’s convinced I won dis illegally. Eerily enough, I became champion under similar circumstances.
Slamsley McBody: Did someone interfere inadvertently on your behalf? Was your opponent unable to answer da ten count? Askin’ ’cause da first answer is irrelevant. Dose brawls, or what do you call dem…“ballets de brouhaha”...are no disqualification. Again, like California, it’s a No-Fault situation, yo.
Azurine Vebbins: Difference is dat dance ended in a what can best be compared to a car wreck. Compoundin’ da analogy, Colorado is an At-Fault state. Plus, da scorned senora who stampeded and speared Samanda was absolutely aimin’ for me.
Only din’ dat saved me? A heightened vigilance for keepin’ track of hidden variables. I’m like mint in a mojito, da precise amount of spice. How else can I find so many celebratory correlations? How can I elucidate what makes July 11 so foxtrottin’ special?
Slamsley McBody: Exactly, sis. Den again, I’ve always been partial to sayin’ “muck,” muckin’,” or “Muck It!” Of course dat came from bein’ a corporate scapegoat and havin’ to play office politics. Still, dis Wendy woman digs deep for her dirt. She won’t get mad ’bout facts bein’ muddled or tarnishin’ your character.
Speakin’ of which, how do you defend not defendin’ your DrowDown Championship ’til Sunday, July 21st? Also, what if she mentions comments you made regardin’ da championship?
“Da Damsel in Dat Dress” takes the quandaries in stride. She does appear to be slowly sipping her Blueberry Lemonade Slushee. Slamsley Addergoole McBody, Junior meanwhile is mixing up a miniature mojito in his empty cup.
Azurine Vebbins: Dat’s simple as da sugar contained in your right-handed baggie. I was scheduled to compete against Jansen Myrrh on a show known as Sin City Spectacular last year. Our dance would be for da DrowDown Championship. However, now it appears all references to dat particular program have been mangled away by da Mandela Effect. I was extremely eager to defend it den. I’m even more motivated to defend da designation.
As for comments I made regardin’ da DrowDown Championship? A. Time changes perspective. A year ago I was unmarried and in a different place mentally. Means I’ve matured which is why I’ll be sippin’ dis Slushee. Now, I’m happily married and been made an honest housewife by a super supportive spouse. Dat support provides me structure to be rested, relaxed, and ready for whatever wallop Wendy’s packin’.
2. Don’t try workin’ heel when you’re a babyface since you’re liable to agitate and aggravate your ankles. Deary me, I once pirouetted for eight hours and suffered less career-shortenin’ sprain. Made a tact error in suggestin’ dis championship wasn’t coveted by anyone except Samanda Hamilton. My second tact error was believin’ our 3rd 1-on-1 Dance held higher historical significance on its own merit dan da fact she defended against a credible challenger. But da sin’le most egregious error was callin’ dis sacred strap on my waist…da “Toss-Away” Championship.
Tryin’ to rationalize, prior to squarin’ off wid “Da Adorkable Angel”... “Da Titaness” faced enhancement talent. As for da 2nd error, it’s debatable amongst Mile High chanters since our rivalry revolved more ’round competition dan championships. As for da 3rd error? I shouldn’t have cited da Shieldmaidens’ shared narrative. Was frustrated. Was bein’ da operative word.
Now, I have a chance to rewrite da rhetoric when it comes to Vebbins Versus Shieldmaidens. Zombie mentioned how she’s 5’8”, built like a tank, and part of da most dangerous group in grapplin’. Again, paraphrasin’ since I tend to be awfully alliterative when promotin’ upcomin’ dance performances. To her bein’ 5 feet, 8 inches tall? Guess I should schlep a six-foot-deep sleepin’ bag onto da dance floor, eh? Built like a tank? Fits your cookie cutter gimmick as Macabre Badass Letter Z. As for bein’ part of da most dangerous group in grapplin’? In dis galaxy or anoder, I guarantee dese gnomes. Gnome, in dis instance meanin’ “a short statement encapsulatin’ a general trude; a maxim.” Shields crack. Maidens meander. We bode know our Last Dame Dancin’ contest is not endin’ wid-out cripplin’ candor.
“Mrs. Most Marketable” Azurine Vebbins smirks at her slightly sloshed step-brother to affirm solidarity. The siblings appear to be wrapping up the promotional material when an indigent individual approaches them. Providing as smooth of a summation as Vebbins can muster, she mentions one more celebratory correlation. They appear to be asking for something to eat and drink, Azurine automatically hands them a blueberry muffin. Getting Slamsley to relinquish his bottle of orange juice requires a particular method of prodding. Ever resourceful, Vebbins repeatedly elbows McBody in the breadbasket like she’s firing off a Chicago typewriter during the height of Prohibition. He eventually hands the individual his bottle. Upon receiving this makeshift meal, the individual gives gratitude with a soul-soothing smile and scampers off.
Azurine Vebbins: Along wid National Rainier Cherry, 7-Eleven slash Free Slushee, Blueberry Muffin, and Mojito Day...July 11 is also National Cheer Up Da Lonely Day. Some might claim dese celebrations are superfluous and mean-in’-less. As a babyface, my modus operandi…
Slamsley McBody: Modem up her hand I?
Azurine Vebbins: Someone’s had too much sun today, Slams. Modus operandi a.k.a. da meticulous med-od to my madness is providin’ chanters wid some-din’ special to cheer for each and every day. It’s also to provide my contemporaries wid some-din’ to tweet or provide an anecdote for deyr promotional materials. Plus, y’know I’m bein’ genuine when I’m livin’ da gimmick of a holiday-obsessed housewife. All told, dough, deyr’s still ten days ’til I tango for dis title. Two-hundred forty hours ’til I bust all da Bolshoi Stevens has been spewin’. Zombie, at Rise Again, I will be da Last Dame Dancin’. Why? ’Cause I’m a dame, I’m dancin’, and you’re just damned.
The scene ends with Azurine and Slamsley hailing a taxi cab. Upon its arrival, Vebbins’ cellular device shuts off. Any remaining footage soon fades into subliminal static.
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Post by Deleted on Jul 18, 2019 10:34:27 GMT -6
The conversation with Valerie was as tense as one would expect with the subject matter of it. Both sisters learning of each other and Valerie learning the truth about her father. Wendy put Valerie up in the spare bedroom for the night as neither of them were fit for travel, the tequila bottle being pretty well emptied, and could have been refilled with their tears. The next morning, they said their goodbyes, exchanged numbers and promised to keep in touch. Not long after Valerie left, Wendy started pacing the living room. Her head still pounding, the hangover itself brief due to the feelings of pain and rage flowing through her. Lexa, who hadn’t partaken as much as the other two, confronted Wendy and had her sit down. “Babe, talk it out. Even if it makes no sense.”“Why didn’t Mom ever mention this? She’s turning seventeen in a couple of months.”“Shame? You know she wasn’t well.”“For seventeen years though? Come on, babe, that’s a bit far-fetched. Val mentioned she’s never really seen Mom very often growing up. Something had to happen, probably the same thing as what happened to me. Only one way to find out.”Wendy pulls her phone out and is about to start dialing when Lexa takes the phone away. “Maybe wait until you’ve calmed a bit. That could be another reason she’s never told you, knowing how you’d react.”Wendy sighs and walks over to the fridge and pulls out the orange juice and grabs the jar of Advil on top of the fridge. “And you wonder why I prefer having you around?”“Because you love me, you confuse easily, I can defuse you, and because I’m usually right?”Wendy pops the Advil and drinks her OJ while giving Lexa ‘the look’ before smirking. “You forgot the fact you’re a necessary pain in the ass.”“As your manager, isn’t that part of my job?”“That is a fair point.”“Let’s get breakfast started. J asked me yesterday if we can make pancakes today.”“Only if we have bacon.”“Why wouldn’t we have bacon?”“I love you.”“I love you too, but that doesn’t answer my question.”----- A few hours later, they pull into a parking lot in Brooklyn. In front of them stands a series of short seven-floor apartment buildings. The facade looks fairly old, built in the 60s, and one could tell there hasn’t been the best of upkeep over the last few years. Wendy is thumbing the steering wheel, nervous. “Welcome home.”“We’ve been by here before when I showed you my old neighborhood. 9th isn’t more than a few streets away.”“And yet we never crossed paths. I used to hang out at that park across Henry. With the most horrible of haircuts.”“When would this have been?”“Well, Mom moved in here with Dad in ‘88, and I was born in 1990. I didn’t leave the area until 2006. The Stevens lived a few buildings over.”Lexa thinks about it for a few minutes, remembering the park beside them. “Roxy and Max used to do shows there sometimes.”“I remember them having the occasional band there.”“I was Roxy’s drum tech. Rory used to hang out with them a lot too.”“I remember A Rory, Mom mentioned him a couple of times. Wild blonde hair, creepy smile?”“That’d be Rory.”“He was the guy who hooked you, wasn’t it? Things are starting to click.”Lexa bows her head, ashamed. “It’s how we lost Roxy.”“I remember you telling me. He also sold to Mom. Speaking of…”Wendy looks up at the building and sighs. “You ready?”“Better question is, are you? I’ve been watching your jaw clench. Maybe be less cop more daughter?”“For you, I’ll try.”“That’s all I ask.”They walk into the building, the main door having the lock mangled so they didn't have to buzz up. Wendy goes to put her keys away but decides to place them between her fingers as they go to the elevator. The lobby actually appears pretty clean, much to Wendy's surprise. When the elevator arrives, Wendy hits 4 and the door closes. She's shaking in the elevator and Lexa takes her arm and holds it, comforting her. When they reach the fourth floor, they head down the hallway to apartment 407. Wendy exhales and shakes her limbs before knocking. From beyond the door, a polite voice, though heavily accented in Italian answers. "Who is it?""It's Wendy."A few locks unlocking before the door opens a crack. Wendy is surprised again by the woman she sees. Her mother, Agata, looked great, clean even. "Everything okay?""Not really, we need to talk."Agata opens the door and sees Lexa there with her. She smiles warmly and steps away from the door, inviting them in. "Come, come. I cook, you eat, yes?""Mom, it's not necessary. This is Lexa, my fiancee. She's the one I told you about back in December.""Yes, yes, I remember. Come sit."She looks at Lexa quizzically, like she recognizes her. "You Italian, yes?""Alexandria Pellegrini. Nice to meet you, Ms. Lancaster.""You Serrano family. Rory, he mention you.""My cousin, yes.""I knew it. Wendy, she girl I tell you about before. When you were small. I tell you make friends with her. You were so shy."Wendy looks at her and shakes her head. "Mom, really?""Wait, she see photos of you. You never bring friends home. This big day.""How was rehab, Mom? Did you stay?”"Yes. I see therapist every Thursday. I don't use, it be now five months.""That's great, Mom. I'm happy for you."As Agata sits down beside Lexa, a photo album in hand, Wendy starts pacing the room, rubbing her forehand and tugging at her ear. Agata is showing Lexa old pictures, Wendy as a teenager, and Lexa smirks. She recalled seeing her in the park years ago. Never spoken very much, very shy. “...and to think she went from shy girl to this.”“Wendy’s come a long way, Ms. Lancaster.”“Please, call me Mom. You marry Wendy, yes? She say you fiancee?”“Yes, ma’am. She’s an amazing woman.”Wendy clears her throat. "Hey, um, I met Valerie."The color in Agata's face drains, as she lowers her head. "I… I'm sorry."Wendy stops her pacing and looks at her. "Why didn't you say anything before?""I was sick when she was born. They took her away, Dustin had custody. He bring her around while you were with the Stevens.""I know, I've seen her a few times over the years. Honestly just assumed she was Dustin’s kid with somebody else. And yet, you couldn't tell me? Seventeen years, Mom!""How she find you?"Wendy starts pacing again. Wendy is getting agitated, realizing her mother is trying to defend herself instead of accepting responsibility. The daughter in her faded as the cop in her came out. She felt a tinge of guilt by this, as she told Lexa she would try to avoid this. However, the interrogator took over. "You know I had Dustin arrested right?""For what he do to me, yes. Really, Wendy, it wasn't that bad.""He kept you hooked. He beat you. I've seen the bruises. That isn't all he did. He took our money.""He gave it back.""Because I forced him too. You know he raped me, right? Before I went to college.""He do no such thing!"Lexa is about to step up and try to get Wendy to back off a little, but the look Wendy gave her was one she hadn’t seen before. She was livid, hurt, like a wolf in a bear trap and ready to maul whoever tried to save her. "Right there in my room, Mom! You were passed out. He couldn't wake you for his fix, so he took it from me. He threatened to kill you if I said anything, so I hid it. It’s… kinda why I got into lifting weights. I felt weak, and I hated that feeling.""Is that why he gave the money back?""When I went to see him, I reminded him I kept that secret but if he didn't return the money, I'd turn him in. I realized I wasn’t that scared child anymore, that he couldn’t hurt me, hurt us. Then when the money did come back, I turned him in.""But why, Wendy? It was years ago.""Did you forget I became a cop like Dad? I had to. It was my duty to. Valerie lost her father that day, she also didn't have much of a mother either. She told me she was moved to her grandparents."Agata starts to sob quietly as Lexa comforts her. Wendy had started to calm down, seeing her mother frightened, and seeing Lexa take care of her. Whether Lexa knew or not, she was defusing Wendy by helping Agata. "How did she find you?""She went to Michigan, showed up at a Q&A session I was doing before a wrestling show…""You still wrestle?""Yeah, and a pretty good one as well. Anyways, she showed up, gave me shit, I had her escorted out as I didn't know who she was. She waited at my place for us to come home. She left this morning.""I tell her about you. She look up to you. She was mad when Dustin was arrested."Wendy sat down, almost deflated. She hadn’t expected to hear that, despite Valerie gushing over her the day before. "She was, but after we talked, she understands now why I had to do it.""You two okay?""Well, besides finding out I've had a sister for the last seventeen years, we're okay. We've promised to keep in touch.""I'm sorry, Tesoro.""I know, and you've come a long way. I was angry at you but I'm not now. You did what you could.""I didn't say out of shame. I lose one daughter and get pregnant with another. And lose her too. I lose everything."Wendy knelt down in front of Agata and rubbed her shoulder. She hadn’t felt this level of closeness with her mother for many years. "I know, but look at you now. You're healthy. The house looks great. Your daughters met and didn't kill each other.""You two visit together soon?""Yeah, she's coming back to town next week. She's in Utica right now. Maybe we can get the whole family together for dinner."Agata smiles, realizing she'd get to cook, and pleasantly surprised Wendy was the one to suggest it. That was Agata’s specialty, cooking, something Wendy adopted as well. "Lexa, J, Valerie, whoever she's with, and I. What do you think?""Who J?"Lexa pipes up, as the proud mother she is. "J is our son. He's eight."Agata looks at Wendy, confused. "You have child too? You never say?""Biologically Lexa's, but yes.""You never like children.""Lot has changed, Mom.""We do good in the end."Wendy smiles and has Agata stand up, and in a surprise twist, they hug. Agata bursts into tears and holds Wendy tight. "You know, this be first time you hug me in years.""You sure about that?""I remember. You were always mad at me.""Do you blame me?""No, but past is past. Morielaz women strong. We overcome.""We never go alone. Fuck, I’m in shit.""Who say that?""My sister Bul… Alex. I'm a part of both a wrestling stable and a biker gang.""Oh Wendy, that’s dangerous. And you have other sisters?"“We’re a close group. Five of us wrestle, well was six but Becca’s out with a knee injury. Two managers, a prospect bodyguard. And a team of others behind the scenes making sure our business interests are sound. I’d say there’s about 15 of us in total? Even had to do a couple of runs to bail out a few people.”“Oh, Tesoro. Why you go look for adventure? Still say it’s dangerous.”"So is wrestling, Mom, and you know I've always wanted to do that.""Moms allowed to worry about daughters.""Well, now you have three daughters and a grandson you get to worry about, but only if you stay clean.""I make promise to Valerie, and now to you. I love you, I always hope you do good.""I love you too, Mom. And to tell you the truth, the biggest reason I’m good now is right there. Lexa is the amazing one. Listen, though, we can't stay long. I wasn’t expecting any of this. We have a few errands, I have to get a hold of Alex as I haven’t heard from Sam and usually she’s quick to get back to me. Then we head to Denver for my next match. I'm facing a chick named Azurine for a championship she never wanted but seems to have a change of heart and wants it now.""I see you as champion. You work hard."Wendy and Lexa both hug Agata and leave. When they get back to the car, Wendy finally breaks down. "I… I’m still in shock. I expected the junkie. I expected her to argue, deny. She seems genuinely remorseful. Thank you for being there, for both of us.""She's doing good, Wendy. That's the important thing.""And did I really set up a family gathering?"Lexa chuckles. "You did. Oh, and by the way, when I saw that picture, I remembered you. I had seen you in the park all those years ago.""I swear between you and the Maidens, I'm nothing how I used to be. And wait, you did?""Mmhmm. As for being nothing like you used to be, is that good or bad?"Wendy points up the building and smiles. "We overcome."On a warm summer night, usually, people would flock to patios, hanging out with friends over drinks. Some people are either on the way to work or just leaving it. And then you have people like Zombie, who use the downtime going to her own ‘church’, that being the Zombie Compound in Manhattan. Her mechanic and in-house security, Rocko, left for the night shortly after Wendy and Lexa arrived. Instead of starting into her usual routine, Wendy had Lexa follow her to a side office. On one wall was a dartboard with a picture of Azzy’s face, a mustache was drawn on it which Wendy found hilarious, and suspected either Rocko or Tony added their artistic skills to the picture. On another wall stood a corkboard. Pushpins and different colored strings all over, with pictures of Azzy in action in different points of assorted matches. “Welcome, Dizzy, to the Compound. This is where I work, play, train, and do my research on my opponents. Oh, and the dartboard is just because I can. I think the mustache suits you though, but I think a thinner mustache with the ends twisted would probably suit you better.The reason we are here today though isn’t about you transitioning into a man, but to help you transition into an actual wrestler. Seriously, you need help. And don’t give me the line of you obviously not needing said help as you hold a championship, because, well, let me remind you, and the world, HOW you won that championship, shall we? Let’s set up the clip first. Episode Fourteen, in Denver. It was you against Sam Hamilton, Sam coming into the match as champion. This was the rubber match. Angel Smith earlier in the night said the title defenses would be in gimmicked matches, and announced this match as a Last Woman Standing match.Now, let’s see what transpired.”Wendy fires up her laptop, opens up a folder, and clicks on the video file. Azurine sidestepped, and Tammara bulldozed through The Titaness, as they both went crashing off the stage area with full force, through a giant box of electrical controls!!!
A bunch of small explosions went off, and a few arena personnel quickly came running up with fire extinguishers, making sure a fire didn't spread.
Azurine looked on in shock, as the ref began to count again.
One!!! Two!!! Three!!! Four!!! Five!!! Six!!! Seven!!! Eight!!! Nine!!! Ten!!!!!
✹ Byron Brown ✹ And the winner of this match... and NEW Mile High Wrestling ThrowDown Champion..... Azurine Vebbins!!! Wendy turns off the video and chuckles. “Now, let’s review what we just witnessed. Tammara Crockett, a woman who was after YOU took out Sam. There was ZERO involvement from you in any way, and yet by the grace of the rules of the match, you were granted the ThrowDown Championship. You didn’t earn that championship, you were in the right place at the right time. And yet to hear you talk now, eleven months later, you sound like you went to war and beat a Shieldmaiden and won a championship you coveted. Do I REALLY need to play that podcast again, Dizzy? You know the one, where you called the very title you hold the TossAway Title? Where you would use it to catapult yourself to the Phoenix or the World Title? I mean, I have the audio clip right here, but I’m pretty sure I hammered that point home the last time.”Wendy walks over to the corkboard, and at the top of the board, we see two sets of numbers. 9-8 and 3-7. Under the 3-7, we see a list of names, all very familiar. Jackie “Bandit” Layton Samantha “Titaness” Hamilton Widow Robi Jean “RJ” Mitchell x2 Alex “Bullet” Carbajal x2 “I’m sure you’re smart enough to know what those represent, but in case you don’t know, the number on the left, the nine-eight, that is your current record in Mile High. Do you know what your record was when you won the title though? Four and seven. So, what changed? Wasn’t because you suddenly got good with some new gold. If we look at your matches SINCE winning that title, most of them were filler matches against opponents who couldn’t be arsed to promote matches, or you happened to be on the winning team and did nothing to earn the win.And can we point out in those eleven months, you defended that title a grand total of zero times? Now, granted, the company shuddered its doors for nine of those eleven months. You also weren’t obligated to defend that title weekly, unlike my sister and past champion. You know, just pointing out these changes that seemed to only benefit you. And the one time you should have defended it, you stuck to what you said in that podcast about using the belt to catapult you to bigger titles, and politicked to fight Bullet again for her Phoenix Championship. And as we saw at Spectacular, that blew up in your face.Now that match was only, what, a month ago? Six weeks ago? So, what are we to believe then? You said months ago you’d use the title as a stepping stone to the Phoenix Title, and then you tried doing just that. And yet now, you’re suddenly proud to be the ThrowDown Champion.So, here’s the options as I see them. Either, you realized you don’t have the talent to take on the upper champions and resigned yourself to being… wait, what was it you called it, perpetually mired in midcard muck. Or, you’ve come to realize that as an alleged babyface, you were coming across like a cunt. Maybe sales were starting to sag. Maybe the people who used to chant ‘shush your tush’ were legit telling you to shut the fuck up.Either option ends with the same result. You are not good enough, nor were you ever good enough. You are exactly the midcard muck you spoke about, and it’s long due time somebody took that title off of you.And that somebody is me.”Wendy picks up a dart on the desk and throwing it blindly behind her, it hits the board directly between Azzy’s eyes. “Now, I know publicly, you’re trying to keep that calm and cool demeanor. Trying to sell the belief that you will beat me, but honestly, you and I both know how this ends, Dizzy. At Rise Again, you and I are walking into the same kind of match that won you the title in the first place. Let’s call it what it really is, a Last Woman Standing match. Your yapping about dancing, fuck off with that. At Rise Again, we are even walking into the same arena you won it in. Which again, isn’t surprising as it’s our default arena in Denver. And that, Dizzy, is where the similarities end.You see, there’s no Tammara Crockett this time. No electrical boxes to be speared into. Just you, and me. The Deplorable Devil against The Zombie.”Wendy smiles devilishly as she sits on the desk, twirling a pen in her hand. “Oh, yeah, I failed to mention one teeny tiny part. See, I have this thing, a twitch if you will, a strong desire under the right circumstances to use anything and everything that isn’t bolted down as a weapon. Okay, that’s a lie, as I’ve pulled metal bars that WERE bolted down out of the floor and used them as well. However, don’t believe for a second that I NEED weapons to beat you. I WANT weapons to beat you.For you see, Dizzy, this match isn’t just for the ThrowDown title. No no no, this match is personal. The seeds for this match were planted in Galactic when I was asked to put you over. It was a favor to help build you as a credible wrestler, with the eventual payoff that I would hunt you down and get a no-rules match with you and destroy you. Alas, I didn’t stay around long enough to deal with the revolving door of general managers. You did, though. And again, with your politicking, you got the first shot at, surprise surprise, Sam Hamilton’s Galactic title. She carried you through a thirty-one-minute match before finally pinning you.Again, somebody did a favor to elevate you, and you’ve done nothing in return for that. Pretty disrespectful, if you ask me. Very un-babyface, I would say.What I’m getting at is that all I see when I look at you, all the world sees when they look at you, is a gimmick. There is absolutely nothing genuine, or real, about you. You’re the sideshow of the world’s worst circus, and I truly wonder if you realize how pathetic you actually are.Fear not, for I have the solution. And it begins and ends with me burying you alive and taking the ThrowDown Championship. And no, Dizzy, that wasn’t a slip of the tongue, or forgetting what match I was in. See, you can’t make the ten-count when you’re six feet under.Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to call my accountant and arrange to pay the Shieldmaidens accommodations and expenses for when we arrive in Denver. You see, I broke the first rule of the Shieldmaidens. Nobody goes alone. Unfortunately, due to my inaction, my sister Titaness is laid up in a hospital bed in DC. I saw you sent flowers, and I also know the two of you are friends. However, I’ve always gone by the rule of it being easier to ask for forgiveness than permission. I truly don’t give a rat’s ass what my sisters think of you, I personally do not like you and see you for the fake cunt you really are.So, Sam, when you wake up and watch this, let me just say I’m sorry for what’s going to happen to Dizzy. I’m sure she’ll make a great throw rug when I’m done with her.Oh, right, I almost forgot. On second thought, you ain’t worth even asking the question. Moreso because you’d actually have an answer that would take twenty minutes to tell, and nobody needs that.Oh, and one more thing, and this has pissed me off since I first listened to that stupid podcast. Pride comes BEFORE a fall. So, I hope between now and our match, I want you to be extremely proud of yourself. Proud of the life you’ve led, proud of the few accomplishments you’ve achieved because a fall is coming. Your fall to be precise. Into a pit with no floor, with no way to… Rise Again.Tick tock, Dizzy.” |
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Post by azurinevebbins on Jul 20, 2019 13:42:41 GMT -6
Toss Away Your Could Have and Should Haves Day
Our scene opens in Denver where Azurine Vebbins and her step-brother Slamsley McBody are spending one final day of training. A video camera inside the local gym blinks on to capture their candid conversation once again. Upon realizing, she’s being filmed Vebbins going into her promotional material posture.
Azurine Vebbins: Finest salutations, folk! Here’s hopin’ dis wonderful weekend doesn’t disappoint. Mile High Wrestlin's Rise Again rapidly approaches, and I'm delighted to dance in Denver. Humbled havin’ ample attendance for dis particular performance. What drives me to defend dis DrowDown Championship tomorrow night? Da drear-driven dreck dragger who decided to casually careen into da Valley of Vendetta.
Slamsley McBody: Crash ‘n’ burn. Why did she make a terrible turn, Az?
Azurine Vebbins: Well, Slamsley, Wendy “Zombie” Stevens comes off as a could have, should have combatant. She could’ve proudly pummeled me elsewhere. She should’ve shelved my sorry sass when she had da chance. Come Monday mornin’ Wendy will still be sayin’ how she should’ve hung me by my halo. I, meanwhile, shall happily be celebratin’ National Hammock Day. Goin’ to naturally need relaxation after dis radical rhumba.
Slamsley McBody: Are you certain dat won’t be misinterpreted as under estimation?
Azurine Vebbins: I’m estimatin’ her as an extreme equation efficiently.
She’s half-hearted, Slams. I hear choreographed beats bein’ skipped over. Stevens commits dem to malignant memory like a schizophrenic’s straitjacket. Actually, it’s more like an orchestra of one-note omissions strummed skittishly on a sitar. Dat’s more accurate. Her snapmared synapses are pickin’ crossed wires. Similar to dis Sunday, dat cretin’s cratered cranial cavity will clang clustered cacophonies. Dose two promotional materials she produced sound similar. It’s as if da saucy sadist set dem to one flagrant, flippant frequency.
Slamsley McBody: Playin’ Kevin Lomax, y’know, Keanu Reeves in “Da Devil’s Advocate,” what pray tell is dat frequency?
Azurine Vebbins: C-Sharp, screechin’ static. Bleep believes I book myself better when undulatin’ under da table. It’s tabloid tawdry and could not be fur-der from da trude. Only time I obsess over oral fixation is when tendin’ to my wifely duties. Even forwent lickin’ a lollipop on National Lollipop Day to avoid subliminal suggestion. Od-er-wise, I’m focused on da task at hand: provin’ my designation as DrowDown Champion is deserved. Also, if deyr’s any Lomax Zombie will bear resemblance to...it’s Bernie from “Weekend at Bernie’s 2.” When I knock her unconscious she won’t limbo up ‘til after my deme song blares boldly.
Slamsley McBody: On a side note, I highly doubt any promoter refers to dare personal paraphrenalia as “Da Task.” Wavy Crockett might mention it, dough.
Azurine Vebbins: He better not. I imagine a critical condition of his contract involves providin' professional, insightful commentary. Neider insight or professionalism would be achieved via makin’ dat crude claim. Pretty certain he doesn’t want to be deemed a distraction by Mister Mack, Katrina, or Mister Stanton. Bein’ a lass wearin’ glasses, yours truly often optimizes optics.
Slamsley McBody: From an objective standpoint, dough, why were you placed in high-profile matches wid “Da Titaness” Sam Hamilton and Alex “Bullet” Carbajal?
Azurine Vebbins: Innate in-rin’ chemistry. I was a formidable foil to da Shieldmaiden shtick. Still am, obviously. I’m squarin’ off against anoder one. In da spirit of Toss Away da Could Haves and Should Haves Day, here are da actual accounts referenced wid-out alternative scenarios. Goin’ to start wid da Hamilton hullabaloo since it happened first.
Samanda Hamilton selected a specific stipulation for our Galactic Championship Dance. Whoever lost would be unable to compete for dat blasted belt while da winner remained champion. Out of respect, I agreed to her decree. Was billed as our last one-ups-womanship. Our once fertile feud died dat day and we each made peace wid such knowledge.
Slamsley McBody: Explains your mutual respect. What made your match with Bullet different? How can you defeat Zombie?
Azurine Vebbins: I waltzed into Mile High Spectacular utterly unprepared. Bullet genuinely was da greater grappler dat night. Conversely, I vehemently refuse extendin’ such veneration to my upcomin’ opposition.
"The Adorkable Angel" Azurine Vebbins locates a 100 lb. heavy bag located in the southwestern corner of the gymnasium. She alternates between forearm shivers and knees when replying to Slamsley's second question. For support, he holds onto the heavy bag so it doesn't becomes unhinged.
As for exactly how can I defeat Zombie?
Here’s my plea in an off-key of glee.
She contemplated choppin’ me wid her cliché axe
Usin’ snide comebacks like whittle whacks.
Few made dents,
Even less made a sliver,
Zombie better drop down on her own kvetchin’ knees,
And pray divine intervention doesn’t deliver what I plan to give her.
For some-din' tangible I'll most likely mangle her mandible.
Our promenade won't be pretty and very well could be da sleeper
Goin' to pop two of Wendy's Pearly Whites as proper penance for da Gatekeeper.
Regardless of fightin’ style I have it fervent on file
I shall be da Last Dame Dancin’ while all Stevens can do is rile.
Slamsley warmly wraps his left arm around Azurine. With a solitary, salty tear rolling down his right cheek he deftly declares.
Slamsley McBody: I can’t wait to hear da rin’ announcer say “AND STILL...,” Az.
Azurine sells her saccharine smile in a fashion similar to 90's-era Beanie Babies. Vebbins wraps her left arm around McBody making their half-hugs appear whole. The camera feed abruptly blinks off before anything else can be heard.
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